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to have and to hold eren yeager/f!reader (AoT) word count: 6.7k CROSSPOSTED TO AO3 tags: 18+ CONTENT MINORS DNI, angst, smut, infidelity, implied colt grice/reader, eren being manipulative, toxic relationship dynamic, childhood sweethearts to exes, zeke actually doing something right for once, hate fucking, car sex, dacryphilia, unsafe sex A/N: i wrote most of this while i was drunk! sorry!

A hand found your arm as you were leaving, weaving your way through the sea of bodies gathered in the crowded bar, the exit just within your sight.

You felt a light, almost reluctant touch to your skin as long fingers wrapped around your wrist—not tight enough to hurt by any means, but unexpected enough to make you falter to a pause in your stride. You turned, glancing curiously back over your shoulder to see who was preventing you from leaving the party that you’d never even wanted to attend in the first place.

You couldn’t have imagined it would be him who was standing there. Not after so much time had passed.

Eren.

You were sure your face betrayed every shred of the surprise that you were feeling, because when your eyes locked with that familiar shade of jade green he immediately dropped your wrist with a look of embarrassment twisting across his face.

“Sorry,” he said, his voice slightly raised over the loud music playing in the bar. “I just didn’t want you to leave without saying hi, so… hi.’”

He looked almost sheepish as he stood before you, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans and hunching his shoulders forward as though to make his imposing form a little smaller; his usual self-assured confidence seemed to evade him more and more with every word he spoke.

“Hi” you responded—the gift of eloquence entirely beyond your reach—dumbfounded at the present turn of events. You didn’t even know he was at the party, hidden in the sea of faces that had been surrounding you all night. It shouldn’t have really come as a shock to you, it was Jean’s party after all, and Eren had known the man just as long as you had.

But still.

It was the first time in your life that you had ever overlooked Eren Yeager in a crowd.

“Hi,” he repeated himself again, a breathy laugh accompanying it like he knew how preposterous it was to be greeting you for the third time in rapid succession. You might have even called his tone incredulous, the word tinged around the edges with a lilt of disbelief.

You stood in silence for a moment, less than an arm’s length apart, closer than the two of you had found yourselves in a very long time. The other patrons in the newly opened bar continued to go about their business, laughing and drinking and having a good time to celebrate Jean’s accomplishment, completely unaware of the fact that in the centre of all of the bustling excitement were two very still people, for whom time seemed to have stopped.

You couldn’t force your lips into the shape of any words, your mind drawing utterly blank as your attention remained fixed to his face. A face you knew so well, but at the same time seemed so foreign. Looking at him was like remembering something that had been forgotten; like a memory flooding suddenly back.

“Leaving?” Eren finally asked, braver than you and willing to break the silence, eyeing the coat that he’d evidently watched you pull around your shoulders as you had been on your way to the door.

“Yeah, I’m just… not having a good time at all,” you set out with every intention of coming up with an appropriate excuse for your early departure from the party, but abandoned that endeavour in favour of the truth only a few words in.

Eren chuckled, a smile pulling slow and sure across his classically handsome face. He withdrew one hand from his pocket, reaching up to rub the back of his neck, and for the first time you let your eyes leave his face.

Your gaze started at his wrist, tracing the shape of the familiar watch that his father had bought him for his 18th birthday, before taking in the rest of his body: the veins on his arms, visible due to the rolled up sleeves of his flannel shirt; the broad stretch of his shoulders; the curve of his neck as it sloped up into the sharp line of his jaw. His ears were a little pink, whether due to nerves or whatever he’d been drinking that night you couldn’t tell, but you noticed it with a dull pang in your chest all the same.

“You cut your hair,” you said quietly, reaching up without thinking. You stopped yourself just before your fingers came in contact with the ends of the brown strands—cut just above his ears now, where they had once been significantly longer.

He had moved to lean into your touch, the slightest tilt of his head giving him away, and he looked almost disappointed as you let your hand drop before you’d allowed yourself the chance to follow through.

It must have been, what, a year since you'd last seen him?

More than that?

You tried to remember when your last encounter had happened. It had been a little over a year since you’d left Shiganshina for Mitras, and the two of you had broken up almost 6 months before that. Your visits home to see your parents had been few and far between in the past twelve months—not least of all in fear of experiencing the very situation you presently found yourself in—so you knew it had to have been that long at the very minimum.

You wracked your brain for the distant memory, digging through the neatly packed boxes in the recesses of your mind that you were seldom courageous enough to dust off and dig through.

“Everything okay?” he asked, noticing the way you seemed to be lost in the sprawling, labyrinthine archives of your own thoughts.

“Uh,” the hesitant sound slipped from your lips before you had time to stop it, and you knew that anything that followed would be tainted by the clear indication that you were not, in fact, okay. “Not really, I guess.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

You breathed a sort of short, incredulous breath through your nose at his suggestion—it might have even been considered a laugh if anything about what he’d proposed had been remotely funny.

“I don’t think you wanna hear about this,” you said with a rueful smile.

He shrugged, his hands in his pockets once more.

“Try me.”

You stared at him, surprised by his insistence, and wary as to why after all this time he was so insistent on speaking with you.

“Well,” you said with a resigned sigh, letting the last of your resolve leave you along with the drawn out breath, “at the very least, I’m gonna need another drink.”

And so you found yourselves sitting at a small table on the patio outside the bar, as far away from the rest of the crowd and the loud music as you could be. It was a little bit cool outside, still too early in the spring for the warmth to linger once the sun went down. Because of the light chill in the air that night, no one was out on the little outdoor area that lined the bar, and you were actually able to find some semblance of privacy for the two of you to share.

There were strings of lights hanging overhead, illuminated and casting a warm glow upon you, and you could only imagine what the space would be like on an evening where you couldn’t see your breath before your eyes.

You and Eren had been sitting at the little wooden table in silence since you'd left the main bar. Eren was blowing warmth into his clasped fingers while you were clutching a half-drained whiskey sour in your own frigid hand, both of you wondering who would be the first to speak.

“Nice place Jean’s got here, huh?” Eren, again, was the one to take the lead and break the silence—looking around, as you had been, at the little patio that ran the length of the bar.

“It’s great. I’m really happy for him and the boys.” You punctuated the sentiment with a nod, taking another sip of your drink.

“You should have seen it when he first bought the place, it was a dive.” Eren laughed a little. “It took four days just to rip all the old carpet out inside. There were so many years of drinks and god only knows what else soaked into it, it was like military grade adhesive.”

You shuddered at the thought.

“Yeah, he sent me some pictures after he got the keys.” You swirled the liquid around in your glass, your gaze flickering over to him. “So you helped him fix it up?”

“We all did, really,” Eren replied, tugging on a short piece of hair by his ear as though willing it to grow. “Reiner, Bert, Mikasa and I helped with a lot of the renovations; Historia did the decorating; Armin got everything set up for his website; and then Marco’s taking care of the accounting and business side of stuff while Niccolo manages the kitchen. Even Sasha and Connie helped by putting together a ‘social media strategy’—but that was mainly just them making stupid little videos on Connie’s phone while the rest of us did all the work.”

You snorted.

“So everyone’s the same as always, I see,” you said quietly. It had been a long year since you’d left home, and yet for everyone you’d left behind it was as if no time had passed at all.

“I don’t think you could change us if you tried,” the boy beside you chuckled through the words in agreement.

You heard some sort of commotion inside the bar, laughter bleeding out into the quiet night, turning your face towards the windows. You spotted Jean through the slightly fogged pane, standing in the centre of the crowd with a glass raised. You were missing his speech.

“How’s your family doing?” you asked quietly, your eyes returning to the boy beside you.

You watched the way one corner of Eren’s mouth ticked up wryly.

“Dad’s on sabbatical so him and Mom just went to stay with Zeke in Marley for a couple weeks,” Eren replied. Grisha, Eren’s father, was a professor at the local college—the same one that you and all your friends had attended only a few short years ago. “Mom still asks about you—she’ll be sad she missed your visit home.”

Your eyes fluttered down to your hands as they held a little tighter to your cold glass, only a mouthful left within it. You debated draining it, but held yourself back—rationing it for when you needed it most.

“So, who is he?” Eren gallantly stepped up to prevent the silence that threatened to settle over you again.

Of course he’d figured it out.

“Just… some guy,” you said, squinting at your last reserve of whiskey sour and seriously contemplating knocking it back. It wasn’t outrightly a lie but it left the taste of one on your tongue. Colt was not just some guy any more than Eren was just some guy—the realization of which made your mouth feel uncomfortably desiccated.

You took one last long sip in an attempt to remedy the feeling and wash away the lingering bitterness your words had left behind.

“Okay,” Eren sounded like he might’ve laughed if he wasn’t making a concerted effort not to let any of his jealousy seep into his voice—and if you didn’t know him so well, you might’ve missed it. “How long have you two been together?”

“Almost a year,” you said quietly as the numbers fell into place in your mind, pausing momentarily as you did the math in your head.

You’d met Colt when you’d first moved to Mitras and started working together. Both of you had been new to the city at the time: he’d transferred to the company’s Mitras office from Marley, and you’d taken on an entry level position three floors down from his. He was sweet, if not a bit unassuming; you’d bonded over both being far from home, and before you’d known it grabbing drinks after work or eating lunch together on the fountain in front of the office had turned into arriving to the office together in the morning in an outfit pulled from a drawer of clothes you kept at his apartment.

“Wow,” Eren said, visibly surprised. He leaned back in his seat and raised a hand to ruffle the hair at the nape of his neck. “That’s a while.”

You hummed a small noise of agreement.

He wasn’t wrong.

“You didn’t waste any time settling in I see,” he added, but that part was quieter, a little more vulnerable than his earlier comment.

You shot him a look. A warning.

He avoided your gaze.

“So… what’s the problem?” he asked, point blank, as he twiddled with the rings on his fingers.

Your eyes got lost in the details of his face again, now that his attention was not on you: the small scar on his chin left over from a childhood injury involving his brother Zeke and a baseball; the few freckles he had dotting across his nose, ones that you knew would only grow darker when the summer came; the way one side of his upper lip was just a little fuller than the other, giving him the impression of always being a bit bemused.

You forced your gaze to return to the table—to your hands and your empty glass and the delicate stitching of your purse as it rested on the tabletop—because the longer you stared at him the less clearly you could see Colt’s face in your mind.

“I don’t know,” you finally said, honesty bleeding into the words. They left your mouth meek, dejected, helpless. But they were the truth. You really didn’t know what the problem was.

That seemed, above all else, to be the problem.

“I think there’s something wrong with me,” you admitted, the floodgates having opened with very little hope of wrenching them closed again. “I just don’t know what it is. Like, I can’t quite put my finger on it, so instead we’re both just acting like things are fine—and maybe he really does feel that way. But they’re not fine, and I don’t know why or how to fix it, or if it’s just something I’m making up that isn’t really there. I think I might just be making everything worse by thinking about it all the time. But I feel like I’m losing my fucking mind, Eren,” you said, breathless and exasperated as you finally got to the end of your rambling sentence.

He looked at you, his eyes a little colder than they had been before.

“So he’s being distant?”

“No.”

That wasn’t it.

“Too clingy?”

“No.”

That wasn’t it, either.

“Well, have you talked to him about how you’re feeling at all?” he asked.

“No, I haven’t,” you admitted. You’d thought about it, sure, but you weren’t even sure where to start the conversation. Or how.

“That might help.”

You sighed. “Yeah. It might.”

“So, what’s he like, anyway?”

Eren’s question caught you off guard, and you were pretty sure your shoulders visibly tensed.

“Um, he’s… quiet,” you started warily, uncertain as to how to proceed and surprised by the first thing you had instinctively chosen to say about him. “I guess reserved is a better word for it. But he’s intelligent, and very conscientious. He always takes into consideration how his actions affect the people around him, and he cares about them, y’know? It might be because he’s a big brother.”

Eren pursed his lips, nodding a little.

You wondered if this was okay.

It felt weird.

It was weird.

But you reminded yourself that he had been the one to ask the question—not to mention initiate the entire conversation. You hadn’t been the one that asked for this.

“We work together. That’s how we met. He’d just transferred from the Marley office a week before I started.” A thought occurred to you: Eren’s half-brother also worked for your company, in the very office Colt had transferred from. “Hey, Zeke might actually-”

Your stomach clenched.

Eren froze, but wouldn’t meet your gaze.

Oh.

“You already knew about Colt,” you whispered as the realization struck you.

Eren shot you a look, and he at least had the decency to look sheepish.

“He and Zeke go back a long time, apparently,” Eren admitted quietly, an uncomfortable tension thrumming between you at the table. “Told me about you two the last time he visited your office.”

Zeke had come to visit your branch a few months prior. You’d avoided him while he was in town, careful to avoid the spaces you may cross paths in the office, but you’d known that he and Colt had gone out for dinner one night to catch up. You hadn’t outrightly asked your boyfriend not to mention you to the eldest Yeager son—not having wanted to have to explain your own personal history with Zeke or his younger brother. The two of you were still keeping your relationship quiet around the office, and you’d assumed (obviously in error) that he simply wouldn’t say anything.

You felt embarrassed.

Manipulated, in a way, that throughout the entire conversation with Eren you had assumed the two of you were operating on equal footing—that you each knew as little about your personal lives over the past year as the other.

But, yet again, Eren had proven himself a skilled liar.

“Zeke says he’s a nice guy,” Eren continued, clearing his throat and shifting a little in his seat as though he sensed the way your temper was threatening to swallow you both. “But he’s being good to you, yeah? That’s not the issue, right?”

“He’s a great guy, he would never be anything but good to me,” you sharpened the words, emphasizing without saying it outright that Colt was treating you better than you had ever been treated in the past.

Certainly better than you had been by him.

Your pulse pounded loud in your ears, crescendoing into anger, drowning out your reason.

“He asked me to marry him.”

Your eyes widened a little as you realized what you'd said, letting your need for petty vengeance get the better of you.

“You’re kidding,” Eren said, the words pointed like a demand to tell him the truth.

“I’m not.”

“You haven’t even been together for a year and he…” Eren’s voice pitched up in what sounded almost like outrage before the sentence trailed off all together.

“He hasn’t actually proposed, not officially anyway. But he’s always wanted to start a family young, told me he wants that with me.” Your fingertip circled a mark of condensation your empty glass had left on the table top. “He has a ring. Told me to think about it.”

“That’s crazy.”

Eren’s eyes bore into your face with an intensity that made you feel exposed.

The wind blew past, colder than it had been a moment prior, and you shivered.

“Are you gonna say yes?” he asked.

“He told me to think about it,” you repeated again, teeth resisting the urge to chatter from the chill.

“That’s not what I asked,” he said, leaning back in his seat—away from you.

“Well it’s harder to say the second time around.”

Eren’s shoulders went rigid.

“You didn’t hesitate when I asked,” he muttered.

Your teeth set on edge at his comment, not because of the cold, venom lacing it’s way acrimoniously through your next words.

“Yeah, well he actually means it.”

It was quiet for a minute.

“It’s the first time I’ve really tried to picture myself with any kind of future with someone who isn’t you, Eren,” you said, though your words were quiet and reluctant. Beaten down and broken. Your anger had passed as quickly as the breeze, and left you trembling in its wake.

His eyes finally returned to your face after having been pointedly avoiding you.

“Well that sucks,” he remarked after a moment.

You barked out a loud, sincere but surprised laugh at his comment—which may have been unconventional, given the situation. But so was the situation itself.

“No, no–I didn’t mean it like that!” Even Eren was smiling, but it was equal parts exasperated and sheepish. He picked up the beer bottle he had been neglecting since the two of you had gone to sit outside, swinging it to-and-fro by his fingers’ grip on the tapered neck. “I just meant that it kinda sucks that you’ve found anyone at all that you’ve thought about like… that.”

Your heart thrummed dully in your chest. You supposed it might have felt like hurt if you weren’t so out of touch with your own feelings. Or perhaps just so used to the dull ache that followed you as surely as your own shadow.

“I certainly haven’t,” he added, finally taking a long swig of his drink, tipping the bottle back until it had been drained.

Oh.

“This conversation probably hasn't gone the way you thought it would,” you said.

He turned to look at you, a notably less cheerful smile on his lips.

“Can’t say it has. Kinda set myself up for it, though.”

“I’m sorry,” you said to him, even though you weren’t sure why you felt the need to.

“Me too,” he replied, although you weren’t sure what he was apologizing for.

For your relationship problems?

For asking about Colt?

For stopping to talk to you at all?

For the things he’d done that had gotten you to this point in the first place?

You suspected it may have been an amalgamation of them all.

Another silence settled over you, but it was almost comfortable. Familiar, even. Everything about Eren felt familiar: the way that he shook his head to tousle his hair; the sound of his rings on the table as he tapped his fingers lightly; the way that his tongue came forward in his mouth as he brought his beer to his lips, only to pout when he tipped it back and was reminded it was empty. You let yourself relax into the feeling of nostalgia, and the warmth it brought with it.

And before you knew what you were doing, you kissed him.

You felt the warmth of two mouths meeting, the touch of knees jostling uncoordinatedly under the table as you leaned forward to close the gap. You tasted the beer on Eren’s lips as he parted them, and while he was surprised he wasn’t resistant—his large hands reaching up to hold your face to his almost instantly, deepening the kiss as soon as he felt the ghost of your tongue sweeping forward.

Colt’s kisses were never lustful or passionate. You never kissed him with zeal, or fervour—instead they felt almost like bartering. Kissing Colt felt like you were begging yourself to compromise, to accept what he was willing to give you in place of the uncertainty that you had found elsewhere. Every time his lips moulded to yours, you wanted so badly for the kiss to feel like Eren’s kisses used to: like the only thing that would ever matter to you.

But they never did.

Not like this.

You stood suddenly, wrenching yourself away like you’d been burned, your chair clattering back as it scraped across the slatted deck of the patio. You fled a few paces away, your shaking hand pressed over your mouth.

You stood with your back to Eren, but you could feel his eyes on you.

“Don’t say yes.”

Your eyes squeezed shut.

“You can’t do this to me, not after everything,” you said angrily, pitifully, turning back to face him with an agonized look on your face.

He was closer than you’d anticipated, having clearly followed you to the dim corner of the patio.

“Do what?” he asked.

“This!” Your hands flew up to gesture between the two of you.

“You’re the one who kissed me,” Eren reminded you.

“It was a mistake, Eren.”

“It wasn’t and you know it.”

You stared up at him, chest heaving. His lips were still slick from your lipgloss.

The strings of lights were still shining overhead.

The music from inside the bar was still playing.

You grabbed him by the front of his shirt and pulled him forward again.

Eren crowded you against the side of the building, the heat from his body seeping into yours, away from the windows where you might be spotted by your friends who were still gathered inside. His hands traced the curves of your body that he was the first one to ever memorize as his tongue remapped the details of your mouth that he should have long forgotten.

“You’re a bastard,” you said to him lowly, the soft flannel of his green button-down clutched tightly in your fists. You were breathless as his mouth dragged hot and wet along the line of your jaw.

“I know.”

It wasn’t long before he led you willingly to his car in the dark parking lot—the old truck he and his brother had fixed up together before Zeke went off to college in Marley and left it to him.

It certainly wasn’t the first time he’d ever pushed you down flat across the bench seat in the back, and the cold leather was familiar against your skin, even after all this time.

Eren crawled in on top of you, both of your coats thrown haplessly to the floor as his eager hands settled at your waist. He tugged your hips up with steady hands so he could grind down against them more forcefully as he kissed you breathless, a whine tearing from your throat and spilling right into his open mouth.

He withdrew from the kiss, saliva stringing from his mouth to yours. The boy above you pressed his forehead to your own, his breath breaking hot against your lips as his nose grazed your cheek lightly.

“You don’t love him,” he had the nerve to verbalize what you already knew.

The problem you had been too scared to name.

Too cowardly to acknowledge.

You pushed him back roughly by the chest, and he didn’t force himself on you, straddling your hips on the narrow backseat as you stared up at him contemptuously from beneath him.

“I wish I did,” you said honestly, a waver in your voice that was threatening to break.

But you didn’t, and you both knew it.

Your heart had belonged to Eren Yeager since you were thirteen.

No matter how irreparably he’d shattered it.

It’s why you didn’t stop Eren as he tugged his button up over his head before doing the same to your own top, moving to unclasp your bra in a motion so fluid and practiced you hardly knew it was happening until the cold air of the truck’s cab was kissing your flushed skin.

Eren leaned over you, his hair hanging into his eyes as he peered up to meet your gaze, licking flat against the pebbled bud of your nipple before sucking as much of your flesh into his mouth as he could. His right hand cupped the other in his wide palm, squeezing into the soft give of your body in a way that had you mewling.

Your teeth bit down into your lip to keep quiet, but there was no use—Eren had been the person who had trained your body like a finely honed blade for him to wield most lethally.

His hips continued to grind down into yours as he licked and sucked his way across your chest, the unmistakable pressure of his cock rutting against your core as your skirt rode up into a glorified belt around your waist. He littered your skin with spit and bruises and perfect imprints of his stupidly straight teeth as he went.

“Don’t leave marks,” you begged him, but you were arching up and pressing yourself closer to his touch as you said it—like your body was being honest where your words could not. The leather under your bare skin was starting to warm like the air inside the truck, growing more difficult to draw in on every gasping breath.

Eren only sucked harder in response.

“Fuck, missed this pussy so much,” Eren groaned as one hand reached between you to stroke you through the material of your panties, no longer hidden under the hem of your skirt. “Missed you.”

You tightened around nothing at his admission, thighs twitching like they were trying to close.

His lithe fingers snaked beneath the damp cotton, tugging it roughly to the side as he dragged his digits up through your slick folds—the discovery of which made Eren curse.

“Missed me too, baby?” he asked, finding the swell of your clit and pressing against it with his fingertips. Your hips shifted instinctively into his touch, rolling against him, a hiccup of air catching in your burning lungs. He sighed, almost dreamily. “I know you did. You’re so wet.”

“Eren, please,” you begged him mindlessly. You just wanted something. Anything. You felt like you were burning slowly from the inside out.

Eren lifted your hips in his hands, tugging your panties down your thighs. They didn’t even come all the way off, left hanging around one ankle as he turned his attention to his own belt.

You listened to the jingle of the buckle as you fought to catch your breath.

This was the point of no return. The point beyond which redemption would be out of reach.

If you hadn’t already passed it.

You thought of Colt as you watched Eren run his hand down the length of his cock, his eyes fixed to your drooling cunt as you dripped down onto the leather seat.

“Please just fuck me,” you said it quietly, desperately.

Eren didn’t hesitate to comply.

You didn’t let him work you open, though he tried.

You didn’t want him to.

You wanted it to hurt, at least a little bit. You deserved that much.

“Fuck, baby you’re so tight,” Eren hissed as he held himself above you with one hand on the door, lips drawing into a line as he pressed inside of you slowly. You were keening, one hand clinging to his bicep white the other reached out to scratch at the back of the driver’s seat—nails finding no purchase in the unyielding leather. The hand he’d been using to guide himself inside of you came to rest on your thigh, kneading into your flesh soothingly with his thumb. “Relax, please. Relax for me.”

You couldn’t.

“S’too much,” you whimpered, even though he was barely halfway inside of you. Even though this was exactly what you’d asked for—what you’d begged him for.

“I know, I know,” Eren reassured you, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to your temple as he slowly continued to carve his way inside of you. “Just bear with it for a sec baby, c’mon.”

He groaned, the sound shooting right though your core, when he finally slid all the way to the hilt.

“You good?” he asked you raggedly, trailing his hand from your thigh up the length of your body, running his thumb along your cheek. There were tears on your skin, you realized as you felt the cool air kiss the tracks they’d made. Eren brushed them away while he whispered empty words of reassurance into your ear.

The initial burn subsided and you were left only with the overwhelming stretch of being full and the insatiable need for more.

“You can move,” you whispered as Eren pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth, and he gave a slow, tentative roll of his hips in response.

That slow pace didn’t last.

No, it wasn’t long until Eren was driving into you at your insistence. Begging him for it harder—pleading for him to give you more—with your knees pressed up towards your chest. The lewd sound of flesh meeting filled the confined of the old truck’s cab, coupled with the scent of Eren’s cologne heavy in the air it was enough turning your stomach—but not enough to overwrite the white hot pleasure singing through your veins.

The truck had to be shaking with the force of Eren fucking you down into the leather, which had grown slick with the sweat of your bodies, sliding further up the seat with every thrust. But you were too preoccupied to care that at any moment the two of you could be discovered.

“His cock doesn’t-” Eren’s words were parsed with a grunt, still ploughing into you roughly, “-fill you up like mine does, huh?”

“Please don’t,” you begged, moaning through the words as you shook your head frantically from side to side.

Don’t talk about him. Don’t make you think about him while he was carving you open like that. Don’t remind you of what you were doing and who you might be hurting because of it.

Your hand reached up over your head, gripping the door handle in a white-knuckled hold as though to ground yourself.

“You shouldn’t have left,” Eren whispered, but his words were still loud enough to bite. He leaned over you, blocking your view of anything else that wasn’t him. “I fucked up but it was because I loved you so much. I didn’t want to lose you.”

“You didn’t want to - haa oh my god - marry me either,” you tried your best to sound cold in your response, but the slow grind of his pelvis against your clit had you delirious.

Eren’s only response to your words was a particularly brutal thrust.

You slid further up the seat, your head hitting the door above you, and you clenched down around him instinctively on impact, choking on a moan. Eren’s hand came up to cradle the back of your head, kissing you sloppy while he groaned into your panting mouth.

“I still do, still love you, god baby you’re ruining me.” Eren kissed his way across your face: your cheeks, your chin, your jaw. He felt the way you clamped down on him in response to his words. His thumb pressed into your clit, rolling it beneath the pad of his finger with quick, devastating precision. “Come on, cum for me, so pretty when you cum. I know you’re close. Wanna see it. Lemme see it.”

You came with a bitten off moan of his name, shoulder blades bearing down into the seat as your spine bowed up to press your chest to his, your toes curling in your shoes.

“Oh you’re so good, so pretty, just like that,” Eren’s hands pet gently over you as you rode the peak of your orgasm, his hips still rocking steadily into yours even as your pussy tightened around him like a vice.

His hips stuttered slightly, and you knew he was close too.

“Not inside,” you peeled your eyes open with effort at the realization, croaking out the plea weakly.

“Do you let him?” Eren asked, his gaze burning as he stared down at you. The lights from outside the car illuminated the sheen of perspiration clinging to his skin like a glow, made the sharp lines of his clenched jaw even more defined as he was thrown into such harsh relief. You tried to look away, but he took your chin in his hand, forcing your eyes to stay on him.

He looked desperate.

“Tell me.”

“No, I don’t—I don’t!” you sobbed out, the first pangs of overstimulation pooling in your gut.

Eren seemed appeased by your confession, satisfied with its truth, and pulled out just in time to cum on the inside of your thigh with a long, low moan, crushing his mouth to yours.

Eren’s weight fell on top of you, heavy and warm, his face tucking into the crook of your neck as he let the final waves of his own high crash into him. His hand searched for yours, lacing your fingers together, while the two of you fought to catch the breath that was evading you in the warmth of the backseat. You felt the slide of his cum as it dripped down your skin onto the seat beneath you.

You thought about the last time you’d held each other like this.

The night before you’d found out.

It was still early as you slipped out of bed, but Eren’s side was already cold—no lingering trace of the body that had been curled around you all night beyond the scent of his cologne pressed deep into the soft cotton. You pulled yourself up and out of your own side, shoving your feet into your waiting slippers to preserve whatever warmth you could, shuffling towards your bedroom door.

As you drew nearer to the kitchen of your little apartment, you could overhear Eren and Zeke talking just around the corner. Your boyfriend--now fiancé--'s brother was in town visiting, staying in your spare room for a few days.

“-I’ll just keep finding reasons to put it off until I'm ready and come up with a plan. She’s thinking about grad school, so I’m encouraging her with that for now to keep her busy while I figure things out,” you heard Eren say.

They were talking about you.

You, who was supposed to be sleeping.

You used to like sleeping late, back then.

You paused just shy of making your presence known, though you weren’t sure why. Maybe some higher power was telling you to wait—that you needed to hear what came next.

For all of Zeke’s shitty qualities, at least he spared you the misery of letting things go any further.

“And what if that doesn’t happen? What if you’re never ready, Eren? You’ve always told me you don’t wanna get married.” You could hear the clink of a cup being set down, the jingling of a spoon swirling around inside of it. “She’ll figure it out eventually, you know. She’s a smart girl—that’s why they offered her the position in Mitras in the first place.”

You felt sick.

“What, and I was just supposed to let her go? To leave?”

You held a hand over your mouth to fight back the sound that threatened to leave you.

“You could have gone with her.”

“I don’t wanna live in fucking Mitras.”

The warm metal of your engagement ring dug into the flesh of your lips.

“Well, what about what she wants, kid? Doesn’t that matter to you?” Zeke sounded weary, but not unkind. He supported his brother in all things—to a fault.

There was a long pause between them, and you were still frozen with your back pressed to the wall only a matter of steps away.

“She wants to get married,” Eren said, but his voice lacked any attachment to the words. He said it like someone might describe the weather. Objective and impersonal.

Tears pricked hot behind your eyes.

“But you don’t.”

Your clothes felt wrong when you pulled them back on side by side in the backseat—like you were putting them on backwards or inside out, even though you knew you weren’t.

Eren opened the door, hopping down to the pavement, turning and offering a hand to help you after him.

You ignored it, sliding out past him and willing your legs to keep you steady as you stepped away—ignoring the slight quiver in your knees with every step you took back towards the bar.

Eren closed the truck door, but you didn’t hear him following behind you—no telltale crunch of gravel underfoot to signify him trailing in your wake.

You paused.

You couldn’t go back inside, not after what had just happened.

Not after what you’d just done.

The weight sat heavy in your chest, the horrifying realization of the consequences you’d wrought with your own hands.

The way you had once been ruined, and had ruined someone else as a result.

“I hate you.”

Your words were quiet, your shaking hands curled into fists at your side.

There was a long moment where neither of you said anything, the only sound floating on the edge of the cool breeze was the distant thrum of music and merriment coming from the bar on the other side of the parking lot, and the occasional rumble of a car passing on the street nearby.

“You don’t,” Eren sounded almost apologetic as he replied from behind you.

You swallowed hard over the lump in your throat, the lights of the patio sparkling through the tears pooling in your eyes.

You both knew what he’d said was true.

“I really wish I did.”

You both knew that was true, too.

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