Velvety , and dreamy

“—Take it off, baby—”

The sharp sound of your hand meeting his cheek split the room, but the sting of your palm wasn’t punishment. You laughed when you did it, soft and sweet, a little giggle that slipped out like perfume, and to Eren that laugh was far more dangerous than your slap. It made him want to ruin you in ways the cameras would never be able to capture.

The truth was simple: he lived in excess, all fever and spectacle. Eren Jaeger was built on chaos, a man who could never sleep in the same bed twice, a man who swapped cities the way you swapped dresses. He was noisy and headlines, late-night scandals and staged apologies. You, on the other hand, carried stillness. The kind of girl who had her life neatly arranged into boxes . The kind your parents had already labeled, dated, and stacked into the future they wanted for you.

Yet here you were, sitting on his lap, wrapped in his world like you belonged there.

“The recording is tomorrow and now you want to fuck me?” you murmured, pushing lightly at his chest. “---At least wait until the producer gives us a nasty scene for the cameras.”

“I desire… violently, sweetheart.” His voice dropped low with the kind of hunger he didn’t bother to disguise. He shifted, sitting upright, his hands guiding you with deceptively gentle touch . Even worse, you finally start to feel something. Stuck in this mess with him, you catch glimpses of a gentleness in Eren Jaeger , something you never thought he was capable of.

But Eren Jaeger was a walking unreliable narrator. Every action contradicted his words, and every word contradicted the truth.

“You don’t mean it,” you whispered, though the air between you burned.

“I mean it.” He leaned closer, his hair falling into his face, green eyes sharp as glass. “Look at how I set myself up in this industry. I make a speech in front of thousands… then go to rehab… and write some fuckass song about it. I desire, doll. I only desire violent things. And to me—” his teeth caught his lip before he let the word fall out, “—it’s never enough.”

The way he said it made your chest hurt. He wasn’t talking about just you. He was talking about everything.

“So…” he continued, his fingers toying with the hem of your dress, his voice equal parts promise and curse, “I really want us to do this. We can fuck, kiss, swear to be with each other until one of us dies. Until the show ends.”

“And then?” Your voice cracked against your will.

“Then the break-up happens,” he said simply, like it was the only script he knew how to follow. “And we forget all of this ever happened.”

For a moment, you didn’t answer. Because if you did, the truth would spill . You wanted this to end tomorrow, that you hated the countdown in your head , twenty-nine days left on this cursed island. Twenty-nine days of pretending. Twenty-nine days of being his getaway car while he was yours. He, reckless and clueless after rehab, desperate for a new game to play. You, desperate to escape the neat little marriage contract your parents had tried to shove you into. You both were running from something. The only difference was that he loved the running, and you were just tired of the chase.

You opened your mouth, but before you could speak, the sound of boots echoed against the deck.

The Band of Titans had finally found you. Their shadows stretched long under the pale cruise lights, each one of them sharp against the night. Mikasa’s stare cut through you, Armin’s brows knitted in suspicion, and Jean . Jean looked like he’d swallowed a storm whole.

They marched like an army that had caught its captain red-handed, and there you were, still perched on Eren Jaeger’s lap.

Armin was the first to spot you. His steps slowed when he reached the edge of the deck, eyes flicking between you and Eren like he’d walked into a scene he wasn’t supposed to see.

“…So this is where you’ve been,” he said softly, not accusing, just stating. His voice always carried that gentle weight, the kind that made guilt stir in your chest even when you hadn’t done anything wrong.

Jean was right behind him, and unlike Armin, he wasn’t soft about it. His lips curled into a grin sharp enough to cut. “Hah. So much for rules, huh? Guess Jaeger really knows how to keep his girl entertained.” His tone dripped with mockery, his eyes daring you to deny it.

“Shut up, horseface,” Eren muttered, not even looking at him. His hand rested lazily on your thigh, like he wanted to make sure no one missed the point.

Mikasa lingered in the back, silent. She didn’t move closer, didn’t speak, but her eyes? God, her eyes never left your face. You couldn’t read her expression. Was it suspicion? Was it jealousy? Was it something else entirely? Whatever it was, it made your skin prickle under the weight of her stare.

Armin cleared his throat, trying to cut through the tension, though his voice faltered. “Everyone’s waiting for you two. The party’s… kind of chaotic without you.”

“Yeah, don’t want your little showmance to miss its curtain call,” Jean added, smirking, though there was an edge to it, like he hated himself for saying it.

Eren chuckled low under his breath, tilting his head toward you without breaking eye contact with Jean.

“See, doll? They’re already jealous.”

Sasha stepped forward before anyone else could speak, breaking the heavy air with her voice. “Gosh! Thank god you’re still here,” she said, grabbing your hand without waiting for permission. “Historia’s on the call, she’s been looking for you everywhere.”

Her grip was firm and in an instant you were being pulled away, leaving Eren standing there with his bandmates staring at him.

For once, he didn’t say anything , he just let you go, his lips curving into that unreadable half-smirk as you disappeared with Sasha.

That night, the quiet in his room didn’t last long. Armin had found his way there, as he always did, carrying his laptop, a small portable keyboard slung under his arm. Eren was sprawled on the floor, cigarette smoke curling thick in the air, the faint smell of something stronger lacing it.

“Hm,” Armin said without looking up as he plugged in cables, “so rehab doesn’t work on you, yeah?”

Eren exhaled, smoke rolling lazily past his lips, his eyes half-lidded. “Fuck that place, man.” His laugh was dry, the laugh of someone already slipping higher than he should be.

Armin didn’t bother arguing. He pressed a key, a beat loop rising out of his speakers. The sound filled the room, steady, familiar. Eren, glassy-eyed, reached for the guitar propped against the wall, fingers finding chords without thinking. A messy, beautiful melody tangled with the beat.

Armin leaned back in his chair, listening, almost smiling.

“Sometimes I just want to go back, y’know? Back to when we were just a stupid band getting chased by cops for making too much noise.”

Eren grinned through the smoke. “Yeah. You were that weird nerd who could play anything like a fucking prodigy.”

“Woah, you like Misfits?” Armin’s voice echoed in his head, the memory sudden, vivid. He’d asked that decade ago in the back of their old neighborhood library . Armin with a stack of astronomy books under one arm, Eren with detention slips crumpled in his pocket and scuffed sneakers tapping restlessly against the floor.

Eren had shrugged, a grin biting at the corners of his mouth. “They’re a punk band…”

“Punk as hell! ,” Armin had answered, half-expecting the conversation to die there. He was the academic protégé, the kid teachers pinned their hopes on; Eren was the loudmouth who couldn’t sit through a lecture without picking a fight. They weren’t supposed to fit together.

But somehow, in that tiny exchange about ripped chords and rebellion, they’d found the only language that made sense to both of them. Music.

Armin shook the memory off before it could soften him too much. His eyes slid toward Eren. “I know you and Y/N—”

“Armin,” Eren cut in, voice heavy, no smirk this time.

“We’re serious about this.” he lied , again .

Armin studied him, waiting, but Eren’s gaze was stubborn. He didn’t look away.

“Really?” Armin asked finally, words careful. “All the girls you pick up, you leave behind in some motel bar.”

Eren laughed softly , unbothered by Armin’s comment, but the sound cracked at the edges. He liked when Armin spoke like that, dressing his truths in careful metaphors instead of sharp blades.

“So…is it true?” Armin pressed quietly. “You’ll leave her when the break-up announcement drops?”

Eren’s laugh came again, higher this time, smoke filling the silence after it. Armin knew the answer wasn’t coming. Not now. Not when Eren’s pupils were blown wide and his thoughts scattered like ash.

The melody faltered, his fingers slipping on the strings. Armin looked away, letting the beat loop endlessly, not pushing anymore.

“If we were just an underground band…” Armin said after a long pause, almost to himself, “maybe we could’ve had a normal life.”

Eren’s chuckle was low, almost bitter. “Normal life? We were never normal to begin with.”

Armin sighed, sinking deeper into his chair. There was no winning this. Tomorrow was the first episode . Cameras, producers, an island that would cage them for thirty days. He didn’t want to risk lighting a match near Eren’s rage, not tonight.

So he let the music play, filling the room with the ghost of what they used to be.

“If she’s smart,” he muttered, “she’ll run before I burn her too.”

Armin’s fingers stilled on the keyboard. For a moment, he thought he’d misheard. But when he turned, Eren was already grinning again like he hadn’t just let the words slip. A laugh tumbled out of him, drunk and high and bitter all at once.

“But she doesn't,” Eren added, dragging another pull from his cigarette. “And I wonder why? She’s a popstar, shiny and perfect for cameras, built to sparkle, built to sell. Me? I’m a fucking dipshit.”

He blew the smoke of his cigarettes ,“We were made to fall apart, weren’t we? That’s the game.”

Armin stared, shock flickering across his face. Eren never spoke like this , never let a girl’s name sit past the night, never carried anyone with him past the haze. Especially not when he was high. And yet here he was, rambling about her as if she’d carved herself into the core of his madness.

And the strangest part , he said your real name.

You lounged across the bed in a silk robe, the hem slipping down your thigh as a salad bowl rested precariously on your stomach. You’d assumed Eren would be locked away in Armin’s room all night stoned, distracted, out of your hair . So you let yourself unwind, phone pressed to your ear.

“Look!” Historia’s voice burst with excitement. “There’s already a fan edit of you and Eren! with Colors playing.”

You blinked, dragging the screen closer.

The first clip was you, twirling under the villa lights, smiling like you weren’t chained to him at all.

Everything’s blue—his pills, his hands, his jeans.

The cut shifted—Eren, gripping his guitar like a lifeline, veins bulging in his neck as he screamed into a microphone.

Everything’s gray—his smoke, his dreams.

You gasped. “What the fuck…”

Historia squealed. “SIIIIIICKKKKK!”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t keep the smile off your lips. “Hey, speaking of sick… do you know what’s going on between Jean and Mikasa? Like, is there some internet freak theory that knows something about them?”

Historia didn’t even hesitate. “What I know is…they probably fucked when Eren was in rehab.”

You nearly choked on your lettuce. “What—”

“They’re weird. And Eren? He wants Mikasa’s attention so bad.”

Your laugh was humorless, sharp. “Oh, that’s fucked up. They must have something going on…” You sighed.

“You need to help me figure it out, or else……I’m stuck with Eren Jaeger forever.”

There was a pause, then Historia giggled. “Why not? He’s kinda hot.”

“Oh girl … You can take him” You reached for the salad bowl, ending your call with historia after she said ‘Goodbye’ .

The fork dangling lazily between your fingers when something on the nightstand caught your eye , a small, clear shot glass .

Vodka.

You blinked. You didn’t remember putting it there. Maybe one of the crew had left it, or maybe it was from last night’s chaos. Either way, it glimmered in the lamplight like it was waiting for you to notice.

You shouldn’t. You knew you shouldn’t. Tomorrow was another filming day, another performance, another mask to wear. But tonight…

Tonight, the silence was too loud.

You reached for the glass, holding it up to the light. The smell stung your nose, the way truth sometimes did.

Just one, you told yourself. Just to take the edge off.

The first sip scorched your throat; the second turned into a gulp. Warmth pooled in your stomach, spreading through your chest, softening everything . Your thoughts, your guilt, your restraint.

You sighed, leaning back against the pillows, head spinning lightly. Maybe this was what you wanted , not the drink itself, but the escape. The quiet way it numbed the ache of pretending.

And that’s when the door creaked open.

You opened your mouth, about to snap back , Your head whipped toward it slowly , you heard footsteps crossing the floor. Someone had stepped inside your room.

The door clicked, and you didn’t look up right away . You thought it was Sasha, or maybe even Historia sneaking in. But then came the drag of heavy boots across the floor,

You turned.

Eren stood there, framed by the soft glow of the hallway light, his hair a tangle, his pupils blown wide. The sharp scent of smoke clung to him, threaded into his skin. He wasn’t steady; his hand gripped the doorframe as if the wood might steady the sway in his chest.

For a moment, he just stared.

At you. The silk robe draped across your collarbones, sliding too easily against your skin, the lace teasing the outline of something he shouldn’t see but he saw anyway. His lips parted, breath hitching.

Something was wrong.

You blinked twice, heart catching in your throat. You’d never seen him like this. His eyes were glassy, hazy, as if the room was shifting around him and he couldn’t tell what was real.

“I know that’s you, Y/N,” he rasped, words slurred like they were dragging themselves through smoke. His head tipped back, eyes fluttering shut, before snapping open again to lock on you.

“I know. I realized. I remember how you look like—fuck…”

The confession fell heavy, like it had slipped out of him without his permission.

For once, it wasn’t Eren Jaeger the rockstar talking. It was something rawer, stripped of all the swagger, dizzy from the haze and the truth colliding in his chest.

“I thought…you just quit drugs.”

Your voice cracked softer than you intended, more vulnerable than accusing. Maybe you wanted to scold him, maybe you wanted to comfort him . You didn’t know which side your heart was leaning toward.

Eren’s mouth curled, though it wasn’t quite a smile. His eyes dragged over you again, glazed but sharp in some places, like he was trying to carve you into memory before you slipped away.

“You sound so fuckin’ sweet when you say it like that,” he muttered, the words sticky, heavy. He dragged a hand through his hair, strands falling over his face, but it didn’t hide the way he looked at you. There’s no lust in his eye or his gesture it was something that made your stomach twist.,

“I love that…innocent shit. Like you still believe I can quit. Like you don’t know me at all.”

You swallowed, clutching the tie of your robe tighter against your chest. The heat of his stare made you shiver, but beneath it was the fear creeping in. Was he even all the way here with you right now?

“Eren,” you whispered, trying to ground him. “You’re high.”

“So do you Princess?” He laughed, tilting his head back as if the ceiling would hold him up.

But when his eyes dropped again, he stepped forward. Just one step. Just enough to close the air between you, to make you feel the weight of his presence pressing in.

“And still,” he said, voice rough, “Why the fuck I still can recognize you?”

“Guess I showed up right on time, huh?” His voice had that drawl again, the one that hooked on the edges of a smirk. You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. The air between you went still due to alcoholic element shoots your veins

He kept staring at you, at your lips.

And then you realized you were doing the same.Neither of you moved but you can’t control your breath when Eren keeps looking at your lips like that . It’s like a mirror reflecting everything you both refused to admit: exhaustion, loneliness, the hunger to feel something.

“You know I couldn’t resist you either, Princess.”

“Fuck… Rennie, just do it,” you muttered, your voice a slurred confession.

Eren stilled, jaw flexing as his cock started to twitch, straining against his denim.

That one word—Rennie—slipped under his skin like gasoline on fire.He knew you couldn’t even think straight, not with vodka threading through your veins and fire pooling in your stomach. You sank into the couch, chest heaving, breath catching in uneven bursts. Your eyes glazed and found him in the haze, locking on like he was the only thing keeping you tethered. They begged without words, begged for him to close the space, to ruin you, to just fuck yo

He chuckled, leaning in so his shadow swallowed you whole.

“Rennie, am I?” His hand gripped your chin, rough but steady, tilting your face toward him. His thumb dragged across your lips, pressing down until the sheen of vodka slicked his skin.

“You know I’ll make a fucking song about this, hm?” he whispered, teeth flashing, pupils blown wide like a man already writing the chorus in his head.

You sucked on his thumb, swirling your tongue around it as you looked at him with wide, innocent eyes. He hissed, sucking his teeth.

“Fuuck, you’re drunk, sweetheart.” His middle and ring finger slipped into your mouth, choking you with their depth. “Gotta make this throat wet for me, yeah?”

“Mmgh—Renn…” you gagged on his fingers, still licking and sucking them like they were his cock .

“Come on, baby, I won’t hurt you. Can you strip for Rennie” ‘I won’t hurt you’ ? That’s the biggest lie you ever heard today , he’s treating your throat like a pussy , swirling his own finger in your throat to make it wet for him.

Your trembling hands found the zipper of your stage clothes. You peeled away the layers, until your white lingerie glowed under the low light . Delicate lace that clung to your skin, heels still strapped on.

Eren stayed standing, just inches away, watching as you put on a show meant for him alone.In his eyes , he can feel how hard your nipple is for him.

“Bra off. Panties off. Heels stay.”

You obeyed, unclasping the bra, letting it slip from your shoulders. Your hardened nipple flashed under his gaze as you slid your panties down your thighs. Eren whistled, low and filthy, eyes devouring every inch of you.

“Come to Rennie, baby.”

You stepped forward, nothing but cream heels on your feet, placing your hand on his shoulder. Eren’s palm cupped the back of your head, dragging you into a kiss that was all teeth and hate, a battle where both of you wanted to devour the other. His mouth left yours only to latch onto your neck, sucking hard enough to bruise.

“Fucucckk you’re so perfect, baby.”

Your hand slid to his clothed bulging cock, massaging slowly. “Rennie… please…” You jerked him through denim until he groaned deep, a sound that curled through your stomach.

He couldn’t resist. The belt unbuckled, zipper undone. You were already on your knees, hands greedy for his swollen length straining against fabric.

“Give Rennie a treat, baby,” he smirked, slapping your cheek lightly.

“You like that, hm?” He guided you up again, pressing you against his chest so your bare nipple rubbed against him. His thumb dragged down your stomach until it pressed against your clit . circling it slowly.

“Rennie—mmghhh—” you whimpered, soaked enough that his thumb was already slick.

“Jesus, That’s how I like it.” Eren positioned himself on the bed letting you stand in front of him , soaking wet due to how he played with your clit like a toy.

“Hey … shh … I promise I’m not going to hurt you …” Instead of fucking your pussy , he shoved his cockk between your thighs, pounding it slowly until his pre-cum dripping against your skin.

“Uughh—Eren! Fuck!”

“Don’t run from me, baby? Take it like a good girl, yeah?” His thrusts quickened, your thighs clapping against him while your hips rolled back, squeezing tight around him.

The mess of his pre-cum and your wetness mixed, coating your thighs until the lewd sound of slick skin filled the room.He can’t think straight anymore , the way your squiz his cock with your thighs? “Fuucck baby , such a good girl…you can make Rennie cum by fucking your thighs hm?”

He spit on his finger, bringing the large fingers reach to your clit once again , slowly rubbing it like there’s no tomorrow.He’s making a mess on your clit with his dripping spit as he pounded his dick between your thighs , treating it like it was your pussy.

“Ah! Rennie! I’m g-gonna—!”

“This sweet pussy needs to cum?” he smirked. He pulled out from your thighs, stroking his swollen tip against your clit, teasing, swirling, making you drip even harder.

“Fuuuck, Eren!” Your brain shut down as your orgasm spilled over, juices coating his length. He grinned, watching you unravel.

“Best fucking treat, princess.”

You dropped to your knees, tongue out, begging. Eren’s head tipped forward, body shuddering as thick ropes of cum spilled into your open mouth.

“Open up sweetheart. Let me see you drool over my cock”

You stuck your tongue out, his release dripping down like a waterfall.Eren’s smirk turned feral. “Fuckkk baby , I think You’ll be mine forever…”

You were still on your knees, chest rising and falling, lips parted, the taste of him heavy on your tongue. Eren towered above you, belt hanging loose, shirt damp with sweat where your nails had clawed. His cock was still dripping, twitching as he watched your tongue flick across your lips like you wanted every last drop.

“Shit…” he muttered, zipping hip denim jeans back . After that he ran a hand through his hair. His pupils were blown wide, jaw sharp, chest heaving. He looked like he wanted another round , it would never be enough.

You tried to stand but your legs buckled,vodka and release leaving you weak. Eren caught your wrist, pulling you up so fast you landed against his chest, your bare skin pressed to his still-clothed body. His hand gripped your hip, holding you steady, like he couldn’t let you go.

Your eyes widen as you encounter Eren lifting you up to place you on a cold bed , tucking you up with the hotel sheet as he doesn't look away from your face.

“They’re about to see you like this, baby” he whispered, smirking curling. “Sticky thighs, drunk eyes, wearing nothing but those fucking heels you dance on your stage. You want them to know what Rennie did to you?”

Your breath hitched, and for a moment the world outside the door didn’t exist.The words landed heavy, hotter than any scolding could’ve been. You didn’t know if you wanted to reach out and shake him, or if you wanted to let yourself drown in the way he was looking at you.

“Eren”

One word , your soft voice hit his head once again .

“Whatever shit you sniff on, if you get caught you’ll end up in jail or a rehab again….” Your voice cracked. It's not loud enough but you can feel your throat burning.

“How did you even get those things in the first place?” You hit him with one question , again.

“Things?” He laughed, bitter, like the word itself was a joke. His hand dragged down his face, jaw clenching hard.

“They’re more IMPORTANT than all this bullshit I’m doing right now.”

“More important than your career? Then the band?”

He snapped his gaze at you, eyes bloodshot but burning. “Do you think people like me got a chance? Do I have a chance, Y/N? You tell me…” His voice rose, gravel grinding every syllable, until his hands were on your shoulders, gripping too hard.

“You look at me and tell me if I get out alive in this industry.”

You froze, pulse rattling under his fingers. His chest heaved, breaths sharp and uneven, like he’d been holding this question in for years, like he didn’t know he’d been screaming it until it ripped out of him.

Eren’s grip faltered. His fingers slipped from your shoulders, his hand trembling before he dragged it to his mouth. His chest heaved like he couldn’t get enough air. For a second he looked like he might spit out another line of rage but instead he staggered back, hand clamping tighter over his lips.

“Eren?”

He lurched, knees buckling, collapsing against the floorboards with a dull thud. His body shivered like he was fighting off a fever. His eyes rolled for a moment , unfocused . Every bit of his bravado stripped away under the weight of whatever poison he’d put in himself.

Your anger drained in an instant, replaced with cold panic. “Shit—shit, no, no—” You gain your energy back as you try to bring him closer to you . Pulling his shoulders, trying to hold him steady. His skin burned hot beneath your palms, sweat dampening his shirt.

“Breathe, Eren. Just….stay with me, okay?” You hauled his arm over your shoulder, struggling with his weight until you managed to drag him onto the bed. He sank into the mattress like stone, hair sticking to his forehead, lips parting with uneven breaths.

You sat there beside him,hand hovering over his chest as if your palm could force his heart to keep beating steady. Your guilt twisted sharp in your stomach. You should’ve kept yelling. You should’ve just sleep. You should’ve done something different.

But instead , you stayed.

Eren Jaeger could feel your presence through the night. Even in the haze of chemicals, even in the dark where his mind betrayed him, he felt the weight of your hand brushing his skin, the sound of your voice whispering his name when you thought he couldn’t hear.

And yet, when the sunlight broke over the horizon, when his lashes finally fluttered open ,

He was alone.

Sheets cool where your body should’ve been. Robe gone, salad bowl gone, you gone.He lay there staring at the ceiling, throat raw, mind slow to catch up with his body. And when it did, the silence pressed heavily, louder than any screaming crowd.

“Welcome to Love Island” The echo of the sound still lingered in the air, and before you could even register it, Hange leaned close, whispering at your ear with a dramatic hiss.

“Ah, fuck… he’s here now. Watching over you two.”

Your eyes followed where she tilted her chin, and there he was — Erwin Smith.

He didn’t need to say another word to command the space. Standing tall in his pressed linen suit, hair immaculate even with the salt wind brushing against him, Erwin radiated the kind of authority that made people unconsciously sit straighter.

His gaze swept over the group like he was already editing you all into a perfect storyline, his jaw tight with calculation. He was the type of manager who didn’t just want success , he demanded perfection, and you could already feel the invisible chains he had wrapped around you.

Then, behind him, a sudden clatter of equipment broke the tension. A voice cursed under his breath, fumbling with a camera strap.

“Connie,” Erwin said without even turning, his tone clipped.

“Yeah, yeah, I got it!” Connie Springer popped up with a grin, nearly tripping over his own tripod before steadying himself.

Before you could process the mismatch, a hand smacked the back of Connie’s head.

“Yo! Long time no see, dumbass.” Sasha stood beside you, dressed casually but with that fierce stylist energy that always felt like home. She slung an arm over your shoulder before leaning in to whisper, just loud enough for you to hear.

“Careful with him. He’s the type of camera crew who blurts spoilers without even realizing it. Major problem.”

Connie groaned, rubbing his head. “Hey! Not true. I’m better now.”

“Better my ass,” Sasha shot back. “Last time you ruined half a season before it even aired.”

Connie looked like he wanted to protest, but Erwin’s sharp glance silenced him instantly.

“Enough,” Erwin’s voice cut clean through the air, drawing all eyes back to him. “Let’s discuss this somewhere else” His expression was smooth, but his tone carried the weight of finality.

They were all ushered toward the meeting area, a long wooden table set beneath the open air. The ocean stretched out before them, the crash of waves almost mocking how trapped you felt. Erwin stood at the head, back straight, arms crossed loosely like a man who had already decided everything before anyone else sat down.

“Rockstar and Popstar,” Erwin’s voice rolled out sharp as the tide. “You two are—”

“Cut it off,” Levi interrupted, his tone dry, already leaning back in his chair with a cup of tea balanced in his hand.

“Just say what we’re here to do.”

“You two,” Erwin started, his voice measured, almost surgical in tone, “are the centerpiece of this entire production. Everything else revolves around you.” His hand lifted casually, dismissing the others.

“The rest can play their games, but the story people will watch , will buy into….belongs to you.”

You glanced at Eren, and he smirked lazily, as if the weight of Erwin’s words didn’t bother him. But you knew better. You both hated the spotlight, yet here you were , actors in a romance that wasn’t real.

“This will run like a normal vlog,” Erwin explained. “We’ll capture your natural moments, the fun, the fights, the little slip-ups that make people obsess over you. But,” his eyes flicked directly to you and Eren,

“to make sure the drama sells, we’ll insert fake scripts when things get too quiet. And to be very clear this relationship….,” he pointed at you both,

Erwin didn’t hesitate. “…..You’re supposed to have a breakup.”

The words hit the table like a stone dropped into still water.

“Ahhh yeah!” Hange jumped in, a little too brightly, laying a hand over your arm. “That’s definitely what we planned. Right, Y/N?”

Every pair of eyes around the table turned on you .

Mikasa’s sharp, Jean’s narrowed, Armin’s questioning. Even Eren’s stare cut sideways, searching your face for a crack.

Your lips curved into a porcelain smile, but your throat tightened.You and Eren were built to fall apart , you’re unsure if he’s pretending or not . No matter what it is , it will go away . The kiss? The hugs? How did he put his hand on your body? That will never happen again after this show ends.

Erwin leaned forward. “The breakup will serve as your marketing! Front page headlines, trending hashtags, chaos. Which will, in turn, drive the new album. I assume you’ve already been working on it… correct?”

A beat of silence.Levi exhaled slowly, sipping his tea. Beneath the table, his boot shot forward, kicking Eren in the shin.

Eren jolted, jaw clenching before he forced a stiff nod. “…Yeah.”

A new album? with all of these conflicts going on? For Eren it’s impossible to have a new full length album with a bond like these . They’re having a spiralling rage , confusion and war but no one knows about that except for them ,

The tension broke into murmurs between the others, but Erwin’s stare didn’t waver. “This isn’t a game. This reality show is a campaign. An extension of your careers, your images, your future. Fail here….and everything falls apart. Do you understand?”

There was no room for argument. You both gave a silent nod.

“Good,” Erwin said finally, straightening his suit jacket. “You may leave.”

You stood quickly, almost relieved to escape the table’s scrutiny. But as you trailed after Levi and Hange’s footsteps, Erwin’s voice cut once more.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

You turned.He gestured toward the row of cabanas lined up by the beach.

“You and Eren , share the same room”

The silence was deafening.

“Levi and Hange , we need to have some chit-chat”

Eren’s smirk twitched at the corner of his mouth, as if fate itself had just handed him a loaded gun.

The cabana door creaked open, and the first thing that hit you wasn’t the salty breeze or the dim glow of lantern light , it was the bed.

One bed.

Not two. Not even the lazy mercy of a pull-out couch. Just one massive queen-sized mattress, centered like it was waiting to watch the two of you self-destruct.

You froze in the doorway. Eren brushed past, tossing his duffel onto the dresser with all the grace of someone who’d been planning to watch you squirm since Erwin said the words shared room.

The silence stretched, thick enough to choke on.

Eren finally broke it, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he leaned back against the wall, arms crossed.

“Well…” his eyes dragged lazily over the bed before snapping to yours, the smirk tugging at his mouth.

“We can go wild in here, baby.”

You blinked once, then scoffed, sharp and dry as the air outside. “Save the performance for the cameras, Jaeger.”

He tilted his head, feigning innocence. “Oh, come on. You’re telling me you don’t wanna make this believable?”

“You mean unbearable.”

You pushed past him, dropping your bag on the far side of the mattress. Your reflection in the mirror caught your own plastered smile , the one you’d been wearing since this game started.

“Fine. Then we set ground rules.” Eren’s chuckle lingered in the air, low and humorless.

“Rules?” You turned back, meeting his stare head-on.

He pushed off the wall, stepping closer, voice dropping into that infuriatingly steady tone.

“Only touch when people are around.”

“Pet names only in front of an audience.” You folded your arms hearing that demand came from Eren.

“And only one question about personal life. Per day. That’s it.” You added , refusing to step back.

A slow grin tugged at his mouth, his teeth catching the corner of his lip. “Scared you’ll fall for me if you know too much?”

“Scared you’ll bore me if I do.”

For a second, it almost felt like a draw. Until his gaze dropped, a dangerous light flickering there as he let the last rule fall between you like an execution sentence.

“And lastly…” He leaned in, his breath fanning warm against your cheek. “No real feelings. If I kiss you, give you flowers, even fuck you… it’s not real.”

You barked out a laugh that sounded more like a dare. “Why would I ever catch real feelings? I’ll loathe you until the day I die.”

“Mhm…” his smirk spread wider, though his voice softened into something far more unsettling.

“Playing hard feelings, aren’t we, baby?”

You barely had time to react before his hand pressed lightly against your shoulder back onto the mattress. The bed dipped beneath you, the lantern light catching on his chain, his eyes, his grin that was nothing but trouble.

The waves outside kept crashing, relentless, as if mocking how close you were to drowning in something you swore you’d never feel.

“Eren!” Your palms pressed against his chest, shoving back hard enough to remind him you weren’t going to be pinned like some easy catch. For a moment, it felt like he really would sprawled over you, chain brushing your collar, smirk carved into his mouth.

He coughed, a rough little sound, as if shaking off the moment. “Relax. I’m not gonna hurt you, doll.” But the way he said it didn’t feel like comfort to you.

His weight shifted back, and the air between you should’ve cleared but it didn’t. He dragged a hand through his hair and let his voice drop into something cocky,

“I’m gonna watch over my band. You stay here like a good girl, yeah?” You stared at him, eyes sharp, the distrust sitting heavy between your ribs.

“Hey, baby. Daddy’ll come home before twelve, okay? No need to worry.” He caught it, and of course, twisted the knife. A grin tugged at his lips, playful enough to feel wrong.

“Just get lost, Eren.”

He only laughed, as if you’d just told him something sweet. Then he slipped out, leaving the air reeking of his cologne, of his heat, of the fact he always managed to leave first, while you were the one left with a heart that beat too fast.

And as the door clicked shut, the thought about Eren came curling like smoke in the back of your mind , Eren Jaeger’s charm wasn’t human. It was the kind of dangerous pullj only the devil himself could replicate. And you wanted it to end , God, you wanted it to end already.

The echo of the slammed door still lingered in your head when the scene cut.

A wide meeting table, open shutters framing the sea. Erwin sat at the head, posture unyielding, every word clipped like he was running a courtroom rather than a beachfront retreat.

“Levi, you want the Band of Titans under my label? Then it’s simple. Y/N is a successful product. That’s what Hange’s managed to craft—”

“—-Stability, relatability, a public face people want to consume. Your band? They’re chaos incarnate. Fighting, scandals, rehab stints. You want a place here? You clean them up. No matter what it takes.”

Levi’s jaw flexed. He hated being spoken to like a subordinate, but Erwin wasn’t wrong. He said nothing, only folded his arms, letting the weight of silence answer.

Erwin’s eyes shifted, pinning Hange next. “And you? you’ve done what Levi hasn’t. Controlled your artist. Marketed her emotions until she became a role model. He should take notes from you.”

Hange’s smile faltered, and for once, she didn’t fight back with her usual cheer. Because behind the compliment was exhaustion. And Erwin knew it.

When Erwin finally dismissed them, the tension lingered in the air like smoke.

Out on the deck, Hange leaned her elbows on the railing, staring out at the waves. Levi joined her, arms crossed, silence between them until she broke it.

“You know how hard it is?” Her voice was quiet, strained. “I’m dealing with Y/N’s mental state twenty-four-seven. Making sure she doesn’t break under all this pressure. Prepping every word she says in interviews. Keeping her healthy when she wants to crash. And still people don’t see her. They just see the product.”

Levi grunted, “Tch. Sounds familiar. Titans are the same. I babysit grown men who’d rather fight each other than make music. Image is shit. Fans still eat them up. But Erwin’s right….if I don’t fix this, they’re finished.”

Their eyes met, two managers carrying the weight of their artists like anchors.

“We can’t…” Hange dragged her hand through her hair. “Fuck, we can’t let them fail this. Not Y/N. Not your idiots either.”

“Yeah,” Levi muttered. “We won’t.”

They stood in silence for a beat, the ocean swallowing the noise. Then Hange’s phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen and her lips twitched into something resembling a grin.

“Midnight party,” she said, turning to Levi. “Think our stars could use a little…bonding.”

“Let’s see how much fun they can fake before the cameras roll.” Levi muttered a curse under his breath, but he didn’t stop her.

At the same time , You sat curled on the staircase that led down from the villa, phone screen glowing against the dark like a secret you shouldn’t be holding. The night hummed with cicadas and faint waves crashing against the island’s shore, but all you heard was the hollow thump of your own heart when the story blinked open.

Your thumb froze.

A photo . No the promotional photo. Him and Mikasa, shoulder to shoulder, wrapped in flawless light. His shirt tugged open just enough to make him look untouchable, hair mussed in that perfect, careless way. She stood beside him, body angled close, lips brushed with a subtle smile that could be read as anything admiration, longing, ownership.

Together, they looked like a brand, like an empire dressed up in skin and shadows.

And he’d chosen that one. Out of all the staged shots, all the endless fake couple photos with you and your laughter rehearsed, your hand placed neatly against his chest, the camera always catching the almost-touch of your lips…he picked her.

Your chest tightened. Not because of jealousy , not exactly. The way Eren Jaeger could spend hours pressed against you, speaking in a voice that made you want to believe him, and then turn his back and post Mikasa like you never existed. He never opened up, never let you glimpse past the walls he’d built around himself.

What were you, really? A pawn? A placeholder? Why did he need you at all if he was never going to let you in?

“Don’t be fooled.”

The voice cut clean through your thoughts. You startled, head snapping up, and found Jean leaning against the railing above you. Shadows carved his face, but his eyes were steady, too sharp to be casual.

“You…kinda scared me, drummer guy.”

“It’s Jean. But you can call me baby if you want.” He smirked, pushing off the railing, that swagger always riding close behind him

A scoff left you before you could stop it. “Jean is shorter.”

“Shorter’s easier to say when you’re screaming it.” His grin widened, but the joke didn’t quite touch his eyes. They flicked to your phone, then back to your face, heavy with something unspoken.

“Look,” he started, softer now, serious in a way you hadn’t expected. “Eren’s a master manipulator. He always has been. You’re just his next target. That’s what he does. Play people. Break them. Life’s a fucking classroom for Eren Jaeger, and you? You’re just the new lesson plan.”

The words dropped like stones in your stomach.You wanted to laugh, call it bitterness, but a part of you , the part still clutching your phone, staring at that photo recognized the truth.

And somewhere in the shadows behind, Eren’s green eyes narrowed, locked on you and Jean, watching every word, every movement,

“Y’know what? Go ahead. Play house with him. But don’t say I didn’t warn you, Y/N. He’s only ever studying who to fuck over next.”

“Me and Eren…” you drawled, lifting your chin just enough to make Jean feel the weight of your confidence. “…we’re totally doing this, Jean.”

You lied , His laugh came out bitter, eyes flicking over you as if testing whether you believed your own words.

“And you guys don’t even know where you’re going. This thing…whatever it is…it’s like you and Eren are stuck in the woods without a compass.”

You tilted your head, a sly grin tugging your lips.

“Wow. Maybe this isn’t about me and Eren at all. Maybe you’re actually talking about you and Mikasa.”

That made him falter. His smirk dropped a little, his throat working before he could speak. “…Me and Mikasa?”

You chuckled, the sound sharp and mocking as you leaned closer, letting it cut through the night air like perfume.

“What exactly happened when Eren was in rehab, hm? You two were top three scandals on E! News. Don’t play dumb.” Another soft laugh escaped you, dripping with venom and amusement.

“Come on, drummer boy. Everyone was watching.”

Jean stiffened, his eyes darkening with something he didn’t want to put into words. “…Nothing.”

That single word was flat, hollow, defensive.

You sighed, rolling your eyes, tired of circling secrets you knew you wouldn’t get from him. Standing up, you dusted your dress off with a bored flick of your hand, dismissing him without a second thought.

And then , your heel caught on the edge of the stair. Your balance slipped out from under you, body pitching forward.

Your stomach lurched, a small gasp cutting through your throat before a hand shot out, catching you by the wrist.

“Woah! careful.” Jean’s voice was steady, his fingers wrapped around yours as if it was the most natural thing in the world. His palm was warm against your skin.

You blinked up at him, still half-stumbling. “I—I’m fine.”

But he didn’t let go right away. His thumb brushed your knuckle, gentle, almost lingering. His eyes so direct it almost startled you searched your face like he wanted to ask a question he didn’t dare speak aloud.

“What the fuck horse boy?” Eren’s voice cut through the air, sharp and venom-laced, snapping the moment in half.

Both you and Jean whipped your heads up. And there he was, storming down the steps with a look so dark it made Jean’s hand finally drop away from yours.

“you need to pay fucking million when you want to touch that pearl” Eren’s lip curled, his words rough, every syllable dipped in threat

It came out harsher than he meant, but his body had already acted snatching you against him like you belonged nowhere else but under his arm.

He felt the heat of your skin through your dress, too aware of how you trembled against him.And yet, even when Jean’s glare burned holes in his back, the real question wasn’t Jean. It was you.

Because when Hange, with her careless grin, had blurted in front of Erwin that the two of you “planned” a breakup, Eren’s stomach had sunk. For the first time, he’d realized how thin this game really was. How much of it depended on you.

He hated that thought. He hated knowing he couldn’t quite read you. You could smile like porcelain, touch his chest and push him away, laugh when he called himself your “daddy.” But what was underneath? What did you actually want?

‘Fuck, why am I so mad?’ The question gnawed at him as he stood beside you at the back of the cruise ship, the sea churning black and endless below. He told himself it was just the act, the pressure, the exhaustion of holding up a story neither of you believed. That had to be it.

But when your eyes darted away from his, when you told him to “stfu” like you couldn’t stand another second of his gaze ,why did it feel like rejection? Why did it feel like losing?

“Careful, baby,” Eren finally muttered, voice dripping with false sweetness, though his grip was iron.

“Wouldn’t want you falling again.” He didn’t look at you. His eyes were locked on Jean, burning, daring him to move, to speak.Jean let out a scoff, trying to mask the way Eren’s fury shook the air.

“Relax, Jaeger. She slipped. I caught her. That’s it.”

“Don’t touch my girl again? Okay?”

The silence stretched. You swore even though the waves below seemed to still.

Jean’s lips parted, something biting on the tip of his tongue, but he stopped himself shoving his hands into his pockets instead. His eyes flickered to you, softer than they should’ve been in that moment

“See you around, Y/N.” He stepped back, retreating into the shadows of the villa, his silhouette swallowed by the dim light.

Eren finally looked down at you then, green eyes sharp, restless. His hand was still on your arm.

After Jean’s shadow disappeared from sight, Eren finally let go of your hand. His fingers slipped away like they were reluctant, but his eyes never came back to you. Instead, he turned toward the railing, facing away. The rules echoed in your head—only touching when people are around—but something felt off. He was quiet.

“Are you mad?” you asked, your voice low but steady.

He looked down at you, green eyes shadowed beneath the dim lights. “M’ not mad, doll,” he muttered, but the way his jaw tensed betrayed him”

“Just don’t fucking test me.”

“Then why are you facing away?” You folded your arms.

Eren scoffed, shaking his head once before finally glancing at you again. “What do you want me to do? Beat up Jean’s horse face because he touched my ‘girl’?”

The word girl lingered in the air longer than it should have, heavy enough to sting. Before you could snap back, both of your phones buzzed at the same time.

Ting!

Hange and Levi’s names lit up across the screen. A single message: Midnight party. Be there.

Eren let out a frustrated sigh, rubbing a hand over his face. “Gosh, I just want this night to be over already.”

“You stay here,” you told him, turning toward the villa. “I want to change.”

Some time later, your door clicked open without warning.

“Gosh, what takes you so long—” Eren stopped mid-sentence. His voice dropped. “Fuck.”

His eyes swept over you once, then again, slower. The silk halter you wore was almost translucent, ivory and featherlight, with lace embroidered across the bodice in delicate flowers. It fell loosely at your ribs, dipping lower at the waist, framing your hips where the matching bottoms clung soft and sheer. Your hair fell undone around your face, simple makeup catching the low light, every detail effortless but striking.

“You can’t wait for five minutes?” you snapped.

A smirk tugged at his mouth, though his eyes hadn’t moved from you.

“But I can last an hour.”

Your hand flew to his cheek before you could think. The slap landed sharp, breaking the tension for a second.

“Heyyy mama , wait for papa can you?” He chuckles, almost mocking the way you’re so irritated by his words . You just brushed past him, ignoring the heat crawling up your neck.

The midnight party pulsed through the deck, golden lights stringing overhead while music throbbed against the night air. The sea swayed in the distance, dark and endless, but inside the crowd everything was a blur of sweat, perfume, and laughter.

Eren’s hand never left your waist. Not once.Everywhere you went, eyes followed with shock and doubt.

Whispers passed through the crowd like wildfire. Mikasa, drink in hand, narrowed her eyes from across the room, as if she were trying to unravel the truth of what she was seeing. Armin looked lost in disbelief. Even Jean couldn’t hide the irritation burning behind his forced smile.

You felt Eren’s grip tighten before he leaned down, murmuring close. “Let’s get out of here.”

Before you could answer, his hand slipped from your waist to your fingers, tugging you along with him. The stares burned into your back as he pulled you through the crowd. No explanations. Just his pace, his direction, his decision.

“Gosh,” you hissed once the music dulled into the background, “at least give me a sign if you want to drag me anywhere.”

Eren finally stopped, turning to face you beneath the muted glow of the ship’s rear deck. The ocean wind tangled your hair, salt in the air, shadows swallowing the two of you whole.

“I’m not going to talk to you when you’re wearing these little clothes,” he said flatly, but his eyes were already betraying him locked on you,

“What’s your plan, Jaeger?” You arched a brow, folding your arms against the night air.

Eren’s smirk curled dangerously. “Go fucking wild, baby. Didn’t papa say that earlier?”

Before you could answer, his hand found your wrist, tugging you back toward the glow of music and laughter. The midnight party stretched before you like a staged dream , candles lining the tables, fairy lights strung overhead, glasses of wine in every hand. The kind of scene producers would drool over.

And then Eren set you down right on his lap, like you were nothing but his possession. His arm looped around your waist, hand spreading wide across your stomach as though staking a claim. You felt the heat of him beneath you, muscles tense .

His chin rested against your shoulder, a smug grin pressed close enough for only you to hear.

“Lookin pretty on Rockstar’s lap, hm mama?”

“Eren,” you muttered, shifting against his thigh. “You’re pushing it.”

“That’s the point, doll,” he said, tightening his hold. “Let them see.”

You felt Eren stiffen beneath you before you even noticed what had caught his eye. Across the deck, Jean leaned close to Mikasa, lips brushing dangerously near her ear as he whispered something that made her laugh . The kind of laugh you hadn’t heard from her in weeks.

The muscle in Eren’s jaw jumped. His hand twitched against your waist like he wanted to crush bone.

“Fuck these two,” he muttered, voice sharp with venom. His hand shot out, snatching the unopened wine bottle from the table. “Let’s get drunk and nasty.”

You caught his wrist before he could tilt it. “Don’t—can you wait? I’ll get a corkscrew—”

His eyes cut down to you, dark and unhinged. “Who the fuck needs that? I can use my teeth.”

“Eren—stop being stupid” You hissed, reaching for the bottle.

The glass slipped between your palms, slick with condensation. For one tense moment you both tugged, stubbornness burning hotter than reason, shaking the bottle back and forth.

“Let go—”

“No, you let go—”

“Fuck, it’s about to explode—”

The cork blasted free with a deafening pop, ricocheting across the deck like a bullet.The cork shot out like a bullet straight into Erwin’s temple.

He jerked back in his chair, hand immediately flying to the side of his head. A deep red stain spread across his crisp white shirt as the wine rained down, dripping from his blond hair, sliding over his cheek like war paint.

“Mr.Smith!!” Armin scrambled forward, clutching napkins, as though flimsy paper could reverse the damage. His hands trembled as he tried to dab at Erwin’s temple. “I—I’ll fix it, sir, hold still—”

“Of course. Of fucking course this happens.” Levi pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something vile under his breath.

He reached across the table, swiping the bottle out of Eren’s hand before more damage could be done.

“Brats can’t even open wine without turning it into a homicide attempt.”

“Oh my god—Erwin, you look like a vampire just bit you! No—like, two vampires at once—” Sasha choked on the sip she’d just taken from her own glass, nearly spitting it back out. Her laughter bubbled up uncontrollably, though she clamped a hand over her mouth.

“OMG THIS WILL BE A GREAT SHOT!” Connie takes his camera and snaps some pictures .

“Ohhh, this is gold. Absolute cinema. You couldn’t write this shit if you tried!” Hange slapped the table with both palms, sending silverware clattering.

“Jesus Christ, Jaeger. First you almost choke yourself with a corkscrew, now you’re trying to assassinate the Head Manager?” Jean’s eyes darted between Eren and Erwin, torn between disgust and amusement.

And in that tiny gap of chaos, Eren moved.

One hand wrapped around your waist, the other braced under your legs, and suddenly your feet weren’t on the ground anymore. You gasped, the room tilting, his shoulder pressing into your stomach as he hauled you up with ridiculous ease.

“Eren—what the hell—” you choked out, fists thumping against his back.

“Shh,” he muttered, his stride brisk and sure, “no one’s looking.”

And somehow, unbelievably, he was right. Not a single head turned as he slipped through the press of bodies, it’s so quick . You two vanishing out a side door while the rest of the deck was distracted with Erwin’s accident.

By the time you realized, the laughter and music were fading into the background, replaced by the hush of ocean wind and the thrum of the ship’s engine.

He didn’t stop until you were tucked into the shadows of a quiet corridor near the railing, lantern light flickering low on metal walls.

Only then did he set you down, though his hands lingered as though reluctant to let go.

“Eren,” you hissed, half breathless, half furious, smoothing down your dress.

“Mhm?” He leaned in, close enough that the salt air carried his breath against your cheek, eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and something sharper.

“Say it …. Darling? What is it?” His tone was maddeningly casual, as if you hadn’t just been smuggled out of a party like stolen treasure

“Do you ever think before you do shit like this?”

“Sure,” he said, tilting his head, smirk tugging his mouth. “I thought you needed rescuing.”

“Rescuing from what? A corkscrew?” you shot back, glaring.

“From them,” he drawled, eyes narrowing, “from horse-face trying to play hero, from Mikasa watching every step you take. From the circus.”

You froze, heat rushing up your chest despite yourself, because the way he said it , it sounded less like a joke and more like he meant it.

And then, just as quick, he ruined it.

“Besides,” he murmured, leaning even closer until you had to tip back against the railing, “you look way too good tonight to waste on everyone else.”

Your laugh broke the silence, soft but cutting, a porcelain edge to it. “You really think this little stunt of yours is charming?”

Eren tilted his head, lips curling, gaze unwavering.

“Don’t pretend you didn’t like it.”

“You’re impossible.” You rolled your eyes, though your pulse betrayed you, skipping hard enough you wondered if he could hear it.

“But tell me, doll…” He leaned closer, so close the tip of his nose brushed yours, his breath warm against your skin. His voice was low, a drag of velvet and smoke.

“Have you ever kissed a Rockstar in your life?”

“No…? I don’t want to taste weed or gasoline.” You tilted your head back, throat dry.

Eren laughed, that dark little chuckle that always sounded like trouble, curling up from his chest like smoke. His hand slid higher on your thigh, possessive in a way that made your pulse stutter.

“Hey… you do know this isn’t the end of the plan, right?”

“Gosh Eren..”

“But tell me, doll…” His voice dropped low, almost a growl, and he leaned in until the tip of his nose brushed yours. His breath was hot against your skin, heavy with the taste of wine and something darker.

“Have you ever kissed a Rockstar in your life?”

You huffed, rolling your eyes even as your pulse skipped. “No…I want to but they smell like weed and gasoline”

Eren smirked like you’d just told him your biggest secret. “Hey… I know they’ll come looking soon. You don’t remember what I said earlier?”

Your brows lifted. “What?”

“Go wild.” His hand slid down, curling around the curve of your hip, grip tightening. “Drunk and nasty, baby.”

You should’ve pulled away. You should’ve laughed in his face, shoved him back and walked away before you ended up exactly where he wanted you.

But the way he was looking at you , like you were the only thing left on earth worth burning for made it impossible.

You didn’t want to get caught having vanilla sex with him, but looking at his hard boner , you know there's a lot of women willing to get down on their knees and give him a quick suck before he goes to the studio or concert .

You looked at him, all sharp jaws and green fire eyes, you knew exactly why every woman would fall on her knees for him. Why they’d die to have his big cock down their throat, to feel him split their pussy open until they were crying his name like prayer.

And here he was, daring you to be one of them.

His gaze was heavy, hungry, dragging over you. You weren’t wearing a bra under that sweet little dress, and he knew it. You could see the way his eyes darkened, pupils blown wide, chest rising like he’d been holding back all night.

Eren wasn’t some teenager scared of being caught. He loved the idea. The thrill of bending you over right here , fucking you like you were just a hole while knowing the whole crew would hear you scream, and they’d all know exactly what it meant—The popstar getting fuck by Eren fucking Jaeger.

“I only bought this little dress ?” Your voice was shaking, but it wasn’t fear.

He looked at you gaze dragging down every curve of your body before snapping back up, sharp enough to cut

“Take it off, baby.”

The message came without a name.

Unknown Number

My band will follow us.

You stared at it, the words heavy and absurdly casual for the way they knocked something loose inside you. The beauty mask you’d been wearing slipped for just a second. It didn’t matter that you hadn’t saved his number. You knew exactly who it was from.

You didn’t reply. What was the point? You’d told yourself enough times already , if you told Eren you were uncomfortable, he wouldn’t listen.

Sure, you typed anyway.

The dots appeared, disappeared, appeared again.

Unknown Number

Just tell me if you’re not comfortable enough. I’ll tell them. I’ll be your voice when I talk to them.

You blinked at the screen. You didn’t think this man had that kind of manner in him.

You

No. It’s fine. It’ll only make things obvious between you and me.

Unknown Number

But we need to act 24/7, Even in a fucking secluded place, they’ll hear us.

You

Isn’t that the point of a reality show?

Somewhere, far from you, Eren exhaled sharply , frustration curling in his gut not entirely sure if it was at you or at himself.He remembered the way Jean’s jaw had tightened when the subject first came up.Mikasa had been the one to start.

“Eren, we need to talk. Now. And don’t bring Y/N.”Armin had chimed in soft-spoken, “Yeah. Like right now.” And Jean was as loud as ever. “Where the hell are you?”

The words had piled on, questions dressed as accusations, accusations dressed as concern.

A few hours before he came back home , Eren remembers how the rehearsal room felt heavier than usual, like the amps themselves were holding their breath. The air was sharp with stale coffee, dust, and the faint electric hum of instruments left plugged in too long.

Jean was planted at the door like a security guard who’d been given bad news, his phone in hand. Mikasa stood beside him, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. Armin sat on the old couch, quietly plucking at his bass like background music to a fight scene.

Jean didn’t even say hello. “What the hell is this?” He thrust his phone toward Eren , an infamous shot of him and you kissing under stage lights.

Eren glanced at it once before leaning back in his chair, smirking lazyly. “Looks like free marketing to me.”

Mikasa’s voice cut through the room. “You’re not actually dating her.”

Eren tilted his head. “Why not?”

“Because,” Jean snapped, “you were talking shit about her music last month. And now suddenly she’s your—”

“My girlfriend,” Eren interrupted, grinning like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Exactly. She is.”

Jean’s jaw clenched. “Do you really think me and Mikasa hook up? That’s why you kissed her in front of us? That’s why you want to fuck with this reality show?”

Eren didn’t flinch. “You can hook up with her, I don’t care.”

Armin groaned, tossing his bass pick onto the couch. “Okay, that’s it, Eren Yeager.”

Mikasa’s voice went sharp. “Keeping her close? You don’t own her. And you’re not convincing anyone here, so just stop—”

“No.” Eren leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “You think I’d go on live TV and let them run me through their scripted drama without backup? She’s my anchor in this. My girl.” He let the words hang like smoke, watching Jean’s jaw tick again.

Jean shook his head. “You don’t get to drag people into your little PR stunts just because you’re bored.”

“Bored?” Eren laughed, sharp and sudden. “Yea…maybe I just want a good fuck after I’ve been locked up in Rehab”

“Eren , Are you on crack? Like again….?” Mikasa rubbed her forehead as a sign of frustration

“No , I just smoke some weed”

“Hey! Then let us come with you,” Armin said, voice like concrete. “You’re not going to that island alone.”

“I’m not alone,” Eren said, that same sly grin curling at the edges. “I’ve got my sweet little girlfriend.”

Armin set his bass aside, finally speaking up. “We’re all going. Maybe we’ll even get some good tracks out of it.”

Eren leaned back again, letting the chair creak. “I’ll ask her.”

“Why do you need to ask her?” Jean demanded.

“Because she got dragged into this mess,” Eren said simply. “And unlike some people, I’m not making decisions for her.”

That shut them up for a moment. Eren wasn’t sure if they were buying it or just regrouping, but it didn’t matter. They’d made up their minds.

Jean’s voice was final. “Fine , do whatever you want . You make me want to smoke the bucket of weed man!”

Eren only smiled, because whether they believed him or not didn’t matter. He’d already won the round.

Now his job just to convince you to be part of his tools , he stared down at his phone trying to hit you with text again ,

Eren

You’ll make your last performance this weekend, right? Lollapalooza? he finally typed.

You

Yeah. How about you?

Eren

No. We’re on hiatus. No album coming up. And we only have one single…for now

You

Oh, I see then.

Eren

Can I come? Watch you perform?

You

I thought Eren Yeager didn’t like glittery, girly music.

Eren

Sweetheart, it’s just for the act. It would be nice if you give me one of your stupid friendship bracelets.

You

Stupid? Just like when you throw up after 1 show

Eren

Psshh, yeah, whatever, girly pop. Invite me to your VIP section. Let’s throw an act so big Mikasa and Jean lose their shit.

You

Oh? So that’s why they want to follow us? To watch over us?

Eren

Probably.

You

Fine. I’ll give you access. Hange will drop it in Levi’s postbox.

Eren stared at the screen for a long while after the conversation ended, the corner of his mouth lifting.

It was nothing . Just a simple exchange, a few words tossed back and forth. But there was something in the way you’d agreed so easily, something unpolished and warm that made his chest tighten.

“Quit it Son of Yeager , She’s just a part of your game” He blew the smoke of cigarettes into the air ,

The VIP tent felt like it was holding its breath.

Dim light bleeding through the seams, faint vibrations from the stage thrumming up the chair legs. Eren sat with one leg thrown over the other, joint pinched lazily between his fingers, smoke coiling around his jawline.

He told himself it was just to kill the nerves.

Not nerves about her , never that just the swarm of cameras, the strangers’ eyes angled in his direction like they were waiting for him to crack. Every time he shifted, he caught the faint glint of a phone lens. Someone was already livestreaming him sitting still.

He wasn’t supposed to be here.But he found himself waiting for you to come up on stage.

A pop concert wasn’t in his rotation. There’s Glitter, choreo, love songs for girls who still put stickers on their water bottles that weren't his thing. But somehow he was here, joint burning low, pretending the whole scene didn’t feel like a trap he’d walked into willingly.

Then the lights outside dimmed.

A voice, tinny and theatrical, burst through the speakers like it was being piped from a black-and-white TV.

“Prrrimaaaveraaa, ladies and gentlemen! We present to you…”

The crowd’s scream was instant.

Eren didn’t move at first , but then you stepped into the light.

You walk out , wrapped in a black bodysuit that clings like a second skin sleek high at the hips. The sleeves hang off her shoulders in a way that feels almost careless, but he knows nothing about her stage presence is an accident.

The boots are knee-high, the heels sharp enough to kill. Her hair falls [ describe whatever you want here ], catching the light with every turn.

This is his first time seeing you in a pitch black and that makes Eren not even realize he’s leaning forward.

She’s all glitter and fire, the kind of beauty that isn’t just looked at , people need to inhale it. Every note slides through the air like honey, pulling the crowd closer. She moves across the stage like she owns it, hips rolling, voice soaring, making the massive arena feel like the most intimate room in the world.

And Eren… he can’t stop staring.

The beat rolled in and you slid into the first verse of Busy Woman.It wasn’t the music that pulled his attention. It was you.Halfway through the second line, your gaze locked on his Like you’d found him in the crowd and decided he wasn’t going to get away tonight.

Then you hit it:

“I don’t really want your bitch ass anyway!”

And you didn’t just sing it. You rolled your eyes, right at him.The kind of move that would be clipped, posted, captioned, and replayed with a hundred different hashtags before the set even ended.

His jaw tightened.

It wasn’t jealousy. It wasn’t even embarrassing. It was the fact that he knew how the internet worked and this? This was the kind of attitude the vultures would love to pick apart.

But before he could sit with that thought, you shifted again.Your voice softened, turned playful, and the next line hit like you’d saved it just for him.

“Busy woman… unless you call tonight.”

You gave him a sweet innocent wink , then a kiss . You blow a kiss right in his direction.

The crowd lost its mind.

The camera panned instantly, catching the exact second Eren Yeager’s mask slipped just enough to show it , green eyes locked on you, breath stalled, something unspoken pressing up against his ribs.The moment was gone as quick as it came, swallowed by the next verse.

A few hours just passed and it’s the end of your show ,

“Thank you, Barcel! Love you!”

Your voice spilled out over the crowd, bright and sweet, your smile catching in every lens trained on you. The stage platform began to lower, your silhouette shrinking as you slipped out of view.

From the VIP tent, Eren was already on his feet. He didn’t even finish the joint; he just flicked it down, grinding it under his boot as he started weaving through the rows. A few phones caught him moving, a tall frame cutting through sequins and designer jackets, ignoring every “hey, watch it” that came his way.

He didn’t even know what he wanted to , It’s either he want to strangle you for rolling your eyes at or kiss you until the taste of your lip gloss drowned out the sound of your name being screamed from the crowd.

Backstage was chaos , crew hustling gear, lights swinging on their rigs, security barking orders , but there you were.

Fresh from the stage. The crowd’s roar still hummed faintly through the concrete walls, but it was your smirk that drowned everything else out.

You saw him coming. Of course you did.

Long strides through the narrow corridors lined with crates of cables, racks of glittering costumes, crew members darting past with headsets and clipboards. Every sound , The hum of the generators, the dull thump of bass from another stage , You fell away when his gaze caught you in the hallway.

“Enjoy the show?” you asked, the trace of a smirk curling your mouth.

He didn’t answer right away. Just closed the distance until the sharp scent of his cologne and the faint burn of smoke edged into your breath.

“You’re lucky you’re hot,” he said, voice low, each word unhurried like he was savoring them,

“otherwise you’d be six feet under right now. What was that out there? Rolling your eyes at me, then giving me a sweet little kiss?”

Before you could throw back something smug, his hand slid to your waist and in one motion he had you pinned lightly against the concrete wall. Not rough enough to hurt, but enough to remind you exactly who was standing in front of you.

The distant noise of the festival seemed miles away. You could feel the heat of him, the faint rasp of his breath, the way his thumb traced on top of your hip like he was deciding what to do next.

“You keep playing with fire like that, sweetheart…” he murmured, voice dropping low enough for only you to hear, “…don’t get shocked when it burns.”

You were still catching your breath not from the performance, but from Eren’s hand still pressed against your waist, his frame caging you against the cold wall backstage. His eyes hadn’t moved from yours, and the heat between you was thick enough to choke on.

“Oh really?…That’s so scary…” You said slowly, brows climbing.

“Y/N, you’re supposed to be getting ready for the reality show… You and Eren need to practice… Oh wow…”

That’s when Hange rounded the corner, humming to herself, clipboard tucked under her arm. She froze mid-step. Her gaze darted between you two like she’d just walked in on a crime scene.

You and Eren stayed silent, still locked in that wordless standoff.

“What part is this?” Hange finally asked, the corner of her mouth twitching like she was fighting the urge to laugh.

Eren finally stepped back, dragging his hand off your waist like he was annoyed to let go. “It’s the part where we fu— I mean, kiss.”

Hange snorted. “You’re going to hell.”

Eren shot you a glance, one that wasn’t a request so much as a command: Follow me. He didn’t wait for an answer, just started walking, forcing you to trail him down the quieter stretch of the corridor until the festival noise was a muffled hum.

“Hey! Y/N! Where do you want to gurl!?”

“I will be right back Hange-san!” You shout while keeping the pace of Eren’s fast step , Hange sigh and bring her fingers to pressed her glasses on her nose-bridge

“Fine gurl! Only for 5 minutes!”

Later , Eren stopped in front of a laptop someone had left open in the green room, the livestream replay already looping. The screen was filled with chat bubbles flying so fast they were a blur.

@primagirl_89: GOSH SHE’S NOT PLAYING??? 💅🔥

@popjusticefan: IS SHE REALLY DATING THAT RAT!? 🐀💔

@bubbleteebabe: NO WAY OUR GIRL IS IN LOVE??? 😭

@micdrop_moments: WHAT. WAS. THAT.

@stanaccount007: Y/N GET BEHIND ME — THAT RAT WILL RUIN YOU. 🛡️

@chaoticpopstan: HELP WHY DID HE LOOK KINDA… HOT???

@earringfetishclub: pause at 1:32… his FACE??? 🤯

@glitterydefense: you guys don’t get it this is ENEMIES TO LOVERS in REAL TIME.

Eren leaned over your shoulder, reading along, and scoffed. “Rat?”

You didn’t look up from your screen. “Well, you do have that scruffy alley-cat vibe.”

You angled the screen toward him, showing a fresh scandal thread already brewing:

“Jean x Mikasa??? Are they real???”

“No way, he’s totally into her. You can see it in the drum cam.”

“So….? They don’t want to admit they’re dating or…”

“Don’t worry, we’ll make them.” Before Eren could respond, his phone buzzed violently against the table.But he ignored it , he just sat back, still watching you with that too-intent gaze, before his voice dropped low.

“How about your parents? Still asking you to get married?”

You rolled your eyes, lips curling in a wry smile. “Hmm… they’ve slowed down a little bit. Maybe they’re just glad I finally have a boyfriend.”

That made him pause. “Psshh… you never had a boyfriend?”

“Rarely,” you replied, deliberately vague.

Ting! Ting! Ting!

The screen lit up with name after name from The Band of Titans group chat.

“I think they're finally going to believe it,” you said, leaning over to look at his phone.

Eren’s mouth curved into a slow, wolfish smile. “Well…” he drawled, locking eyes with you,

“…this is just the beginning.”

“Don’t you think so?” his voice dropped lower, almost a whisper but heavy enough to make your chest feel tight.

“You’re letting them come. Maybe we don’t just share glances or touches anymore… maybe it’s something more than that.”

He didn’t move fast just enough to close the space between you, his hand brushing the side of your waist, his breath warm and slow like he had all the time in the world to get what he wanted. He was looking straight at your lips now, tilting his head slightly, and for a second the rest of the tent didn’t exist.

Five minutes. That’s all it had been , five minutes alone with him, away from the lights, away from the cameras. Enough for the air to change, enough for you to almost forget why you were here in the first place. He wasn’t just close . He was pulling you in without touching you fully, and you hated how easy it was to stay.

“Y/N!”

Hange’s voice broke it. Calling you from the other side of the tent, reminding you this little bubble you were in wasn’t going to last.

You let out a small breath, your hand pressing against his chest just to put space between you. His heartbeat was steady under your palm and he didn’t move away, his eyes still holding you there.

“Hey,” his tone was teasing but his gaze stayed on you, “where’s my kiss, honey?”

You gave him one last glance, stepping back toward the lights. “Later, rattt!!”

He stayed exactly where you left him, still watching, still smiling like he’d already decided that “later” would come sooner than you thought.

Y/N was lying flat on her hotel bed, the ceiling light dim and warm, Hange pacing back and forth with a folder in her hands, talking about the schedule like a radio stuck on the news channel.

You weren’t even really listening , you could still feel it. The way Eren’s breath had been close enough to catch on your lips, the way his hand had been heavy on your waist. He had almost kissed you again. No cameras, no audience. Just the two of you.

“You will only focus on the reality—Y/N, my dear, are you okay?”

Hange stopped mid-sentence, finally noticing the faraway look in your eyes. She sat down beside you, concern softening her voice.

“Yeah… I’m fine. I’ve never been on a reality show before, and I’m kinda… alone.”

“Don’t worry, Y/N. I’ll be there—”

The door slammed open like the universe was allergic to sincerity.

Ymir and Historia burst in, Sasha behind them carrying a mountain of snacks.

“LET’S DINE IN!”

Within minutes, the room smelled like chips and soda. Cards were scattered across the floor, laughter bouncing off the walls. You let yourself sink into the chaos for a while, until—

“So what’s up with Eren? Did you fuck him?” Historia asked casually, like she was asking what you had for lunch.

“Oh my god, he must smell terrible,” Ymir added without missing a beat.

You groaned. “No…”

Historia’s eyebrow arched.

Sasha leaned in. “Mannn… are you really dating him?”

“I saw you getting into his car that day,” Historia pressed. “Where did you actually go? And the kissing?”

You wanted to tell them everything, but the deal between you and Eren sat heavy in your chest. You sighed. “Man, we’re just… playing.”

“Sooo… it’s a situationship?” Historia grinned.

“Probably. What? You think Eren Jaeger’s into lovey-dovey stuff?”

“But you are, Y/N,” Historia said, sharp as ever. “You romanticize everything. Everyone who knows you knows that. You crave real, genuine love. You’re not someone who would get into this kind of thing.”

Shit. Historia got you there.

“But I did, didn’t I? This reality show just… trapped me into it.”

Hange, sitting off to the side, looked guilty. She reached over, patting your back gently.

“It’s only for one month, okay? After that, I’ll cut off all my business with the Band of Titans’ manager. I promise you, Y/N.”

“Whatever your relationship with Eren is, don’t you dare fall for him. Like, for real,” Ymir warned.

“Even if he has a big dick,” Sasha chimed in with a mouthful of chips.

“BROOOOOO!!”

The room exploded with laughter, but you just smiled faintly, tucking that thought away.

Because the reality show would start in two days—and you had no idea if you were ready.

The sliding doors of El Prat Airport opened, and the familiar chaos of paparazzi flashes hit instantly , white light popping like fireworks. The headlines were already spreading online before you even cleared the curb:

Y/N is not heading to the live recording of ‘Love Island’ — but where is she going?

Our pop princess in oversized sunglasses, leather jacket, and a scarf that probably costs more than your rent.

The way she walks like she owns the runway? Fashion airport content unlocked.

Sasha, your stylist, walked ahead with the calm confidence of a woman who had faced this circus a hundred times before, blocking some cameras with her giant tote bag. Hange, your manager, stayed close to your side, her expression unreadable but her grip on your carry-on firm.

No sign of Levi. No sign of the Band of Titans. If they were even on the same flight , which you doubtedthey must’ve used a private terminal.

The thought made your stomach twist. Were they already at the island? Or maybe they were taking some rockstar-exclusive route just to avoid you.

“God, your jacket’s eating up Twitter right now,” Sasha muttered, scrolling her phone while still walking like she could dodge a flashbulb blind.

“They’re calling it ‘Mob Wife in the Mediterranean.’”

Hange glanced at her watch. “Security will take us through the VIP gate. Once we’re inside, no cameras.”

The flashes grew harsher the closer you got to the VIP gate. You could feel the reporters closing in, their mics shoved into your space, questions spitting like machine gun fire.

“Y/N! Is Eren Yeager waiting for you on the island?”

“Are you two secretly engaged?”

“Did he write the song ‘Bloody Valentine’ about you?”

You kept walking, chin up, sunglasses shielding everything. But then one camera guy got too close, brushing your arm with the edge of his bag.

Before you could step back, a hand touched your lower back , “Sorry I’m late, honey,” a low voice murmured behind you.

You turned your head and there he was , Eren Yeager stepping into your spotlight like he owned it. His hair loose around his face, one hand still on you, the other pushing a nosy interviewer out of the way with casual strength.

“You better be,” you said, your voice sugar-sweet, lips curling into the smallest smirk.

Sasha froze mid-step with her eyes widen , phone halfway to her ear.

“If two plus two is four…” she whispered. “Then what the fuck is this?”

Hange didn’t even blink, just muttered under her breath, “Oh, this is gonna break the internet.”

The cameras went wild—click-click-click—capturing the two of you standing there like a scandal gift-wrapped in black leather and smug expressions.

And just like that, without asking, Eren took your suitcase from you, his hand still grazing your waist as if to say Play along, princess.

You kept your head forward, the lenses of your sunglasses hiding your eyes, but your lips curved into the faintest smile. Let them speculate.

Jean and Mikasa trailed a few steps back, their expressions a cocktail of disbelief and irritation. Jean leaned toward Mikasa, muttering something you couldn’t hear, but the glare he sent Eren’s way spoke volumes.

You tilted your head toward Eren. “Are they watching?”

“Yeah…” His gaze stayed forward, but the smirk on his lips told you he was enjoying this way too much.

“We need to keep going,” you said. “Gosh, But can you walk faster?” you added ,

“Why do we need to walk faster? This is a romance movie, baby.”

“You’re so annoying.”

You felt the corners of your mouth twitch, almost breaking character, and instinctively made that tiny irritated face before quickly fixing it into a perfect, practiced smile for the cameras.

Eren, of course, noticed, and without missing a beat, slid his hand back to your waist like he was reminding you both of the act.

From the side, Levi appeared, sharp as ever, weaving through the chaos until he was in front of Hange.

“Are they serious about this? I thought they didn’t like each other.”

“How would I know?!” Hange snapped, eyes glued to the photographers like she could will them to vanish.

Levi squinted. “Oh, right. Forgot you’re just a four-eye.” Without another word, he moved toward Eren.

“Oi! You other brats need to keep up or I’ll just leave you here with the pathetic paparazzi,” he barked over his shoulder.

That was the signal , your group finally broke through the last swarm of reporters, security holding the line until the doors to the private lounge slid shut behind you. The sound outside dimmed to a faint hum, leaving just you, Eren, and the thud of your own heartbeat.

He didn’t let go of your waist.

The private lounge was quieter, but the air between you and Eren wasn’t. The glass walls muted the chaos outside, and now there was nothing stopping him from closing the distance.

Without a word, Eren’s arm slipped from your waist to your shoulder, his grip was firm. You weren’t walking so much as being steered like you were his doll, dressed up for the perfect little show.

“You’re acting like you own me.” You glanced up at him, a sharp eyebrow raised.

He smirked without looking down. “Right now? I kinda do.”

“Dream on.”

He tightened his hold just enough to make you aware of it, leaning in close enough for his breath to tickle your ear.

“Keep smiling, sweetheart. You don’t want them to see you break character.”

You swallowed the instinct to roll your eyes, keeping that flawless smile plastered on as the rest of the group followed.

Jean’s eyes kept cutting toward you like he was seconds away from saying something reckless. Mikasa’s expression was unreadable, though her jaw tightened each time Eren’s hand shifted against you.

Armin’s concern about the situation but he just continue to play his nintendo switch ,

“He’s holding her like she’s about to be auctioned.” Sasha leaned toward Hange, whispering loudly enough for you to catch,

“Shut up,” Hange hissed, though she was watching just as intently.

“This better not turn into a soap opera before we land.” Levi’s gaze swept the group like a security scan.

The sliding doors to the tarmac opened, and the private jet came into view, gleaming under the afternoon light. Eren adjusted his grip so you were pulled closer against his side, guiding you forward with a slow step . You could feel the weight of the band’s stares on your back, the silent exchange between them in disbelief , maybe even curiosity.

As you climbed the steps to the jet, Eren didn’t let go. His hand stayed on your shoulder, heavy and warm, almost daring you to shove it off. You didn’t. Not yet.

By the time you reached the cabin, you could feel the tension tightening like a pulled guitar string. Everyone was watching, waiting for the next crack in the act.

And Eren? He looked like he was just getting started.

The cabin of the private jet was sleek and quiet, with the faint hum of the engines filling the space.

You barely made it to your seat before Eren crouched down in front of you, his hands already at the straps of your heels.

“I can do it myself, you damn it,” you hissed, trying to tug your foot back.

“I know you can,” he said, glancing up with that infuriating half-smile. “Doesn’t mean I can’t do it for you.”

You hated that his hands were warm. You hated even more that he was taking his sweet time.

The heels came off, and before you could snatch them away, he leaned back in his seat and pulled out his phone.

“Eren—”

Click!

You blinked at him. “Did you just take a picture of me?”

He smirked. “Mhm. Proof my girlfriend exists.”

“She’s imaginary.”

“Not according to my camera roll.”

You leaned forward to snatch his phone, but he moved in, blocking you with his shoulder. It looked bad really bad from the back: two heads tilted together, close enough to kiss, your laugh muffled into his arm.

“Gosh, Eren, get out of my way.”

“Make me.”

From the other end of the cabin, Jean’s voice broke the low hum of the flight. “Are they… actually dating?”

“Does Eren know what ‘dating’ is?” Armin observed both of you while Mikasa didn’t answer. She just stared, like she was studying a puzzle she couldn’t solve.

Sasha had stopped mid-crunch, the chip halfway to her mouth, her eyes locked on the two of you.

Hange leaned toward Levi, whispering, “Y/N said they’re just in a situationship.”

Levi didn’t even look up from the coffee he was stirring. “Ok, four eyes, I don’t give a fuck.”

You finally managed to shove Eren back into his seat, your cheeks warm not that you’d admit why. He just sat there, relaxed, like the scene you’d just caused was all part of his plan.

And judging by the way the Band of Titans kept glancing between the two of you… maybe it was.

Fast forward , the clock just hit midnight and the cabin was dark, the faint hum of the engines wrapping the whole jet in a low, steady lullaby.

Everyone was asleep , Jean snoring like a chainsaw, Sasha hugging a bag of chips like it was her firstborn, Levi still upright with his arms crossed, somehow looking judgmental even in his dreams.

Everyone… except you.

Eren was across from you, head tilted slightly, his face angled your way like he’d been watching you before falling asleep. His breathing was even, peaceful in a way you didn’t expect from him.

You weren’t thinking about him though , you were thinking about the stash of snacks you’d spotted earlier in the side pocket of his backpack. Just a little raid. He’d never know.

You leaned forward, slow and careful. Your fingers brushed the zipper—

Snag.

“Fuck…” you hissed under your breath. Your sleeve was caught on the chain hanging from his wrist. You tried to tug it free, but the metal only tightened around the fabric.

Then Eren mumbled, voice thick with sleep.

“…Mom…”

You froze as your eyes looking at him ,

“…Please take me home.”

Before you could process the weird twist of your stomach, his hands moved grabbing you and pulling you toward him. The chain snag got worse, but that wasn’t your main problem anymore.

He’d pulled you fully onto his chest. The position was… compromising, to say the least. Your knees braced against either side of his hips, your face only inches from his.

“Ere—” you whispered, panicked, glancing around the cabin. If anyone woke up and saw this, you’d never live it down.

He didn’t wake, just murmured again, “Mom… I’m sorry…” and his arms tightened around you like he wasn’t letting go.

That’s when the turbulence hit.

The plane lurched hard, and your body instinctively pressed closer to him. His grip, somehow, only got stronger.

You’re in spiraling with trouble now , because you look like you’re riding him now.

And all you could think was , If this plane goes down, I’m going to be found in the most humiliating position possible.

You’d given up sometime after the third turbulence jolt. The chain wouldn’t come off, and every time you shifted, Eren’s arm would snake tighter around your waist, hauling you in like you were his personal anchor.

“Mom…Please take me home…” He’s breathing against your hair. You told yourself you were just going to rest your eyes only until he loosened his grip.

Except you woke up to sunlight bleeding through the airplane window still there.

Not just there , worse.

Your body was sprawled over his, knees bracketing his hips, your cheek pressed against his chest like some cliché romance novel cover. His chain still clung to your sleeve, and his hand? Yeah, resting way too comfortably on your lower back.

He was awake.

He’d been awake.

And judging by the lazy grin on his face, he was absolutely enjoying this.

You tried to lift yourself off, but the chain pulled taut, making you stumble right back into him.

“Morning, princess,” he murmured, voice still scratchy from sleep.

Before you could even curse him out—

“Holy shit.” Jean’s voice cut through the cabin, way too loud.

Mikasa sat up straight like she’d been electrocuted. Armin froze mid-bite of an energy bar. Sasha stared, eyes darting between you two like she was watching the most intense scene in a drama.

Even Levi stopped in the aisle, eyes narrowing like he was calculating exactly how much he didn’t want to be involved in this conversation.

“What the fuck am I looking at?” Levi asked flatly.

You scrambled to sit up again and sill stuck. Eren didn’t move, didn’t even pretend to help. Instead, he tightened his hold just enough to make your pulse spike.

“Looks bad, doesn’t it?” he said with his raspy morning voice ,

“Let me go,” you hissed in a whispery tone ,

“Nah,” he smirked, eyes flicking to the others.

“They’re watching.”

Sasha’s jaw dropped. “Oh my god… they’re real.”

“They’re not real!” you snapped c probably too fast, because Jean’s eyebrows shot up like you’d just confirmed something.

The murmurs started. Mikasa whispering something to Armin, Sasha muttering “I knew it,” and Levi sighing like his morning had already gone to hell.

Eren just leaned back against the seat, still keeping you in place.

“Guess we gave ‘em something to talk about,” he murmured, that smug glint in his eyes making your stomach twist.

And yeah, you were definitely not surviving this flight.

A few hours have just passed , and you guys are on the way to reach the Island .

The island came into view like something out of a travel commercial , white sand blinding under the afternoon sun, palm trees swaying lazily in the breeze, the water so blue it almost hurt to look at. But the air wasn’t just warm and salty , it was charged.

The boat slowed, rocking with the tide, and Eren’s arm was still clamped around your waist like an anchor. You kept the same fixed, unbothered smile, a perfect porcelain doll for the cameras even though your muscles ached from holding this charade together.

Jean and Mikasa were posted near the bow, their low conversation threaded with glances sharp enough to cut. Whatever scandal they were hiding, they were guarding it well.

Armin hovered beside them, waiting for Eren to make his move. Levi and Hange had already stepped onto the dock, eyes scanning for the producers.

You were ready to step down on your own, heels already aimed for the weathered planks ,

But then his hand tightened.

In one effortless motion, Eren slid an arm under your legs and lifted you clean off the deck.

It was the kind of lift that made your stomach flip . Not because you weren’t expecting it, but because it was too damn easy for him. His shoulders barely shifted under your weight, his grip solid like he’d done this a hundred times before.

The wind caught at your hair, whipping it into your face. The sun hit the edges of your cheekbones just right, casting the two of you in that golden, almost-too-perfect light.

And then there were his greenish blue eyes locked on yours like the rest of the world had vanished.

Jean’s jaw went tight. Mikasa’s gaze dropped, sharp and unreadable. Armin’s mouth actually fell open.

From the dock, you two looked dangerously magnetic.

But between you?

“After this,” you murmured, your voice low enough for him alone, “if you betray me, I’ll kill you”

“That’s fair.” The corner of his mouth curved, Your feet touched the dock just as the producer’s voice rang out across the island.

“Welcome… to Love Island!”

The cameras flashed. The water slapped against the hull. And somewhere in the sunlit chaos, your deal had truly begun.

Could you make it work? Or was this just the first act of a beautiful disaster?

Reblogs are appreciated but no copying! written by flvorieas , All right reserved!

You arrived first. Of course you did.

Hair curled. Makeup airbrushed to hell. Skin glowing like it didn't belong to someone who spent half the night spiraling through comment sections and group chats titled "We Ride at Dawn (for Y/N)."

The studio was colder than expected big, echoey, white. Minimal furniture. LED lights, softboxes, cameras, and a dozen people whispering into headsets. The walls were draped in fake linen to look "beachy." There was a giant neon sign that read Love on Top in pink cursive.

The energy felt manufactured. Like it was trying too hard to convince you this was a romance, not a contract.

You adjusted your necklace. Smiled politely at the assistant offering you a water. Pretended not to notice how your stomach had been flipping since you got out of the car.

They told you to wait by the set entrance until they adjusted the lighting. You stood near the fake cabana backdrop, pretending to scroll through your phone, pretending not to notice him coming closer.

You hadn't seen him yet.

And the second you did, you knew the flipping wouldn't stop.

30 minutes later , Eren walked in like the building owed him something.Black sunglasses, ripped jeans, jacket already halfway off, like he couldn't be bothered to play along. His hair was still wet . Like he'd rolled out of bed, dunked his head in a sink, and showed up to war.

But you felt it. The heat. The weight. That presence Eren carried like a storm walking upright , He stopped just behind you, too close to be casual.

Eren finally took off the sunglasses.

He looked at you like he already regretted breathing the same air. "Oh, she did show up."

“You think it's funny?" you asked, not even turning around.

Eren tilted his head, like he didn't understand the question. Or like he didn't care to.

"What's funny, baby?"

You clenched your jaw.

"No one believed a word you said up there," you said, voice sharp but low enough to keep from drawing attention. "Some people thought you were drunk again."

He laughed, soft and deep, like it really didn't matter.

"Yeah," he said. "Security pulled me aside for a piss test right after. All because I said your name onstage."

You turned then, slowly. Your eyes locked with his.

"I don't care what they made you do. I don't care what your label wants. I don't want my name coming out of your mouth ever again."

Eren didn't move. But something in his expression shifted ,Not guilt. Not apology.Amusement.

He leaned in, just close enough that only you could hear it.

"What's wrong?" he whispered, like he was savoring every syllable. "It looks pretty on me."

Then ,he said your name.Drawn out like a melody he didn't deserve to sing.

"See?" he murmured. "Fits nice."

You exhaled slowly, hating how steady you had to be. Hating how unsteady he made you feel.

His gaze shifted down.

He scanned the black satin draped over your shoulders, the way it hugged your waist, the clean off-the-shoulder cut, the silver embroidery catching the light like it was made to be noticed. You looked like a siren built for red carpets and revenge. Like someone untouchable dressed as someone unforgettable.

Eren tilted his head and he let out a low whistle looking at your dress , "This was all for me, yeah?"

The corner of your lip twitched . You're disgusted or amused, even if you weren't sure.

"You're late," you cut in flatly, stepping to the side before his ego could catch up. "Thirty minutes."

He gave a lazy shrug, like it barely mattered.

"Fashionably. Thought you'd like that."

"You thought wrong."

"Come on, honey," he said, walking slowly past you toward the lights. "Pretend for the cameras."

You didn't answer.Because that's all this was.

Pretending.Selling a lie neither of you could stand behind without wanting to bite each other's heads off.

"(Y/N)!"

You widen your eyes after you hear that familiar voice , you sigh and turn around to see your parents with a bouquet of fake flowers.

The moment your parents stepped onto the set, the energy shifted. Your mother's heels clicked across the floor, your father trailing behind with his jaw clenched like an apology he couldn't say. Seeing them there unannounced, out of context made everything crack.

Your father leaned in close, voice low enough to be private, though the set was silent enough to carry it two rooms away.

“Are you seriously dating this guy?"

You glanced at Eren, dressed in all black leather and skinny jeans, creased and worn like a middle-finger to convention. His hair fell over his eyes, dyed a shade darker than regret. He hadn't flinched. Hadn't even shifted. But you felt his gaze carve you out from across the room.

Your mother's voice shook next, softer but sharper. "You know, Y/N... people like him? They treat rehab like a vacation."

You shook your head and raised a hand as if you could mute her with volume alone.

"Mom, shh. He'll hear you." They paused. Their presence felt like wrinkled linen; they demanded smoothness. Your mother cleared her throat, as if to propose something palatable.

"We could introduce you to someone," she began, lips tight. "A suitable family friend. At least we'd have an heir in the family."

Your father nodded behind her, expectant.

Your heart twisted. "I prioritize my career," you said, voice even but furious underneath. "I—"

You looked up and saw Eren watching you, unwavering. Like he was guarding you from some invisible offense, or maybe just marking territory. That single moment, "Mom, Dad... we'll talk later."

The lights dimmed to a soft amber as the photographer called the next pose. You and Eren were guided to a distressed leather sofa, the kind that whispered stories under worn creases.

The set around you was minimal neutral drapes, muted florals and every shade seemed too quiet except for the electric charge between you two.

Eren moved behind you, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from his body, an intimate storm you hadn't signed up for.

He crossed his arms over your waist, one palm pressing low against satin-covered skin. Your back rested against his chest as he leaned in, his jaw edging dangerously close to your ear.

"You feel this?" he murmured, his voice was deep enough for only you.

Your breath caught in your chest. You nodded before you even knew you were reacting.

"Good," he said, biting out the word like it weighed something heavy.

The shutter clicked.

They positioned themselves for the next shot . Eren's arms tightening slightly around you, your head dipped back so that your lips tilted toward his shoulder. You could smell the faint burn of leather and something sharper citrus, smoke, adrenaline. The entire set fell silent, waiting for the moment it had come to exploit.

You exhaled softly and broke the quiet. "You know this look works, right? The 'too much silence between us' vibe?"

He smirked against your skin. "Just like you said....pretend it's real."

Your jaw clenched. "Come on, pretend harder."

His fingers moved up your ribs with slow deliberation, thumb brushing beneath your bustline.

"Command me," he whispered.

Your eyes flicked closed for one beat. "Hold me tighter.You idiot"

Eren start to smirk , Steel and fire tightened in his fingers as he pulled you closer. That was all the direction he needed.

The next frame captured it all , The almost-kiss, lips separated by a breath, your eyes sampling the space between his collarbone and ear. Your hair fell over your shoulders like a curtain meant to hide you, but your chest burned open to the light.

“You're the scene I can't fuck up."

You turned slightly in his arms, careful not to break the pose but defying the fantasy. "I'm not your savior," you whispered.

He shifted so your hips pressed together, rough and soft. "Maybe I need saving."

Your chest fluttered with a laugh that sounded like the truth. "We're gonna pretend that's whispered only between us, okay?"

Your heels clicked on Eren's foot , "Ouch!"   You chuckle as you're finally from Eren's touch ,

"Cut!" The photographer finally forced the moment to close.  "That's it. Beautiful, intense, honestly cinematic. You two are electric."

You pushed away first, hand trembling as you smoothed your dress. Eren stepped back, not his arm still reaching your waist.

“What was that?" You rolled your eyes "Don't be mad , this is our first step to make this thing work. We two are literally beautiful-intense-honestly-cinematic couples!

As they turned off the lights, only you and Eren remained in the dying glow. He pressed a fingertip to the faint shimmer on your collarbone where the breeze had caught the zipper.

"You're too pretty to ruin," he said, quiet like he thought it was a secret.

You inhaled slowly. "Even when I don't want you to?" you asked,

He didn't smile but he leaned into you "I still do (Your stage name)" He whispers to your ear ,  And the air between you remains heavy enough to burn, even after the cameras shut down.

Then the producer reappeared. Smiling too wide. Adjusting his vest while his eye locked into you.

"We might need a bit more.....exposure," he said, eyes lingering where they shouldn't have. "Maybe next time ! ( Y/N) can show a little skin

His hand started to hover near your thigh, like a question.Eren moved in an instant. He pressed your waist to his body, firm enough to sound like a warning.

“If you want to play Barbie doll that much, go to fucking Toys R Us and have fun there," he said quietly, leaning so close only the director would hear. "She's not comfortable with that."

The director stumbled back after receiving that from Eren , You can't help but lean into a guy that just called you out on a festival last year. You were surprised by his action , you're trying to understand how his mind works but it is still blurry.

The shoot ended soon after.

At midnight, the set was empty. Lights off. You were still receiving texts from your parents, their words bleating with disappointment, expectation, confusion. Your phone glowed red in your hands, buzzing like warnings you couldn't ignore.

You barely had time to wipe off the last of the gloss they slathered on your lips for the final shot. The studio lights had dimmed, the crew buzzing around like ants pretending they hadn't just spent an hour forcing you into poses that weren't even meant for human bodies.

"You deal with them every day, huh?"

You didn't answer. But the tremor in your fingers told him the truth.

"They don't own you," he continued, voice gentle enough to hurt. "You don't have to let them decide."

You turned to him.He shrugged, almost afraid to say it out loud.

"Oh, you talk like you're some artist bringing good influence to the world," you whispered.

He gave a small laugh. "At least I'm free from them."

You stared. The lie sank into your chest. If he was free, he wouldn't be here with you. But he was.

"And you're stuck with me for a month." You exhaled, shoulders tensing.

Silence ,

"Hey, beautiful," Eren don't give up . He break the silence between you and him again . He drawled behind you, like he hadn't just spent the last two hours glued to your hip for the camera.

"I just helped you out. Wanna return the favor?"

You turned, He just forget and tossed the whole topic just like that?

"Depends."

He raised both hands, surrender-style, though his grin was anything but innocent. "Mikasa. My girl. Jean fucked her while I was in rehab."

Your brow twitched , looking at him in a disbelief.

"...Okay, no, he didn't," Eren admitted with a half-laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "But it wouldn't surprise me. I don't feel like explaining that whole mess. Not today."

"And... how is that my problem?"

"I want you to make her reeeeally jealous."You blinked at him like he'd just grown a second head.

"Absolutely not. I'm not dragging myself into girl drama for you. If you want her attention, say it to her face."

"I can't do that."

"Why?"

"Because Jean's there."

You almost laughed. "You're a coward."

"And you," he leaned closer, voice dipping into something slower, silkier, "are getting ten texts per second from your family asking when you're going to marry the heir of whatever boring-ass frozen food empire they picked out for you."

You stiffened. He glanced at your phone lighting up again on the table. "What's that? Sixth message this hour?"

Your silence was his answer.

He took one step closer, just enough for you to smell the lingering smoke on his jacket. "So here's what we're gonna do. We act like it's real. You and me. Not just for the cameras. For the media. The fans. Your parents. Mikasa. Jean. Hell, even Levi if he gets bored enough to care."

You scoffed. "Fake dating? That's your grand plan?"

Eren's smirk twisted into something colder. "Not fake. Real acting. Paparazzi think they're catching something? Good. Let them. You walk into a party with me? Even better. You let me post one photo of us where I'm whispering in your ear like I own you? Game over."

He stepped back, letting it sink in.

"No one knows it's fake. Not the crew. Not the fans. Not your parents. Not Mikasa. Just us. You keep your rep clean, I make my ex seethe, and you buy yourself at least three months of breathing room from your family's arranged marriage bullshit."

He let the silence hang before landing the final blow.

"C'mon. You're the princess. I'm the scandal. This is the story they'll eat up."

You stared at him, heart thudding too hard for something that sounded this stupid.But it wasn't stupid. Not really.It was dangerous. And it made too much sense.

Your phone buzzed again. It's from your parenr but you don't pour any intention to look at it.

“Let's do it," you muttered.

"There we go, baby." His grin split wider. "This is gonna be fun."

You didn't even remember saying yes out loud. One minute you were adjusting your dress and reaching for your phone, the next, Eren had already tossed your jacket over your shoulders and tugged you toward the lot.

"Where are we going?" you asked, still dazed from the leftover heat of the photoshoot, his words, that goddamn smirk.

"Field trip," he said. "Don't worry, princess. You'll love it."

By the time you reached the garage, Hange spotted you through the window of the studio.

"[Y/N]?" she shouted. "Where are you—HEY—IS THAT EREN'S CAR?" Eren pulled your hand to enter his black jaguar , The door slammed before you could answer.

Levi looked up from his phone at the sound of tires screeching. He blinked once, frowned harder, and muttered, "What the actual fu—"

Hange and Levi? The manager team might believe the relationship.

Eren drove like he had nothing to lose.

No headlights. One hand on the wheel, the other drumming against the dashboard. His eyes weren't even on the road half the time they kept flicking to you, studying your profile like it had something to say.

The highway lights cut across his face in flashes. On. Off. On. Off. He looked like a ghost you were stuck in a car with, like someone built from red flags and eyeliner.

You didn't say anything. The city buzzed past the windows in streaks of color. It felt like running, like making a mistake and knowing it was going to taste good anyway.

"You always drive like this?" you asked finally.

He glanced over, that grin curling again. "Only with passengers worth dying for."

"You must have a lot of women willing to suck you off for fun" You sigh , "I enjoy that" Eren let out a small chuckle.Hearing that you just rolled your eyes and looked out the window again.

The next thing you knew, he was dragging you through the side door of a beat-down building that reeked of metal, sweat, and stale beer. Inside was chaos. The real kind.

There were people with split knuckles and ripped shirts, eyeliner smudged halfway down their cheeks, lipstick like blood. A girl was crying into a boy's lap in the corner while someone else screamed over a broken amp. Beer spilled down every surface. The walls were graffitied to hell. It was loud, filthy, and raw.

Eren looked at home.You did not.

You stayed close to Eren's side, trying not to make eye contact with the girl crying into her drink or the guy throwing up in a cup.

But before you could say anything, heads turned. A few people stopped mid-laugh. Mikasa's eyes caught yours from across the room. Jean leaned in beside her, squinting like he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

Jean blinked once. "Why is she here?"

"She's my girl, you dipshits."

"Stop cursing—" You forget you were just acting in front of them.You started laughing nervously.

"Yea," you added, because why not? You were in it now.

Jean's mouth opened, then closed again. "Are you fucking serious? You guys are just pretending, right?"

Eren shrugged, then pulled you a little closer, his hand gripping your hip like it belonged there. "Yeah," he said. "And I don't know which part's pretending anymore."

Silence.

Like full-on, stage-stopping silence.Even the guy passed out on the floor lifted his head.

Mikasa's voice broke it. "Eren, this is our secret spot. And you brought her here?"

"It's not a fucking Met Gala Eren," Jean added, tone flattening.

"You think she's gonna live blog this?" Armin with his phone , typing something start to speak up

"She's just Y/N," Armin said from behind the mixer. "You're not gonna tell anyone... right?"

Jean stepped closer. "Y/N... if you ever talk about this—"

"Watch your motherfucking voice ," Eren said, sharp now.

"Or what?"

"You want to eat a microphone today?" Eren snapped. "I will shove it so far down your throat you'll start autotuning."

"Hey," Armin called, sighing. "Can we just play some goddamn music?"

The lights dimmed. A heartbeat bass rolled under the floor.

Eren leaned into the mic and strummed one low, lazy chord, fingers sliding over the guitar like muscle memory. The crowd pulsed forward, packed in, already buzzing.

You stood just behind him, heart thudding too loud, your heels stuck to the edge of beer-soaked concrete. You weren't supposed to be here. Not on this stage. Not in this scene.

He turned his head just slightly, sweat glinting off the sharp cut of his jaw.

"You ready?" he asked under his breath, voice low and electric.

You looked at him like he was insane. "Can I get off this stage right now?"

"You can," he said, sucking his teeth while his grin cutting sideways. "After we do something crazy."

"...Like what?"

He didn't answer.

Instead, he dropped his guitar to let the band carry the sound, took two long steps toward you, and—

You didn't even have time to blink.

His hand slid to the back of your neck, and before you could finish inhaling, his mouth crashed into yours.

It wasn't sweet. It wasn't gentle.

It was live-wire chaos, the kind of kiss that tasted like smoke and salt and heat. His lips moved like they had something to prove like the crowd wasn't even there, like this had been burning in him for longer than he'd admit.

The noise around you blurred. You forgot your name.

When he pulled back, just slightly, the room hadn't moved. The whole venue stood still.

You opened your mouth, maybe to curse him out, maybe to ask why.

The kiss landed like a bomb dropped in a chapel.

The crowd screamed. Not for the music. Not for the performance. For the drama.

But backstage? Silence.

The band of titans finally went backstage after the final song ended , but eren and y/n went somewhere else.

Armin froze mid-note. His fingers hovered over the keys, blinking as if the overhead lights had short-circuited his brain.

"What the hell did he just—?"

Jean's jaw locked so tight, you could hear the grind of his molars. He took one step toward the stage like he was ready to walk up and drag Eren off by the collar.

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me," he spat, fists clenched, voice low but sharp enough to cut glass. "This isn't part of the plan. This wasn't—"

"She's not one of us," Mikasa snapped, her voice the coldest in the room. She didn't raise it. She didn't need to. "He knows that."

Her arms were crossed so tightly across her chest they looked like they might bruise. Her eyes never left the stage—not Y/N, not even the crowd, just Eren. Like she was watching a slow, deliberate betrayal she'd already seen coming.

"He brought her here," Armin said finally, his voice quieter, more like shock than anger. "To this place."

"He kissed her like it meant something," Jean hissed. "And you know Eren. If he wants the world to see something, he makes sure no one can unsee it."

The rest of the room buzzed with noise, camera flashes, someone yelling "holy shit" near the front row. But none of them moved. Not Armin. Not Jean. Not Mikasa.

Because what just happened wasn't some PR stunt.

It was personal.And Eren Jaeger never did anything halfway.

The taco shop was tucked in a corner of nowhere—one of those places that hadn't updated its sign since 2003 and didn't plan to. Eren pushed the door open with his shoulder, held it for you like it meant nothing, and walked straight to the counter.

He didn't ask what you wanted. He just ordered three of everything and slapped down a twenty like a man on a mission.

"Wow. Paying like a gentleman," you teased.

"I have my moments," he muttered, already walking to a booth. You sat down, stretching your legs under the sticky linoleum table. The second the tray landed between you, the smell made your stomach ache in a way you hadn't felt in months.

"I'm on a diet," you said, mostly to yourself.

"Fuck that shit," Eren grinned, tossing a taco your way. "Taste a little. You need a reward after all that."

You hesitated, then bit into it like you were starving and honestly, maybe you were.One bite turned into three. Then five. By the time you polished it off, Eren was staring.

"Woah, woah—how long's it been since you had a taco?"

"I don't know. Probably a year."

He let out a low whistle. "That's criminal. Pretty girls shouldn't starve."

You rolled your eyes. "Pretty girls have brand deals."

He pulled a cigarette from his pocket, lit it, and leaned back like he had nowhere to be.

“How do you sing with that garbage in your lungs?”

"God gave me talent."

"Bullshit. You just scream with rhythm."

"Gosh, pop princess. Go easy on me, yeah?"

You laughed into your drink, and for a second, everything felt weirdly normal.Just two burned-out artists in a dead taco joint pretending life wasn't hell.

"I think I fucked up." Then his voice dropped, just a notch.

You looked up from your cup. "What?"

"The band," he said, cigarette trailing smoke between his fingers. "Titans. I think I set it up just to burn it down. Rehab. The overdose. The interviews. I didn't mean to kill it. But I think I did."

"Mikasa doesn't look at me. Jean's ready to bolt. Armin's holding the sound together with duct tape. We were supposed to be bigger than this. I ruined it."

"How do you know they hate you? They seem...Worry about you and still care about you" You stared at him, trying to picture the version of Eren that wasn't chaotic or loud or impossible. And it was hard.But not impossible.

"Hey," he said after a minute, exhaling a plume of smoke. "Enough about me. What about you?"

You shrugged. He changed the topic again , But you don't mind if he's not comfortable enough to open up .

“I just love to sing. Write. That's all I ever wanted."

He raised a brow.

"I didn't want to become my parents always logical, always business. I know how this industry works, but... I wanted to stay human. We're artists, right? We live for love. Passion. Pain. That's what makes us real. Making music that shares that with the world? That's the only thing that makes me feel like I belong."

Eren blinked, like he hadn't expected that much honesty.He whistled once, slow and low, then leaned back with a crooked smile.

"We're just the same product with a different font, huh?"

Ting!

Eren's phones finally lit up ,

THE BAND  OF TITANS

Mikasa: Eren. We need to talk.

Armin: Yeah... like right now. And don't bring Y/N.

Jean: WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?

Ting!

Your phone buzzed again, this time with a name you recognized immediately.

Historia 💅:

Girl.....Are you fucking serious....?

She attached a photo. One that made your stomach flip.

It was you and Eren. On stage. Mid-kiss. The stage lights caught just enough to make it look intimate.

Below it, a trending headline:

THE MARKETING COUPLE DEBUNKED?

The guitarist from the Titans and our pop princess caught in a liplock — is this more than PR?

You didn't even think. You just turned the screen and shoved it in Eren's face.

He didn't flinch.Instead, he leaned in, glanced at it like he was reading the weather, then grinned slow and cocky.

"See?" he said. "Fun, right? Fooling the whole industry?"

He leaned back in the booth, that lazy grin still plastered across his face like he hadn't just detonated a media nuke. "This is just the beginning."

You didn't answer.Because that was the problem.

You weren't sure what you'd just started... or if you could stop it.

The clock on your phone ticked over.2:03 AM.

Next week, the cameras will roll. The house. The crew. The press.

You'd signed up for an act. A one-month lie.

But right now, with the taste of taco grease on your lips and a viral kiss dragging your name into every headline in the country ,

You didn't know what the hell you'd gotten yourself into.

TAGLIST : @00maraaa . @vlsquuu . @lost-in-this-darkness

Written by flvorieas . All Right Reserved .

The city’s noise is distant from here.

A rooftop bar sits abandoned in the early morning gray. The usual crowd managers, execs, leeches in designer sunglasses haven’t crawled out of their hangovers yet. 

But Levi’s already waiting, Tea brewing on the table , he dressed in black like he’s heading to a funeral.

And in a way, he is. Because the band is dead. And Eren Jaeger? Still breathing, but barely.

Post-rehab was the loneliest kind of silence. No more texts. No more parties. No more noise to drown out the ache. Just mornings that felt like concrete, and nights that tasted like dust.

No stage. No spotlight.Just his guitar . And the weight of not knowing if he’d ever belong anywhere again.

Levi doesn’t offer a greeting , “Do you even remember the last gig?” he says instead, voice flat.

Eren shrugs. “Flashes.”

“Flashes?” Levi exhales sharply, standing. “You OD’d in the dressing room.”

“I’m alive, aren’t I?”

“No. You’re famous, which is worse,” Levi spits. “And now your name is mud. You’ve dragged Armin and Mikasa down, And Jean? He has another plan . and every brand deal we had ran for the hills faster than you did from your last piss test.”

Eren doesn’t flinch . He just stares off at the skyline. Like the view might offer an escape hatch.

Levi had watched it happen in pieces.The slipping.The silence.The way Eren’s eyes stopped lighting up when he played.

Eren Jaeger, the boy who used to scream poetry into a mic like it was a lifeline, became a man who couldn’t hold a job, couldn’t stay in a studio, couldn’t stay sober.

He moved from couch to couch, burned through every bandmate, every friend. Until there was nothing left.

Levi assumes that Eren has no place in this society . He can’t have a normal job to support his life , because he's a man who is fickle and full of paradoxical thoughts .

Levi remembers how he found him under the bridge , He  found him there by accident. One night and the air is cold , 

He was sitting on the pavement, hunched under neon lights, strumming an old acoustic guitar like he was trying to make the pain leave his body through the strings.

Levi watched silently . Eren’s looking like he wants to give up on his life  but his finger is still holding on to the guitar string . Since then , Levi recruited him to enter the Band and introduce him to Mikasa .

But deep down , Levi knows  even then, Eren still didn’t want to be saved.

“You look like shit,” Levi mutters. Eren shrugs. “I feel worse.”

Levi tosses a file across the table. “Read it.”.

“You hear me Brat? Read it,” Levi repeats, with a colder tone. Eren sighs. Open the folder and start to read ,

LOVE ON TOP ! See your favorite celeberities in a luxury island !

Eren scoffs. “You want me to play house with some pop star princess? Dress up and kiss for the camera?”

Levi doesn’t blink. “No , I want you to at least TRY to save the band’s reputation”

“Fuck that. I’m not your PR puppet.”

“No,” Levi says slowly. “You’re a PR mess.”

Eren laughed once , it was humorless. “And this is your genius plan?”

Levi leans in while his hand reaches the teacup handle. “You want back in the band? You want a stage again? You want anyone to give a shit about your music ever again? Then yes. You’ll smile, strum your guitar, and pretend not to hate the world for once in your life.”

Eren don’t give any reaction towards Levi’s words , 

“It’s not just any island. It’s a curated, branded escape. They’re calling it Love on Top. Two stars. One house. Ocean views. Couple shit. Healing, bonding, looking pretty for the cameras. You both ‘fall in love’ while promoting the island as a honeymoon destination.”

Eren snorts, bitter. “Sounds like hell in high def.”

Levi shrugs. “Yeah, but the paycheck is heaven. And if you don’t do it? You’ll never step on a stage again.”

Eren closes the file slowly. His fingers twitch , Levi can’t tell anymore.

“…What’s her name again?” he asks.

Levi smirks faintly. “You already know.”

He does.Of course he does. The popstar with the perfect smile. America’s little sweetheart. 

You. [ YOUR STAGE NAME ] .  

And now he is about to be her fake lover on national television.

“So?” Levi asks. “You promise you will do everything I asked you to do, Eren?”

“I’ll do it.

You stare at the email.You read it once. No,twice.And then you throw your phone across the room.

“Hange!” you scream, storming into her office like it’s a battlefield. “You really want to kill me, don’t you?! Eren Jaeger and me? You’ve got to be joking.”

She doesn’t even look up from her tablet. “I don’t joke….. Not before coffee~ hehe!”

“There’s no way—no fucking way—we’re going to convince the world that we like each other” Hange sighs, finally looking at you over her glasses. 

“You’re both professionals,” she says.

“No,” you hiss. “I’m a professional. He’s a tabloid disaster with a guitar.” Hange just sits and thinks about her previous conversation with Levi regarding this.

A week ago. Levi had sat across from Hange in a private meeting room, silent for longer than he needed to be.

“I wouldn’t ask,” he said finally. “If I had any other move left.”

Hange raised an eyebrow. “You think putting your unhinged frontman in a fake relationship with the pop darling of the year is going to work?”

“I think she’s the only one who can make the world stop hating him long enough for him to get his shit together.”

“And you think she’ll say yes?”

Levi didn’t answer , because he wasn’t sure. But he knew he was out of time and Eren was out of chances.

“Gosh , Four eye ... Just one time…Please help me” Levi grunt while looking at his shoes trying to not stare into Hange’s eyes .

Hange sighs , She’s not that heartless to let Levi drown in a pit of failure . 

“[Y/N], Just for one month,”Hange says now, as you pace like a caged animal. 

 “—You’re not marrying him. You’re not stuck with him forever. And you’re not alone! there’ll be a hundred crew members. Script. Schedules. Everything is guided.”

You stop pacing. “Last year… our beef was trending on Twitter.”

“I remember.”

“There were memes! Entire edits of me side-eyeing him at the VMAs!”

“I saw it [Y/N] ,  My favorite was the one where someone dubbed in a cat hiss.”

You glare at her. “And now we’re doing this stupid show?”

Hange just shrugs. “Exactly. That’s the point. Everyone’s watching. You two are walking headlines. The tension’s already there. You just have to let them think it’s turning into something else.”

You groan. Drag your hands down your face.

“Hange!!!” She pats your shoulder like this is a mild inconvenience instead of media suicide.

“You’ll be fine,” she says with a suspiciously cheerful grin. “Smile for the cameras. Make eye contact. Pretend you don’t want to strangle him. Easy.”

You want to throw something again.Maybe yourself.Right off the side of this goddamn project. You were supposed to promote an island. Heal. Relax. Pretend to be in love.

But no one told you the man you’d be fake-loving was the same man who once called your music “plastic serotonin for insecure teenagers.”

No one told you the cameras would be rolling when the past came back with a smirk, messy hair, and a fresh set of PR chains.And no one told you that Eren Jaeger would be waiting for you at the end of the dock.

You looked like a starlet from a dream.

Vintage waves pinned just right, the ends of your hair curled like you stepped off a 1955 movie poster. Your dress shimmered under the vanity lights, liquid silver silk, off-the-shoulder, slit high enough to threaten headlines. Diamond drop earrings, red lip, no nerves.

You weren’t just attending the AMAs. You want to own the night.

“Babe, you’re going to blind people! How do you feel about my creation!?” Sasha said, circling you, smoothing the fabric like a proud mom.

“you make everything 100x better,” you teased.

Historia raised her phone for a selfie. “Post this and the internet dies. You’re welcome.

“You laugh , for the first time today. There’s music in your chest again. Just tonight, just this once, it’s about you. Not contracts. Not scandals. Not him. 

“[Y/N], over here!” Flashbulbs glued your eyes ,  the  red carpet filled with scream and the Microphones were everywhere.

You smile, step onto the carpet, every movement smooth, calculated, light as air. The interviewer greets you with practiced charm, mic angled toward your lips.

“So tell us ... Any truth to the rumors about your upcoming project? A certain show set on a tropical island?”

You open your mouth , try to answer it professionally . But then , you hear a familiar voice . Just Right behind you , 

“Hey, beautiful,” Eren Jaeger drawls, stepping behind you like a ghost in silk and sin. “What’s up?”

You freeze. The camera is still on live , there's a thousand eyes watching you both . At the moment , you feel how every inch of your skin crawls.

Is he….high? No, he looks clean. Too clean. His hair’s pulled back, black suit messy in the most deliberate way. The chain around his throat glints. He smells like expensive sin and danger.

And he just walks right past you like it means nothing.Jean follows close behind, shaking his head, laughing. “You’re so fucking annoying, man!”

Eren just smirks, never looking back.

Later on , You find him near the fire exit , alone . Leaning against the wall like he owns the place.

You want to scream.But instead, you walk up to him.

“What the hell was that?”

He doesn’t turn to face you. Just exhales smoke from a half-burnt cigarette.

“Wasn’t it obvious? I said hi.”

“We were on live, Jaeger.”

“I know.” He finally looks at you. There’s no apology in his face. Just that same crooked mouth, that same goddamn look. 

“You looked hot, by the way.” his green eyes looking at you , up and down . He was stunned by your appearance , 

You want to slap him. You also want to scream. Instead, your voice comes out like ice.

“You’re not funny. You’re not charming. And this fake little love island fantasy we’re supposed to do? It’s not gonna work.”

Eren tilts his head. “Oh, you think I wanted this?”

“You think I did?”

“You agreed,” he says, stepping closer. “Just like me.”

You stiffen. “I did it for my team. My image. Not for you.”

He’s too close now. Close enough that you can smell the faint burn of nicotine under his cologne.

“Last year you called me a corporate doll on live radio,” you say.

“Last year you called me a washed-up junkie in Rolling Stone.” He grins. “Fair trade.

“Hm?” you started, voice dipped in mockery.

“Coming back from rehab, the public eye turning on you… your band’s been on hiatus for a year, and this is the stupid thing you pick?”

You paused as you saw the band of Titans finally walk in , but you just swallowed your breath and kept going ,

“Who’s the doll for the industry now?” That’s it , you feel satisfied with how you finally express your resentment towards Eren.

Jean snorted behind him. “Hey, pretty. Watch your mouth.”

You didn’t even look at him. Eren stepped closer, just enough to sour the air between you. Just enough to make your breath catch.

“Be careful,” he said, voice low, the words smooth and venom-coated. “Everything I touch gets ruined. Maybe you’ll be the next little thing that gets discarded”

You straightened your back , Chin is still high to keep going staring at Eren’s eyes .

“Don’t worry,” you said. “Nothing will be touched.”

Then he leaned in closer than necessary, smug carved into his face.

“Sure… sweetheart.”

“[Y/N]!”

Historia’s voice sliced through the tension, heels clicking against the floor. She was already reaching for you, already pulling you away from the TITANS like her life depended on it.

He buried his lips against the tip of the mic, exhaling a slow breath before the smile crept in lazy, confident, and just shy of cruel. His black leather jacket caught the stage lights like oil, and his hair, loose and damp with sweat, clung to his jaw in messy waves. He looked like chaos set to a beat. And he knew it.

You didn’t move. Not even a twitch. You already knew what was coming.

You knew he was going to turn the moment into a weapon. You could feel it before he said anything how the air thickened, how the audience leaned in, how every camera subtly shifted in your direction like vultures circling overhead.

They were waiting for him to mock you again. Waiting for the punchline.

You sipped your champagne, fingers trembling slightly against the glass, and forced yourself to look up at him. You refused to flinch. You watched him play the stage like it belonged to him. Like none of this was real.

Then he spoke.

“I have this one girl…”

He strummed a single chord. The note echoed across the arena like a warning.

The crowd cheered, loud and eager.

He smiled wider, eyes skimming the front row but never staying there. His gaze reached higher scanning the VIPs. Searching for you , You knew exactly where he was looking.

“…who’s been inspiring me through writing my new album.”

More cheers. Louder this time. No one knew where he was going with it. Not yet.

“This is Bloody Valentine,” he said, his voice rolling through the mic like thunder with a smirk tucked inside every syllable.

“Only for you, [YOUR STAGE NAME].”

The gasp that tore through the audience didn’t even sound real.Your name rang across the venue like a shot fired in a crowd.

You start to panic , spiralling in confusion . Gasoline to a stage already burning. You heard it immediately, voices hissing from the rows below.

“Wait—did he say (Y/N)?”

“He’s dedicating a song to her?”

“Didn’t he trash her entire album on IG Live last year?”

“He called her music ‘therapy for toddlers.’ What the fuck is this?”

The crowd didn’t know whether to scream, laugh, or riot. But they made noise anyway.

Camera flashes burst like fireworks. Phones went up. You saw one girl typing a caption before she even finished gasping.

And every single lens, every single eye, every single headline already forming . They turned to you.

Your body stunned in front of them , You couldn’t make any single move , You’re like a statue . 

Your hand clenched tighter around the glass, the stem biting into your fingers. The music was just starting drums pounding, bass rumbling but you couldn’t hear it. Not properly.

All you could hear was your name.

Your name and His mouth. Tangled with each one another on the stage . The worst part of it , this was all on purpose. Eren Jaeger didn’t mean any single word he uttered towards you! You know it , 

The screams grew louder, but none of them were for the song. They were for the narrative. The chaos. The scandal in real-time.

You sat frozen, back straight, smile fake, glass trembling.

And somewhere beneath the noise, beneath the lights, beneath the glitter and fury of a weaponized stage, you felt the words leave your mouth before you even knew you’d said them.

“No fucking way.”  

But even that felt too loud. Your chest was burning. Your hands curled into fists against your thighs. He didn’t even mean it. You knew he didn’t mean it.

He wasn’t complimenting you. He was claiming you.

And worst of all? You didn’t even get a say in it.

You feel Historia's hand grabbing you in a speed of light  , “We need to go,” she said quickly, already pulling you toward the exit.

You nodded, numb, trying to ignore the way people turned to watch. The way your phone buzzed with notifications you didn’t want to read. The way your name was already trending beside his.

By the time the car door slammed shut behind you, you were shaking.

Historia shoved her phone into your face before you could seven process the air conditioning.

“Look.”

The screen was already flooded with a lot of comments.

@lilpopgirl2001 AIN’T NO WAY. This is a fever dream. I refuse

@titantrash69 This is literally the worst marketing campaign I’ve ever seen. Who approved this?? Satan??

@erenyellingagain This is just a setup. no way she willingly stood near that man without filing a lawsuit first

@glitterandgasoline this ain’t a PR stunt it’s a cry for help. from both sides.

@jeansjawlinefan f*ck this popstar girl idc. eren deserves better than industry plants.

@stagemicgirlx reply to @jeansjawlinefan YO AT LEAST OUR FAVE DOESN’T EAT DIRT AND CALL IT STAGE PRESENCE 😭😭😭

@ynblackcoffee reply to @jeansjawlinefan your fave looks like he smells like old batteries and you wanna talk???

@bubblegumblood we’re fighting about THIS??? they have the chemistry of a soggy towel and a brick wall

They attached your blurry face mid-sip, dead-eyed, right after Eren said your name. Your face shows that you’re disgusted by Eren’s words .

@popculturepostz the moment she disassociated mid-champagne sip 😭😭

@ynlovelife_ “does (y/n) even KNOW about this relationship???”

@vma_memes this face says “he’s dead to me” and “I’m collecting evidence for court” at the same time

@yngloversunited [Your dead face , zoomed in]

captioned: “me when the group project guy presents MY part wrong”

Your name was being ripped apart in real time.

Every headline. Every thread. Every stan account dragging your image through the dirt because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut for three fucking minutes.

And of course, no one believed the rumor.

They all thought it was a PR stunt. A gimmick. Just another chapter in some overproduced reality show script. Your fans were quick to defend you, quick to claim it was all marketing for the upcoming “healing couple” project.

No one would take you seriously anymore.Not after this.

You could feel the heat rising in your chest, crawling beneath your skin like fire with nowhere to go. You were furious. At the cameras. At the headlines. At him.

You felt like you could burn the whole island down and still not be warm enough to melt the ice forming in your gut.

Next to you, Hange was on the phone ,  “What the fuck was that?” she barked into the speaker.

“That is not what I signed off on. That is not even marketing. That is chaos.”

“I told you,” she growled, eyes wild. “That Eren Jaeger doesn’t know how to behave like a public figure—”

“Oh, Hange,” Levi’s voice cut in on the other end, calm and soulless as ever.

Hange sat up straighter. “WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT, LEVI? You planned this? You planned for my sweet, sweet [Y/N] to be dragged into your PR stunt with your half-feral frontman?”

“I’m learning,” Levi said dryly. “You told me I needed to work on PR.”

“That’s not PR,” she hissed. “That’s a full-on media arson attack.”

“The show needed a real couple,” Levi replied. “The numbers look good. [Y/N] and Eren work. That’s all that matters.”

“LEVI YOU—!”

You didn’t let her finish. You snatched the phone from her hand and pressed it to your ear.

“Levi, you emotionally stunted demon man, I swear to God if I lose one brand deal over this—”

“Just act for one month,” Levi interrupted, unmoved. “It’s not a big deal.”

You stared at nothing for a second.

“You dumbass. I’m a woman in this dipshit industry. They’re just waiting for me to slip so they can throw me into the pit. They’ll call me a whore just for having a normal situationship, like any other person. And they won’t treat me the same as Eren. They never do!—“

Levi give you a beat of silence , you take a deep breath before continuing your sentence ,

“—They’ll call me a slut, a fake, an industry plant, again. All because your tattooed rehab case can’t keep his ego out of a microphone!”

There was a long pause on the other end , for a moment you hear Levi’s sigh trying to speak up ,

“You’re still [YOUR STAGE NAME]. You’ll bounce. Drop a breakup album. Everyone loves pain and Everyone will love you again”

Your knuckles were white.

Levi sighed. “Tomorrow is the briefing and photoshoot. Work with Hange efficiently. Please.”

You blinked. “Please?”

“Hange-san,” he added, just to twist the knife.

Hange exploded beside you. “HANGE-SAN?! SINCE WHEN DO I—”

Click.The line went dead but your phone’s still buzzing. 

“Just looked at the damn news (y/n)”

“EREN JAEGER LEAD VOCAL FROM THE TITANS SPARK A DATING RUMOUR WITH [YOUR STAGE NAME]”

At this point , you just want to throw yourself into a pit of hell and wish you would become someone no one knows.

Historia leaned in beside you, voice small.

“…Gosh, [Y/N]. Everyone’s going to be talking about this for the entire week.”

You didn’t respond , You just stared out the window, wondering how long it would take to set a guitar on fire.

The studio still smelled like last week’s half-eaten pizza left to die in a greasy box under the couch, mixed with whatever strain Eren was smoking again .

The air was thick with dust, old amps buzzed faintly in the corners, and the walls were lined with soundproofing foam that had seen better years. Empty coffee cups littered the table. Someone’s hoodie was crumpled in the corner like a forgotten ghost. The space felt lived-in, but just barely.

For the Titans, this was home . A place where they could be themselves without worrying about cameras or paparazzi.

Jean leaned back on the couch, one foot up on the amp, watching Eren scribble lyrics on a coffee-stained notebook like nothing had changed.

“This shit is good,” Eren muttered, grinning to himself. “Might be our best track.”

Jean rolled his eyes, kicking at the leg of Eren’s chair. “Man, you should stop smoking that shit. You just crawled out of rehab last month. Try breathing air for once.”

Eren didn’t look up. He never did when he was in one of those moods wired on creativity, self-destruction, or both.

They all knew it by now. Rehab was just a time slot he disappeared into.A break between disasters. Nothing good stuck in his head . He’s still Eren Jaeger . 

“You’re seriously going to that island with her?” Mikasa’s voice came soft, a whisper under the weight of bass hum and guitar feedback.

Jean pulled her closer with a dramatic groan. “You’ll make our Mikasa sound so sad.”

Eren groaned with a frustrated feelings , “What the fuck. I’m doing all this stupid shit for you guys.

“No ..Eren ,” Armin said from across the room, barely glancing up from the keyboard he was setting up. “You overdosed on tour. You set us back, Eren. You set yourself up.”

Eren let out a loud, theatrical sigh. “I said I’m sorry, didn’t I? This stupid reality show’s gonna fix it, just watch. Our image will bounce right back , boom.”

Jean scoffed. “No one fucking believes you’re gonna hook up with someone like her. Not for real.”

“I can fuck all the girls I want,” Eren shot back without flinching.

Mikasa stood then, annoyed, pulling herself away from Jean’s grip. “It’s a bad idea, Eren. We could’ve dropped new singles. Opened festival sets. Anything but this.”

“Levi told you to do this, right?” Armin cut in again, voice sharper now, hands still busy at the keys.

Eren didn’t answer at first. He leaned back in the swivel chair, eyes closed, head tipped toward the ceiling. Smoke curled out from between his fingers in slow spirals.

“It’s not my choice,” he finally muttered.

“But you’re just going along with it?” Armin asked, tone edged with something halfway between disgust and concern.

Eren didn’t flinch. “Hey, man. Shut the fuck up. It’s not like I’m gonna marry her. We fake a few kisses, film some sunset walks, slap a ‘healing’ tag on it, and we’re done. One season. One paycheck. Over.

“Man, she’s gonna write some sad-girl pop hit about you,” Jean muttered under his breath.

“Let her be,” Eren said, smiling faintly. “Might be her first real hit.”

Jean stood quickly , Eren noticed. His chair stopped spinning.

“You got something to say?” Eren asked, his voice was low but there’s sense of playfulness . Like he wants to test Jean’s madness.

Jean folded his arms. “Yeah. I’m thinking about doing some side sets. Playing with another band. Maybe getting actual gigs while you’re off screwing around with your ‘healing arc.’”

“The fuck did you just say?” Eren stood ,

“I said maybe I’m done waiting for you to relapse every other month. Maybe I want to work with people who show up.”

The room went tense. Thicker than the smoke. 

Mikasa’s eyes snapped to Jean. Armin stopped typing. Even the fluorescent buzz of the studio seemed to die off for a moment.

And then , the door creaked open. Levi stepped in like a shadow with a clipboard.

Every pair of eyes dropped instantly. Jean sat back down without another word. Eren clenched his jaw, grinding his molars as he reached for his lighter again.

Armin started tapping keys , Mikasa sat back down.

Levi raised an eyebrow. “Everyone done with the dick-measuring contest?”

No one answered.

“Good,” Levi muttered. “Briefing’s tomorrow. You better show up sober and smiling, Eren. I’m not babysitting your reputation or your bandmates.”

He left as fast as he entered , The door clicked shut.

Eren grunted, the office chair creaking as he pushed himself up and staggered slightly half from the buzz in his head, half from frustration twisting through his chest. He muttered something under his breath and stormed out of the room like a fuse chasing a spark.

He found Levi pacing the hallway, phone in hand, already ten seconds away from lighting someone else on fire.

“Hey,” Eren called out, walking fast now. “Do you know where the doll lives?”

Levi paused mid-scroll. “What?”

“The pop girl. The sweetheart. The fake girlfriend.” Eren waved his hand in the air, agitated. “Do you know where she lives?”

Levi raised one eyebrow. “Why would I know that?”

“Maybe she lives near Hange or some shit. I don’t know…Do you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. Why?” Levi’s voice was calm but already tired. “Are you planning to show up and throw rocks at her window like it’s a 2003 rom-com?”

Eren ran a hand through his hair, pacing now like he didn’t trust himself to sit still. “She didn’t follow me back.” 

Levi raised his eyebrow. “Okay?”

“She didn’t even reply to the comment I left.”

“Even more okay.”

“She’s making everyone think it’s true. Like she hates me. And now all these assumptions are blowing up because she won’t do the fucking bare minimum—”

Levi cut him off with a sigh. “Why do you give a fuck?”

Eren stopped moving. His jaw worked, like he wanted to say something else. Something that wasn’t entirely made of ego and panic.

“I want to crash her house and scream ‘WHY YOU IGNORE ME?’”

Levi stared at him like he was watching a toddler throw a tantrum in designer boots.

“Jesus Christ.”

Eren threw his hands up. “I’m just saying, if this is supposed to be some fake couple shit, she could pretend a little harder.”

“Settle this tomorrow,” Levi said, already walking away again. “You have a photoshoot in the morning. Show up. Smile. Keep your dick in your pants. And maybe…don’t go feral outside her house.”

Later that night, Eren sat alone in the dark studio, guitar across his lap, fingers absently strumming the opening chords to Bloody Valentine. The sound echoed off the walls, soft and broken, half melody, half memory.

Performing a teaser for the song had seemed like a good idea , everyone in the VMAS went wild when they heard the first note of the song . Attaching your name to it? Maybe even smarter.

But thinking about you? That still felt wrong.

He yearned to know how you were handling it all the headlines, the comments, the assumptions flooding your name like poison.

Neither of you wanted this.Neither of you asked for it.

He hated how fame had turned him into someone people dissected instead of listened to.He hated that the world knew his name, not his music. He hated how every bad decision stuck harder than every lyric he wrote.

All he ever wanted was to be an underground artist.Screaming into dirty mics for a room full of people who didn’t expect anything from him.

But then one of his songs blew up and suddenly, the world started calling him a genius. They said he’d saved the rock genre, even as they labeled him a problem. It was all contradictions, and he couldn’t tell what was wrong or right anymore.

Everyone who knew him called it his lucky charm. A song that could hook strangers in seconds.But to Eren, it was a curse.

Even after everything, he still couldn’t find joy in any of it. No excitement. No sense of contentment. Every time he tried to write a new note, he felt the weight pressing down on him.

And he kept asking himself , why am I still here?

He still wanted to end it all. To make everything stop.But something kept holding him back.And the worst part was… he didn’t even know what it was.

And now, tomorrow morning, the cameras will start rolling. The lights would turn on. And the act? It begins.

Reblogs are appreciated but don’t copy!

Taglist : @vlsquuu - @00maraaa - @lost-in-this-darkness

CHAPTER 1

Everyone's still screaming their lungs out even after you leave the stage, beaming with that signature bright smile. You make every girl in the crowd twirl and jump like they own the world. For you, that’s the most satisfying part. Fame tastes the sweetest when thousands are singing back your lyrics word for word. You didn’t just perform , you united people.

You run toward the backstage area of the festival . The air buzzed with leftover adrenaline. Crew members cheer as you pass. Your band. Your backup dancers. Your stylist. Everyone cheered for you. Everyone loves you.

You’re pop’s golden girl “media-trained perfection” wrapped in glitter and charm. A voice that melts charts. A presence that disarms critics. You’re the kind of artist parents trust, magazines idolize, and award shows worship.

This was your first time headlining Glastonbury. And you crushed it.

“And!! Like I said! Everyone LOVES pop music! You killed it, [Y/N]! No one’s topping that tonight!” Your manager, Hange, runs toward you, clapping hard and full of pride.

“Hange-san! I couldn’t have done it without you!” You dash up like a kid, throwing your arms around her like she’s your big-little sister.

“See? Even Taylor freaking Swift is watching you!”

Sasha, your stylist bread in one hand, phone in the other shoves a video clip in your face. 

You blink at the screen. A beat of silence fill the thrilling situation , 

“OH MY FREAKING GOOOOOODDD!!!!” You scream and jump, dragging Hange and Sasha into a three-way hug.

“Dude! You’re soaked in sweat!” Sasha grumbles, but you know she’s not serious. She still hugs back and kisses your temple.

“Since you’ve always wanted to collaborate with her, I’ll figure out how to get in touch. That’s a promise,” Hange says, giving you a proud pat. You smile towards her , still in disbelief . You can’t wait for that to happen , opening for your favorite artist is enough to fulfill your dream.

Fast forward.

You crash into your tour van, body exhausted. You let your arms go limp across the plush seat, wiping off the glitter stuck to your skin. Headliner pressure is a cocktail of anxiety, frustration, and trying way too hard to be perfect. But pop stars aren’t allowed to be human. You have to live like you’re something else. Untouchable. Unreal. That’s how you make your world feel magical for everyone else.

The door swings open.

Ymir walks in, all denim and combat boots, hands in her jacket pockets. Behind her is Historia, a famous beauty influencer with a phone in hand, mid-selfie.

“Sayyyy Glastonburyyyy,” Historia says in a syrupy, fake tone as she leans in and snaps a photo with you.You respond to it with a smirk and swat her with your neck pillow.

“Having fun, huh?” you say.

“Hey. You promised us something, remember?” Ymir grins, leaning against the wall.

A promise? You adjust your head roller and give her a confused look.

“See? Told you she forgot,” Historia chuckles.

“I let you guys in with artist passes, didn’t I? What else did I promise?”

“You said we’d spend time together tonight,” Ymir says, flopping onto the sofa and crossing her legs. “Like, actually hang out. Watch some bands. Chill.”

“What do you think I’m doing now? Planting a tree?” You raise a brow to tease Ymir , testing the waters.

“God, you’re annoying.” Ymir throws her head back while Historia laughs behind her screen.

“No, [Y/N]. You said we’d go see some underground acts. K-pop bands. Something lowkey.”

Oh. Right. You did promise that. But now? You’re one of the headliners. There’s no slipping into crowds anonymously. No way to sneak around.

“There’s still one act left….TITANS! We’ve got one minute before their set!” Ymir jumps up, dragging Historia with her.

TITANS? To you , that’s the stupidest band name you have ever heard in centuries.

“You don’t know them?” Ymir asks, raising an eyebrow.

You shake your head.

“I mean… they won some MTV awards last year. And the lead singer said something weird during his speech…”

“That’s Eren Jaeger! And he was right!” Ymir scoffs, throwing on a dramatic rocker voice: “I WANNA BLOW UP EIGHTY PERCENT OF THE MUSIC INDUSTRYYYY!”

You sigh lazily . Of course you know The TITANS. They’re the black sheep of the industry. No PR Training. Just chaos.

Especially Eren Jaeger. Lead singer. Guitarist. He's a walking disaster. He punches paparazzi, swears on live TV, and treats controversy like it’s foreplay. You remember watching a performance where he shot up before going on stage , like it was nothing. You felt it. That man never steps on stage sober.

“Seriously, judging by his attitude, I doubt he can even spell PR,” you mutter.

“It’s a rock band, babe,” Ymir shrugs. “They glorify pain. Make it sound cool.”

“Ugh, whatever! Let’s GO!” Historia grabs your arm and hauls you off the couch.

You didn’t sign up for this. You don’t want to see TITANS perform. Their shows are aggressive. Messy. Everything you’re not. You sing for healing. He spits on cameras and calls it as ‘Performance’

As you head out, you spot Hange lounging outside with coffee in hand.

“Where are you going?” she asks, blinking.

“TO WATCH TITANS!” Ymir yells with glee. Historia giggles. Hange bursts out laughing. 

“Wow, I didn't think [Y/N] was into that kind of thing.” You shoot her a desperate look that screams save me.

“Sasha’s already there,” Hange says with a grin. “Catch her if you can.”

God. Of course , Hange is more than a manager to you . She’s your big little sister who cares for you , she just lets you be you .  Your manager is too chill. But the worst part? Your fans. If they ever saw you vibing at an Eren Jaeger show? You’d be canceled by sunrise.

“K bye!” Ymir yells.

“Gosh, you guys are late! They’ve only got one song left!”

You just arrived at the VIP tent. The atmosphere is loud—not the kind of screaming you’re used to when you're on stage. This screaming is aggressive, raw, almost violent. There’s a group of guys lifting each other into the air like it’s some kind of ritual.

His fans are nothing like yours. There’s no way yours would be okay seeing you enjoy an Eren Jaeger performance.

Your eyes land on Eren Jaeger. His shirt clings to his body, dark with sweat. Low-slung jeans, combat boots, chains hanging from his belt loops. Hair wild. Guitar slung low. He attacks the chords with no rhythm, just raw sound. 

In your ear , He’s not singing. He’s screaming.

“Don’t make that face,” Sasha says, elbowing you. “He wasn’t screaming earlier. The last song was kinda chill.”

You glance at her , Potato in one hand, Coke in the other. Typical sweet Sasha.

The song ends. Eren runs his fingers through his damp hair, pushing it back. He looks out over the crowd like he’s planning to destroy it.

“Fuck, I hate this last song—”

He lets the words hang in the air, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. The crowd roars like it’s part of the set.

Then he steps toward the mic, guitar slung carelessly over one shoulder, fingers twitching like he's holding back a punch.

“Hey, Jean—” he says, still breathless as he glances at his drummer, Jean Kirstein. “You ever notice how this festival always puts the fakest shit at the top of the lineup?”

Jean answers with a one beat of the drum try to adding a dramatic rimshot like a punchline. The crowd eats it up.

“They give the headliner slot to some glittered-up puppet with a fake smile and auto-tuned vocals, and everyone claps like they just saw God.”

The audience howls , half-drunk and starving for chaos.

Are you hearing this right? Is he dead serious? 

You freeze. Eyes locked on Eren, then scanning the crowd, then your friends. Their faces twist into disbelief, same as yours.

“Right, Armin? What about you?” Eren strolls over to his keyboardist, who’s standing stiff beside his synth, eyes wide as he stares out at the audience.

Armin doesn’t answer.  Instead he just give the audience an awkward smile , They all know Armin Arlert wants to end this performance as soon as possible.

Eren chuckles like a cartoon villain, hopping back to center stage.

“Anyway—” He clears his throat. “I guess basic people love that stuff. Easy to swallow. No mess. No blood. Just glitter and pre-recorded tears.”

He grins, scanning the pit like he’s goddamn proud of it. Like he didn’t just blast you in front of tens of thousands of people.

“Whatever. Enjoy the circus” He strikes his guitar like it owes him something. The crowd screams. “Fuck you all. This is the last one. You ready, Mikasa?”

He glances at his bassist. Mikasa gives him a simple nod, fingers already on the strings.

And the music explodes.

And that’s it.That’s the moment.The exact second your heart folds in on itself and gets replaced with something sharp and cold.

You finally HATE him.You hate his face, his voice, his stupid lyrics, his holier-than-thou attitude.You hate that the crowd ate it up like it was gospel. You hate that he knew exactly who he was talking about.

And worst of all , you hate that it worked. Because now, somewhere deep inside, you're not just angry. You're hurt.

And you don’t ever let anyone see that.

“That’s it.”

You storm out of the VIP tent, fury in your chest and revenge bubbling just beneath your skin. Your boots hit the gravel hard as you march away from the stage, the noise behind you fading into static.

The girls scramble after you, trying to keep up. They’re just as shocked, but you’re the only one burning.

“Hey! [Y/N]!” Ymir jogs up beside you, breathless. “I mean—maybe Eren’s high or something! He probably didn’t even mean it—”

You stop so suddenly, they nearly bump into you. You turn to them, looking at them with eyes full of silent rage . Voice like glass about to break. “Even if he didn’t mean it…”

You pause. Let the silence sink in.

“II want the whole world to see him for what he is…… a foolish, reckless rockstar with zero respect.”

“Soooo? What are you planning to do?” Sasha asked still munching on her hot potato , You give them a slight smirk , 

It's week 2 for the Glastonbury Festival , You’re back on stage. Same stage. Same crowd. Same spotlight.

But something’s different , Not in the way you move or how you sing. That all stays the same sweet, polished, rehearsed to the bone. But inside, there’s a shift. A quiet burn tucked under your skin.

Eren’s words stuck in your head , and you can’t just let him win in this battlefield.

The lights flash soft pink and blue as your set flows on like normal. Fans scream your name. Lyrics pour out of them like they wrote the songs themselves. You keep smiling. Keep dancing. Keep playing the role they all want you to play.

‘Have you ever tried this one?’ 

Everyone screams watching you strike a stunning pose , you’re still that pretty pop-star who can make the whole world stunned.

And then , right before the bridge of your third song , you pause for a breath. One hand wrapped around the mic, the other held gently at your chest, as if something delicate is about to be said.

“You know... it’s funny,” you say softly, your voice light and playful, almost like you’re joking with an old friend.

You tilted your head innocently while looking at your young audience , “Some people say pop stars are fake. That our glitter’s too much, or our smiles too wide.”

You let the silence linger for a beat. Not long. Just enough for the tension to rise with the next breath.

“But hey... at least I don’t have to shoot heroin just to write a song.” You smile innocently while your lip is pouting as a sign of mockery , sweeter than ever.

“I think we allll need the anti manchild spray right?”

The first note of your song hits the stage , The crowd doesn’t know whether to gasp or cheer. Some do both. 

You don’t look angry. You don’t even flinch. You slip right into the next song like nothing happened. But this time, you growl the word manchild, and when you scream stupid and useless, it comes straight from the heart.

Offstage, somewhere behind the lights, Eren Jaeger is watching. Leaning against a barricade. Smoke curling from the joint in his fingers. The crowd lights up your silhouette, casting long shadows across the field.

He exhales slowly. He drew a smirk on his face , honestly he didn't expect that from you.

He thought you’d hide like a good girl you are , he thought that you would not respond to his speech but here you are sparkly and soft, throwing a line like that right into the wind without blinking.

Now he’s interested.

He ashes the joint on his boot and keeps watching. Keep his eyes on you for the rest of your set.

And just like that, you’ve got him.

“Gosh,” Jean mutters, leaning back on the worn-out couch in their artist tent, drumsticks still resting in his lap. “She got us.”

Armin doesn’t even look up from the half-empty water bottle in his hands. He’s been sipping the same one since the end of their set.

“You shouldn’t have taken anything before going on stage,” he says ,

Eren rolls his eyes, sprawled across the corner of the couch with his boots up. Still sweat-soaked, shirt half unbuttoned, guitar case tossed somewhere behind him. He stares at the ceiling like it’s somehow responsible.

Mikasa, sitting cross-legged in her full black fit—fishnet gloves, chipped nail polish, and dark lipstick , finally speaks. “And you didn’t have to call her out yesterday”

Her voice is flat, as always. But the judgment sits heavy in the air.

Eren scoffs at her words , “Relax. She’s just a silly popstar,” he mutters.

He lifts the joint to his lips again, takes one last drag, and blows the smoke toward the ceiling.

“She’s not gonna tear us down with glitter and a microphone. Our image can’t be cracked that easily.”

He says it like he believes it.Like he's sure of it.

But the truth? You just hit him harder than most critics ever could. He was actually interested in how you used sweetness like a weapon and the whole world cheered.

The second day is over.

Your setlist’s done, your body aches, and your ears are still ringing from the crowd’s last scream. The sky’s dipped into that post-festival purple, the kind that makes everything look soft , except your mood.

Your team’s busy folding banners, unplugging gear, slamming cases shut and yelling over each other about cables and deadlines. Everyone’s moving fast. You’re not.

You just needed to grab your overnight bag from the dressing room. That’s it. No drama. No scene.

Historia 💌 ! 

Meet you at my caravan! We want to congratulate you with vodka and love !

You smile towards the message , You turn the corner behind the artist trailers, hands already fishing for your keys ,

And freeze. They're standing there. The whole damn band. TITANS.

Mikasa’s sitting on a speaker, head bent over her phone. Armin’s talking to a tech guy, voice low. Jean’s throwing a half-empty water bottle into the grass.

And then there's him.

Eren.

Guitar slung on his back like a weapon. Shirt clinging to him, black and sweat-soaked. Boots planted wide, like the ground owes him something. His hair’s tied back loose, strands falling in his face, jaw sharp and shadowed.

He’s staring right at you. Like he’d been waiting. Like he’s not sure whether to smirk or strangle you.

Your steps falter, just for a second, but you don’t back away. You stand there with your phone in your hand , still wanting to reply to Historia’s text , frozen under his eyes, heart ticking in your throat.

“Oh look who’s here,” he says, loud enough to make sure everyone hears.

 “Silly little bunny lost or something?”

You stop. Straighten up your back and try to look firm around him , “I thought you’d still be backstage,” you say, meeting his eyes with that same glossy, calm smile you wore on stage.

“Smoking grass and pretending it’s a personality.”

Jean snorts and Armin winces.Eren stands up from the wall, slow. Looks you up and down like he’s trying to decide whether to laugh or spit.

“You’ve got a lot to say for someone dressed like a cake topper.”

He takes a step closer. “Still riding the sugar-high from your big glittery speech, princess?”

“Better a princess than a burnout with a mic,” you reply.  “---At least my fans don’t have to worry I’ll overdose mid-encore.” You pout your lip once again in a sarcastic way , replicating the innocent stage persona you’ve been presenting to your audience just to irritate Eren Jaeger.

The silence after that hits like a slap. Eren’s suck his teeth and give you a sly smile .

He took a step forward. One step more and you’d be nose to nose.He leans in just slightly, 

“Keep talking, sweetheart. I promise you…your label can’t media-train you out of me.”

And just like that, you're ready to lunge , But before either of you can say another word ,

“That’s enough.” A cold, hard voice cuts through the air.

Levi. TITANS' manager. Walking towards in the middle of fighting with his grey baggy hoodie , Looks like he hasn’t slept since the tour started. “I don’t care who started it. Shut it down. Now.”

Then Hange appears behind you, coffee in one hand, clipboard in the other.

“Whoa whoa—are we fighting now? What is this, Glastonbury or middle school?” She slips between you and Eren, flashing a too-bright smile that almost hides the tension crackling in the air.

“Hey Levi! Long time no see!” Hange strides into the scene, her clipboard tucked under one arm, sunglasses pushed up into her messy hair. Her smile is way too wide, and way too knowing.

“How’s your band? They’re… a little bit… rebellious?” she says, dragging out the word like a joke.

She tilts her head at Eren, clearly not impressed. “Maybe consider getting them some PR training. You know, before they set something on fire.”

Levi with his dead eyes and doesn’t even blink. He just rolls his eyes like this isn’t his first verbal sparring match with her.

“Shut it, Four-Eyes,” he mutters. “I know how to handle them.” He jerks his thumb toward the rest of the band. “Let’s go, guys.”

The group starts to move, You're still standing there, facing each other. Neither of you are willing to look away first.

His gaze drags over you one last time, all teeth and heat. 

“See ya again, poppy princess,” he says, voice low and cocky.

You cross your arms, flashing a cold smile. “Oh, I hope not.”

He smirks. Just enough to piss you off.Then he turns, walking away with the rest of TITANS, boots heavy against the pavement.

“HEEEEYYY LEEEEEVIIIIII ~ Let’s not end the weekend with lawsuits, yeah!” Hange shouted as the band of titan and Levi walking away from them , 

For now, it’s over.Kind of. Because nothing’s actually over , Between you and the Rockstar Eren Jaeger.

Fast forward , You haven’t seen Eren Jaeger in weeks. No festivals. No headlines. Just the occasional clip on TV usually shows him being chaotic. That last one was a live interview.

He smacked the mic out of the reporter’s hand mid-question. You watched it while your hugged your salad bowl , unbothered.

“He’s like a walking lawsuit,” Historia muttered beside you.

You didn’t respond , and kept living your celebrity life.

Your schedule was still packed with photo shoots in LA, fashion week fittings in Paris, meetings with your creative director about the next single. Brand campaigns. Endorsement deals. Interviews where the questions were pre-approved and the smiles were mandatory.

Wake up. Smile. Travel. Perform. Repeat.

There were flights you didn’t remember boarding, hotels you didn’t remember checking into. Outfits chosen before you opened your eyes. Makeup artists buzzing around you while you scrolled through fan edits and auto-piloted through another press junket.

Everything moved. Constant. Controlled. Curated.

And still somewhere in between the bright lights and the filtered selfies— You couldn’t stop thinking about him. The guy who threw everything away on live TV.

The guy who looked at you like you were made of glass, then tried to shatter you in front of thousands.

But then , the news breaks.

You scroll past it at first, thinking it’s another scandal, another stupid quote, another "Eren being Eren" moment.

But no. This one's different.

EREN JAEGER OVERDOSES BACKSTAGE, RUSHED TO HOSPITAL

TITANS ANNOUNCE INDEFINITE HIATUS

EREN JAERGER ENTERS REHAB FACILITY—AGAIN

It’s everywhere. Every outlet. Every feed. Every comment section exploding with theories, edits, breakdowns. Photos of him unconscious. Headlines analyzing the band’s future.

What in the fuck? You stare at the screen. You don’t even blink or smile . For a moment, it’s just you and the silence.

The chaos is quiet now. The band TITANS is gone. And Eren Jaeger has disappeared into rehab.

“Woah [Y/N] look!” Ymir shoved that phone into your face , “I think he deserve it” 

END OF CHAPTER 1

All right reserved , flvorieas 2025 , reblogs are appreciated , don’t copy .

Hisoka Morrow

• You’re his sweet little toy . His personal fuck toy that made to please him. In his eyes, you belong to him completely. A flawless plaything

• Still, your insecurity eats at you. You’ve always been self-conscious about your small chest. Every time he texts you to come over, you make sure to wear padded bras or a push-up to make yourself look bigger.

• And the second his eyes land on you on those padded curves , he’s already closing in, fingers brushing your neck. “Mmm… let me see those pretty tits of yours, yeah, doll?”

• He won’t say it out loud, but he adores your sweet little body shows it in his actions, not words. The way he touches you, the way he takes you he wants to fuck your tits until you collapse, until you finally understand how your tiny chest drives him absolutely feral.

• As soon as you expose your breast . You’re down on his kness while hisoka pumping his cock to your tits , admiring it from the top . “That pretty little tits of yours already hard for me , doll . She’s ready to get ruined”

• He swirl his tip slowly at the surface of your nipple , make him groan and you ? you’re so fucking horny by it . “mmmgh , fuck! Please-No more!” “yeeeah , fuuck baby . She make me so fucking hard ~ , you shouldn’t treat her like that again? okay~?”

• He fucking slaps your small tits while pumping his pre-cum into your breast .

• Guess what? He fuck your small tits , bullying it until your skin turn red . Your tits is full of his pre-cum as he stroke his cock between your tits , “Hiso—Pleas-“ “Sh-Sh- Just take it like a good girl okay? ~”

• He squiz your tits together and stroke his dick between it , you can’t think straight as his cock feel so good between your tits .

• “You should appreciate it more doll~ I will never ever fuckin touch your pretty pussy if you act like this , I can’t stand insecure people ~”

• He will cum all over your tits “You’re such a good little toy sweetheart” . He pressed his palm on your nipple that full of his cum and chocked your mouth with his finger that full of his seed .

• “If you bring this again , I will not hesistate to drop you okay? I will never tolerate insecurity”

Illumi Zoldyck

• Illumi isn’t the type to care about someone’s physical appeal. What matters to him is agreement . And you? You agreed to carry his children. From that moment on, his obsession with you became devotion.

• He doesn’t notice your insecurity. He just stares, emotionless, as you try to cover your chest while he fuck his seed into you .

•“You know,” you mutter, “you could change my body proportions if you don’t like them.”

• He blinks — once, for the first time in a while. “May I ask what’s going through your mind when you say something like that?” Then , he suddenly realizes when he see your eyes gazing on your small tits .

• “I see…” Then , his hand aggresively grasping on your breast . “This…sweet little thing is such a distraction for you?”

• As soon as he ripped your clothes and make your whole tits exposed , he start squiz your breast nipple hardly . As if he’s trying to destroy it and break it on purpose .

• He play with your tits like it’s a fucking toy “Illu…mmgh—fuck!” you can see the glimpse of his smile , “shut it pretty little doll , just take it”

• He start to tease your nipple , pinching it hard and spit on it . He start to swirl his thumb on your hard nipple that drenched with his spit .

• He squiz your expose tits hardly , “Illu-Stop! It hurts!”

• He ignores your demand , He start to swirl his tounge on your nipple . “Sweet little thing…”

• After he had enough with the licking , he start to suck on your nipple like a fucking lench .

• He smacks your tits more than once , again and again, until they’re raw and red, just the way he likes them. “I demand you to not say such a thing again…okay?” “Ah fuck , shut up y/n . Your tits talking to me” He continue to spit on your nipples and suck on it .

• Untill you go dumb over his mouth that keep sucking and spitting your nipples , he raised your chin with his finger .

• “Gotta make that pretty little tits my next toy yea?”

Chrollo Lucilfer

• Chrollo is quiet, but deeply observant. Your sweet body drives him to the edge . Just seeing you in a tight miniskirt enough for him to have a hard boner for the rest of the day . But he masks it with calm, playing it cool behind that composed facade.

• To him, your body is delicate a masterpiece he yearns to ruin for his own pleasure. You’re not just his lover; you’re his art.

• Chrollo studies you. Every habit. Every glance. The way you stare at your chest in the mirror when you think he’s not looking. The way you drink chia seed water almost religiously. The way you never leave the house without a push-up bra or pads. It sparks something in him curiosity, maybe even concern? but he lets it go. Assumes you’re just keeping up with the latest beauty trends. For now.

• Not untill today , He bent you over his bed try to fuck you from behind , he just want to make his dick wet before going back ‘doing business’ with the spiders . “Such a pathetic little thing….”

• “mmggh fuck! you promise to—“ he shut you with a slap on your ass . “Hey sweetie , just take it okay? You’re good fucking girl right?”

• He try to rip off the lingerie of yours . But you? You push his hand away . Of course , without the tight lingerie you breast will be not round and firm . Fuck , he’s mad .

• He grab your chin harshly , looking into your eyes with a deathly stare . “What was that…Angel? Bad…Bad…girl” “Roro , please fuck me with this lingerie . I want you to be pleased also” you covering up your chest as his hand still grabbing your chin .

• “Please…me?” now he gets it as soon his saw you covering your chest . He reply your demand with a smirk .

• “Roro! nngh-Fuck!” Your body is now facing a huge golden mirror and Chrollo? He play with your breasts , pinching and teasing your hard nipple with his black pen . Yep , he want to know how pretty you are by putting a mirror in front of you . That’s the only way to make you realise how pretty you are , ( in his head )

• “You know how much I fucking love this tits ? You want me to fuck you without seeing your sweet little tits bounce? hm? Little Angel?” he pinch your hard nipple while whispering to your ear .

• It doesn’t stop there , he takes your abused nipples and start to lick , spit and suck on it . The tip of his tounge touches the surface of your nipple . You can see your fuck out face in a mirror .

• “Roro—please” As soon he hear you begging for him to fuck you , he just reply with a smirk .

• He place his face deep into your chest and start to rub his face on your tities . Admiring your fuck up face with his cold stone eyes .

• “How about I’m making this pretty little tits bounce against my chest , Hm angel?”

ʚ🍓 . End of the blog , flvorieas sign out !