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Chapter 7: Damage Control

Chapter 7 of PR Only:

You aren’t supposed to be on camera.

You know that because no one’s asked you to move.

The stage lights are too bright, washing everything in a white and gold. The band is spread across a long black couch with PR-trained smiles on their faces. Jean’s leaning back into the cushion, Connie’s talking with his hands, Reiner keeps adjusting his rings, Armin has his head tilted to show he’s actually listening.

But Eren looks bored. He hasn’t said much yet.

He’s sitting back, arm resting on the back of the couch. He’s relaxed, unbothered, and adding onto what the other guys have been saying.

You’re standing off to the side, near Hange, Erwin, and a short guy with black hair that you haven’t been introduced to yet. They’re making sure you don’t run off and do something stupid. It’s close enough to be seen, but far enough to pretend that you’re still invisible.

This outfit felt fun in the mirror, more true to yourself, but you feel embarrassed in front of the rest of the band and interviewers. Your low rise skirt shows your ass if you move too fast and your platform boots are loud. You have black fur leg warmers around your calves over fishnets that climb up your thighs. A heavy cross necklace dangles off the curves of your breasts. A thin black baby tee sticks to your body with red cursive letters stitched across it.

In bold letters across your chest it reads:

“Support Rock. Fuck a Rockstar”

Because Eren thought it was funny.

It was ironic earlier, it matched the outfit, but now you look exactly how everyone thinks you are.

Expensive jewelry weighs down your neck and wrists, but Eren insisted that it balanced out the outfit. It’s not like you have much of a choice anyway. Your bracelets clink when you fold your arms under your chest, tilting your chin up to look at the band.

Your tongue drags across your teeth, tasting the faint chemical sweetness residing there. You feel warm and untouchable.

Eren gave you something earlier. He held it out in his palm back in the limo outside of the studio. A small, pretty pill that he pressed onto your tongue like an offering.

“Just something to make you more relaxed,” he whispered earlier, lips pressing against your ear.

It almost sounded loving.

Now the anxiety you had earlier is gone. Your blood feels comforting and your brain feels soft. You feel like yourself again, like the world feels like it wants you.

Eren knows that your confidence comes from pills. The sweet girl that befriends everyone and is adored by everyone is only present when there’s something dissolving on your tongue. When your bloodstream is doing the work for you.

“The album’s about to be released,” the reporter says, “and your fans are anticipating it. Did you expect this kind of reaction?”

“We hoped for it,” Jean smiles.

“Prayed too,” Connie laughs, leaning back.

Reiner shrugs. “We worked hard for it.”

“It’s the most honest album we’ve made,” Armin nods.

Everybody glances over at Eren as he says, “we don’t release things we don’t believe in.”

You giggle quietly to yourself, still unsure if you’ve even given yourself permission to enjoy this. Yours eyes examine the long strands framing Eren’s face and how his tattoos flex whenever he moves his arms.

Your eyes meet and Eren smirks, reassurance that you’re acting exactly how he wants.

Dumb, hot, and obedient.

You look like you destroy rockstars’ careers.

You’re too happy right now to notice the death glares coming from management. All you can feel is your stomach fluttering when Eren flashes his teeth, nearly the same feeling as the first night you two met. When he towered over you and shared your lollipop like a bad prophecy. Back when he walked you down a hallway like Satan escorting sinners to hell.

It was perfect.

The host asks, “Tour starts soon. You guys ready?”

Armin smiles, “we’re prepared. The production is bigger and more structured.”

Connie shrugs, “physically? Questionable.”

“He means he’s out of shape,” Jean laughs.

Hushed chuckles spread across the group. Eren’s eyes snap away from yours to focus back on the reporter.

“So Eren… There were some serious accusations last year,” the reporter leans in. There was an incident last year involving a fight outside a club. You were accused of assault after stepping in when a man was trying to leave with an intoxicated woman.”

Everyone goes quiet.

“I wasn’t gonna let him take her home. She could barely stand,” Eren keeps a straight face.

“But you hospitalized him. Some fans say you could’ve handled that differently.”

“I stopped him. I don’t regret protecting someone.”

The silence stays heavy in the room, the loudest sound being your boots scuffing against the ground when you shift weight.

“Well,” she starts, “many fans think you’re abusive. They say it shows you can’t control your anger.”

Armin says, “we think Eren did the right thing—”

“He deserved it,” Eren shrugs.

The reporter goes silent for a few moments. Eyes darting between the camera and Eren’s face, not filling in the uncomfortable silence spreading throughout the room

She quietly coughs. “And we’ve seen numerous reports about you having a new girlfriend!”

Armin sighs out of relief while looking over at you, almost grateful that you’re in the room right now.

“Yeah,” Eren nods while crossing his arms. “She’s great.”

“How’d you two meet? She seems to be so… unique.”

What a nice way to sugarcoat a disaster.

“We met at a party,” he says. “We just hit it off instantly.”

“Really? Because fans are saying it looks like she’s on substances.”

Armin chimes in, “no–”

“So is Eren Jaeger keeping his girlfriend high? Is he still abusive?” she interrupts.

Everything in your chest stutters. For a moment, it feels like your heart forgets how to beat, but the molly forces it back. It’s too fast, slamming against your ribs like it’s trying to keep you alive.

But you still feel good. All warm and floaty, because none of it should matter as much as it actually does. A dreamy sigh slips out before you can stop it, a little too inappropriate for the situation at hand.

Something shifts across the room. A head turns, then another, until the reporter pauses mid-sentence and follows the movement.

Your eyes are half-lidded, head tilting to the side with a parted lips. A giggle tumbles past your lips when Eren looks back over at you, but you don’t notice everyone else staring at you too.

“Oh!” She exclaims into the mic. Her lips curl a little. “She’s here?”

The words reach you slower than they should. You’re too caught up in feeling good and looking pretty.

When your eyes finally focus, they land on her. Then on everyone else. And it clicks all at once. The silence and how they’re looking at you like you’re the answer to all of their questions.

Which you are, anyway.

“Perfect,” the reporter says, tone shifting into something more exciting. She gestures toward you like you’ve just made her job easier. “Why don’t we hear from her directly?”

“Fuck,” Erwin mumbles to himself.

Armin straightens immediately, eyes flicking to Eren with stress lingering behind them. Jean mutters something under his breath to Reiner, while Connie lets out a disbelieving exhale.

Eren’s expression doesn’t give much away, and he doesn’t even bother trying to stop it either.

“C’mere,” Eren says, spreading his legs and patting one of his thighs.

You move immediately, nearly stumbling over your boots after him. Everyone’s eyes burn into your skin, feeling the weight of everyone’s judgement, but you don’t stop until you’re standing in front of him.

His hands find your waist the second you’re close enough, pulling you down onto his lap like this is normal. He adjusts slightly, turning you to make your legs drape over his as you face the camera.

The band doesn’t say anything, but it’s hard to focus when Eren’s fingers are pressing into your skin, fingertips resting just beneath the hem of your shirt.

“Interesting shirt,” she laughs, “Support Rock. Fuck a Rockstar. Does that reflect your role in his life?”

Eren stays silent. He wants you to look controversial. This isn’t a fancy event where he’s going to speak for you. He wants you to mess up. He wants you to fit the image his managers hate. Wants you to be just messy enough to pull the attention off him.

“It’s–” you stutter, leaning your weightless body back into Eren’s chest. “I don’t know. I just wear what he gives me. It’s cute.”

“So he dresses you?” She interrupts, “sounds kind of controlling to me.”

His hand slides up your side, pulling you a little closer. “Relax,” he cuts in smoothly, looking over your shoulder, “she likes it.”

Putting you in expensive outfits makes it look like he could clean up his act if he wanted to. He just chooses not to. It makes people believe that whatever’s wrong with him is because of his girlfriend, and not his own fault.

But dressing like this gives them something easier to talk about. A girlfriend is more interesting than an allegation.

And a bad girlfriend?

Even better.

“So what exactly do you do?” The reporter chimes in, folding her hands across her lap.

“Umm…” you trail off, heavy eyelids trying hard to look at the reporter. “Nothing, really.”

The rest of the band stares uncomfortably at you, at how you’re so obviously fucking high in front of the camera. How you look desperate for his attention.

You don’t hear Erwin murmur to Hange, “she’s going to make his image worse. He’s going to look even more abusive.”

“Or maybe…” Hange whispers back, “she makes it look like she’s the problem.

“Oh!” The reporter laughs, “would it be fair to say that you’re depending on him?”

“I mean… yeah,” you say like it’s obvious. “He takes care of me.”

“And what about the other way around? Do you think you influence him at all?”

“Uhh…” you trail off, head falling to the side.

“Because people have noticed that he’s been more reckless lately. Since you two got together.”

“I just make things more fun,” you gleam.

Narrative sealed.

You’re the problem now.

The interviewer smiles wide. She claps her hands together once while saying, “alright! I think that’s enough for today. Thank you.”

Once the camera cuts, everyone lets out a breath they’ve been holding in. The reporter steps away while the crew begins packing up their equipment.

Jean mutters, “nice going, dipshit,” and reaches over to smack Eren’s arm.

“Yeah… what the fuck was that?” Connie glares at him.

“Dude, they think she’s the problem now,” Eren shrugs, hands caressing your waist as you lean more into him. “It’s damage control.”

“Reiner furrows his brows, pressing his lips together. “You’re digging yourself deeper for no reason!”

“This is going to backfire,” Armin sighs, jaw tight while shaking his head.

“The problem’s fixed,” Eren mumbles against your skin, lips pressing into the back of your neck.

“This is still bad!” Jean groans loudly, standing up from the couch. He paces back and forth a few steps, running a hand through his hair. “It still looks like you’re controlling her regardless if they think she brings it out of you!”

“They’re gonna eventually assume that you benefit from this. Meaning you’re still gonna look like a toxic piece of shit,” Connie says.

“We’ll figure that out later,” Eren says.

Shivers run down your spine every time his lips brush against your skin. He’s being too touchy, but he only does this when he wants to ground you, to make it look intimate in front of the cameras, but also when he needs you to remember your place.

You slide off Eren’s lap, his hand catching your waist to steady you as your legs wobble.

“I’m sorry,” you say, watching him stand up from the couch. “I didn’t mean to fuck it up.”

“You did perfect,” Eren says a little quieter this time. “Exactly what I needed.”

Green eyes meet yours again, looking at you longer than they should. Your body leans into him again, unsteady limbs pressing into his warmth.

“You kept touching me,” you say, giggling to yourself.

“Had to,” he says, “don’t read too much into it.”

But his hand still slides down to your waist, squeezing it softly as you press harder into him. His rings dig into your skin, pulling you closer into him. The scent of his cologne mixed with cigarettes is overpowering, but for some reason it’s becoming comforting.

“Yeah?” You smile, face pressing into his chest.

He squeezes a little harder. “Yeah.”

“You smell good,” you whisper into his shirt.

He lowers his voice, “you’re still high.”

“I’m more fun when high,” you laugh,

“You usually give me a hard time when you are.”

“But you like it, don’t you?”

You usually act more desirable when you’re high. You tease, you banter, you give guys a hard time, you make everything into a game. But right now everything feels too warm for that. You don’t feel like playing. You just want to stay close to him.

Even if he chooses when this version of you exists.

“Sometimes,” he says, wrapping his other arm around your back.

You smile against him, slow and lazy. “I knew it.” Your fingers drift up his arm, delicately tracing the centipede tattoo crawling up his arm. “You don’t have to be mean to me all the time, y’know.”

“You’d get annoying if I wasn’t.”

“I know.”

He’s acting how he did when you first met. The version of him that knew how to handle the hot girl sitting on a blown-out speaker, back when he needed you to like him.

This time it feels less intentional, especially when he pulls you deeper into his chest. His hand rubs slow circles on your back. You just hope you look good enough for him to keep you like this.

Voices start picking up around you as the venue slowly clears out. Chairs scrape against the floor, someone calls Eren’s name. Something about future rehearsals and prepping for the tour is discussed, but you’re too encapsulated with Eren’s warmth to pay attention.

The limo pulls up to the building faster than you wanted it to and the ride back home feels too short.

“There’s a pre-tour party on Friday,” he says as he walks inside of the penthouse, following right next to you with his hand pressed against your lower back.

“You want me there?” you pout.

“I need you there.”

Your heart flutters in your chest, eyes widening when you tilt your head up at him. It’s barely even a compliment, more like a command if anything, but it hits deep in your chest.

Because the last person who said they needed you was Mina.

“It’s nothing formal,” Eren says, guiding you toward the couch. “No real paparazzi, but important people will be there, though. I need you looking the way you normally do. Make them talk.”

“They always do. Everyone already hates me,” you giggle, sitting down on one of the soft cushions

He slowly sits down next to you, arm stretched out across the back of the couch behind you. “That’s the point.”

You lean into his side, feeling his warmth while your necklaces catch on the metal of the barbed wire chain around his neck.

“You… want me like this?” You ask even though you already know your place in his life. You know your sole purpose is to make everyone believe that you’re the problem.

Eren’s head turns slightly toward you, eyes dragging over your face. His fingers tap once against the back of the couch.

“I always have. I don’t want you cleaned up,” he says. “I don’t want you media-trained.”

His gaze drops to your lips, your neck, the way you’re pressed against his side like you belong there.

“I want exactly what you are.”

His words make it hard to keep any thought. Your eyes trace every detail without meaning to. The way his spiked snake bites sit against his bottom lip, the slight dip in his nose, the bits of blue in his green eyes.

You blink a few times, lips pressing together as your stomach clenches. Your skin is buzzing from the inside out, body melting into whatever you touch. “You always look at me like that?” you ask as his arm moves around your shoulders, fingers pressing into your skin.

He leans in a little closer. “Like what?”

You’re not sure if he’s doing it on purpose. You don’t know if the molly is making this more personal than it should be. His eyes are looking at you like he’s letting you get away with too much, like he’s about to stop pretending and ruin everything.

Your smile widens, “There it is. I knew it.” You lean a little closer, body pressing deeper into his. “You look like you wanna be bad again.”

That gets him. Not a full reaction, but just enough.

“Again?” “Like when we first met.”

The warmth feels heavier. You hate that you feel it. It feels like something you can’t grasp yet. Like this time he wants to be around you.

“You don’t know what I want,” he scoffs.

You do, you think. At least this version of you does. The one that doesn’t think too much. The one that doesn’t bring up sensitive topics. The one he doesn’t mind getting close to.

“I know enough,” you beam, poking his chest.

You’re not really asking for more anyway. Someone needing you, even if it’s using you, is more than you could ever ask for. You love being wanted, even if it’s from the wrong person.

Even if the want isn’t filled with lust.

“Don’t get it confused,” he mumbles, lips too close to yours, threatening to close the small gap. “You’re here for a reason.”

He doesn’t close the distance.

tags: @faerie-soirxx @xoxomystique @judgingyouisfun @melancholic-cow @timotheeishot676 @jetrodarcwelds @prettygirlsloveangst777

♡ chapter list ♡

Is reader actually dumb or she playing dumb ?

Because reader once said Mina told her she was going places so do the drugs make her like stupid ? Was reader smart in her past before Mina passed away ?

sorry for grammar

she’s playing dumb!! she learned that acting dumb, or even letting the drugs make her dumb, gets her what she wants! like a place to sleep, sex, attention, and more drugs to forget about mina. drugs and parties help her forget. the drugs enable her to act more dumb too.

she was smart and had a lot of potential, but after mina died, she stopped caring. being “dumb” is easier for her.

she doesn’t wanna be the girl that mina believed in anymore because then she’d have to live without her

#attack on titan #aot #eren jaeger #attack on titan fanfiction #aot x y/n #eren x reader #aot fanfic #eren x reader smut #metalhead #rockstar #pronly #rockstar moodboard #rockstar eren #aot rockstar au #i love rockstars #anon ask #shingeki no kyojin #punk y/n #punk rock

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