Canât stop thinking about how attack on titan is not a romance but how its narrative hinges upon the most devastating love stories Iâve encountered in fiction.
How Ymir and Historia cling to each other under the burden of a crown they didnât ask for.
How Eren, the definition of an âattackâ protagonist does anything and everything for Armin, who shrinks away from violence (despite having to become the embodiment of war).
How Erwin gave Levi the sky, and it is a debt that Levi knows he can never repay.
How subtly yet thoroughly they work Moblit into every scene, a step behind Hanji, cautioning them and supporting them, so that you donât even notice him until heâs gone.
How Mikasaâs âAkerbondâ to Eren goes so much further, so much deeper, because he exhibited such raw, unfettered inhumanity in the name of protecting her when she was a child, when he barely even knew her, and that is all she knows of love.
How Connie feels like heâs lost half of himself with Sasha gone.
How much Carla loved her son.
How much of an impact Marco made on Jean.
How Armin could eat Bertoldtâs love for Annie and have it latch onto his own admiration of her.
How Marlowe thought of Hitch as he was dying.
How Reiner keeps going for the kids he has to mentor.
How Falco put himself between Gabi and danger over and over again.
How violently Sashaâs family mourned but how reverent of her spirit they were to forgive her killer.
Idk man I just think for a show that started off as kids fighting giants and turned into âmy war crime is worse than your war crimeâ, it is driven almost entirely by unique, poignant and thoroughly convincing love stories.
cottage boy!eren chops the wood and lights the fire for you and he to keep warm at night. he huddles you close to him while you sleep. the first time he wraps his arm around your waist and gently flushes against you, your face burns the entire night.
cottage boy!eren is so strong. he doesnât just chop the wood; he lifts the tree roots to bring âem closer. he lifts you at the waist, unprompted, and laughs when your fingers nearly tear into his cotton shirt to keep a hood of him.
cottage boy!eren plays chase with you in the woods. you love the rush of wind in your hair, through your clothesâand eren loves being it.
cottage boy!eren is such an affectionate drunk. he splits a bottle with you and his reservations dwindle to near nothing. his hands caress your ankles, as they rest over his lap. his cheeks tint real rosy, a man-eating grin slapped over his face. he thumbs at your arms, your shouldersâsweetly strumming your body, and barely even aware of it.
cottage boy!eren is such a handyman. fixes pipes, cleans with you, cooks with you. builds your kitchen from scratch and paints it all in your favorite colors.
cottage boy!eren is a bleeding heart. openly stares (gawks) at you, kisses your fingers, your wrists, your palms. he finds his hands are almost as expressive as his mouth is. but boy, the way he speaksâsoft and low, it swirls in your tummy.
cottageboy!eren with hearts swirling in his eyes, follows your swift little steps around the room as you look for the book youâd been reading. youâd sat it next to him just a second ago. he promises to hand it back if you tell him what itâs about.
cottage boy!eren doesnât even realize how alone the two of you really are until you mention it for the third time, on your third day away. and then he becomes insufferable, a menace unto himself and you. he enjoys basking in the sunlight of your attention, is warm with your laugh spreading across his ears.
cottageboy!eren picking flowers for you, brings em home to set the table with for dinner. you help him plant some lemon and lime trees, help him plant tomatoes and keep it all watered.
cottage boy âren loves the fields, the animals. you cross a few deer every now and then. the look on your face each time makes his heart stutter.
sharing a bath with your cottage boy, his big body pressed tight between your hips. <3
#is there anyone who read this who would like a short piece on motorcycle college boy eren who exists in this universe
resisting the urge to barge through your door to scream a resounding YES I FUCKING WOULD
instead i am knocking politely and saying yes at a completely normal and respectable volume
if no one's got me I know you've got me ley ily
leave fast (part 0? part 0.5? who knows)
eren/reader
tags: modern au, college au, street racing au
A/N: this takes place a few weeks before the drabble I posted earlier! if you haven't read that go read it first? or next? idk what I'm doing with this but it's something!
"When in the ever loving hell am I going to need to know half of this shit?"
Hitch tosses her head back woefully as she descends the stone steps outside of the science building. The late afternoon sunshine makes the ends of her sandy hair burn golden in their light.
Beside you Marlowe, Hitch's boyfriend and lab partner, watches her carefully. Half making sure she doesn't go tumbling down the stairs in the throes of her dramatic outburst and half enthralled by the sight of her.
You smile a little, stifling a laugh.
"I'm serious!" She picks up on the hiccup of a giggle you'd tried to swallow down, spinning around to shoot a glare your way. "When will I ever have the chance to practically apply my knowledge of the difference between myoglobin and hemoglobin?"
"Aren't they the same thing?" Marlowe asks, confusion seeping into his tone, while jogging down the four stairs ahead of you to stand cautiously behind Hitch as she starts to descend them backwards--her eyes still locked on you.
"No, they're not," you say off-handedly to Marlowe. You decide to spare him the text book difference between the two, holding back the comment that while they were both hemeproteins whose physiological importance was chiefly down to their ability to bind oxygen molecules, they were actually structurally very different. You suspect you'll need to help him with this unit come time for midterms.
You turn your attention back to girl in front of you. "If you hate the class then drop it. You don't have to take biochem for a chemistry major if you don't want to."
She rolls her eyes, hopping down off the last step safely. Marlowe visibly relaxes once she's on level ground.
"What's my other option? Thermodynamics? Gag me."
You laugh at your friend's dramatics, about to remind her that Thermodynamics is a requirement--at least if she wants to take Kinetics the following year (which she does)--when a shout of your name tears you from your train of thought, all three heads in your conversation turning towards the sound.
Eren is on the other side of the courtyard, hands clasped around his mouth to amplify his voice. When he catches your eye, he breaks into a grin, jogging briskly towards you.
"I'll see you guys later?" you say, slowly turning to Marlowe and Hitch with a sheepish smile.
Hitch rolls her eyes, but there's the ghost of a smirk tugging at her glossy lips. "I see Eren's back on the fly-list. Marlowe, make sure you update the countdown when we get home."
"Countdown?" you ask as the couple begins to walk away.
"Days since last Eren-related foolishness is back to 0!" Hitch calls back over her shoulder, waggling her fingers at you in a taunting wave. Marlowe shoots you an apologetic look that makes your hope that she's only joking about the countdown a little more fleeting.
"Hey! He- oh sorry!" You turn just in time to see Eren hop over the short stone wall in front of him in what you can only assume is an effort to save the 2 seconds it would have taken him to walk three steps around it. He jostles a passerby in the process, steadying them for a moment while he apologizes before stepping away.
He takes two loping steps, a bit breathless from his unexpected parkour, until he's standing toe to toe with you. You watch as he tucks a piece of his tousled hair behind his ear. Itâs getting long again, you noteânot quite chin length but well on its way. Heâd soon be able to start tying it back again without the strands slipping out from his hair tie like they presently are.
He smiles down at you.
"Hey."
"Hi," you say softly, lips curling up instinctively in response to his own expression, "what are you doing here?"
"I came to take you home. I know todayâs your long day so I thought maybe we could get something to eat on the way?" Eren tilts his head, the hair he'd just tucked behind his ear falling out once more.
"Wasn't your last class on the other side of campus? How did you make it here so fast?" You reach up, gently urging the tendril back where it belonged.
"I can be pretty fast when I need to be," Eren replies, catching your hand before you can draw it away from his face, threading his fingers through your own.
His palms are always so warm.
"You ditched class early, huh?" you say with an eyebrow raised wryly.
He dips down a little closer, his nose brushing yours. "Only by ten minutes.â
âThatâs precious time of your very expensive higher-education that youâre letting go to waste,â you barely even whisper the words given how close he is. When your lips form the âwâ sound in âwasteâ your lips purse enough to brush against his own.
He hums thoughtfully. âI think it was worth it.â
You lean forward, tired of the game the two of you are playing, pressing your mouth to his.
Erenâs hands immediately reach to cup your face in those same, warm hands, in the exact way he always doesâtilting your chin up towards him so he doesnât have to lean down quite as far, thumbs brushing over the apples of your cheeks as he pulls back slightly, dark lashes fluttering over soft green eyes as he risks a glance at you, only to immediately kiss you again.
You relax into the familiarity of it.
âEren,â you mumble his name against his mouth. You pull back but his mouth chases yours, kissing you again.
You place both hands on his chest, holding him at bay as you withdraw a little more insistently.
âWeâre in the middle of campus,â you say, albeit reluctantly. âOne of my professors could walk out and see us.â
Eren cracks a sheepish grin.
âSorry I,â he clears his throat, stepping back to put some space between you and scratching at his neck, âIâm just happy to see you.â
âYou saw me yesterday,â you tease him, wiping discretely at your lips with the edge of your sleeve.
âIâm just glad that weâre back together, is all.â
You smile.
You are too.
Because this time things are going to be different. This time itâs going to work.
âSo where did you want to go eat?â Eren asks, slipping his hand into your own and dragging you along behind him as you make your way towards the parking lot.
âHm, somewhere close, âm tired,â you say, leaning into his arm a little as you walk side by side. His fingers tighten their grip as he peeks down at you.
âSorry I kept you up pretty late last night,â he says, his voice dropping quieterâso that no unsuspecting passersby might hear the implication heavy in his tone.
You cheeks go hot. You bite the tip of your tongue lightly.
âI didnât mind it.â
His fingers squeeze again.
Eren drops your hand as you turn the corner to the parking lot, his motorcycle parked just outside the entrance to campus.
âOh,â you say with a swallow, a bit surprised. âYou brought your bike.â
Eren looks back at you as he works to free his helmet from where heâd looped it over the handlebar. He pauses when he sees the look on your face.
âHey,â he says, stepping up to you again. He places a hand on your waist and gently pulls you flush to himâthe planes of his body solid against your own as he wraps himself around you. âI meant what I said. No more racing. I didnât even break the speed limit on my way to class today.â
You shoot him a look.
âOkay, maybe just by a bit,â he admits with a soft laugh and a little scrunch of his nose. He leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You feel his warm breath on your skin as he pulls away, resting his chin on your head as he holds you to him just a bit tighter. âYou trust me, donât you?â
You sigh.
âOf course I do.â
Eren pulls away, holding his helmet out to you to put on.
You eye it skeptically for a moment: the deep green design swirling through the inky black of the reinforced outer shell, the way the waning sunlight glints golden off the intricate pattern of wings printed onto the side--the same pattern printed on the beloved motorcycle a few feet away. Theyâd look almost delicate if the sight of them didnât turn your stomach.
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 wristânot 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 youâd never even wanted to attend in the first place.
You couldnât 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.
âSorry,â he said, his voice slightly raised over the loud music playing in the bar. âI just didnât want you to leave without saying hi, so⊠hi.ââ
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.
âHiâ you respondedâthe gift of eloquence entirely beyond your reachâdumbfounded at the present turn of events. You didnât even know he was at the party, hidden in the sea of faces that had been surrounding you all night. It shouldnât have really come as a shock to you, it was Jeanâs 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.
âHi,â 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 armâs 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 Jeanâs 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 couldnât 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.
âLeaving?â Eren finally asked, braver than you and willing to break the silence, eyeing the coat that heâd evidently watched you pull around your shoulders as you had been on your way to the door.
âYeah, Iâm just⊠not having a good time at all,â 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 heâd been drinking that night you couldnât tell, but you noticed it with a dull pang in your chest all the same.
âYou cut your hair,â you said quietly, reaching up without thinking. You stopped yourself just before your fingers came in contact with the ends of the brown strandsâcut 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 youâd 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 youâd 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 monthsânot least of all in fear of experiencing the very situation you presently found yourself inâso 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.
âEverything okay?â he asked, noticing the way you seemed to be lost in the sprawling, labyrinthine archives of your own thoughts.
âUh,â 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. âNot really, I guess.â
âWanna talk about it?â
You breathed a sort of short, incredulous breath through your nose at his suggestionâit might have even been considered a laugh if anything about what heâd proposed had been remotely funny.
âI donât think you wanna hear about this,â you said with a rueful smile.
He shrugged, his hands in his pockets once more.
âTry me.â
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.
âWell,â you said with a resigned sigh, letting the last of your resolve leave you along with the drawn out breath, âat the very least, Iâm gonna need another drink.â
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 couldnât 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.
âNice place Jeanâs got here, huh?â Eren, again, was the one to take the lead and break the silenceâlooking around, as you had been, at the little patio that ran the length of the bar.
âItâs great. Iâm really happy for him and the boys.â You punctuated the sentiment with a nod, taking another sip of your drink.
âYou should have seen it when he first bought the place, it was a dive.â Eren laughed a little. âIt 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.â
You shuddered at the thought.
âYeah, he sent me some pictures after he got the keys.â You swirled the liquid around in your glass, your gaze flickering over to him. âSo you helped him fix it up?â
âWe all did, really,â Eren replied, tugging on a short piece of hair by his ear as though willing it to grow. âReiner, 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 Marcoâs taking care of the accounting and business side of stuff while Niccolo manages the kitchen. Even Sasha and Connie helped by putting together a âsocial media strategyââbut that was mainly just them making stupid little videos on Connieâs phone while the rest of us did all the work.â
You snorted.
âSo everyoneâs the same as always, I see,â you said quietly. It had been a long year since youâd left home, and yet for everyone youâd left behind it was as if no time had passed at all.
âI donât think you could change us if you tried,â 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.
âHowâs your family doing?â you asked quietly, your eyes returning to the boy beside you.
You watched the way one corner of Erenâs mouth ticked up wryly.
âDadâs on sabbatical so him and Mom just went to stay with Zeke in Marley for a couple weeks,â Eren replied. Grisha, Erenâs father, was a professor at the local collegeâthe same one that you and all your friends had attended only a few short years ago. âMom still asks about youâsheâll be sad she missed your visit home.â
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 backârationing it for when you needed it most.
âSo, who is he?â Eren gallantly stepped up to prevent the silence that threatened to settle over you again.
Of course heâd figured it out.
âJust⊠some guy,â you said, squinting at your last reserve of whiskey sour and seriously contemplating knocking it back. It wasnât 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 guyâthe 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.
âOkay,â Eren sounded like he mightâve laughed if he wasnât making a concerted effort not to let any of his jealousy seep into his voiceâand if you didnât know him so well, you mightâve missed it. âHow long have you two been together?â
âAlmost a year,â you said quietly as the numbers fell into place in your mind, pausing momentarily as you did the math in your head.
Youâd met Colt when youâd first moved to Mitras and started working together. Both of you had been new to the city at the time: heâd transferred to the companyâs Mitras office from Marley, and youâd taken on an entry level position three floors down from his. He was sweet, if not a bit unassuming; youâd bonded over both being far from home, and before youâd 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.
âWow,â Eren said, visibly surprised. He leaned back in his seat and raised a hand to ruffle the hair at the nape of his neck. âThatâs a while.â
You hummed a small noise of agreement.
He wasnât wrong.
âYou didnât waste any time settling in I see,â 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.
âSo⊠whatâs the problem?â 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 tableâto your hands and your empty glass and the delicate stitching of your purse as it rested on the tabletopâbecause the longer you stared at him the less clearly you could see Coltâs face in your mind.
âI donât know,â you finally said, honesty bleeding into the words. They left your mouth meek, dejected, helpless. But they were the truth. You really didnât know what the problem was.
That seemed, above all else, to be the problem.
âI think thereâs something wrong with me,â you admitted, the floodgates having opened with very little hope of wrenching them closed again. âI just donât know what it is. Like, I canât quite put my finger on it, so instead weâre both just acting like things are fineâand maybe he really does feel that way. But theyâre not fine, and I donât know why or how to fix it, or if itâs just something Iâm making up that isnât really there. I think I might just be making everything worse by thinking about it all the time. But I feel like Iâm losing my fucking mind, Eren,â 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.
âSo heâs being distant?â
âNo.â
That wasnât it.
âToo clingy?â
âNo.â
That wasnât it, either.
âWell, have you talked to him about how youâre feeling at all?â he asked.
âNo, I havenât,â you admitted. Youâd thought about it, sure, but you werenât even sure where to start the conversation. Or how.
âThat might help.â
You sighed. âYeah. It might.â
âSo, whatâs he like, anyway?â
Erenâs question caught you off guard, and you were pretty sure your shoulders visibly tensed.
âUm, heâs⊠quiet,â you started warily, uncertain as to how to proceed and surprised by the first thing you had instinctively chosen to say about him. âI guess reserved is a better word for it. But heâs intelligent, and very conscientious. He always takes into consideration how his actions affect the people around him, and he cares about them, yâknow? It might be because heâs a big brother.â
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 questionânot to mention initiate the entire conversation. You hadnât been the one that asked for this.
âWe work together. Thatâs how we met. Heâd just transferred from the Marley office a week before I started.â A thought occurred to you: Erenâs half-brother also worked for your company, in the very office Colt had transferred from. âHey, Zeke might actually-â
Your stomach clenched.
Eren froze, but wouldnât meet your gaze.
Oh.
âYou already knew about Colt,â you whispered as the realization struck you.
Eren shot you a look, and he at least had the decency to look sheepish.
âHe and Zeke go back a long time, apparently,â Eren admitted quietly, an uncomfortable tension thrumming between you at the table. âTold me about you two the last time he visited your office.â
Zeke had come to visit your branch a few months prior. Youâd avoided him while he was in town, careful to avoid the spaces you may cross paths in the office, but youâd known that he and Colt had gone out for dinner one night to catch up. You hadnât outrightly asked your boyfriend not to mention you to the eldest Yeager sonânot 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 youâd assumed (obviously in error) that he simply wouldnât 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 footingâthat 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.
âZeke says heâs a nice guy,â 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. âBut heâs being good to you, yeah? Thatâs not the issue, right?â
âHeâs a great guy, he would never be anything but good to me,â 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.
âHe asked me to marry him.â
Your eyes widened a little as you realized what you'd said, letting your need for petty vengeance get the better of you.
âYouâre kidding,â Eren said, the words pointed like a demand to tell him the truth.
âIâm not.â
âYou havenât even been together for a year and heâŠâ Erenâs voice pitched up in what sounded almost like outrage before the sentence trailed off all together.
âHe hasnât actually proposed, not officially anyway. But heâs always wanted to start a family young, told me he wants that with me.â Your fingertip circled a mark of condensation your empty glass had left on the table top. âHe has a ring. Told me to think about it.â
âThatâs crazy.â
Erenâs 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.
âAre you gonna say yes?â he asked.
âHe told me to think about it,â you repeated again, teeth resisting the urge to chatter from the chill.
âThatâs not what I asked,â he said, leaning back in his seatâaway from you.
âWell itâs harder to say the second time around.â
Erenâs shoulders went rigid.
âYou didnât hesitate when I asked,â he muttered.
Your teeth set on edge at his comment, not because of the cold, venom lacing itâs way acrimoniously through your next words.
âYeah, well he actually means it.â
It was quiet for a minute.
âItâs the first time Iâve really tried to picture myself with any kind of future with someone who isnât you, Eren,â 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.
âWell that sucks,â he remarked after a moment.
You barked out a loud, sincere but surprised laugh at his commentâwhich may have been unconventional, given the situation. But so was the situation itself.
âNo, noâI didnât mean it like that!â 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 fingersâ grip on the tapered neck. âI just meant that it kinda sucks that youâve found anyone at all that youâve thought about like⊠that.â
Your heart thrummed dully in your chest. You supposed it might have felt like hurt if you werenât 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.
âI certainly havenât,â he added, finally taking a long swig of his drink, tipping the bottle back until it had been drained.
Oh.
âThis conversation probably hasn't gone the way you thought it would,â you said.
He turned to look at you, a notably less cheerful smile on his lips.
âCanât say it has. Kinda set myself up for it, though.â
âIâm sorry,â you said to him, even though you werenât sure why you felt the need to.
âMe too,â he replied, although you werenât 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 heâd 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 Erenâs lips as he parted them, and while he was surprised he wasnât resistantâhis 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.
Coltâs kisses were never lustful or passionate. You never kissed him with zeal, or fervourâinstead 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 Erenâs 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 youâd 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.
âDonât say yes.â
Your eyes squeezed shut.
âYou canât do this to me, not after everything,â you said angrily, pitifully, turning back to face him with an agonized look on your face.
He was closer than youâd anticipated, having clearly followed you to the dim corner of the patio.
âDo what?â he asked.
âThis!â Your hands flew up to gesture between the two of you.
âYouâre the one who kissed me,â Eren reminded you.
âIt was a mistake, Eren.â
âIt wasnât and you know it.â
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.
âYouâre a bastard,â 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.
âI know.â
It wasnât long before he led you willingly to his car in the dark parking lotâthe 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 wasnât the first time heâd 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.
âYou donât love him,â 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 didnât force himself on you, straddling your hips on the narrow backseat as you stared up at him contemptuously from beneath him.
âI wish I did,â you said honestly, a waver in your voice that was threatening to break.
But you didnât, and you both knew it.
Your heart had belonged to Eren Yeager since you were thirteen.
No matter how irreparably heâd shattered it.
Itâs why you didnât 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 truckâs 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 useâEren 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.
âDonât leave marks,â you begged him, but you were arching up and pressing yourself closer to his touch as you said itâlike 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.
âFuck, missed this pussy so much,â 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. âMissed you.â
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 foldsâthe discovery of which made Eren curse.
âMissed me too, baby?â 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. âI know you did. Youâre so wet.â
âEren, please,â 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 didnât 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 hadnât 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.
âPlease just fuck me,â you said it quietly, desperately.
Eren didnât hesitate to comply.
You didnât let him work you open, though he tried.
You didnât want him to.
You wanted it to hurt, at least a little bit. You deserved that much.
âFuck, baby youâre so tight,â 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 driverâs seatânails finding no purchase in the unyielding leather. The hand heâd been using to guide himself inside of you came to rest on your thigh, kneading into your flesh soothingly with his thumb. âRelax, please. Relax for me.â
You couldnât.
âSâtoo much,â you whimpered, even though he was barely halfway inside of you. Even though this was exactly what youâd asked forâwhat youâd begged him for.
âI know, I know,â Eren reassured you, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to your temple as he slowly continued to carve his way inside of you. âJust bear with it for a sec baby, câmon.â
He groaned, the sound shooting right though your core, when he finally slid all the way to the hilt.
âYou good?â 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 theyâd 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.
âYou can move,â 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 didnât last.
No, it wasnât long until Eren was driving into you at your insistence. Begging him for it harderâpleading for him to give you moreâwith your knees pressed up towards your chest. The lewd sound of flesh meeting filled the confined of the old truckâs cab, coupled with the scent of Erenâs cologne heavy in the air it was enough turning your stomachâbut 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.
âHis cock doesnât-â Erenâs words were parsed with a grunt, still ploughing into you roughly, â-fill you up like mine does, huh?â
âPlease donât,â you begged, moaning through the words as you shook your head frantically from side to side.
Donât talk about him. Donât make you think about him while he was carving you open like that. Donât 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.
âYou shouldnât have left,â Eren whispered, but his words were still loud enough to bite. He leaned over you, blocking your view of anything else that wasnât him. âI fucked up but it was because I loved you so much. I didnât want to lose you.â
âYou didnât want to - haa oh my god - marry me either,â you tried your best to sound cold in your response, but the slow grind of his pelvis against your clit had you delirious.
Erenâs 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. Erenâs hand came up to cradle the back of your head, kissing you sloppy while he groaned into your panting mouth.
âI still do, still love you, god baby youâre ruining me.â 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. âCome on, cum for me, so pretty when you cum. I know youâre close. Wanna see it. Lemme see it.â
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.
âOh youâre so good, so pretty, just like that,â Erenâs 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.
âNot inside,â you peeled your eyes open with effort at the realization, croaking out the plea weakly.
âDo you let him?â 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.
âTell me.â
âNo, I donâtâI donât!â 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.
Erenâs 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 youâd held each other like this.
The night before youâd found out.
It was still early as you slipped out of bed, but Erenâs side was already coldâno 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.
â-Iâll just keep finding reasons to put it off until I'm ready and come up with a plan. Sheâs thinking about grad school, so Iâm encouraging her with that for now to keep her busy while I figure things out,â 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 werenât sure why. Maybe some higher power was telling you to waitâthat you needed to hear what came next.
For all of Zekeâs shitty qualities, at least he spared you the misery of letting things go any further.
âAnd what if that doesnât happen? What if youâre never ready, Eren? Youâve always told me you donât wanna get married.â You could hear the clink of a cup being set down, the jingling of a spoon swirling around inside of it. âSheâll figure it out eventually, you know. Sheâs a smart girlâthatâs why they offered her the position in Mitras in the first place.â
You felt sick.
âWhat, and I was just supposed to let her go? To leave?â
You held a hand over your mouth to fight back the sound that threatened to leave you.
âYou could have gone with her.â
âI donât wanna live in fucking Mitras.â
The warm metal of your engagement ring dug into the flesh of your lips.
âWell, what about what she wants, kid? Doesnât that matter to you?â Zeke sounded weary, but not unkind. He supported his brother in all thingsâto 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.
âShe wants to get married,â 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.
âBut you donât.â
Your clothes felt wrong when you pulled them back on side by side in the backseatâlike you were putting them on backwards or inside out, even though you knew you werenât.
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 awayâignoring the slight quiver in your knees with every step you took back towards the bar.
Eren closed the truck door, but you didnât hear him following behind youâno telltale crunch of gravel underfoot to signify him trailing in your wake.
You paused.
You couldnât go back inside, not after what had just happened.
Not after what youâd just done.
The weight sat heavy in your chest, the horrifying realization of the consequences youâd wrought with your own hands.
The way you had once been ruined, and had ruined someone else as a result.
âI hate you.â
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.
âYou donât,â 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.
be but sworn my love
eren yeager/reader (AOT)
word count: 1.3k
tags: fluff, midnight confessions, first kisses, alcohol mention, eren being a drunk idiot and making it everyone else's problem
a/n: happy birthday loser
There are a lot of things you arenât expecting to see outside the plate-glass pane of your balcony door in the middle of the night.
In fact, the argument could be made that you arenât expecting to see most things out thereâsave for perhaps the distant streetlights, the waving boughs of trees in your front yard, and maybe a glimpse of the moon.
But certainly the last thing you ever expect to see outside your second storey apartment is the smiling face of one Eren Yeager, head peeking up over the balcony railing, hands wrapped around the edge as he struggles to hold himself steady.
âWhat are you doing here?â
Your voice is raspy as you wrench the sliding door open, because itâs the middle of the night and you should (by all accounts) be sleeping.
âWanâed to see you,â Eren slurs, letting out a little grunt of effort as he wobbles from side to side. âCan I come up?â
âItâs the middle of the night, Eren.â
âI know, I know. I justâwoah!â
Your stomach lurches as he seems to very nearly fall, and you step forward instinctively as if to grab him. He balances himself again without you needing to intervene.
âGet your fat ass up there, Yeager!â a voice calls gruffly from somewhere underfoot.
âMânot fat,â Eren mutters and you hear a scuffle, the boy bobbing slightly before your eyes again, and you overhear a hissed curse from below.
âIs that Jean?â you ask incredulously, approaching the edge of your balcony and leaning over the railing to squint down towards the ground.
âSure isânow can you get Romeo off my shoulders before he breaks my fucking neck?â Jean calls up to you, though itâs difficult to see him in the dark. He has Eren perched atop his shoulders as he struggles to keep the young man upright.
âEren, be careful!â You hear Arminâs worried voice call from somewhere down there as well.
âArmin?â you hiss into the night, still not able to see him.
âHi!â he calls back, the only one of the three whoâs making any effort to be quiet, his tone friendly if not a little sheepish.
âEren,â you sigh, squeezing your eyes shut and looking back to the boy whoâs gripping the edge of your balcony. âAnyone else down there I should know about?â
âItâs my birthday, yâknow,â he slurs, ignoring your question.
âAccording to my watch your birthday ended two hours and 11 minutes ago,â you counter, stepping back towards the sliding door youâd left ajar in your haste to figure out what the hell he was doing.
âI really thought youâd come to my party tonight⊠how come yâdidnât?â Eren asks as his lips purse in a glum little pout.
You pinch the bridge of your nose exasperatedly.
Another pained groan of exertion comes from Jean below your balcony, and Eren dips unsteadily again.
You let out a long, agonized breath. âGet up here before you hurt yourselfâand Jean.â
You watch as Eren uses his grip on the railing and hoists himself up and over itâa surprising display of dexterity for someone so drunk. He lands on his feet but stumbles forward a little, nearly crashing into you. Instinctively you place your hands on his waist to steady him, and his own come up to rest on your shoulders.
âHi,â he says as he smiles down at you crookedly, seemingly relieved to be on solid ground, though still swaying a little.
You shrug off his hands and take a short step away.
He follows.
âWhy are you here, Eren?â
A breeze blows past, carrying a waft of his cologne and the heady scent of beer with it, rustling the budding leaves in nearby trees. You wrap your arms around yourself. Itâs not quite spring-warm yet, especially not so late at nightâthe not so distant chill of winter still tangible in the air.
âI wanted to see you,â he murmurs, his eyes fixed to your lips.
âAt 2 oâclock in the morning?â you ask him flatly in reply.
He nods his head emphatically, his expression earnest.
âWell⊠here I am.â You lift your hands demonstrably, gesturing at yourself. Youâre dressed in an embarrassingly printed pair of sleep-shorts and a massive hoodieâdecidedly not your best look. âNot sure it was worth risking your life for. Howâd you rope Jean into helping you anyway?â
âBirthday gift,â Eren says, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jacket.
âOh yeah?â You laugh a little in spite of yourself, imagining how Eren making the request must have gone over. âSeems like a waste of a gift.â
âDoesnât have to be.â Eren peeks at you through his lashes, titling his head to the side.
You quirk a brow, watching as he swallows a little more thickly than is natural, but his eyes never leave your face.
âYou havenât given me your gift yet,â Eren says, toeing at the deck of your balcony.
âMy gift?â You blink incredulously at his gall. âWho says I got you a gift?â
He laughs a little.
âWhat could you even want anyway?â you grumble sullenly, heat crawling up your neck from underneath your hoodie, and hope itâs dim enough that he canât see it. You fidget nervously as your question hangs in the air. âTo copy my homework again or something?"
âA kiss,â he breathes, the reply soft and immediate.
Your eyes widen, your heartbeat wobbling in its pace.
Because this is Eren.
The guy youâd gotten unwillingly paired up with for a group project at the start of term and hadnât been able to shake for the rest of the semester. The one youâd bickered with the entire time you'd had to work together. The one you complain about to anyone who will listen. The one who you have come to realize, somewhere along the way, your feelings towards are anything but academicâmuch less inimical.
âEren,â the quiet way you say his name is wary and warning.
âJust one. I wonât ask for anything else ever again,â he pleads, his fingers tracing an X over his heart.
You canât deny heâs kind of cute when heâs drunk.
Or, well, cuter.
You deflateâyour will to be frigid dissipating from the marrow in your bones, evaporating from the flush of your skin. You take a tentative step towards him, standing up on your tiptoes.
Your encroach is slowâhesitantâas you crane up towards him.
You pull back just before your lips can meet, his breath warm as it ghosts across your mouth. You appraise him for a moment: his eyes are closed, his dark lashes fluttering as they squeeze a little tighter.
You miss your mark when you finally lean in, catching the edge of his mouth with yours, but he immediately turns his head into it to kiss you properly, lips meeting flush. He tastes sweet even through the bitterness of hops that lingers from the beer he's had to drink that night.
His hands settle on your waist as you grip his t-shirtâhis body heat seeping through the soft cotton in the cold night. His lips part gently against your own, kissing you a little deeper, dipping forward a little more so you arenât craning quite so much to reach him.
After a moment the two of you pull apart, and you hide your burning face in his shirt. Eren laughs, warm and breathy, against the top of your head.
You press a little closer, hold him a little tighter.
Your soft whisper is lost in the breeze, but he hears it anyway.
caught on film
eren yeager/f!reader, implied armin arlert/f!reader (aot)
word count: 4.7k
tags: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, DARK CONTENT(ISH??), TW DUBCON, TW NONCON FILMING, mentions of mental illness, reader speaks negatively about her own mental health, medical impropriety, therapist!armin, photographer!eren, age gap, slight obsessive themes from armin (possibly yandere?? idk what that means), smut, oral f!receiving, squirting, praise kink, reader is referred to as 'good girl' about 9 million times, eren yeager is NOT a nice guy, Armin is worse
a/n: read the tags!!!! and also don't look at me don't talk to me don't read this don't bring this up in court
âSo tell me more about this guy youâre seeing.â
Your therapistâs office is as tidy and cozy as ever. You find yourself seated on the familiar sofa dotted with throw pillows whose plushness you sink into whenever you perch upon it, and the matching armchair the registered psychologist sits in just across from you. Thereâs a desk on the other side of the room, with a laptop and a half-drained cup of tea waiting beside it, where you know your session notes will be typed up after your weekly appointment concludes. Then thereâs the bookshelvesâtall, narrow, and lining either side of the afternoon sun-soaked roomâpiled with books on every psychological subject youâre sure has ever been written on. Youâd asked him once if heâd read them all, and heâd laughed and told you 'not yetââbefore reminding you not to change the subject.
You fidget restlessly in your seat in the wake of the question youâve been posed.
âLetâs start with something easy then,â Dr. Arlert chuckles lightly, sensing your discomfort. âHow old is he?â
You purse your lips a little.
âRemember, you only have to share as much as youâre comfortable with, but the only person whose timeâand money,â the man adds with a pointed flick of his pen against his notebook, a subtle tap-tap against the pages whose notes you cannot see, âyouâre wasting by lying is your own.âÂ
You sigh, letting your head flop back against the cushion of the sofa behind you.
âHow old are you Dr. Arlert?â you ask as you stare vacantly overhead, tracing the edges of the room where wall meets ceiling.
âIâm 30,â the blonde haired man across from you replies with a slightly uncomfortable laugh and a cough to clear his throat.Â
âOhâIâm not hitting on you!â You sit up, hands raised innocently. âHeâs your age, thatâs the only reason I asked! Exactly your age, actually. But heâs so much⊠less together than you are.â
Sure, it might be rich coming from you: an early-twenty-something whoâs so mentally unwell she has to visit someone who specializes in fixing broken brains once every seven days. But itâs undeniably the truth.
âAge isnât usually a very good indicator of maturity.â Dr. Arlert tilts his head thoughtfully, flicking the pen between his fingers idly to-and-fro as he speaks.Â
You nod. You know that.
âLots of people are in different stages of their life at 30âI have some friends who are far more âtogetherâ than I am, and some who are stillâŠâ he contemplates his word choice for a moment, running a hand through his blonde hair so itâs pushed back from his face, âfinding their way. One of my closest friends is the youngest partner in her law firmâs history, another is an aspiring DJ. Thereâs no golden age for when you hit certain milestones, as much as we might wish there was, and holding onto that expectation is what often causes us the most stress when weâre still trying to figure things out.â
You nod again. You wish it was different.
âDid you pursue this guy because you thought his age would leave him more emotionally equipped for a relationship?â your therapist asks, the tip of his pen poised to the paper of his notepadâwaiting to record your response. His hair falls forward again, brushing against the tops of his earsâitâs been getting longer these past few months.
You wonder if he's growing it out.
âWellâŠâ you trail off, sitting yourself up a little straighter and pursing your lips as you make every attempt to parse the admission into something a little less shameless.
Your therapist laughs, picking up on your hesitation. âItâs okay if physical attraction played more of a role, thatâs an important part in any relationship.â
âHeâs just really hot,â you admit, your shoulders slumping. âI thought him being older was a bonus. That heâd be a little bit more⊠I donât know.â
Dr. Arlertâs pen scratches across the surface of his notepad.
âWhat did you say he does for work again?âÂ
You wrack your brain, trying to remember what profession youâd come up with the last time youâd brought him up in one of your weekly therapy sessions.
âHeâs an artist,â you say, once you pull the thought from the recesses of your memory. A photographer is technically an artist, so it isnât an outright lie.
âAh, so Iâm sure he has an artistsâ temperament,â the blonde laughs good-naturedly.Â
âThatâs the problem, some days heâs warm and romantic and adoring and then itâs just like⊠a switch flicks,â you swallow, looking down at where your hands are clasped in your lap. Youâve been wringing your fingers unconsciously since the subject came up. You wonder if Dr. Arlert wrote that down. âI wonât hear from him for days, or Iâll go to see him and heâll be so cold. Cruel even.â
Dr. Arlert freezes.Â
âHe doesnât hurt you, does he?â
âNo, god no!â you rush to explain yourself, seeing the way your therapists face has taken on an uncharacteristically solemn air. âEr-Eli would never put a hand on me!â
He relaxes slightly, but not completely.Â
âHeâs just the tortured artist type, brooding and aloof. If I didnât see that other part of him I wouldnât put up with it, honestly. But when itâs goodâwhen heâs goodâI justâŠâ
âYou cling to it.â
You nod, flopping back on the sofa. âYeah.â
âAlright, are you ready for my professional advice?âÂ
âThatâs why Iâm here doc,â you let your head loll to the side and smile lopsidedly up at him. He returns the expression with a softened gaze.
âI just donât think that this is what you need in your life right now.â Dr. Arlert, as ever, doesnât mince his words, but still manages to make them palatableâeasy to swallow. âI think you need to prioritize your life, and your growth and finding your pathâand you need someone who gives you the right conditions and care to do those things for yourself. From what youâve told me, Eli sounds like he needs to take some time to work on himself, in the same way you are, and I donât know that you can necessarily do that together.âÂ
Heâs right, as usual.
âFrankly, he seems like he could use a bit of counselling himself,â the doctor across from you laughs warmly, uncrossing his legs only to recross them again. âIf the opportunity presents itself, be sure to give him my card.â
You laugh too, and nod.
You feel a little lighter when you leave your session, just like you always do when you leave Dr. Arlert's office, and youâre more resolved than ever to put an end to the fling that has been weighing so heavily on you these past few months.
Until you check your phone on the way to your car in the parking lot.
E: Miss you
E: Come over?
You rap twice on the heavy metal door that separates the living space from the photography studio in his downtown loft, even though itâs ajar.Â
âOh, youâre here!â A head of tousled brown hair pops out from behind a studio light, a smile brighter than the fixture heâd been fiddling with stretching across his face. He lopes over to you, only a few strides of his long legs carrying him across the room to wrap you in his arms.Â
He kisses you breathless in place of a proper hello.
âHi Eren,â you say softly once you pull away, sooner than you usually might. He smells like he always does, like clean laundry and cologne with the lingering metallic undercurrent of the chemicals he uses in his darkroom.Â
Itâs infuriatingly pleasant. Intoxicating in the worst ways.
âHi beautiful,â he smiles down at you, dipping down and pressing another kiss to your forehead. âMissed you.â
If he senses that youâre a little stiffer than usual he doesnât seem to let on.
You hum instead of a more articulate response.
Eren runs his hands down your arms, gentle and affectionate, until he catches your hands in hisâhe uses this newfound hold on your fingers to guide you further into his studio where the late afternoon sunlight is drenching the space in a warm ochre hue.
âI got you something.â
Eren stops beside a white box, neither particularly large nor small. It has roughly the same dimensions as a shoe-box though not quite as tall, and itâs wrapped in a silky white bow. It sits perched atop a table otherwise littered with camera equipment you donât know the purpose of.
âFor me?â you ask curiously, your voice pitching up in surprise. Eren doesnât tend to give you gifts, so itâs an unexpected gesture to say the very least.
âYeah,â he replies softly with an earnest nod that makes the bun on the back of his head bob and a few more hairs spill out of its loosening hold. âOpen it.âÂ
You eye Eren skeptically, but see only sincerity in his featuresâa flicker of mirth and expectancy behind the soft green of his eyes. You slip your fingers under the ribbon, pulling it loose, and then gently pry the top of the box open. Inside, under a layer of delicate tissue paper that crinkles as you pull it back, lays a beautiful silk dressâa slip more than anything.Â
Your gaze flickers to Eren whoâs watching your face carefully, anticipation etched across his features. Slowly you lift the garment from itâs box to see it in all its glory.Â
Thereâs a long slit up one side, and a plunging neckline decorated with the daintiest, most intricate lace youâve ever seen. The silk of the dress slips like water through your fingers.
Your mouth feels suddenly exceedingly dry, and your voice is weak when you finally speak again. âItâs beautiful.â
Eren at some point had slipped behind you, his warmth pressing into your back as he leans down to whisper in your ear.Â
âIt reminded me of you,â he breathes, pressing a fleeting kiss to your throat as your heartbeat stutters in your chest. âI⊠I wanna take your picture in it.â
âMe?â you ask, your voice suddenly higher than it had been a moment prior.Â
Erenâs laugh rumbles through his chest and into your shoulder blades, a hot breath of air brushing across your cheek as he nuzzles his nose into your hair. âYes, you.â
âIâm not a model,â you argue weakly, turning to face him head-on, the dress still clutched tightly in your hands.
âYou could be.â Eren sweeps an errant tendril of hair back from your face. âIâve always thought that.â
His words are too smooth. Too effortless. You wonder how many other girls heâs used the same routine on. You wonder if it worked on them as easily as it does on you.Â
You wonder what Dr. Arlert would say about all of this. What heâd say about how quickly your resolve is crumbling under Erenâs affection.
âYou donât have to do anything youâre uncomfortable with,â Eren says gently, his hands coming to rest on the curve of your waist. âBut will you try it on for me at least?â
You chew on the edge of your lip.
âPlease?â Eren asks, his hands running up and down your sides as though moulding you into compliance with the heat of his touch aloneâlike clay softening under the press of a potters hands, left to be shaped in whichever way they please.
You nod a little. He grins.
Eren watches carefully as you peel off your clothes. He looks like he wants to touch you but doesnât, allowing you to strip yourself bare without any interruption. Heâs on his best behaviour.
The slip sits over your body like a second skin, leaving nothing to the imagination. It feels ludicrous and luxurious all at once.
âYouâre beautiful,â Eren breathes, pupils dilating wide in the centre of his irises. He takes a step towards you, his hands tracing the curves of your body at the same time as his eyes. He kisses you softlyâlike heâs desperate to take you in with as many of his senses as he can all at once.
âPlease,â Eren murmurs against your lips, his hands holding your body flush to his, desperate to keep you near. âLet me take your picture, baby?â
You pull away, eyes fluttering open to see him staring down at youâjade green lost to the black of his pupils that threaten to swallow it whole in their lust-blown haze.
âWhat am I supposed to do?â you ask meekly.
Eren smiles, sweet and triumphant all at once, and kisses you again.
He positions you on a chaise near the open window, but his touches are fleeting like the last golden rays of light before the sun slips out of view.Â
âIs this okay?â you ask him as you prop yourself up, an arm on the window ledge as your warm cheek rests against the crook of your elbow. Itâs not even that scandalous, Erenâs seen you in far less clothing after all, but something about it just feels so intimate that your skin prickles with a heat of embarrassment all the same.
âPerfect,â Eren breathes, holding up his beloved film camera and pressing the shutter for the first timeâthe sound clicks through the space resonantly.
A few moments, and many more photos, passâbut you still feel uncomfortable.
âRelax, youâre doing so well,â Eren seems to be narrowly fighting off a laugh, and you pout a little petulantlyâhe takes a photo of that too.Â
âI feel awkward,â you whine, flopping back against the chaise and hiding your burning face under your hands.
The shutter clicks again.
âCome on, pretty girl,â Erenâs voice drifts a little closer to the chaise youâre sprawled across. "I want to see your face.â
You peek up at him through your fingers, and find him poised over you, camera still in hand.
Click.Â
âJust like this,â he breathes, and another shutter sound is pulled from his camera with a press of his finger. âJust as you are.â
You let your hands drop fully, resting gently against your chest. The silk of the dress feels so nice underneath your fingertips.
âThere she is.â You can see Erenâs cheeks lift in a smile even from behind the camera.
âEren,â you complain again, but a little more desperately this time. âI donât know what to do.â
Eren lets his camera drop so it hangs from the strap around his neck. He leans over where you lay on the chaise, one hand beside your head and the other on his camera to keep it from knocking into you.
He kisses you tenderly, a sweep of his tongue so sweet and fleeting it leaves you whimpering for more, and you chase his mouth as he pulls away.
âI wanna see you feel good. I want a picture of you feeling good.â
Thereâs a weight to his words, one that you understand without him needing to elaborate any further, and it has the heat pooling in your core turning molten.Â
He blinks at you, doe-eyed and beseeching.Â
âAre you feeling good, baby?â
You nod your head trepidatiously.
âHow good?â he asks. âCan you show me?â
You hesitate for a moment, your fingertips trailing to the hem of your dressâthe dress Eren had bought just for you. Eren watches the slow path your fingers track raptly, lifting his camera up to his eye once more.Â
You look at the lens, and know without seeing that Erenâs eyes are on yours.
The hem of the dress slips slowly over your thighs as you drag it up up up around your waist.
A groan tears from the back of Erenâs throat.Â
âBaby, youâre so wet.â
Heâs right. You know heâs right even without glancing down to verify the statement with your own two eyes. You feel the slide where the tops of your thighs meet, skin slick with the arousal that has been dripping from you steadily from the moment you first put on the dress.
Click.
Your breath hitches as the shutter sounds again, a terrifying reminder of how vulnerable you are under the lens of Erenâs camera. You move to let the hem drop, but Eren stops you.
âShow me more, please?â he begs, his voice tight and earnest, and you canât help but comply when he sounds so sweet.
You let the straps of the garment slip from your shoulders, exposing your chest to the cool air of the studio. Your nipples, though already perked from arousal, pebble as theyâre bared. You shiver a little, though not from the cold.
âEren,â you whimper, a hand sneaking under the silky hem to press against the ache of your clit. âEnough. Please touch me.â
He doesnât need you to tell him twiceâthough he does snap one last photo for good measure.
Eren is on you as soon as his camera is safely set aside, pinning you down to the chaise and settling in between your trembling thighs to press kisses into the soft flesh between them.
âMy girl,â Eren breathes reverently between open-mouthed kisses that start just above your knee and bring him closer to the heat of your core with every meeting of his lips to your skin. âSuch a good girl for me.â
When his mouth finally lands on your cunt, your hands dive into his hairâgrasping at the soft strands like a tether to keep you bound to him as you back arches up off the surface of the seat youâre sprawled across.
You gasp his name as his tongue drags hot and wet against you, searching for the swell of your throbbing clit to press against. Eren keeps your hips pinned down with the weight of one forearm, the delicate silk of your dress rucked up in his hand, while the other peels your slick folds apart to grant him better access to your pussy.
His tongue traces lazy circles against your clit, his green eyesâheavy-lidded and clouded with arousalâwatching you carefully as you come undone under the careful ministrations his tongue.Â
âO-oh, fuck Eren Iââ you whimper, thighs twitching as he suckles gently against the sensitive swell of nerves.Â
Eren shifts, looping one of your legs up over his shoulder and pinning the other back. You reach for it out of instinct, holding it up and out of the way for him to continue his task.
He leans his head against the thigh looped over his back, teasing your throbbing clit with just the tip of his tongue.Â
âDâyou feel good?â he rasps, watching the way your chest shudders on a shaky inhale, your head bobbing in a nod that comes without any conscious effort on your part. âWanna cum?â
You nod again, only this time you moan as you feel his fingers slip inside of you, stretching you open.Â
Tears prick behind your eyes, a broken, repetitious litany of the same empty words spilling from your lips. His tongue laves hot and wet against your cunt, the sounds sloppy and lewd, and the perfect slope of his nose presses tauntingly against your clitâjust enough to feel good but not enough to push you over the edge you find yourself teetering on the brink of.
âEren,â youâre almost wailing now, so desperately worked up that the sounds heâs pulling from you are obscene. His fingers slow and you almost sob, so impossibly close to the orgasm you feel winding taut in your core.
âMake a mess for me,â Eren murmurs the words right into your pussy, crooking his fingers just the right way, and you feel the telltale flood of warmth as you gush around him. Your back bows, your thighs shake, and one last pointed suck to the swell of your clit has you finally falling over the edge.Â
Eren effortlessly navigates the necessary change in pace, slowing the ministrations of his tongue and fingers in tandem to help draw out your peak without completely overwhelming you. He knows just when to withdraw, to crawl up your body and cradle you in his arms, to press wet, hungry kisses to your face and jaw and mouth that still taste of you.Â
Itâs moments like these where youâre acutely aware of just how experienced Eren is in comparison to youâheâs older, and clearly more in tune with the intricacies of intimacy. Sometimes it feels like he can read your body better than you can. The master of an instrument to which youâre still a novice.
âYou did so good, so fucking good for me,â Eren speaks the words right into your mouth, his hands pushing the material of your silk dress up until he can guide it right over your head. You let him. Boneless and pliant and desperate to feel the press of his skin against yours on that chaise beneath the open window of his studio, the sky a dusky lavender just beyond the frame.Â
Erenâs diligent hands knead into your flesh as your body recuperates from the rush of endorphins, his t-shirt shed and pants unfastened at the waist.
âThink you can handle another one, baby?â Eren whispers, pressing a tender kiss to your hairline as his fingers rub lazy patterns against your tummy. âWanna be inside you so bad.âÂ
âPlease,â you reply, your voice crackling from your tender throatâstill sore from the screams heâd ripped out of you only moments prior.Â
Eren smiles, presses his lips to yours, and then turns you gently onto your stomach. He maneuvers you in an almost peculiar way, sideways on the chaise and facing one corner of his studio as he lines himself up behind you.Â
But you trust him, so just like when he was behind the camera, you let him pose you however he sees fit.
Eren slumps back into his seat at the bar, rapping his knuckles idly against the counter as he waits for his companion to rejoin him.
âSorry about that,â his friend says, the barstool scraping against the floor as the man reclaims his seat. âA patient called with an emergency.â
âNo shit?â Eren asks, eyes wide in curiosity. âLike a âliterally on the edge' kinda emergency?â
Armin shoots him a look. âYou know I canât tell you stuff like that.â
Eren pouts, lifting his beer to his pursed lips. âMikasa always tells me stuff about her cases.â
âThatâs because Mikasa could defend herself out of first-degree murder charges even if she was still holding the smoking gunâIâm not losing my license just to satisfy your morbid curiosity,â Armin says, but heâs smiling like heâs used to Erenâs anticsâbecause he is.
âHow was work today?â Eren asks, âor is that top secret info too, 007?âÂ
Armin snorts, taking a sip of his own drinkâbourbon, neat. The good stuff.
âIt was fine. Same as always, really. What did you get up to today?âÂ
Eren grins mischievously, and Armin quirks a brow inquisitively at the sudden change in his childhood friendâs expression.
âYou know that girl Iâve been seeing?â Eren asks, his voice dropping a little lower and a whole lot more lascivious.Â
âThe young one?â Armin asks curiously. âFresh out of university?âÂ
âAnd so so eager to please,â Eren nods, closing his eyes in bliss. âBest pussy Iâve ever had Armin, I swear.â
âJesus, Eren,â Armin laughs, but the sound is tightâstrained. He lifts his glass to his lips once more, but thereâs a tremble in his hands.
âShe let me photograph her today. On film. Finally.â
Arminâs drink pauses at his mouth, tilted backâthe bitter bourbon brushing his lips like a tide to the shore but not crossing the threshold onto his palate.
He collects himself and takes a healthy swig.
âDid you bring them?â Armin asks as he sets his glass back down atop the coaster on the gleaming surface of the bar, his gaze sliding over to his friend beside him from the corner of his eye.Â
Eren pulls an envelope out from the inside pocket of his jacket, setting it down on the bar next to Arminâs hand thatâs curled into a tight fist.Â
ââCourse I did.â
Armin reaches for the envelope, slipping a finger under the unsealed flap and easing it open.Â
His finger stings.Â
Ah, a papercut.Â
He sticks the tip of his index finger into his mouthâthe tang of copper mingling with the lingering acerbity of whiskey on his tongue.
He thumbs through the freshly developed photos with his opposite hand.
There you are, in all your flustered, half-naked glory. A kiss of a blush on your cheeks, down your throat, curling down down down under the impossibly deep plunge of the neckline of your barely-there dress.Â
Armin feels a similar heat crawling through him as his blood rushes south.
He keeps going.
Soon the dress is lifted, rucked up around your hips. He sees the way the waning light beyond the window catches on the slick smeared against the tops of your thighs, the way your lips are glossy with saliva. Then the delicate buds of your breasts as the straps of your dress are slipped off your shoulders, a hand snaking down between your legs to part the pretty pink folds of your pussy.
Eren really outdid himself this time.
âThat all?â Armin rasps out, tucking the pictures quickly back into the envelope and slipping it into the pocket of his jacket.
Eren hums, but itâs a rueful sound.Â
âWouldnât let me take any more pictures after that. Not that I had much restraint left,â he laughs a little, a smirk tugging his lip upwards like heâd made a much better joke than he actually had.
Armin nods, swallowing hard and willing the tightness in his pants to ease enough that he can slip out of the main entrance inconspicuously, or at the very least head to the bathroom so he can fuck his fist to the photographs tucked snugly away in his pocket.
âDonât worry, the video camera was running thoughâuploaded it to our shared file just before I left my place.â
Eren smiles widely at his friend, leaning back in his seat and stretching his arms up over his head.
âShe still hasnât noticed even after all this time,â he says with a chuckle, equal parts incredulous and misguidedly fond as he lets his limbs fall once more, forearms bracing against the bar in front of him. âGuess it pays to be a photographer: itâs like the thing is hidden in plain sight.â
Armin returns Erenâs smile with equal warmth.
He engages in the usual frivolity and idle chatter that usually accompany a night out drinking with his long-time friend, but in the back of his mind he canât help but feel the anticipation building in the pit of his stomachâthe longing to go home and watch the video had been uploaded to their shared virtual drive. He canât help but wonder how long it is, what angle itâs shot from, what kind of sounds it captured you making.
He was sure that, no matter what, it would be yet another masterpiece to add to the collection that had been accruing for as long as Eren had been fucking youâalong with all the other women who had been unsuspecting stars in Erenâs endeavours in clandestine cinematography over the years.
Only these particular videos, the ones featuring you, all make it to a special file that Armin keeps on his own encrypted hard drive. Along with your patient intake forms, weekly session notes, and any other bits of relevant information heâs found about you in his many online searches that he wanted to keep to himselfâafter all, he wouldnât want Eren to figure out that he wasnât nearly as unfamiliar with you as heâd been letting on for the past few months.
After he wrung two, maybe three orgasms from his aching cockâthat had been half-hard since youâd left his office earlier that afternoonâhe would think about how he was going to persuade you to dump his unwitting best friend again next week.Â
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