#thirteen 2003

[mint-39]

Inspired by @borntodieparadiseedition3

[chloelovesu]

[coolchickblog]

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧.

[newm8n]

(a reminder)

[ibuprofein]

⭒˚‧ ︵‿⭒ 𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 ⭒‿︵ ‧˚⭒

𝐩𝐥𝐮𝐠! 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐦𝐨 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨 𝐣𝐨𝐤𝐞. 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐦𝐢𝐫 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐬, 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞. 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐧…𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐟𝐮𝐧 !

𝐜𝐰: 𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐜 (𝐱 , 𝐬𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐬, 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐣𝐮𝐚𝐧𝐚), 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐮𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

it was only the third week of your first semester, and already the campus felt like a movie you weren’t invited to star in. every night the dorm halls buzzed with doors slamming, music leaking through thin walls and people laughing loud even with 8 a.m. lectures looming.

by morning, they’d shuffle into class smelling like smoke and perfume, sunglasses on indoors, and you couldn’t help but wonder how they pulled it off.

meanwhile, you were still orbiting the same trio you’d carried from high school: armin, a bookworm and soft spoken; sasha, always pulling you into her next joke or snack run; historia, gentle presence but sharp when she wanted to be. they were familiar and safe—but the itch under your skin only grew worse whenever you passed girls in sequined tops stumbling home barefoot with eyeliner smudged and disposable cameras dangling from their wrists. they were already making memories while you were still just… watching.

so one afternoon between classes, you spotted ymir stretched across the quad steps. slouched like she owned the place, hoodie sleeves shoved up, and sunglasses sliding down her nose. a half empty soda bottle rested by her shoe as she was scrolling her phone lazily like nothing in the world could touch her. you hesitated for a second then dropped onto the step below her.

she glanced up, brow raised. “you lost?”

“no,” you said, shrugging. “just didn’t feel like sitting alone.”

ymir snorted, shaking her head a little. “brave. most people avoid me like the plague.”

you smiled without meaning to. “guess i’m not most people.”

she studied you for a beat, then leaned back on her elbows. “you doing anything tonight?”

“not really.”

“good. swing by my dorm later. me and some friends are hanging out. nothing fancy, just… not boring.”

she said it casually, like it wasn’t a big deal, like she hadn’t just cracked the door to a whole new orbit.

the invite hummed in your chest louder than you wanted to admit.

across the lawn, a stereo blasted from an open window, bass rattling the air. a group of girls cut across the grass in tank tops and low rise jeans, their perfume trailing after them. for the first time, you didn’t feel like just an observer.

later that evening, you couldn’t sit still. you kept checking the time, flipping through outfits, and debating if you should even go. armin had texted you about studying with sasha and historia while sasha was already talking about ordering pizza. you almost said yes to them just to quiet the nerves but then you thought about ymir, stretched out on the steps earlier, and you couldn’t shake it.

you ended up in jeans and a plain tank, nothing special. you told yourself you didn’t care but you still changed your earrings twice before leaving.

the walk over was louder than you expected. even though it was a weeknight, music was spilling out of windows, people hanging around stoops with red cups in their hands, smoke drifting into the streetlights. everyone looked so at ease, like they’d been doing this forever. meanwhile, you felt like the new kid sneaking into a party you hadn’t really been invited to.

ymir’s dorm was a little beat up, the kind of place with scratched paint on the doors and old flyers taped to the walls. you stopped in the hall outside her room and just stood there for a second with sweaty palms. muffled voices and laughter leaked through the door along with the faint thump of bass from someone’s speaker.

you thought about bailing. you could easily walk back, order pizza with sasha, laugh about nothing, and pretend this had never crossed your mind.

but instead you stayed put, hand hovering over the door, heart in your throat. when you finally knocked —light and quick, the door opened almost right away. connie stood there, leaning on the frame with a lazy grin, chain catching the light.

“so you’re the one ymir’s been hyping,” he said, voice low and smooth, like he already knew you were showing up. he looked you over once but not in a rude way, more like he was filing the sight away for later. then he stepped aside. “come in, ma. don’t be shy.”

the room was warm and crowded but not overwhelming. music buzzed from a speaker on the dresser, bass shaking the walls a little. smoke hung faintly in the air, weed and cologne mixing with the scent of something fruity from someone’s drink. onyankopon was mid game on the tv, controller in hand. mikasa and annie barely looked up from their spots on the bed. eren and jean were already bickering on the floor and their voices overlapping.

ymir clocked you right away from her seat in the corner, smirking. “finally,” she said. “thought you chickened out.”

you ignored the heat rising in your chest and stepped further in. connie brushed past you, hand warm at your back just long enough to guide you toward the desk. bottles and half full cups were scattered across it and he grabbed one, pouring something into a clean cup without asking.

“you drink?” he asked while handing it to you, eyebrow arched.

“sometimes,” you lied while taking the cup from his hands.

he smirked, leaning in just enough that you caught a whiff of smoke and something sharper—his cologne. “then you’ll be aight. just don’t let eren pour for you, he don’t know how to measure for shit.”

eren flipped him off from across the room without even looking and laughter broke out. you couldn’t help but to smile while the knot in your stomach loosened a little. connie noticed this and his grin widening like he’d scored a point.

“see? you’re already gettin comfortable” he said, tapping his cup lightly against yours.

you tried to blend into the small loveseat, cup balanced in your hands like it was an anchor. everyone else seemed so relaxed—sprawled out, arguing, laughing too loud. you couldn’t stop noticing how close everyone sat to each other, how easily they reached over to steal a sip or punch someone in the arm. it was like they’d all been speaking the same language long before you walked in.

ymir caught your eye from across the room and smirked. “relax, you’re not being graded. nobody cares if you sip slow.”

a few people chuckled and even though your face burned, you felt the tension ease just a little.

connie slid onto the arm of the couch beside you, close but not too close, his chain catching the lamp light. “she’s fine,” he said, smooth as ever, tilting his cup toward you. “new to this, not true to this. give her a minute.”

the way he said it was light and teasing but not mean at all. it made the laughter shift off of you and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding.

mikasa was still watching, sharp eyed from her spot by annie. you tried not to fidget under her stare but it was like she could see right through you. jean, on the other hand, leaned forward, smirk tugging at his mouth. “she gonna last the night, or is she bailing before midnight?”

“shut up, jean,” ymir cut in, tossing a bottle at him without looking. “you didn’t even last your first time hanging out. cried on the balcony, remember?”

the room erupted and jean groaned with a red face. the attention shifted away again, leaving you with a small pocket of air to breathe in.

“don’t mind him,” connie said quietly, leaning down so only you could hear. his voice was low like he’d been done this before. “he’s just mad ‘cause you’re already cooler than he was at your stage.”

that made you laugh and your nerves loosened a fraction. connie smiled at the sound, like that was what he’d been aiming for all along.

you’d gone quiet again, nursing the same cup while the room shifted gears. someone turned up the music and the loud bass rattled the floorboards. mikasa and annie were posted by the window rolling up, jean and eren were arguing over nothing, and connie was spreading out a handful of baggies on the table like a dealer in a movie.

your stomach flipped watching them sort it out—mushrooms, little tabs, powders in tiny vials. it didn’t look scary, not exactly. just… casual. like tuesday night casual.

you hadn’t realized you were staring until connie dropped into the seat beside you, knee brushing yours. he followed your gaze to the table, then back to your face.

“you never tried?” he asked, voice low enough that it didn’t cut into the chaos.

you shook your head, quick, biting your lip. “no. i don’t—i mean, i don’t really…” you trailed off, not sure how to finish.

he nodded like he already knew. then he pulled a small bag from his pocket and tapped it against his palm before setting it between you on the couch cushion. “these ones are light. make the music feel better, food taste crazy. nothing heavy.”

the bag sat there like it was glowing. you could smell jean’s cologne, hear mikasa’s lighter flick, and feel your pulse racing in your wrists.

connie leaned back, not watching you too closely but not crowding. “you don’t gotta,” he added, smooth as ever. “but if you wanna stop feeling like the only sober person in the room, i got you.”

ymir’s laugh cut across the room at that exact moment and you looked up to see her smirking like she knew exactly what he’d just said. “don’t corrupt her too fast, baldy,” she called, raising her cup.

connie grinned unbothered. “who said i was?” then he dropped his eyes back to you, one brow raised like the choice was already yours.

just that one look had your hand moving before your brain caught up. two fingers pinched the corner of the bag and pulled it closer. your throat felt tight but you tipped one into your palm anyway. they were tiny and harmless looking.

connie watched, not pushing but also not rushing. “chase it with your drink,” he murmured like it was advice not a command.

so you did. bitter earth on your tongue, gone with one swallow.

and then it was just waiting.

after about thirty minutes, the room didn’t shift all at once. it was slower like colors deepening around the edges. jean’s voice got warmer and mikasa’s lighter sparked brighter. the music bled into your skin, bass sinking straight through your chest.

“you’re good mama,” connie said, leaning closer while his shoulder pressed into yours. “don’t fight it.”

you nodded trying to focus but the couch felt softer under you. the edges of people blurred a little—eren’s laugh stretched long, annie’s eyes caught yours too sharp. for a second you thought you’d spin out.

then connie’s hand brushed your knee trying to ground you. not heavy, just there. “breathe,” he said, quiet so only you could hear.

you did, shaky at first. the air felt cooler sliding into your lungs.

ymir caught the look on your face and barked a laugh. “rookie’s tripping already.”

“leave her,” connie shot back, lazy grin on his lips. “she’s doing fine.”

the teasing didn’t sting this time. if anything, it felt far away, muffled by the way the ceiling seemed taller and the song cracked open in the middle like a secret only you could hear.

connie stayed close, not hovering but steady, that smooth confidence wrapping around you like an anchor. and in the haze of laughter and smoke, for the first time all night, you didn’t feel like you were just watching. you were in it.

eventually, the room started to hum. not in a way that scared you, more like it was alive and the walls were breathing and the shadows bending in time with the bass. you pressed your back deeper into the couch, and it felt like it was swallowing you whole, soft and endless.

“whoa,” you whispered, eyes darting toward the ceiling where the light pooled into shapes you swore were moving.

connie tilted his head, watching you with that lazy grin. “yeah… she’s hittin now.” he leaned closer, his breath warm at your ear. “don’t overthink it. just ride it.”

your laugh came out shaky, but it felt good. your fingers flexed on your cup, and before you could fumble it, connie slid it from your hand. “you don’t need that anymore,” he said, setting it on the table.

the music shifted, low and syrupy, and suddenly every beat vibrated under your skin. jean and eren were still arguing, their words dragging long like stretched out taffy. annie was half smiling at something onyankopon said, her face sharp but soft all at once. mikasa’s stare felt like it could cut through glass, but even that was fascinating.

“yo, her pupils are blown,” ymir called across the room, laughing. “connie, don’t let her float off.”

he shot her a look but didn’t rise to it. instead, he leaned in, his hand brushing yours where it sat in your lap. “focus here,” he murmured, tapping your fingers lightly. “feel that? me and you. we’re right here.”

you nodded, eyes wide, and the warmth of his skin grounded you. suddenly his chain caught the light and you couldn’t stop staring at how it glittered.

“pretty, huh?” he teased, tugging at it.

“yeah,” you breathed, and it felt like you were answering more than just the chain.

connie chuckled, low and easy. “you’re gone. but you’re safe. i got you.”

you leaned your head back against the couch, body finally letting go. the room melted into laughter and music, but all you could really feel was the press of connie’s knee against yours and the steadiness in his voice whenever the trip threatened to tip you too far.

as the night started to fold in on itself— eren had crashed half sideways on the armchair, jean still mumbling at him even though he was barely conscious. mikasa and annie were sharing a cigarette by the open window, smoke curling around the music that had dipped low and lazy. onyankopon was stacking empty cups, shaking his head at the mess.

you were still sunk into the couch, high softening at the edges, when ymir stretched with a groan and looked over at you. “alright, rookie. i’m heading out. you live on campus, yeah?”

you blinked, nodded slow.

she smirked, already pulling her hoodie on. “come on. i’ll drop you. con’s coming too.”

connie was by the table, flicking his lighter open and closed. he glanced up at his name, then at you, and the corner of his mouth tugged like he’d been waiting for that cue all along.

“yeah,” he said, pocketing the lighter. “let’s get you home.”

the words landed steady in your chest. you pushed yourself up, legs wobbly, and ymir snorted. “relax, nobody’s gonna grade you on walking either.”

everyone else barely looked up when you left, either too tired, too stoned, or too used to nights ending this way. but you felt it, the shift: being ushered out not as a stranger anymore, but as someone who belonged enough to be carried back into the night.

ymir’s beat up car smelled like weed and air freshener, something sharp and citrusy fighting to cover up everything else. she had one hand on the wheel, the other resting out the open window as the night air cut through the quiet.

you were tucked into the backseat, head tipped against the glass. the world outside smeared into streaks of yellow streetlights and dark shapes of trees. the high hadn’t worn off completely but it still curled at the edges of your vision, soft and surreal.

connie slid in beside you, his knee bumping yours in the small space. he leaned back, chain glinting in the glow from the dashboard, and shot you a sidelong look. “you good?”

you nodded, slow. “yeah… just tired.”

“mm,” he hummed, like he didn’t quite believe you but wasn’t about to press. his voice stayed low, easy, just for you. “first night’s always the weirdest. you did better than most.”

ymir snorted from the front, eyes on the road. “don’t gas her up too much, she’ll start thinking she’s invincible.”

connie grinned, unbothered. “nah, she’s cool. she kept up.”

the warmth in your chest at that simple praise almost embarrassed you. you shifted, looking down at your hands, but his presence was close and steady. it made the silence feel less heavy than it had all night.

the car slowed as campus lights came into view. you straightened up a little, suddenly aware that the night was about to end.

“this your stop?” ymir asked, glancing at you through the mirror.

you pointed, and she pulled up to the curb, tapping the steering wheel. “alright, rookie. don’t get lost tomorrow.”

you laughed softly, pushing the door open. before you could step out, connie leaned forward, hand brushing your arm just enough to stop you.

“yo,” he said, voice low, smile tugging at his mouth. “lemme get your number. i’ll check in—make sure you don’t end up bored with your little high school crew again.”

the way he said it like it was the most natural thing in the world left no room for awkwardness. you handed over your phone, and his fingers moved quick over the screen before passing it back.

“text me,” he said, leaning back into the seat, eyes catching yours for a beat longer than necessary. “don’t overthink it.”

then ymir honked the horn, making you jump. “go on, rookie. get some sleep before you start hallucinating in class.”

you laughed again, slipping out onto the curb, but your chest was still buzzing as you shut the door and watched the car pull away.

you woke up late, sunlight stabbing through the blinds and a dull ache pressing behind your eyes. your phone buzzed on the nightstand and you groaned while flipping it over to see a message from connie.

hope u survived the night. u was gone lol

your fingers hovered over the screen, then you typed:

made it to bed…barely lmaoo

good. im seein u later?

you froze for a second, staring at the screen. your head still spun a little from the night before and the memory of the ride home, connie’s calm confidence, and the way ymir had made you feel so included made your stomach tighten in a mix of nerves and excitement. you typed back, careful not to overcommit:

maybe

shuffling through your morning routine, you found yourself distracted, replaying bits of last night—the soft hum of the bass, connie’s knee brushing yours in the car, the way the room had felt like it was breathing around you. the excitement lingered under the grogginess.

once you finally made it to campus, you met up with armin, historia, and sasha under the familiar oak trees by the quad. armin’s notebook was open, pencil moving as usual, historia was sipping from her thermos, and sasha was already munching on a granola bar like she hadn’t slept at all.

“so… tell me everything,” historia said, leaning in, eyes wide with curiosity. “what was it like?”

you sank onto the bench beside them, shrugging and running a hand along the bench you sat on. “okay… well. first, it was chill. kind of surreal. ymir drove me home, and connie was there the whole time. he didn’t push anything, just… smooth and easy. i don’t know, it felt natural.”

“smooth?” sasha echoed, chewing slowly. “like, the literal drug dealer, connie? smooth?”

you laughed, shaking your head. “yeah, him. he’s… effortless. i don’t even know how to explain it. i felt weird, out of place, but safe at the same time. i think that’s why it felt so fun.”

armin glanced up from his notes, pencil paused mid scribble. “you sound… crazy,” he said softly. “like you’re actually excited.”

you realized he was right. it wasn’t just excitement—it was thrill, adrenaline mixed with comfort. it made your chest tighten in a way that scared you a little but it also made you crave it.

you were mid story describing how connie had asked for your number and how ymir had teased you when a shadow fell across the group.

“alright, rookie,” ymir’s voice cut through out of nowhere, smirking as she looped her arm through yours. “you’re done with the nerd squad for now. come on.”

“wait—” you started, glancing at your friends, but ymir tugged firm but playful.

“i already called connie,” she said, eyes glinting with mischief. “we’re heading to his place. trust me..you’ll have fun.”

you hesitated for a heartbeat torn between staying to finish the story and the thrill that pulsed through you. but the memory of last night, the pull of the unknown, and the rush of your first real taste of ymir’s world pushed you forward.

“don’t chicken out now,” ymir added, giving your arm a squeeze that made your stomach flip. “you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.”

and just like that, you were on your feet, leaving the quad, leaving your friends behind mid story, and following ymir. the hum of adventure and excitement coiling tight in your chest as connie waited for you at the next stop.

ymir’s car rattled down the darkened streets, bass from the speakers low and steady. the smell of smoke lingered faintly mixed with something sweet from her air freshener. you sat in the passenger seat, hands curled in your lap, still buzzing from the night before, unsure if it was adrenaline, the lingering high, or nerves.

“you’re quiet,” ymir said while glancing at you from the corner of her eye. her smirk tugged at the side of her mouth teasingly. “don’t tell me you’re still thinking about last night.”

you shrugged, staring out the window as streetlights smeared across your vision. “i don’t know… it’s just… a lot,” you admitted. “i’ve never… done stuff like that before.”

“stuff like that?” she echoed while slightly laughing. “trust me, you’ve done plenty. you just don’t notice it.”

your stomach twisted. “i feel… out of my element.”

ymir’s eyes softened just a little. she leaned back, one arm draped over the door. “good,” she said, voice deceptively simple. “you’re supposed to feel that way. it’s what makes it fun. if you didn’t feel it, you’d just be another face in the crowd but you’re different.”

you looked at her unsure if she was teasing or serious. her gaze held you steady and the corners of her smirk hinting at mischief. “different?”

“yeah,” she said, tapping her fingers against the steering wheel to the rhythm of the music. “you’ve got this energy. people like connie notice that shit. you feel me?”

you swallowed, pulse picking up. “i don’t know if i… can—”

ymir laughed softly while cutting you off. “stop thinking. just go with it. try something you wouldn’t normally do. you’ll be surprised.”

you hesitated then glanced down at your hands feeling restless. a thought flickered—ymir’s small belly button piercing, how it caught the light when she moved, how it had always felt effortless and bold. suddenly it seemed… possible, exciting, something you wanted.

ymir noticed your gaze drift and smirked without saying a word, the hint of suggestion in her posture enough. she reached out and nudged your shoulder lightly. “i’ll make sure you don’t chicken out,” she said, tone playful but confident. “you just gotta take the first step.”

your breath hitched a little, nerves and excitement twisting together. “first step… yeah,” you murmured. the idea took root, tiny but thrilling, the same pull you’d felt all night—the pull to push boundaries, step out of your shell and see what you were capable of.

ymir grinned, clearly satisfied, and turned back to the road. “you’ll thank me later,” she said softly, almost to herself.

when the car pulled up to connie’s apartment, you were already feeling the first flickers of courage ignite. the chaos waiting inside, the music, the crew, connie himself—it all seemed less intimidating now. and the thought of finally doing that little piercing, bold and impulsive, made your chest tighten with excitement.

“ready?” ymir asked, eyes flicking to you, smirk teasing.

you nodded, heart racing, and followed her out into the night, feeling like the first step had already been taken.

next thing you knew, you were lying back on the couch, limbs heavy, and body melting into the cushions like it’d been waiting just for you. the acid that connie offered the moment you walked through the door, curled through your veins, fingers tingling, colors stretching and folding in impossible ways. every shadow moved like it had a rhythm, every light split into streaks of gold and amber.

ymir’s hand was warm over yours, grounding you. her perfume—something sharp, woody, a hint of vanilla mixed with the tang of alcohol eren was using to sterilize the piercing area, making your nose twitch and your chest tighten in the most deliciously anxious way.

“you good?” connie’s voice cut through the haze, low and smooth, just at the edge of your hearing. he was leaning back on the arm of the couch, watching you with that lazy grin, his fingers occasionally brushing yours, grounding you like an anchor you didn’t know you needed.

“i… think so,” you murmured, eyes wide, pupils blown, tracing the lights above you like constellations rearranging themselves.

eren crouched by your stomach, sterilized tools glinting under the dim lights. he worked methodically but even that routine seemed exaggerated in your mind—the way the alcohol scent hit your nose, sharp and biting, the way the needle caught the light before he slid it into position. your heart hammered, nerves twisting deliciously with the high.

ymir’s fingers squeezed yours lightly. she didn’t need to speak; the pressure alone said enoug. the acid made every nerve ending hum, made your skin feel alive and hypersensitive, made the world drip through you like honey. you could feel the vibration of the bass from earlier still lingering somewhere under the room, syncing with your pulse.

“ready?” eren asked, voice clipped but careful.

you swallowed, chest tight, and nodded. connie’s hand brushed yours again, thumb stroking lightly, grounding you in a way that made your stomach flutter. “you got this mama” he murmured, low, right beside your ear.

the pinch of the needle was sharp but your body felt like it was floating above it. the acid twisting the sensation into something electric and almost laughable. colors flared, the walls breathing, and ymir’s perfume enveloped you like a shield.

“breathe,” connie whispered. you did, slow and heavy, letting the heat and tingle of the high wrap around the sting.

the piercing went in, sharp and tiny, and you gasped holding the sensation like a secret thrill. connie’s steady presence, ymir’s teasing hand, and the hum of your own heightened senses—it all combined into one perfect, dizzying moment.

you finally exhaled, a laugh bubbling up that was part relief, part exhilaration. “i did it…” you whispered, voice trembling, eyes fluttering closed.

“told you,” connie murmured, brushing his thumb across your knuckles. “you’re a little troublemaker.”

ymir just smiled, still holding your hand, the faint curve of her smile saying she’d known all along exactly what you’d become after this.

the quad smelled like late spring—grass, faint smoke from the blunt in your hand, and the cheap coffee in a can from the vending machines. you spotted armin, historia, and sasha sitting under the oak trees, laughing quietly over something on historia’s phone. it had been weeks, maybe close to a month, since you’d seen them last.

you approached, heels clicking on the pavement, hair curled, makeup sharper than usual, and lips glossier than your usual chapstick look. your belly button peeked from the low rise of your jeans—piercing glinting in the sun. your shirt clung to your body, cropped just enough to make a statement without trying too hard. your movements were fluid, confident, and a little languid almost like you were floating.

“hey,” you said, voice relaxed, almost lazy, eyes half lidded like the world was just a little slow. you exhaled smoke, a thin stream curling from your lips. marijuana lingered in your chest, eyes, and words.

historia froze mid laugh staring at you. armin blinked, pencil poised uselessly in his hand. sasha nearly choked on her granola bar.

“uh…” armin started, voice tight. “you… you’re different.”

you shrugged, leaning casually against the tree, a half smile tugging at your lips. “yeah? guess i am.”

“like… really different,” historia said, frowning. “you haven’t even been around for weeks, and now—” she gestured vaguely at you, eyes scanning from your pierced belly button to your glossed lips, to the thong that peaked from your jeans.

“you look… I don’t know,” sasha said finally, voice incredulous, “like… not like you.”

historia stepped closer, hands on her hips, eyes sharp. “i don’t get it. this isn’t the person we knew. the way you dress, the way you act… you’ve just… disappeared.”

you tilted your head lazily, smoke curling between your fingers from the blunt you lit earlier. “i’m still me. just… upgraded.”

armin shook his head, pencil tapping frantically against his notebook. “upgraded? this is a complete 180. you’re… different and not in a good way. you’ve been gone weeks. where were you?”

“busy,” you said softly, eyes drifting toward the street, ears catching faint sounds. your chest warmed at the thought of connie waiting, the nights with ymir, the thrill of being untethered. “meeting people. seeing things. learning stuff.”

sasha’s voice rose, incredulous. “seeing things? learning stuff? you mean… partying, doing drugs, disappearing for weeks, and leaving us to worry?”

you exhaled slowly letting the smoke curl from your lips like a shield. “don’t lecture me. i don’t care about worrying.”

historia’s jaw tightened. “you used to care. you used to be… responsible and present. what happened to you?”

you smirked letting the words drip lazily. “what happened? i got bored.” your gaze flicked briefly to the street again catching the low rumble of a car engine. “and some people showed me… i could be more.”

armin frowned. “more? this isn’t ‘more.’ this is reckless. i don’t even recognize you.”

“you’re welcome,” you muttered, half joking, half serious, letting the words hang.

sasha crossed her arms, exasperated. “you’re not thinking straight. you’re letting… people pull you into things you don’t even understand.”

you laughed softly, almost teasing. “maybe i like it that way. maybe it’s the first time i feel… free.”

and then the engine got louder, a low familiar rumble. a sleek black car rolled up and stopped by the curb, windows tinted. connie leaned out the driver’s side with a smirk tugging at his lips. “yo, you ready?”

your chest lifted, excitement bubbling under the haze of weed and adrenaline. without waiting for answers, without another word, you stepped toward the car, giving one last glance to the group and throwing the now roach on the ground.

“you’re making a mistake!” historia called after you, voice sharp.

“nah, im good” you said, voice soft but steady, eyes glinting.

connie leaned back in the driver’s seat, arm out the window and you slide into the passenger seat, heart hammering the second you shut the door behind you. the soft hum of the engine vibrates through the leather, and already, you can feel the tension crackling between you. his hand brushes yours—innocent enough on the surface, but you know the weight behind it.

he leans closer under the guise of adjusting the rearview mirror, but his lips brush your ear. “been thinking about you all day,” he murmurs, voice low, rough, sending shivers down your spine. your fingers instinctively curl around his wrist, pulling him just a fraction closer.

you let the seatbelt press into your shoulder as his hand drifts, grazing the curve of your thigh. heat blooms from the spot, a slow, teasing burn that makes you gasp. he smiles, that cocky grin you can never resist, before brushing his lips over yours, slow and deliberate. your hands are tangled in his shirt, his tongue teasing against yours.

every movement is measured and designed to test boundaries. his hand slides higher brushing the hem of your jeans and teasing over the bare skin beneath. you catch your breath trying to keep yourself grounded.

then, a shift in the air—he slides your seat back, whispering against your lips, “we’re not staying here.”

gathering himself, connie sits back in his seat and puts the car in drive as he exits the college parking lot. city lights streaked across your vision through the tinted windows, bending in impossible ways as the weed you’d smoked coursed lazily through your veins. every nerve ending was alive, every sound amplified, every shadow seeming to breathe just for you.

you leaned back admiring connie’s figure from behind, fingers tracing the edge of the leather seat, the sensation electric and amplified by the high. connie’s presence in front of you was magnetic—hand squeezing your thighs casually, smirk playing at the corner of his lips, and eyes glinting with amusement and hunger.

he’d pull the car off to the side of the road into an empty parking lot, one hand still loose on the wheel, the other still resting heavy on your thigh. the engine hum fades into the background as he throws the gear into park and finally looks back at you, his grin lazy but sharp.

“yeah, nah… front seat too small for what i’m about to do to you,” he says, voice low like it’s not even a suggestion. his fingers squeeze your thigh before sliding off and he leans back watching you squirm.

then he jerks his chin toward the back. “go on. backseat. don’t make me tell you twice.”

the car rocks slightly as you & him climb into the backseat. your pulse spikes; the backseat has been his playground for the things that made your knees weak for the last couple weeks. there’s a hunger in his eyes now, one that borders on corrupting and you can’t help but crave it.

he’s on top of you before you can even catch your breath, his weight pressing you into the seat with deliberate force. “look at me,” he demands, his voice commanding. when you listen, your pupils dilate as he studies you like he owns every inch of you. his hands roam over your body with intent, sliding your jeans off and teasing over your most sensitive spots. the friction makes you shiver, your fingers clutching at his shoulders as heat spreads like wildfire between your legs.

he smirks at your reaction, dragging his thumb over your swollen clit through your panties, slow and deliberate. every teasing motion is torture, a calculated corruption of your restraint. “god, you’re so fucking needy,” he growls, pressing his hips harder against yours. you’re gasping, biting your lip to keep from moaning too loudly, but the sound escapes anyway and it only seems to fuel him.

his fingers slip inside you suddenly, curling expertly as he watches your reactions. you’re arching into him, hips lifting almost on their own, every movement guided by him. he leans down, lips brushing your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “you’re mine tonight,” he whispers, and you shiver at the possessiveness of it.

connie’s other hand grabs your jaw, tilting your head up so your lips meet his again. the kiss is rough and your tongue slides against his in a frantic dance, matching his intensity. you can feel his cock pressing against your thigh, hard and insistent, and your hips push back instinctively, desperate for more.

he guides you, showing you exactly how he wants you—hands on his chest, legs wrapped around him, every motion directed with dominance. your moans fill the small space of the backseat, muffled but insistent, echoing off the windows. the sensation of being claimed, used, and watched so intently makes your head spin.

“say it,” he growls, gripping your hair and tilting your head back. “say you want me.”

“i… i want you,” you gasp, trembling under his control.

“good girl,” he purrs, sliding deeper against you, fingers moving inside you with expert precision, hitting every spot that makes you see stars. he’s relentless, guiding you into the brink of madness and then holding you there, making every inch of you ache for release.

the car is filled with your cries, the wet sounds of his fingers and your slick meeting, and the roughness in his movements pushes every boundary you didn’t even know you had. he leans over your chest, lips trailing down to suck at your collarbone, leaving marks that burn and sting in the best way.

you’re gasping and trembling, addicted to the way he’s taking control, each motion more intense than the last. “connie… please—” your voice breaks under the weight of desire, and he only tightens his grip, savoring your desperation.

“you don’t get to ask,” he growls, eyes dark with need. “you just take it.”

and you do. every moan, every shiver, every whimper—you give yourself to him completely, lost in the intoxicating mixture of pain, pleasure, and domination that only connie can make feel so addictive.

connie’s hands are everywhere, keeping you pinned yet teasing every inch of your body. his fingers move with ruthless precision, curling and stretching inside you, and your hips buck instinctively, desperate for more. the combination of his weight, his grip, and the friction of his body against yours sends heat spiraling through your veins until it feels like every nerve ending is on fire.

“look at you,” he hisses, holding your face up so your eyes lock with his. “so wet for me, so desperate… you’re mine tonight, you feel that?”

“yes…” you gasp, your voice trembling. “i… i’m yours.”

then, without warning, he shifts—pressing himself fully into you, the friction unbearable, delicious. your hands claw at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as your body shudders under the intensity. every thrust, every rut, is a surge of heat and pressure, and you feel yourself teetering on the edge, caught between wanting more and being unable to take any more.

“come for me,” he growls, his voice rough, commanding, and you’re undone. his fingers move fast on your clit in ways that have your toes curling and your thighs trembling.

the first shudder rips through you like electricity, your back arching as a high pitched moan escapes your lips. connie doesn’t let up—he keeps thrusting and grinding against you, keeping you on the edge of release again and again. the overstimulation is too much; every nerve in your body is alive, screaming for release while he watches, controlling, teasing, pushing you further than you thought you could go.

“take it,” he commands, voice low and rough, and you’re falling apart under his hands, every gasp, every whimper, every tremble a proof of his dominance. your second climax hits harder than the first, ripping through you with an intensity that leaves you gasping, clinging to him, trembling in every muscle.

connie doesn’t relent until your body is spent, trembling under him, skin flushed, heart hammering like a drum. only then does he ease back, breathing heavy, forehead resting against yours. the weight of his control lingers, but it’s softened by the intimacy of the aftercare—the gentle brush of his lips against yours, the slow, possessive strokes over your skin, anchoring you back to reality.

you’re panting, cheeks flushed, hair sticking to your damp skin, but there’s a smile on your lips—a mix of satisfaction, exhaustion, and the thrill of having been utterly claimed. connie brushes a stray strand of hair from your face, grinning down at you.

“good girl,” he murmurs, voice softer now but still edged with that hunger that had you trembling. “you did so well for me.”

the ride up to his apartment felt heavier than the car—your body still buzzing, thighs pressed together like you could hide the evidence of what just happened. the hallway smelled faintly like weed and someone’s cooking, the hum of a tv behind another door. connie walked ahead with that same easy gait, glancing back once to make sure you were keeping up.

when he unlocked the door, smoke curled out immediately. the lights inside were low, and the air thick. ymir was there on the couch, legs kicked up, an ashtray balanced on the arm, belly piercing catching the glow of the lamp.

she looked up the second you stepped in, grin slow and sharp. “damn,” she said, dragging on her joint. “look at you.”

your cheeks burned hot, but she didn’t let up. her eyes flicked to connie, then back to you, and she let out a low laugh. “figures.”

you hovered by the door for a second, the mix of nerves and high making everything sharper and louder. connie shut it behind you, brushing a hand over your lower back like it was nothing, like it wasn’t claiming you.

“don’t just stand there,” ymir said, patting the seat beside her. “come sit.”

you moved, legs shaky, sliding down into the couch. she passed you the joint, smoke curling around you both, and her perfume hit you—warm, heady, and familiar now.

“so,” ymir said, leaning back, eyes heavy-lidded. “you’re really letting us change you, huh?”

the word landed heavy, but instead of making you pull back, it made your chest tighten with something close to excitement. you took a slow drag, exhaled, let the haze settle into your lungs.

“maybe,” you said, voice soft, teasing in a way that surprised even you.

connie chuckled low, dropping into the chair across from you, watching the exchange with that lazy smirk.

“ain’t no maybe,” he said, eyes locked on yours. “you already in it.”

the smoke, the heat of ymir’s hand brushing your knee, the weight of connie’s gaze—it wrapped around you like a net, pulling you deeper into their orbit.

weeks bled into months until the girl you’d been when you first stepped onto campus felt like a ghost.

your mornings weren’t about classes anymore—they started slow, sunlight cutting through blinds, the faint smell of weed still in the air, connie’s arm heavy around your waist. sometimes he’d be half asleep, lips brushing your shoulder, phone buzzing with people hitting him for a re-up. sometimes he was already gone, out making moves, leaving you to stretch in sheets that smelled like him.

days blurred into nights—ymir knocking on your door without warning, dragging you into the car before you even thought to ask where you were going. the two of you inseparable now, moving in sync, your laughter tangled with hers, your highs rising and crashing together.

you learned how to roll a blunt with ease, fingers quick, steady, licking the paper shut while ymir grinned like a proud older sister. lines on the table didn’t scare you anymore—you’d dip down without hesitation, come up with your nose burning and your body humming, ymir already offering a tissue, connie watching with that low and approving smile.

random pills, tabs slipped into your palm, smoke clouded rooms where time didn’t feel real—this was normal now. this was home.

your old friends—armin’s careful questions, historia’s worried looks, sasha’s easy laughter—felt like distant echoes. sometimes their faces would flicker in your head when you caught yourself in the mirror, pupils blown wide, shirt riding up to show the glint of your belly piercing. but it never lasted. the thought dissolved as quickly as the next hit, the next rush.

ymir was your shadow, your anchor in this chaos, her voice in your ear telling you to go further, feel more, live louder. connie was your center of gravity, the one pulling you deeper, the one you’d let guide you without hesitation, the one who made every risk feel worth it.

and you? you weren’t new anymore. you weren’t nervous, watching from the outside. you were in it. deep.

rolling, snorting, swallowing, laughing—you’d stepped out of your shell, and now there was no shell left. just you, reckless, buzzing, alive.

one late night, music thumped through the walls, heavy bass rattling bottles on the table. the apartment smelled like smoke, spilled liquor, sweat—the kind of cocktail you’d once wrinkled your nose at but now felt like comfort.

you sat cross legged on the carpet, grinder in front of you, a thin trail of weed dusting your thighs. your hands moved automatically—break, pack, roll, lick, seal. you twisted the blunt shut with quick fingers, torch lighter clicking as you leaned forward to spark it. the flame lit up your face, belly piercing glinting when you inhaled deep.

ymir plopped down next to you, sliding an arm over your shoulders, her perfume cutting through the haze. she kissed your cheek carelessly while laughing at something someone yelled from the kitchen. “you’re a pro now,” she said, nodding at the blunt you passed her. “first week you were shaking like a chihuahua.”

you laughed, the sound loose, unbothered, and wiped your nose with the back of your hand. the faint burn from the line you’d just taken still lingered, making your body hum.

connie appeared from the hallway, bag slung low, hoodie half zipped. he looked at you first, like he always did, a grin curling slow when he clocked the haze in your eyes. “mami,” he said, leaning down to press his lips against your temple. “come here.”

you stood without hesitation, joints loose but body sharp, the high wrapping around you like silk. he tugged you into the kitchen, where the counter was already lined—bottles, half a tray of crushed pills, and baggies torn open.

“take your pick,” he said, spreading his arms like he was showing off.

you didn’t hesitate. you reached for a pill, something small and chalky, and dry swallowed it, chasing with the warm backwash of a beer someone shoved your way. the room blurred warmer, softer, an d the music louder.

ymir leaned against the doorframe, smirking, eyes heavy lidded. “that’s wild” she said, flicking ash into the sink. “no hesitation.”

you shot her a grin, lips parted, high already sparking behind your ribs. “why would i hesitate?”

connie’s hand slid around your waist, grounding, steady, but his grin was the same as ymir’s—knowing, a little dangerous. “that’s my girl.”

the night spiraled from there—smoke thick in the air, your laughter tangled with ymir’s, your body pressed against connie’s when the room tilted too far. someone threw on a track, speakers rattling, and you were dancing in the middle of it all, shirt riding up, sweat slick, head thrown back.

a couple months ago you would’ve been watching from the doorway, clutching your phone like a lifeline. now, you were the center.

the bass kept vibrating through your chest, making it hard to tell where your heartbeat stopped and the music began. sweat dampened the nape of your neck, strands of hair sticking as you laughed at nothing, everything.

ymir pulled you into the bathroom with her, locking the door and setting down a little tray on the counter. she poured out another line, straight and neat, then nudged you with her elbow. “don’t be shy now.”

you leaned over the mirror, pupils blown wide, and snorted the powder clean. it stung sharp, tears pricking your eyes, but the rush hit just as quick—blood humming and everything suddenly brighter.

“good girl,” ymir teased, smirking as she licked her finger and wiped the residue from under your nose. she kissed your cheek, then dragged you back out to the living room.

connie had his shirt off now, chain glinting under the flashing lights of someone’s phone. he spotted you, arm immediately out like you belonged there—because you did. you fell into him, hands on his chest, letting the beat guide the sway of your hips against him.

someone shouted a dare. ymir cackled, grabbed a bottle of cheap liquor, and pressed it into your hand. “finish it!”

the crowd egged you on. a month ago, you would’ve shaken your head, embarrassed, but tonight you tilted it back and drank until fire burned down your throat. the room cheered when you slammed the empty bottle on the counter. your head spun, body light, but it only made you laugh harder.

time blurred after that—flashes of ymir dancing on the coffee table, of connie pulling you into a dark corner to kiss you breathless, of strangers pressing drinks into your hand, smoke curling around your fingers every time you lit something.

at some point, you ended up in the bathroom again, but this time alone. the music was muffled through the walls, the sink splattered with water and ash, and you caught sight of yourself in the mirror.

you froze.

your mascara was smudged, lips swollen, neck littered with connie’s marks. pupils black, skin glowing from the high. you looked… different. not like the girl who used to text excuses to leave parties early. not like the girl who clung to her old friends just to feel grounded.

you leaned forward, palms braced on the counter, staring at yourself like a stranger and an accomplice all at once. your reflection looked dangerous. alive. untouchable.

and instead of fear, you smiled.

behind you, the bathroom door rattled, connie’s voice low and teasing: “baby, you hiding from me?”

ymir’s laugh rang out in the hallway, wild and sharp.

you gave your reflection one last look, then unlocked the door and stepped back into the noise, the haze, the heat—into the life you’d chosen.

[z8mbiqueen]

[sadrottenangell]

[holycrygirl]