“Don’t Touch the Designer”
(Model Eren Yeager x Designer Male Reader)
Backstage was chaos.
Racks of clothing. Assistants running. Stylists shouting over each other. The sharp scent of hairspray and fabric glue filled the air.
And in the middle of it all,
You.
Clipping, adjusting, fixing a sleeve that refused to sit right on the model in front of you.
“Don’t move,” you muttered, focused.
“I’m not.”
You froze.
That voice.
Slowly, you looked up.
And there he was.
Eren Yeager.
Your headline model.
Tall. Sharp. Annoyingly perfect.
And currently… smirking down at you like he already knew what he was doing to you.
“You’re late,” you said flatly, going back to adjusting the fabric on his shoulder.
“Worth the wait though, right?”
You ignored that.
“Turn.”
He didn’t.
Instead,
His hand landed lightly on your waist.
You stiffened instantly.
“…Hands off.”
“Relax,” Eren murmured, leaning slightly closer. “I’m just helping you keep your balance.”
“I don’t need help.”
“Looks like you do.”
His thumb shifted, barely, pressing just enough to make your breath hitch.
You stepped back sharply, breaking contact.
Eren’s smirk widened.
“Sensitive.”
“You’re unprofessional.”
“You’re tense.”
You shot him a glare.
“And you’re still not turned around.”
He finally obeyed, slowly, deliberately, like he was doing you a favor.
But not before his fingers brushed your wrist as he moved.
Intentional.
Always intentional.
You exhaled, forcing yourself to focus.
Pin. Adjust. Smooth the fabric.
Ignore him.
“Careful,” he said suddenly, voice lower now.
Your fingers paused.
“…Why?”
“You keep looking at my lips instead of the stitching.”
Your head snapped up.
“I am not—”
“You are.”
His voice dropped even further.
“Not that I mind.”
Heat rushed to your face.
“Shut up.”
He chuckled softly.
You moved behind him to fix the back of the outfit; your mistake.
Because now,
You couldn’t see him.
But you could feel him.
“You always this serious?” he asked.
“When I’m working, yes.”
“That’s a shame.”
Your fingers tightened on the fabric.
“And why is that?”
He turned his head slightly,
Just enough for his voice to brush right past your ear.
“Because I think you’d look better a little less in control.”
Your breath hitched.
Just for a second.
But he noticed.
Of course he did.
Before you could move,
His hand reached back again.
This time slower.
More deliberate.
Fingers brushing along your side… then settling at your waist again.
“Eren.”
A warning.
Clear.
“…Yeah?” he murmured.
But he didn’t remove his hand.
“You keep touching me like that,” you said quietly, “and I’m pulling you off the runway.”
A pause.
Then,
A low laugh.
“You wouldn’t.”
Your grip on his outfit tightened.
“Try me.”
Silence.
For a second, it felt like he actually might stop.
Silence.
For a second, it felt like he actually might stop.
Then his hand tightened slightly.
Not enough to hurt.
Just enough to say he heard you.
And didn’t care.
“You’re the one who picked me,” he said.
His voice was calm.
Confident.
Too confident.
“And I can un-pick you.”
“Mm.”
He tilted his head slightly.
“But you won’t.”
You stepped around him again, forcing distance.
“Why are you like this?”
He turned to face you fully now.
No teasing smile this time.
Just that intense, unreadable look.
“Because you act like you don’t want me touching you,” he said.
Your pulse spiked.
“But you never actually move away fast enough.”
Silence.
Loud.
Heavy.
You opened your mouth,
Closed it again.
Eren stepped closer.
Slow.
Measured.
Like approaching something that might run.
“Tell me to stop,” he said quietly.
Not teasing this time.
Serious.
You should have.
You knew you should have.
But instead,
You hesitated.
And that was all the answer he needed.
His hand lifted again,
Brushing your arm this time.
Slower.
Testing.
“…That’s what I thought,” he murmured.
“EREN, YOU’RE UP IN 30 SECONDS!”
The spell shattered instantly.
He stepped back like nothing happened.
Like his hands hadn’t just been all over you.
Like your heart wasn’t racing.
“Don’t mess up my outfit,” you snapped, recovering.
He grinned.
That same cocky, infuriating grin.
“Don’t worry,” he said, already walking toward the runway.
“I’ll make you look good.”
Then, just before stepping out,
He glanced back at you.
Eyes sharp.
Voice lower.
“…Try not to stare this time.”
And just like that,
He was gone.
Leaving you standing there;
Trying to remember how to breathe.