𝗕𝗘𝗡𝗘𝗙𝗜𝗧𝗦, connie springer 18+

our song

Connie tipped a shot into his open-mouth with a wince before slapping the glass onto the kitchen-counter. He groaned in disgust, wiping his parted-lips with the ebony sleeve of his jacket.

Connie pulled a face of pure disgust with his pink tongue sticking out of your mouth: "What the hell was that?"

Ymir, who had just poured both of your drinks for you, gave a shrug before refilling all of the shot glasses for the third round.

Connie placed his hands inside of his jacket pockets, searching for something before pulling out a pack of cigarettes. He placed an unlit cigarette in between his soft lips, tilting his head towards the door.
"I'm going out for a smoke," He began with the edges of his lips tilted upwards, "You staying here with Ymir?"

You shook your head, instinctively intertwining your arm with his.

He softly laughed whilst wrapping his muscular arm around yours: he pressed his index finger against your nose, "You just can't get enough of me, can you?"

You rolled your E/C eyes back whilst Connie began to lead you away, his arm still on top of your shoulder to protectively keep you close.

He used the side of his shoulder blade to open the kitchen door, the music of the party becoming louder as he led you through crowds of people. There were strobe lights attached to the ceiling, reflecting silver lights that Shon on the crowds of dancing young-adults.

Your eyes glued onto Connie's face.

His slender eyebrow twitched as the darkness illuminated against his face, highlighting his sharp jaw and cheekbones. He pulled the unlit cigarette from his parted lips and placed it inside of the casing, his eyes searching around.

"Y/N." He loudly called your name over the music; he watched your face scrunch as you attempted to hear - he bent down, pressing his cheek to yours as he began to whisper, his lips caressing your skin as he did, "Stay close to me. I don't know most of the people here, and I don't want to lose you."

You tightened your grip on his arm, able to feel his thick muscles tense through the fabric of his jacket.

Your mind was becoming overstimulated by the booming music, the strobe lights and how compact the living room was of people.

Or at least, that was until you realised what song was playing.

You suddenly stopped walking, feeling an unwilling smile plaster itself against your teeth.

Connie twisted his head over his broad shoulder with a raised brow, unsure on why you had immediately stopped walking. Until, he suddenly realised what song it was too.

You watched Connie's lips curled up, the strobe lights highlighting his brow and cheekbones.

His golden eyes locked onto yours once more as he nodded his head to the beat of the music; the beat of the song was slow and deep; the hoarse voice of the singer was at a low volume compared to the rasp of the bass-guitar; the lyrics were sensual.

He turned his body towards you as you gripped hold of both of his jacket sleeves: "You're thinking what I'm thinking, right, Springer?"

Connie's hands spread against your hips, "This is the song we danced too when we first met. Fuck-.." His voice murmured, "I love this song."

"It's our song."

Your project partner softly laughed as his voice blended into the bass of the music.