the sound of you hastily packing shirts, garments, photographic memoirs of the couple in a photo frame by your bedside table into a plastic bag, was what woke eren up at 1am. it’s been a few days since eren started sleeping on the couch. he rarely gets to see you since you leave early for work and come home long when he has gone to bed. so he is surprise to hear you awake, rising from his sleep to see what the cause of ruckus is.

your eyebrows are furrowed in an expression that eren cannot see from behind. his eyes widen at the scene of the bedroom. you’ve stripped the room bare, leaving the bed and your own stuff settled in the wardrobe.

“hey, hey hey!” his voice increases when he finds his stuff boxed up on the floor.

you don’t bother to turn around continuing on as if you didn’t hear him yell. admittedly he’s annoyed but seeing the way you’re hastily stripping him out of the room, out of your life, he’s hurt. he watched as you take another one of his shirts from a pile on the bed, tossing it into a random box without thought.

“what are you doing?” he remarks, grabbing the same box you’re packing into.

your glare is cold, eyes blood-shot likely from crying. but your face is contorted with a look of disdain, a look eren was surprised you could even make.

“what does it look like” you bluntly hiss, snatching the box back into your palms as you continue to pile his stuff in.

he is quick to stop in front of you, mouth searching for words to speak.

“can we please talk about this” eren pleads, “in the morning when we both have slept”.

you screw your nose at him, shoving the box into his grip. there is a different look across your face that eren is unfamiliar with. he watched the way your eyes glint with rage and a hint of hurt—god—you were hurting so much, he didn’t even know it. your knuckles bare white with lips tightly pressed in a straight line.

“get your shit. and get the fuck out of the apartment” your voice is trailing quietly that eren has to listen closely,

he’s silent. shocked at the malice dripping in your words but who is he to tell you what you can and cannot feel. his emerald eyes soften, there are dark circles forming underneath, he’s exhausted but he’s so desperate. desperate to have you in his embrace; smothering you with tenderness; telling you things he should be saying right now.

“please just listen—” he starts,

“no. you listen, eren, i am some stupid girl you pick up from a bar then decide to get pregnant? this relationship is done” there are cracks in your voice as you bellow at him, letting out the anguish from your lungs like it’s been suffocating you.

“you’re having a fucking kid. a kid that isn’t even from me!” you scream the part like it’s the first time you discovered he got someone pregnant. the memory remaining fresh in your mind.

eren is speechless. he watches the way your chest rises and falls, your face contoured differently under the ceiling light. he notices the same dark circles that plague under your eyelids, the sudden loss of weight around your cheeks and the glistening tears that are close to spilling. he hates this. he hates himself. his mouth searches again for words, words of comfort or reassurance, anything to somehow smooth this situation. but he has nothing. there were many mistakes he made and avoided, now he realises, he’s reaping those mistakes now.

the relationship is over, the sentence plagues his mind. fuck, fuck, fuck is all he can scream inside his head.

“…i’m sorry” he mutters, his eyes trailing to the floor.

the silence washes over you both. it’s no longer the silence that is comforting but travels throughout the home in heaviness. you want to form words but the overbearing silence and your heart hammering in your chest makes it difficult to even string sentences together. you can’t beg him to give his unborn child up for you, it’s more than selfish, inhumane you believe, and you’re certain he would hate you for even bringing it up. so in silence you watch him pack stuff away, removing his significance in your life piece by piece like a puzzle.

except by the end leaving with pieces missing rather than completed.

life moves on, you believe. time does not pause, you tell yourself as you bury your head knee-deep in paperwork. it slightly worked; operating as if nothing had changed. though the facade was bound to be broken the moment you set foot into the apartment.

the quietness in the home made your mind ponder — gradually driving you to the brinks of mania. you couldn’t allow your mind to stray even at night when your back laid against the empty bed. even when some part of you eminently craved an explanation to a disarray of troubles. when the lights dim and the sound of the city dies, there is an inevitable part of your brain that roams.

who was she? did you know her? was it a one time thing? is he happy now? did he really love me?

hot tears pricked at your eyelids, leisurely coming to an unwind of pent up feelings. anger, depression, grieving and guilt mixed itself together in your brain, muddling any logic to counteract that part of you which ached for eren. ached for his sweet kisses or his spirited grin or simply for his company. at first you wiped profusely at your tears but it lead to more piling down your face like a stream, instituting uncontrollable cries into your pillow.

“god why the fuck am I so stupid”.

time will heal, others quote. but with exasperated lungs, swollen eyelids and a heavy weight breaking into your chest, how long will it take?

days seemed to blur together now. it had been months, if eren recalled properly, that he hadn’t felt some part of him feel guilt-free. his child that swelled in another woman’s body; who was created based on eren’s own misjudgment and improvident mistake one night, reminded him that days are still pacing forward. his brain however couldn’t process the burning image of the woman of his dreams in tears the day he had left.

his mind had been inconsilable for months. no vast amount of cigarettes could ease his immeasurable regret. his mind plagued him of you each night he closed his eyes, dreaming of your soft eyes and smile directed at him with adoration. eyes that did not gloss over him as if he was something so minuscule to you. something so insignificant that he was too revolting to pay attention towards. occasionally he stirred himself awake in a thin sheet of his sweat, only to brood over how short of time he has to dream.

eren was dejected. disconnected with a reality that did not include you in it, all because of him.

“i fucked everything up armin” his voice was sore from the whiskey that burned in his throat as he downed another glass.

“that you did” jean chimed in, disregarding whether eren was talking to him or not.

the pub was near closing with a few scavengers around. eren noted the few old men; miserable and passed out across tables. eren scoffed, finding some sense of familiarity as it was going to be him, give or take, in a few more years if he continued.

“are you sure the baby is yours?” Armin asked, pushing his empty glass across the table.

eren was quiet but nodded his head. the paternity test proved it a few days ago and right now he wanted to be drunk out of his mind to forget ever reading the results. jean scoffed,

“wow and you use to be on your high horse all the time, talking as if you were better than any of us” armin elbowed jean.

eren mumbled a curse towards jean but didn’t deny the truth laced in the accusation. he was nowhere near better than anyone at this point. eren downed another glass of whiskey without hesitation,

“she cried.. a lot” eren could feel his throat swell at the memory of your tear stained face, the hurt in your voice ringing in his ears.

“as anyone would have” jean scoffed.

jean was particularly prickly with eren. more than usual, even through his drunk haze, eren could make out how jean had felt about the situation even if he didn’t voice it. yet there was a small part of eren telling him that maybe jean had a soft spot for you more than he had lead eren to believe. such a thought was sinking into his cognitive thinking and eren was growing pissed.

“jean” armin warned.

“say what you want jean, but please, tell me what you would’ve done” the words rolled off of eren’s tongue with agitation. but eren knew he was pushing jean’s buttons by the way jean’s lips pursed into a tight line.

jean was silent for a few moments, idly staring at his drink before placing the beverage on the table with a loud thud. earning a few heads at the bar to turn. jean’s eyes narrowed down at eren, sharing an unreadable expression. the air in the room quickly shifting with tension.

“I wouldn’t have slept with anyone else if i met y/n first” jean answered, his words dancing between the lines of mockery. “nor would I have even allowed the opportunity to make her cry, intentionally or not”.

eren scoffed, his fists bawled underneath the table. jean had plucked the last string of his patience. especially since now he had discovered how jean felt towards you. eren was moments away from striking jean’s jaw across the floor until armin sighed, breaking the growing tension.

“there’s no point in getting angry eren. you guys are over now” armin’s voice cutting through the morbid air.

the words reminded eren again. his body tensed and he grew quiet once more. you guys really were done. the smug look that crossed jean’s face however didn’t go unnoticed as eren went to down another glass.

eren sighed, lighting his third cigarette. the familiar tobacco smell reeking through his nostrils as his nerves jumped. he leaned his head against his bedroom wall. his apartment was smaller compared to yours, but he had the essentials: a bathroom, a spare room, a lounge set and even the little trinkets of baby attire. the haunting sense of responsibility fell hard on his shoulders each day. eren attended every early parent class, obgyn check-up and saved every cent towards his unborn baby.

yet he felt no sense of enjoyment, or at least a limited amount, when spending money on his unborn babe. emotionally investing himself also proved to be a false narrative when the mother of his baby suggested he should quit smoking - to which eren scoffed and lit another cigarette in front of her. eren was planning to play the father part, but he had a distinct contempt that unearthed a side of him. was he happy to be having a baby? to a degree. would it be different if it was you pregnant? absolutely. at least that is what eren considered each time he stared at the copy of the sonogram that pictured his child.

he sighed, closing his eyes. if only i could reverse time and see y/n one last time, he thought.

the buzzing of his phone broke his concentration, twisting his head to the night-stand, as he blew another puff of smoke from his lips. his eyes widen when he realised that not only was time still moving forward against his account but so was the baby.

I'm in labour and at the hospital now.

eren didn’t waste another moment lighting another cigarette, running his hands through his outgrown hair and throwing on a jumper. his legs are suddenly antsy, willingly dashing themselves out the apartment door with his car keys tightly in his hand. he blows puffs of smoke as he swiftly descends the stairs to the car-park, he sends a quick text to armin, letting him know the minute eren sits in the drivers seat. panic stimulates his nerves as he turns the key, the running engine becoming alive at once. he swears when he realises his cigarette bud is already out within minutes.

hospitals. eren doesn’t like them as much for two reasons. one ; they’re so nerving to be in. usually monochromatic painted walls that cave you in, with uncomfortable chairs that refuse to let you lay back and the drowning sound of outdated television shows that only a few in the waiting room really pay attention towards.

eren waits outside the hospital room impatiently. he arrived the moment she was admitted into a room,

“would you like to come in?” the midwife hastily asks as she rolls the bed his baby-mother lays on, eren hesitates.

“I’ll wait out here” he responds, making the nurses nod their heads with a slight scowl.

but now eren’s pacing back and fourth in the halls, checking the time on his phone periodically and waiting for a response from Armin. none of which has changed each time he looks.

eren’s anxiety was something he deemed as unmanageable unlike the anger issues that lessened as he got older. his anxiety mounted on him more everyday in college, the parties and being drunk were in a way a scapegoat that was only a temporary fix. you, however, proved to be a different fix that outweighed all the partying. you always remained collected in his worst moments, talking him through breathing exercises he called stupid. but you were no longer here and his fingers ached for another cigarette as his nerves amplified. his mind was racing faster than he could control and his breathing became hasty. eren attempts to centre himself, a tactic you drilled into his head each time his anxiety bested him, he feels for his legs and arms. but his nose is filled with the hospital smell that choke the back of his throat. he hears a woman’s cry not far, the maternity floor doesn’t help his nerves. he can’t do it.

he finds himself pacing out the hallways to the exit for a breather—mainly for a smoke. his hands searches through his jacket pockets, grasping at the feel of the box in his palms. he makes it out the emergency exit quick, the blaring sound of the ambulance that just arrived at the door blocked out the noise of his text notification.

he lights the cigarette, the flame is hot in his hands as he tries to block the wind from blowing it out. he swears in his native tongue, growing frustrated. the doors of the ambulance open with the paramedic’s rushing to get the victim inside. he see’s it’s bloody, an accident possibly, but he’s too mindless to think any further as he puffs out the tabacco he so missed. the nicotine entering his bloodstream seemingly calmed the nerves as he lets out a relieved sigh.

the paramedics hoist the victim out, but eren’s eyes are looking elsewhere. somehow stuff like this doesn’t scare him. his hand feels for the vibration in his pocket, dipping in to grab his phone. his eyes scan the contact before picking up the call.

“eren-” armin’s voice on the other line chokes,

“armin, i’m at the hospital right now” eren cuts off.

eren let’s a long puff of smoke out from his lips as his eyes gaze through the haziness of smoke. he see’s armin opposite of him, exiting out the same ambulance as the bloodied victim. armin is inaudible, his blue eyes are brimming with tears. it was bewitching in a way, seeing his friend so distraught in front of the hospital.

in the first few moments they look at each other, eren thought he might’ve been high, seeing a hallucination of his friend. his brain however disputed that, systematically registering that it was really armin the moment his eyes shifted to the body being rushed into the hospital.

the world slowed down in those seconds. the cigarette bud falling out of his lips, dipping itself against the concrete and dirt. you never liked the way eren would carelessly toss them away especially in public places. you would scold him making him giggle, then he would kiss the tip of your nose when you were angry making you more annoyed. he loved knowing you; what you liked and disliked, even if all of your qualities were the total opposite to him. he knew you only liked when he brushed your hair out of the way, but he also knew you never liked being overly touched by others and he knew well enough to where you didn’t enjoy the sight of blood.

why were these things running through his head at that moment when his eyes latched onto the body? he wandered. in those slow moments he is at lost for air, his lungs have run dry and not even his anxiety can compare to the way his heart bottoms out into his stomach. you don’t like being touched, he thinks as he watches the way the paramedics hold against the bandages that barely pressure the blood pouring out the wound. you don’t like blood, he thinks when he sees your clothes are soaked in it. his head is dizzy as he stumbles a few steps back.

“(Y/n)” eren barely calls above a mutter as you’re whisked away in the hands of the paramedics. his feet are glued to the ground and his mouth searches for words.

the second reason eren has always disliked hospitals ; despite being creepy and nerving in their appearances, they are the first place where majority of people are born. where mothers push out a form of life from their body in blood, sweat and tears, then hearing new-born babies cry that is graciously celebrated. then only to have a few floors below where others cradle their loved ones in their arms as they die. he really hated hospitals for the second reason.

*thinking about… months seem to blur together and work had piled on each week so it was rare to bump into nanami unless he was taking the garbage out late at night or leaving in the morning with his son. but even with the rarity of meeting each other and the small exchanges in the elevator, it did make parts of your day. even nanami seem to relax each time he saw you.

*thinking about… it’s be several years now and with yuji growing more independent each day, lessening away from his father’s help, nanami realises how lonely he really is. besides doing his fatherly responsibility’s like constantly fussing over yuji during work, taking him to preschool and packing his lunches, nanami finds himself having more extra time as yuji grows older. and it sinks in how he has fixated a lot on his son since his wife died. it’s a harrowing feeling when his eyes gloss over the fond memories of his late wife. when you do see him next, he’s more solemn and quieter than usual in the elevator. it raises your attention.

“is something the matter nanami?” the first name basis that left your mouth brings nanami back to the present, his hands automatically gripping the plastic bags filled with groceries.

“ah - yes, sorry, yuji is on a play date with one of his friends from pre-school. so i’ve had some free time to think for myself” nanami replies, half joking as he watches the elevator floors ascend each passing minute.

you don’t buy it. especially with the dark rings under his eyes but you bite your tongue. some things are better left unsaid when you’re only neighbours. however it doesn’t mean you cannot offer your help,

“I think I overmade some soup from a few nights ago, would you like me to bring you and yuji some?” your voice is soft, the words poising between the boundaries you and nanami have drawn since being neighbours.

nanami draw a blank for a few quiet moments. the temptation of the offer is in front of his eyes, anyone could see it, and like usual he would decline such invitations or gestures. he believes he isn’t prepared for the love game. yet seeing the way your eyes soften at him, happy either way if he rejects the request or not, he surprises himself as he nods his head uttering a small response.

“that would be nice. thank you”.

*thinking about… you would be lying if you weren’t also surprised by the sudden agreement on behalf of nanami that left your heart thumping loudly in your ears the moment you entered your home. walls that separated you and his, you believed, wouldn’t stop you from quietly humming a happy tune as you retrieved the soup from the fridge. you subconsciously chose one of your nicest dresses to wear that didn’t seem the dinner as ‘date-like’ attire cause you guys were neighbours after all. but there was a blush tinting your cheeks when you looked at yourself, all prettied up, in the mirror.

*thinking about… nanami unlocks his door to the apartment and he’s like “fuck, the place is a mess” and is quickly cleaning yuji’s toys off the floor, wiping the table down and even spraying some mist to make the place smell nice (even though it always smells nice). he doesn’t realise he is stressing as much as if it is a date and tries to collect himself, telling himself it’s not a date as he picks the finest of his button up shirts… yet the idea of the both of you being alone together in a enclosed room that isn’t the elevator makes his nerves all funny.

*thinking about… the second nanami opens the door to your appearance, he feels his heart race. it’s been a such long time since he felt this was and frankly nanami is quite embarrassed to say that his heart is in his throat the moment his eyes laid onto you. you looked so beautiful—as you always have been even when he caught a glimpse at you entering the elevator from his front door in the early hours of the morning.

“i brought the soup” your voice is meek. you’re awkwardly shuffling on the spot as nanami stares at you for a few moments. it makes your nervous, did I overdress? is my makeup bad? do I look weird?

nanami pushes himself to the side allowing you in which you kindly smile at him as a thanks, before closing the door. the apartment is very clean which in a way kinda makes you embarrassed to know meters behind the walls separating you is your messy living room. you put the soup on the table, taking note of the framed photos plastered against the walls.

“I’ll get you a drink” nanami replies heading to the kitchen, he hardly noticed you studying the family photo frames.

all of them ranged of yuji from a newborn to a toddler to him presently, you softly smile as your eyes prance from each one until you landed on a photo of nanami holding his newborn son. it must’ve been taken by somebody close, you wandered as you studied the picture carefully. nanami looked a little younger in the photo, not that he had changed drastically anyway, but his hair looked more dishevelled as though he had just woken up. he wore a simple long sleeve top with matching pajama pants, his arms wrapped around the bundle of joy. nanami’s eyes are captured softly studying a sleeping yuji, the tufts of pink hair distinctly peeking through the blanket. the photo is so innocent you barely registered that you had picked up the photo frame until nanami stood behind you with a glass.

“Ah — sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. you just look so nice in this photo” nice save, you sheepishly rambled, carefully placing the photo back.

“my late wife took it when yuji was only a couple days old” nanami said, giving you the glass of water.

he never talked about his wife to anyone, at least to anyone you knew. you had to hear it from the gossiping old ladies down the hall who filled you in one time when they caught him helping you carry your groceries in. your eyes widen in surprise at the mention of his wife but you quickly hid your expression behind the glass.

“he cried so much I barely remember sleeping” he half joked, guiding you back to the table. you stifled a giggle, seeing nanami at ease made you relax.

you both talked for hours. laughing as if you both were long time friends, getting to know more about each other that certainly meant you guys had a developing friendship that crossed the line of “just neighbours”. you admired nanami’s resilience, silently acknowledging the pain you assume he must’ve gone through after the passing of his wife. he still went to work each day, paid bills and cared deeply for his only son. that was something you knew you wouldn’t be able to handle if you had gone through the same experience. and here he was right now, laughing at your humiliating first-date experiences and listening intently to your complaints about work. it felt good. more than good even.

nanami in return always felt at ease whenever he spoke with you, feeling like there was no judgment or ulterior motive whenever you exchanged topics with him. he admitted he liked the way you laugh, the way your eyes will slightly crinkle when your lips would upturn into a pearly smile, he enjoyed it actually. he liked the way you listened to him, allowing him to uncover his feelings that he kept to himself since his wife died. and he especially liked that you loved yuji, even in smallest of exchanges you always asked about his son as if you had known him since the day he was born. he knew he could trust you. and it was nice to have somebody like that.

“yuji is getting dropped off soon” nanami announced when you were in the kitchen, his eyes squinting at the text message on his phone.

some part of you felt disappointed, time really did fly by quickly with nanami. the silence in the kitchen settled in the air. it wasn’t prickly or awkward—as anyone would expect—but it did feel there was some tension. as if there were words wanting to be exchanged between each other but neither of you had the courage to string them into a sentence. your back faced nanami as you scrubbed at a pot. his eyes skimming over you with a glint you couldn’t see, it’s nice having somebody around.

“no worries. after I finish washing this one, i’ll get going” you replied, focusing on the sponge in your hand.

nanami played in between the lines with his heart and logic. is it too soon to be doing this? i don’t want to hurt her or yuji? am I being selfish? his mind felt like a minefield, a place where he believes there is no bliss, he has already experienced such a loss that he isn’t even certain he is over it. but watching you leave the apartment, unsure whether this would occur again, made his heart stammer.

you turn your heel outside the apartment door facing nanami. you gave him a warm smile,

“Thank you for tonight. i really hoped the soup was good” you chuckled.

nanami softly smiled, admiring the way your cheeks had a light blush to them.

“thank you, it was good”.

the words are stuck in each other’s throat. there is a silence filling the hallway. now it’s your turn to leave, you think but your eyes are searching into nanami’s. your legs don’t want to leave just yet. nanami watches the way you hesitate.

“‘goodnight kento” you mumble swiftly, feeling defeated at your cowardice. you begin walking to your door, mumbling curses to yourself.

“Maybe.. if you’re free some time we can do it again” the words exit from his mouth with ease but his eyes look weary, unsure if he had worded it correctly. his words and body acted on their own, he can’t let you go.

but he is reassured when you send him another gentle smile, viciously nodding your head.

“I’d love too” you respond before unlocking the door to your apartment, failing to hide your reddened face.

like at first it was hot, having you sit in his lap while he lights up another joint, taking a few puffs then passing it to you in his car. his hand grazing up and down your back with chill rnb music pumping in the back and you guys are just on cloud nine together. giggling at one another, Connie has built some tolerance to smoking so he’s able to still maintain conversations and have this glint of admiration in his eye whenever you grin.

but then when you guys have an argument and he’s walking out for a smoke and you just KNOW the minute he walks back into the shared apartment he’s high. and he denies it but the half lidded eyes give it away and you’re infuriated,

“am I a joke to you?” you yell when he seats himself on the couch,

“babe chill, I had one joint–”

“we said not all the fucking time. i need you to be present in this relationship. and not lighting up a stick when it gets stressful”

“why are you going on like you’re my fucking mother!”, he’s agitated, his high is ruined by the way he’s clenching his jaw.

“I’m your fucking girlfriend”.

“then don’t be my fucking girlfriend–god–you’re a fucking bitch when you get like this”

it slips off his tongue so naturally it’s like he’s been biting it down for some time. he doesn’t realise how it’s hurt you now but the high has made him not give a fuck. he doesn’t care if you walk out, he’s high and he can freely be high and alone without your pestering, he thinks.

but he watches the way you grow silent, eyes glimmering with tears that are forming. he realises even through his anger, he has hurt you, maybe even pushed you to the last straw. he still feels agitated but there is a small amount of guilt that builds at the back of his mind. he hears you slam the bedroom door, queuing him to sleep on the couch that night. he groans, rubbing his eyes.

it’s draining. very draining after you spent the rest of the night crying into your pillow. connie hadn’t snapped like that before. it’s like talking to a different version of him, a version of him that has a sour taste in your mouth after each exchange with. the next day, you wake up late, without a thought you pack some stuff into a bag. you’re exhausted. physically and mentally. Connie has exhausted you so as you grab your things, he peeks his head from the bedroom door.

“what are you doing—”

“gonna go to a friends place for a bit”, you didn’t bother to turn your head to him, keeping the conversation short as possible.

connie knows he’s in the wrong from last night. he shouldn’t have called you anything. yet he’s uncertain what to do. he awkwardly waits at the bedroom door watching you pack your clothes into a duffle bag. he notices your redden eyes and the guilt settles into his chest that you had been crying. he hates being the reason that you’re upset.

“..okay just let me know when you’ll be back” he quietly mumbles but you ignore him, pushing past him without a glance.

the way you left the apartment was swift and though connie light another joint shortly afterwards. inhaling the smoke and throwing his head back, he’s still fucking frustrated. he assumed his high would help elevate that until you’re back but he realises it’s not going to happen. he rubs his eyelids in annoyance before glancing at his phone screen.

debating who he should call and what words would slip his tongue.

EREN

having a brother like eren would be like CHAOTIC.

like he gives me “I can teach you how to sneak past mum and dad’s bedroom without making a sound but i’m definitely going to the party with you as payment” . which you’re like “fuck no, all my friends think you’re hot and that’s gross”

he would be the major teasing sort of brother. like bothering you to the point you’ve got him in a headlock in the kitchen, screaming “TAKE IT BACK RIGHT NOW!”

eren: “I SAID WHAT I SAID. NOT MY FAULT YOU’RE UGLY!”

has a habit of just opening your door and standing there without a word then walking away.

y/n: “can you at least shut my door?”

eren: “hm.. no”

he’s kinda protective but he would rather die than tell you straight forwardly. like he’s noticing you’ve been texting someone on your phone lately and he’s all up in your business being like,

“Who is he? where does he live? does he have a job? what does he look like? he better not be ugly cause you’ll be letting the jaeger genes down”

him, zeke and you together on a night out are your parents biggest stress ball . eren mainly being the ringleader, zeke being the dotting older brother to his siblings and going along and you just being the youngest and tagging along to their troublemaking.

rip tho cause one time eren got into a bar fight when you first went out with them and mama Carla was not happy to having to pick you three up from the police station @ 1am.

all three of you literally BEGGED the police officer to call anyone BUT mama Carla knowing she’s about to whoop your ass when you get home. got you arguing with your brothers like,

you: “this is all of your fault, you’re so stupid when you drink”

eren, who’s very offended at the accusation, : “ME??? YOU’RE THE ONE DOWNING SHOTS LIKE IT’S YOUR LAST DAY TO LIVE, THEN PICKING A FIGHT WITH SOMEONE YOU CAN’T WIN AGAINST???”

zeke who’s stressing about mama carla: “I’m never going out with you two again”

you: “zeke… stfu—”

overall though, eren’s a good older brother. he makes a lot of banter but he cares for you and makes sure you’re safe at the end of the day.

JEAN

jean is an overprotective brother with the tendency to irk you (intentionally or not)

like he gives me “no stay away from boys ESPECIALLY boys likes eren, don’t even look at a man, they’re all tool-heads” basically he’s your second dad.

when you were little you use to follow him EVERYWHERE and he use to pretend to hate it but secretly adored it. sometimes he gets a little sad whenever he thinks back on it and how you’ve grown up and no longer follow him like a little puppy.

also whenever you fell over when you were younger, instead of running to your mother or father you use to run to jean and he would hold you when you cried. in someway you still do the same presently,

you finished work and had a rough shift and you’d sit next to him on the couch like,

y/n: “…life sucks”

jean, looks at you from his phone: “yeah it does but what’s up?”

BIG LISTENER!!! always has his ears ready to listen to you rant.

however he makes these remarks that like piss you off. e.g. it’ll be 8 in the morning and you just rolled out of bed and he’ll be at the table eating breakfast and look up at you like,

jean: “wow you look like you’re on the brink of death”

got you glaring at him like, “bruh”.

calls you kiddo or mini (cause he likes to think you’re a mini version of himself).

he is a very good and protective brother. in some ways you view him more like your dad, he’s very understanding.

ARMIN

dude Armin would be such a sweet older brother. in similar ways to jean he’s protective but also he gives me like “secondary-parent” vibes.

like when you were little you would only listen to Armin whenever you got into trouble. your parents even said you were more dotting towards Armin than themselves.

armin would always read you books and even taught you how to read some of them before you could go to school.

at one point you were very shy and attached to armin, when he went to drop you off to your kindergarten class once (while he had to head off to high-school) you become like glue and glued yourself against his legs.

armin, trying to pry your strangely strong arms off of his legs: “cmon (y/n) i need to go to school”

you pulled the old tear-stained-face card on him and his heart melted. so he sat for half and hour with you in his lap on the floor, with other curious little kids approaching him, reading you your favourite book until you settled. (he never lets go of this memory now).

he would be the one taking care of you whenever you got sick. making you soup and checking your temperature.

he gets a little bit nervous whenever you meet annie. at this stage you only know her as a “really good friend” of Armins (deep down tho you already know she’s his gf but he’s just antsy to tell you, in a way you like keeping him nervous and on his toes about it, you find it funny).

CONNIE

Connie is a chill asf older brother, usually joining you in trouble.

like Connie does not give af if you’re seeing people, sneaking out or anything. he does however get antsy around eren and you just bc he knows eren’s a player and he’s like,

Connie: “not my baby sister. pick anyone else”

probably introduces you to smoking weed for the first time.

Connie: “JUST INHALE IT, IT’S NOT THAT HARD”

Y/n, on the verge of tears: “YELLING AT ME WON’T HELP”

Connie is like super chill and cool older brother. like if you wanted to hang out with him and his friends he’s laid back with it, letting you join in.

he’ll def buy you and your friends alcohol if you asked. but he’d give you a lecture in the process like,

“don’t let anyone take you away alone, if you start feeling sick just call for me, don’t overdo it okay?”.

but he is such a menace when you get into trouble with your parents and they’re giving you a lecture in the kitchen and he’s egging them on in the background like,

“Ooo ‘get her ma, ground her, make her stack the dishes every day this month—here use my shoe to throw at her”

Sasha always comes over and her and connie both annoy you like normal siblings. like sasha would be snooping through your bedroom while Connie’s on your bed, both of them high off their heads, bugging you. (lowkey they do it because you’re always a ‘warm’ person, they claim, to be around when high).

connie probably introduces you to his one-night-stands he brings home.

connie: “and that was lady 5 this week”

y/n, disgusted: “you’re such a whore”