I'm Just A Simp

The only downside was being unable to properly see your face, but it was easily solvable. He would occasionally grab fistfuls of your hair and pull it, sending your head falling backwards. With his chest pressed agaisnt your back, his lips would come crashing into yours, taking you into breathtaking and bruising kisses.

Your arms would grow tired, your body feeling weak from the waves of pleasure that would make it combust, before he was even close to finishing. Chest pressed agaisnt the matress, your upper body laying flat, butt propped up in the air for Wriothesley to abuse, the fun would continue this way.

His hand would come down on your ass, smacking it, leaving a red burning spot on the otherwise soft skin.

What he loved most though, was teasing you in this position. He would sometimes slow down, to your dismay, and lean back, watching how his dick would get swallowed up by your cunt, sliding in and out with ease thanks to your juices. He would pull almost all the way out, only leaving the tip of his head in, and then fuck your entrance with his head. Small, slow and yet powerful thursts. He loved hearing you whimper and beg, torn bewteen enjoying the current sensation or wanting him to continue destroying you.

"You like that, don't ya?"

Needless to say, he would toy with you until he was satisfied with your state; his pride was to always leave you a moaning mess, unable to form words, mind clouded from the sweet intoxicating bliss and limbs uselless. Once he deemed that your condition was humiliating enough, he would focus on himself, hips ramming into yours, fucking you into the matress. Feeling your walls clamping down on his dick, he would coax you into another climax along with him, sweet praises falling from his lips accompanied by frantic circles drawn on your clit with his fingers.

"Come for me, baby. Come with me." He would whisper into your ear, body pressing agaisnt yours, hugging you tightly with one arm while his other hand stayed between your legs. Moans and groans filling the room, uniting in a sweet cacophony as you reached your highs.

His hips stilled, his cock burried deep inside you. Filling you was his ultimate prize, being able to see his seed dripping from your cunt after pulling out exciting him even after release.

― ♡⸝⸝ TARTAGLIA + sideways

Chest agaisnt your back, one hand gripping your thigh, keeping your leg up, the other snaking around your neck, grabbing hold of it, keeping you exactly where and how he wanted. He loved physical contact, he loved being close to you. Your warm skin agaisnt his own making him want to become one with you.

His face burried into your shoulder, taking in your sweet odour, leaving him in a drunk-like state. He wanted you, all of you. He desired to feel all of your body, to leave his mark all over you, to make you all his. It's in moments like these where he had full control over you and your body that he felt most powerful, the thrill of battle not comparing to the mix of emotions he felt while he was intimate with you.

His nails digging into the tender flesh of your thighs as he thrust into you, curses flying from his lips and into your neck. His hand on your neck would tighten, leaving you breathless as he ground into you, pace slowing down, procuring pure intoxicating bliss for both of you.

The sounds that spilled fom your mouth as his head touched the deepest corners of your cunt sent him into a frenzy. He fucked you religiously, praying to hear more of that alluring harmony that could send him over the edge in an instant if he allowed it.

To stifle his own moans and growls, he would kiss your neck and shouleder, leaving trails of kisses and purple marks, his teeth imprinted onto your skin. You were his in that moment and forever, and it was no problem if the whole world knew it.

"Play with yourself for me, princess." He would ask you, wanting to feel you clench aorund him, to reach the pinnacle of pleasure together.

Watching you play with yourself shakily, every touch and rub of your nub making your whole body squirm and your walls squeeze around him, drove him crazy right into Celestia.

"Gimme all you got, girlie."

As you both reached your highs, your tight cunt milking him of his seed, he hugged you tightly, forehread pressed agaisnt your shoulder, continuing to thurst into you but slower, giving you every last drop of him, filling you with his love and desire.

Soft kisses would be placed on the fresh bruises, soothing the ache. He wouldn't let go of you until you had caught your breath, soothing you by caressing your aching boding and playing with your hair.

Of all his victories, you were his favourite.

― ♡⸝⸝ NEUVILLETTE + missionary

Sex with Neuvillette was mostly gentle, love-making to be exact. He took well care of you and your body, always making sure you were enjoying yourself; not that he needed to do, everything he did to your body was simply out of this world.

Spreading your thighs apart and lining himself with your entrance, he would kiss you, a kiss so passionate and so lustful it had some sort of hold on you. As your tongues engaged in a slow dance, he pushed inside slowly, stretching you out gently as to not inflict any pain upon you. As you flicnhed and whimpered beneath him, he would caress your cheek and press his forehead agaisnt yours, comforting you as you took his length in.

"You're doing good, sweetheart, as good as you feel."

Eyes locked, one little nod from you was all he needed to continue the deed. He held his body up with his forearm, his hand holding your head, fingers tangled in your hair. His other hand would hold your hip, grabbing and squeezing your soft skin. His touch was warm, filled with love, making both your heart and core flutter with every physical contact.

As he thrust into you, slow and steady, he trapped your lips in yet another langourous kiss. Your lips would never be apart, either him or you would pull the other into a kiss. It was basicly a need for you two to kiss while enjoying each other's bodies, engulfing in each other's love.

Your hands would be wrapped around his body or neck, hugging him, pulling him towards you, needing to feel his warmth. You would place kisses on his shoulders and cheeks, loving him, adoring him, encouraging him onwards.

Intimacy was very important to you, you needed to feel each other, your bodies needed to connect, to become one. You would always be grabbing the other's body in any way possible, desperately trying to give them all your love. You desired each other, evident by how you adored each other's bodies with butterfly kisses, marks and lustful looks.

Skin slapping agaisnt skin, the sound of his dick pushing into your wet hole,your bodies burning, ready to combust together; everything was guiding you, pushing you towards release.

As his mouvements become sloppier, his groans and moans growing louder along with yours, you took his face into your hands and pulled him into a kiss, your lips crashing together with force, forcing your breathes out of you. Such a feverous kiss was enough to send you both spiraling into bliss. As he felt his dick throb inside of you, he pulled out, grinding agaisnt your sensitive folds and clit, his cum spurting out onto your body. You swallowed each other's moans down, not letting go until everything was over.

Pulling you into a hug, you would lay there together, catching your breathes. You would caress his hair and face, admiring the flushed yet relaxed expression on his face. He would place kisses on your forehead, rubbing your back comfortingly.

"Je t'aime, ma chérie."

― ♡⸝⸝ ALHAITHAM + reverse cowgirl, sitting

With his new title of Acting Grand Sage, Alhaitham was always very busy, sitting on his desk, papers and scripts in hand. Thanks to his awful habit of overworking himself, you had foud yourself sitting on his lap on multiple occasions at late hours, including ones where your needy body screamed for attention. One thing led to another, and you'd discover the pleasure of riding him while he sat at his desk.

Hands resting on the desk before you, helping you keep your balance as you lifted your butt from his body only for it to come wiggling back down, his dick being entirely taken up into your pussy. Your feet on the ground, your body help up by the tips of your toes as you bounced on his dick. It was quite the exercise, that combined with the pleasure made your legs get shaky rapidly.

He would try to stay focused on his work as you satisfied yourself, used him for your pleasure, but he could never keep up the uninterested act and would end up replacing the papers in his hands with your hips, meddling the soft skin as you brought the both of you to heaven.

He loved sitting back and just enjoy you, guiding you with his hands up and down, head falling back as pleased sighs and moans escaped his throat. His eyes could intenly watch your ass bounce, the way it moved when your hips crashed down onto his. It mesmerized him; it's beauty, it's shape, it's softness, he loved everything about it and couldn't keep his hands off of it.

As much as he loved having you ride him, it was tiresome for your body, and you'd find yourself losing rythm, sometimes even stopping dead.

"Is that all you got?"

His fingers would snake aorund your body, coming around to rub circles into your clit, sending shockwaves throught all of your body as if he was powering you back up. With new found strength and adrenaline, you ignored your aching legs and continued bouncing, hips coming down onto him faster and harder, his dick hitting the furthest corners of your hole.

Not being totally selfish, he'd help you by thrusting up itno you as you came bakc down, enhacing the sensations and making the knot in your belly grow tighter with each perfect stroke.

With his nails sinking into your hips, he'd continue forcing your body up and down on his cock as you came, your head falling forwards as you moaned and cursed. Stilling not too far into your cunt, his cum shot out of his dick and onto your walls, your hole leaking from the amount.

He loved spreading your folds after he pulled out, watching you drip onto his thigh and floor.

"Such a good cumslut."

kaveh falls for your carefree nature- you do not let life hurt you, despite bleeding so many times. If it were him, he would have screamed and cried, and cursed the gods over and over and over and over again until he bled to death. but you are not like that, he surmises when he sees you at Puspa Café, chirping happily like a Dusk Bird with Aether and Paimon. however, your nonchalance does not extend to peers you care about deeply, and somehow, that includes him. you are overly concerned for him, kaveh thinks, and you will only stand to get hurt. everyone has only ever gotten hurt, there has never been anything good for him. but all of that is lost when he sees you in the market, chatting happily and cheering on friends and acquaintances alike, and wonders if you'd do the same for him. 

tartaglia falls in love with your self-worth, or as most people call it, your arrogance. he knows better than to call it that, of course- as a soldier, it is important to be acknowledged for your efforts and rewarded for the pain you go through, and you, despite not being a soldier, demand that from your kith and kin. you would never have to demand it from him, tartaglia thinks as he sees you bow in thanks when the alchemist in inazuma lets you use the booth. you give as much respect as you are given, and that is the trait of a harbinger, a mastermind, no, the tsaritsa herself. such blasphemous thoughts should never be entertained, the delusion on his waist and his blood-red mask remind him, for who can be compared to the god of Cryo herself? she who has advanced snezhnaya and given him a home? but you too, have given him a home, he argues back, his delusion glowing a faint purple, mocking him silently. he attempts to avoid you, running in the other direction when he sees the ends of your hair shine in the sun- until you make your way to him one day, and ask why he'd been avoiding you. maybe the goddess of love would forgive his blasphemy, tartaglia thinks as he cooks up an apology, satisfying you with his silver tongue.

wanderer falls in love with your honesty- you tell him, the scorned one of the Vahumana darshan, about his attitude and how it hurts people, about his apparent good looks, about his intelligence and wisdom, all compliments and insults to which he responds with a scoff. a mere child should not be able to affect him this way, so why does his lead heart stir so uncomfortably when he sees you with your friends, running across darshans to attend madam faruzan or tighnari's lectures? you wish him a good morning, treat him just as horribly as he treats you that day, and have an infuriatingly large amount of self-respect- and he loves you for that. you do not judge him for his past, just his present, and just the 24 hours that reset every day. after everything he had done, everything that had happened to him, he supposes he can let you in, but he could never lie to you, so wait for him until he is honest, please.

zhongli falls in love with your wisdom. no, you would not normally be considered wise, in the typical sense, for your hair is not yet grey, and you do not have wrinkles or crows feet that symbolise a long life well-lived. no, your wisdom shines in the way you treat the people around you, interacting with them with due respect and kindness, with an extra dose of patience for the children. and he fears this flutter in his heart and skip of the beat when he sees you smile. he was never meant to be at peace or be happy, after all. but you draw him in, gently and with open arms, calming like the ocean that draws the sand in and he cannot help but drown in you, your wisdom and inherent sense of understanding comforting him more than his allies who lived and died and fought for him through the archon war and the war against khaenri'ah. maybe one day, he would reveal to you who he truly is, and maybe, he hopes silently, you would love him even then.

another repost lolol (from my old account @.ameleii)

You gathered all your hair, trying to place it into a ponytail. Grabbing your reading glasses as you finished and awkwardly pushing them on your face. Wrapping a white fluffy blanket around your frame as you reached for your computer. Opening up your Macbook and clicking on your favorite website. 

Ao3.

Typing in words familiar words of your new anime crush. Oh yeah, You were also on facetime with your best friend, explaining to them about said anime guy. Basically explaining to them how utterly sexy this man was. 

Hair, eyes, body, shit this man had it all. 

Eren Yeager. 

Even his name was sexy. 

You huffed dramatically, “Dude, none of these fics seem…” you couldn’t say the words. “It’s not what I want.” You pouted, looking on your phone that was propped on your bedside counter. 

They laughed at you, “You’re just being picky, I’m pretty sure there's something out there.” 

You nodded, closing out of the site and sighing. Fixing the glasses on your face and grabbing the drink that’s been on your counter for god knows how long. You just drank it. 

You could feel your mind trailing back to Eren. Smiling unintentionally. 

Your friend noticed. 

“He’s perfect, Nana.” you softly said. Biting your lip and feeling your face heat up. A certain fan art popping into your head. 

“Mhm, right.” They said, a smile on their face. He tilted his head. “Tell me, what’s wrong with him?” 

You blinked, grimacing. Licking your lips and shrugging. “Oh nothing.” You sheepishly said. Looking down at the book in your hands whispering a soft ‘ocide.’

They raised an eyebrow, getting closer to the phone and cupping their ear. Despite having headphones on. “Come again? Didn’t hear ya’?” 

“Genocide.” You quickly said, “Mass genocide.” You scrunched your nose. “He commited mass murder on his enemy.” 

“You’ve got to fucking kidding me.” 

“Look, if he was real, he would be a regular college student.” You said, “like us.” You looked away thinking about it a little more, “And, proabably a god at sex.” 

“God, we’ve gotta’ get you a boyfriend.” 

He said, your just shrugged. “I do have one.” 

“Do you?” 

You nodded, laying back in your bed. Enjoying the push pillow beneath your head. Slightly humming into it. 

Nana tilted their head, raising an eyebrow. “And, if you don’t mind me asking. Who is this boyfriend of yours?”

You smiled, stifling a laugh. “Eren fucking Yeager.” You scoffed, “Who else could fit my standard.” 

“Y/n, you haven't showered or left your room in three days.” He said, “I’m pretty sure anyone could fit your standard.” 

You loudly laughed, shrugging. “I guess you're right.” 

“Don’t worry Babe, it’s the start of freshman year. You’ll find someone.” Nana said, smiling at you. 

You shook your head groaning. “I don’t want to find anyone, I want Eren.” You dramatically groaned, trying to fake cry. 

“I promise the moment you go into one of your classes, you’ll forget all about this fiction crush of yours.” Nana told you, taking a sip of their drink. “I promise.” 

You glared at Nana. “I highly doubt that.” 

You looked at the notification that popped on your screen. It was your roommate texting you to open the door. You pouted, eyebrows mushing together. Now you would be forced to leave your room.

You sighed, “Hold up, I’m gonna’ go. Roommates home.” You laughed, “You know how she is when I take forever to open the door.” Nana laughed, recalling the last time that happened. 

They nodded, blowing you a kiss and ending the call. You smiled, getting out of bed and stretching. Walking to the door of your room. 

When you felt… uneven. 

Like you were going to pass out, suddenly light headed and heavy. Your mind blanking. 

Were you going to pass out? 

Did you get up too fast?

Your body leaned on the wall, collecting yourself. Wondering where that random feeling came from. 

Iron deficiency? Maybe?

Huh, weird. 

You walked to the front door, opening it for your roommate. Squinting your eyes immediately because of the light. 

Damn, you really should get out more. 

Yet, nothing in the world could’ve prepared you the sight in front of you. You could feel your jaw slack, your eyes bulging out of their sockets. 

Eren fucking Jeager. 

There was a playful smile on his lip, a bag of food in his hand, and a few words of- ‘Hey Roommie!’ 

Yeah, you were dreaming. You were going to wake up and start sobbing because, Eren wasn’t real. 

You laughed, shaking your head “Oh my god, pinch me.” A sentence said without thought.

Eren shrugged, lifting his eyebrows. “Weird request but, I’ve had weirder.” 

You flinched from the pain, instictly moving out of the door frame. Eren immediately walked in. Hanging his keys on the coat hanger and kicking off his shoes. Kicking the door closed and placing the bag of food on the floor. 

Before stealing a glance in your direction, giving you a quizzical look. He almost laughed, “What the hell are you wearing?” He looked at your face, his eyebrows coming together “And are those glasses? Since when did you need glasses?” 

You blinked a few times, his words not even processing in your head. You were still processing him. You forced an uncomfortable laugh, tapping yourself a few times. “Okay, Y/n, time to wake up.” You sang, turning around and patting your cheeks. Trying to see if that would help. “You probably have class and are oversleeping.” 

Eren again felt his eyebrows come together, turning his head to the side slightly. “Since when do you care about class?”

You gave him a look. I mean, I literally pay to go to college.. It would be a waste not to go to class. Again, you had to process who was standing in front of you. Again. 

If you could describe the feeling rushing through your body- you’d need a whole fucking libary. And, that was if you could. 

1- Eren Yeager was currently silently judging you for what you looked like.

2- THIS WASN’T A FUCKING DREAM. 

“Y/n?” 

Oh my god, he just said my name.

You wanted to cry. You peered over your shoulder, looking at him. Taking a moment to nod weakly.

Eren suppressed a laugh, placing a hand on his hip and using his free hand to point at you. “I’m going to ask you again. What the hell are you wearing?” 

It took you a minute to process what he said. Then, you looked down at your outfit, slightly confused by his question. It was what you wore everyday? You looked back at him, tilting your head. “Sweats and a random cat shirt?” 

He blinked at you, tilting his head. This time, he didn't try to suppress his laugh. “The all mighty bitchy Y/n is wearing a ugly cat shirt?” He said, shaking his head amused. “I think I’m the one dreaming.” 

Bitchy?

You abruptly laughed —no— scoffed. “Yeah, I think you’re mixing me up with someone else.” You said, fixing your glasses. This was literally what you always wore. It didn’t matter where you went.

Eren looked at his watch, then backed up. Counting silently before looking back at you again. “And, we’ve been talking for a minute now without you scolding me for something I did- are?..” he got close, placing the back of his hand to your face. “Are you sick?” 

You felt your face heat up. “I-“ You pushed his hand off you, looking away embarrassed. “No, I’m not—“ You placed your hands to your face, taking a moment to yourself. Then whispering, “What the fuck is happening?” 

“You tell me.” Eren said, lightly laughing. 

You sighed, putting your hands to your temple. You shook your head and slowly started to make your way to your room. “I need a nap.”

Eren laughed, walking to the couch. “You’re acting.. different.” You stopped and looked at him, tilting your head. 

“Different?..” you softly said, looking to the side and thinking. 

Eren turned on the TV, clicking onto a movie you recorded a few days before. “Don’t worry, I like it, it’s.. different.” He looked at you, “I like being able to have a convo with you.” 

You blinked, feeling your heart start to beat faster. As you smiled, you couldn’t help it. You nodded your head once.

“Do you want to..” He paused, “..to watch a movie with me?” 

You blinked a few times, feeling your heart pounding. “Uhm..” You just ended up nodding, walking down the stairs and sitting on the opposite couch. Eren gave you a look, before continuing the movie. 

You tried watching it -you really did- but you were just constantly looking back at Eren. Eyeing him up and down and enjoying how absolutely stunning this man was. Jesus, the anime— let alone fanart, didn’t do him any justice. 

“Y/n?” 

You flinched, but nodded your head. Eren looking at you then continuing. “Are you sure you’re okay?..” He forced an awkward smile. “You’re not acting like.. you?”

You felt your mouth open then close, you didn’t know how to respond. It was very clear that Eren knew you. In some weird way, but— didn’t know you. Which could seem confusing, but made sense in your mind. 

It was like.. he knew a different version of you… 

You felt your eyebrows mush together. Did I cross realities or something? Which made sense in your mind, somewhat. Well, it was the only thing that made sense considering you weren’t dreaming. 

You opened your mouth again, “I—“ You sighed, closing your eyes and speaking again. “I’m a different person.” You softly said, “If that makes sense.” 

He laughed, getting up and moving to the couch next to you. Smiling at you, “Is that a bad thing? Change?” 

You fixed your glasses and shrugged, “You tell me.” 

Oh my god, I’m talkin- conversing with Eren Yeager. 

He leaned his head towards you. “I like it, it’s nice to talk to my roommate.” He squinted his eyes playfully, “Even if she’s acting really weird.” 

You got offended by that. 

Eren noticed, “I don’t know how Jean’s going to feel about it though.” He leaned his head back, trying his best not to ruin the moment. I mean, he literally can’t remember the last time the two of you had a pleasant conversation. “He’s really into how your bod-“ He paused, thinking before speaking. “How you present yourself.” 

You laughed, placing both your legs on the couch and leaning into him. “Why would Jean care—“ 

Wait, Jean?.. Does that mean that every AOT character is in this world? Oh my god, I’m going to fucking die from a heart attack. I don’t think I can take that.

Eren gave you a look. “Because, he's your boyfriend?”

“I have a boyfriend?” You shouted, it was quickly followed by— “I’m dating Jean?!” Oh my god, he was hot but— the man you wanted was sitting right across from you!

Eren’s wide eyed expression brought you back into the conversation. You cleared your throat, placing both your hands in your lap and in the most calm voice you could muster you said— “I’m dating Jean.” It wasn’t a question this time.  

He slowly nodded, a studle amused smile on his lips. “Yes, Love. You’re dating Jean.” 

God, take me now.

You leaned back in the chair, closing your eyes and processing. “Eren.” 

“Y/n.” 

You laughed, looking at him. “I’m going to break-up with Jean.” You didn’t like him like that. You needed to wife Eren up. And you needed to do it as soon as possible. 

Hell, you’d be satisfied with a simple kiss. 

He laughed, laughed so hard because that was the last thing he’d ever expect to hear from you. 

The girl who had Jean in her room everyday. The girl who clung to him like a lost puppy everywhere he went. The girl who would only talk to Eren if it was about their future wedding or an argument about something stupid he did.

Literally. Someone stupid he did. 

“And why would you do that, Y/n?” 

Because I want you. Duh!

“I don’t like Jean like that.” you mumbled, Eren smiled at that, “He’s wonderful and deserves the best but, I’m pretty sure he has a thing for Mikasa.” You hoped the show was somewhat connected to this world. 

His jaw dropped, his eyebrows coming together as his hand went up in the air. “Dude— no stop.” Jean was anything but wonderful. Hell, when was the last time you used a positive word to describe anyone?

You gave him a weird look, “What?” It was a pretty obvious ‘what?’

“Why are you admitting this now? After you literally went to hell and back defending him for cheating on you with her.” He put his hand out, “Let me correct myself, my girlfriend at the time.”

Your jaw dropped, “He cheated on me?” You scoffed, shaking your head. “I defended someone who cheated on me?” You shook your head. ”With my roommates girlfriend?!” 

“Ex roommate's girlfriend.” Eren corrected. 

You laughed, shaking your head. “No fucking way.” What the hell is wrong with me in this universe? You looked at him, smile. “Eren, literally fuck him.” 

Eren laughed, slowly nodded his head before nodding it vigorously. “Yeah.” He smiled, “Yeah!” He shouted, “Fuck him!” 

You laughed with him, “I mean, Mikasa probably—“ 

“Stop.” Eren cut you off. Playfully shoving you. 

You loudly laughed, looking away and nodding. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop but—“ You sighed, and looked at him. “Seriously, that’s such a stupid thing to do.” You giggled, leaning into him. “On roommates no less.” 

Eren nodded, thickly swallowing and leaning back slightly. “Who am I talking to?” He softly said. 

You shrugged, “Y/n?” You laughed, “Who am I talking to.” 

“Eren.” He replied. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Eren.” You extended your hand, giving a warm smile. 

Eren looked at your extended hand, taking it into his much larger one. Jesus take me now— “Nice to meet you better version of Y/n.” 

“Better?” You questioned, trying to ignore the way your heart sped up when you two touched. 

“Better.” He confirmed, nodding his head seriously. “I prefer this,” he waved his hand around you, “Then, whatever the hell you were.” 

You huffed fondly, nodding your head. 

“When did you even get that shirt?”

You sighed, leaning back in your chair. “I actually bought it at the thrift store a few blocks away from us.” 

“You thrift?!” Eren asked shocked, you nodded. 

“That’s where I buy all my clothing?” You slowly said. I mean, you weren’t made of money? Where else would you buy cheap but somewhat cute clothing? 

Eren laughed, “Now, I know you’re lying.” He pointed to a closet. “That closet is filled with empty shopping bags from every designer store possible.” 

Your eyebrows came together. “Designer? How the hell would I afford that?” You innocently asked. I mean, you didn’t even really talk to your parents. Let alone ask them for money. 

Eren had a look, like he was suppressing something he wanted to say. He ended saying it anyways, “Daddy’s money.” 

You laughed, “My Dad sends me money? What is he a CEO?” 

“Yes, he is actually.” He had a serious face, “That was the first thing you told me when we met.” 

“Damn, I sound like a bitch.” 

“Yeah, you are.” 

You gave him glare, he laughed.

“Were a bitch.” He corrected. 

You shook your head, pulling out your phone. You needed to check something. 

Your bank account. 

“Holy shit.” 

“Holy shit indeed.” He said, his eyes dancing over your screen. “Like I said, Dad’s a CEO.” He raised an eyebrow. “Y/n, you freaking me out— just a tad.” 

You glanced at him, blinking a few times. “I’m—“ you paused, “I’m really tired and— high.” You said, silently cringing. Best fucking excuse, Y/n.

Eren slowly nodded, “Makes sense.” He smiled, dimples denting into his skin, “I am too.” 

“Deadass?” 

“Naw, but I can be.” 

You shook your head, “No, but— seriously I need..” 

Eren flinched, feeling his phone buzz. “I’m sorry, but—“ he gestured to his phone, quickly picking it up. You pressed your lips together, something Eren could help but double take at. “Yeah, I’ll be there in 30. See ya.” 

You watched as he lowered his phone. “Ugh.” He groaned. 

You giggled, “What happened?” 

“You know how we were talking about Mikasa and Jean.” You nodded. “Well, the sport I’m in decided to hold a last minute practice I gotta’ go to.” He stood up from the couch, taking a small stretch. 

You blinked a few times. “Oh, well..” 

“I guess it worked out.” He said, “You get to cool down from being high, and I have to deal with you boyfriend and my ex.” He said. 

“Our ex’s.” You corrected. 

He looked back at you smiling. Placing a hand on your head and ruffling your hair. “Tell me that when you’re not high.” He said. 

I’m not high. “Okay, I will.” 

Eren pressed his lips together, his head tilting. “I doubt that, but I’ll believe it for now.” Eren wants to believe it. “And, if this is what you’re like high, you should get high more often.” 

“Maybe I should.” 

Eren laughed.

There was silence, a comfortable silence. The conversation ended. You didn’t want the conversation to end, but it did. Eren felt the same way. 

“Uhm, do you want to join the sport I play?” He asked, “I’m pretty sure they’re still accepting people, if you wanna come with.” 

You blinked a few times, giving him a kind smile. “Uhm, yeah, but I’ll go with you tomorrow.” You answered, “I really need to rest.” And find out more about myself. 

Eren forced a smile. “Sure, yeah, that works.” He pushed himself away from you, “See ya’ Y/n.”

You smiled, giving a soft wave. “See ya’ ‘Ren.” 

He blinked at you, nodding his head. His body paused for a moment. Before waking to the door, reaching for his keys. However, he stopped. 

Because he was scared when he got back home, you were going to be gone. 

“See you in a bit roomie.” He called out.

You peaked your head from behind the wall like a cartoon, smiling and nodding your head. “Can’t wait roomie.” 

“Promise?” 

You squinted your eyes at him. “Promise, you little weirdo.” 

Eren forced a smile, nodded his head and left. 

“I mean, she would always run out to the balcony every morning, lean over and… her face… when she caught sight of the Eiffel Tower she… she looked beautiful-”

His hands lifted the scuffed-up lighter to his face, the red one he took everywhere, the one covered in scratches and dirt. The lighter that saw Rome, Tokyo, Ibiza, London…  everywhere he used to take you. His thumb ran across the striker a few times before holding the end of the joint into the tiny flame. His eyes fluttered shut as his body sunk into the silk sheets, finally letting his head rest on the double-stacked pillows. The hand of the girl he slept with met his skin, inhaling sharply as she ran her fingernails down his chest, a pitiful attempt at getting his attention. He didn’t care about her or to know about her, but of course he needed someone to listen to him, he could only talk Armin’s ear off for so long. He wanted to talk and never shut up. He wanted to talk and not be shut up. He wanted to talk and for someone to shut up and listen. He wanted someone to give a shit. The last person that gave a shit about him was well out of the picture, he was the one that pushed them out of the frame. So now he had to look for a confessional in the random people that would indulge him. What he offered in return was sex, money, good drugs, and material things, all in exchange for an hour of their time to listen to him talk. Frankly, he didn’t care if their intentions were good or not. He didn’t give a fuck what information they sold to the tabloids, he was used to people using him, wringing him out and hanging him up to dry. So when the sex ended, when the money was deposited, and when the drugs were taken… Eren talked. And he talked about you.

“When we were younger… she had this fucking- it was a globe,” the girl that laid with Eren ran her fingers in circles along his collarbone, he shook his shoulder in response, insinuating that he didn’t want her touching him, but as everyone else in his life did, she continued.

“And um… I’d tell her to close her eyes and I’d spin the globe,” he chuckled at the image of you with one hand clasped over your eyes and the other extended with your pointer finger out. He’d stand behind you and hold your hand in his… you would always squeal in excitement. You were always just so excited for him.

“Eren! Eren fucking put my finger down already-”

“Would you wait? Hold on… I’m waiting for the perfect moment-”

You felt your finger hit the plastic, raised slightly to represent the terrain Eren had chosen for you. You had just finished studying for your calculus exam, your papers were scattered all over the floor of your bedroom and your textbooks laid open on your bed. Of course Eren’s guitar leaned against your nightstand, the piece of spruce had essentially become a decor piece in your bedroom at this point. You felt him pinch at your sides as he pulled your hand from your face.

“Open.”

Paris, France.

“Oh what a coincidence Eren… my finger just so happened to land on the one place you know I’ve been dying to go to since I was a kid-”

“It’s not rigged, I just have incredible timing,” he jested, his tongue pushing at the inside of his cheek as he tried to conceal a smirk. Of course he stopped the globe and perfectly placed your finger exactly where he wanted it to go. Paris had been your dream since you were a kid, you told him that anytime you two spoke about traveling the world, alone or together. Though Eren made it very clear that he wanted to do it with you, especially when he “books his first world tour.” His exact words, you couldn’t make something like that up. Not with Eren, when he wanted something… the way his green eyes lit up and his eyebrows raised… anyone could tell he wasn’t joking. If he wanted to go on a world tour one day, he would. You fully believed that he could too.

“You do? How are we getting to Paris then Jaeger?”

“Well, when I’m rich and famous and the world just can’t get enough of my music and i’m surrounded by people that wanna hear me sing and I’m booking shows and-”

“I get it! Jesus,” you laughed at his persistence, that was one thing you’d never not love about Eren. You’ve never met anyone more passionate, more full of life, when he spoke about music it was like the whole world stopped. The only things that mattered were you and him, and when he sat you two in your usual spot- the shag carpet in front of your bed. And when he handed you a headphone- you got the left and he got the right. The world stopped. And when he played you another new song. The world stopped. And when he spoke to you about it, the words that left his mouth sounded like poetry, a symphony conducted just for you. The world stopped. Eren was writing about you, he always was. You were convinced that the boy sat in front of you in his letterman jacket, the one that was desperately trying to balance a number two pencil on the bridge of his nose, was gonna be a fucking rockstar. It sounded stupid to everyone else but you two.

“I don’t know… I think that song could get us to Paris, no?”

“Eren, I don’t know if we can go to Paris if you don’t pass that calc test tomorrow…”

The brunette let out a wet cough, choking on the smoke that left his lips as he laughed at the memory of you scolding him over a math test after he promised that he’d take you to your beloved City of Light. That was something that you’d do. He looked over to the naked girl laying next to him, her face twisted into a look of jealousy. His red eyes glazed over as he took another hit, bare chest rising as he inhaled and lowering as he exhaled. Eren was too high to regard anyone else's feelings but his own.

“Could you believe she said that? She-”

“You know, you’re not really supposed to talk about your ex with your current girl-”

Eren’s eyes widened as he absorbed the words that left the stranger’s mouth. It was times like this where shit hit him. What shit? All of it. Everything. He fixed his gaze on the ornate chandelier that hung above the bed, slowly extending his arm over his nightstand and lowering his hand to rub his joint out on the glossy wood. You. Flashes of you projecting in his mind, strokes of you painting his brain, everything was you. He so desperately needed you to stop consuming every ounce of him. He hated you. He could fuck everyone in Paris and in every single face he would see you. Every voice that called his name sounded just like you. And as he laid in that bed with a stranger, a fucking nobody to him, he saw you.

He rose from the bed slowly, the blanket pooling around his ankles as he shook, the groan of a woman that wasn’t you rung in his ears and invaded the deepest parts of him. He didn’t hate you, he hated himself. It was a matter of figuring out how long it would take for him to finally realize that. A hand grabbed at his wrist, tugging at it softly and beckoning him to return to the comfort of the sheets.

“Don’t touch me-”

“Eren, don’t be ridiculous… come here,” her hand pulled once more, her whines tugging at the fine thread Eren had tied them together with. Every person in his life except for one had a single thread, one to connect them, one to break easily if he didn’t see them fit to be in his life. To Eren, most people were disposable. So he used and replaced and used and replaced without any issue. That’s how he’s always done it. Eren thought things were replaceable. How naive was he to think that he could replace you?

“Get the fuck out, now.”

“Eren!”

“You- you’re not my current girl… you’re not my anything… now get the fuck out or I’m calling security,” he scoffed, pulling his briefs up and walking to the chair where her clothes were strewn. He collected her belongings and opened the door to his hotel room. She sat there with the covers raised above her breasts as she glared Eren down, curling a finger around the necklace he gave her and ripping it off her neck. Another one bites the dust, Eren thought, his grip on her clothes tightening as he chucked them into the hallway, resulting in a bewildered screech from his now unwanted guest.

“My ex wouldn’t do this shit, if you really cared to know more about her.”

Your knuckles strained on the rim of the toilet, your stomach contracting and your face flushed and sweaty. You looked ghastly, staring ahead at the toilet seat cover pulled up to meet the water tank. Your knees ached from how they pushed into the cool floor, the lines between the tiles forming shiny indentations into your soft skin. You puked again, you should be getting used to it by now. But the feeling of you gagging and the milky aftertaste that throwing up left in your mouth was everything but something you’d ever get used to. It was a reminder, a wake up call, an unpleasant one, that yes, you do in fact have a vessel growing inside of you. Everyday was another day waking up and debating with yourself whether or not you were worth anything at all, and if you decided you were worth nothing, who would care if you were gone. It was numbing, repetitive, and you were growing sick rather quickly, and not only physically but mentally. There was no motivation to care for yourself, no motivation to do something worthwhile, there was only time to drown in apprehension, and think about a future nine months from now. Your life was on hold, it was stopped dead in its tracks and now there’s a mountain in its path, you could either climb it or let yourself wither away at the bottom of it, until you were nothing but bones.

Cool fingertips graze the back of your neck and a damp towel drags across your clammy nape. Mikasa blows on the back of your neck, her breath cooling down your hot skin before she slides down to the floor next to you. She gives you a sympathetic smile, biting the inside of her lip and puckering her lips in thought of what she would say to you. It was the morning after, the dreaded morning after and not like that, you didn’t have any hot, steamy sex. Nothing to take the edge off, this was the morning after you looked at those two little lines.

Positive.

You were positive about a lot of things in your life right now. You were positive that you had absolutely no fucking clue where to go from here. You were positive that time was ever-dwindling and if you didn’t start making decisions soon you’d have even less of a clue what to do. The clues that you did have were just random pieces of a puzzle, the rest of the pieces fell out of the box and are now scattered around every nook and cranny of your brain, never to be seen again. How would you start to piece things back together? It’s all you’ve thought about since you saw those two little lines. And as you drowned in self-hatred and vomit, you were overwhelmed by a dread that could only bless a person so deep in shit. Fuck, fuck, fuck, this would happen to me. Fuck, fuck, fuck, what the fuck? Is there anything else I could possibly process right now? Fuck, fuck, fuck- Your thoughts gallivanted, they danced and jumped around and shook your head senseless.

“How are you feeling?” Mikasa asked. Somehow it was only right that the girl who sold you the pregnancy test that put your life on hold should sleepover in your cramped apartment. No one else knew, just you and Mikasa versus the two men who should know that you were fucking pregnant. You’ve known Mikasa for less than 24 hours and yet you trusted her enough for the two of you. The two of you. You and your baby. Yours and Eren’s baby. The thought of him being high somewhere in Europe while you sat on the floor of your bathroom with a part of him inside of you made you sick. Those last words he spoke to you were ones that held such malice, asking you to leave his life, and now you couldn’t be more a part of it.

“I feel like I should be dead, but I’m not, so now I’m just walking around a half-dead person with the biggest cross to bear,” you felt like a burden to the world, to yourself, and you felt so alone. You felt embarrassed. So fucking embarrassed that the father of your child was fucking someone else in a high rise in Paris. At least that’s where you thought he should be right now. A state of shock as deep as the one you were in didn’t allow for you to cry, there were no tears left in you, there was nothing that could be done that could make you hate yourself any less than you did right now. And he was in fucking Paris, fucking another girl. You heard it on the phone last night in your humiliating attempt to call him. His good luck charm, that’s what he called her. That’s what he called you too. He was supposed to take you to Paris, that was your City of Light, but you supposed the yellow lights of your bathroom would suffice for now.

“I hope Paris is treating you well Eren” you laughed, a hand dangling into the toilet seat as you gagged, your throat teasing another wave of bile to emit from your mouth, “I’m doing fucking incredible thank you for asking,” you reached for the pack of cigarettes your kept by your bathtub, only to have the cardboard box ripped out of your sweaty hands.

“Absolutely fucking not,” Mikasa spat, “I get it, your life is over, whatever…but don’t be fucking ridiculous,” she slid the pack into the back pocket of her jeans, scolding you for attempting to smoke while also taking another drag of the cigarette that hung out of her mouth.

“But you’re doing it.”

“Do I look fucking pregnant to you? Fine…” She pulled the cigarette out of her mouth, before putting it out on the tiles beneath her. Mikasa stared at you intently, drinking in every detail of your current state, the way beads of sweat dressed your forehead, your shirt clinging to your clammy back, the nailpolish on your fingernails poorly picked off, she knew she felt some sort of something in that moment as she looked at you. She didn’t know who this Eren guy was, just that he gave you a baby and ran, and is now in Paris doing god knows what. She pitied the guy, he sounded like a prick and completely undeserving of you, if she didn’t know any better she’d assume that he was missing you just as much as you were trying to deny that you missed him. Her eyes stayed trained on you as you clutched the toilet seat once more and began to dry heave into the toilet, all she could do was be there. When you asked her if she could stay the night after she witnessed the worst breakdown she’d seen in all of her 20 something years of living, she found it incredibly hard to say no.

“Are you gonna tell-”

“No.”

“You didn’t let me finish… are you gonna tell Hallmark?”

“Jean?”

“Yes-”

“Why?”

“You should.”

“Why?”

“He’s not your boyfriend?”

Boyfriend. You haven’t heard that word in a bit. You’ve never had a boyfriend that wasn’t Eren. If you really thought about it, you’ve never had an anything that wasn’t Eren. He was your first kiss, your first relationship, your first time. Jean was the second person you’ve had sex with in your life. You two were kind of just… awkwardly floating through things. He would come over, you would have sex, ocassionally you’d cry and he’d listen, then he’d make you breakfast in the morning and leave for work. Then you’d repeat steps 1 to 5 daily for the best results. Though today Jean’s absence didn’t go unnoticed by you, things almost felt… weird without the sound of him clanking gently through the kitchen this morning. You were missing him. Holy shit, you were missing him. You looked at Mikasa who was clearly reading your internal turmoil written all over your face.

“No… he’s not-”

“He’s not your boyfriend… but he makes you breakfast in the morning, lets you cry into his shoulder while he literally fucks you and… he wakes up at the crack of dawn to get you medicine for your upset tummy... that by the way, was actually you being pregnant with your ex’s kid who he knows nothing about… and you don’t think you should tell him?”

“You need to stop interrupting me-”

“No I don’t think I will… I’m living vicariously through you right now so let me,” she crossed her arms while she leaned back against the tub, smirking in the slightest when she realized she'd stumped you with her remark. She watched as your face dropped, realizing she was looking at a woman confused, a woman torn, a woman wanting to give and receive love, but unsure of who she should give it to and unconvinced that she was deserving of it all. And Mikasa realized just how delicate you were, a flower unwatered, a glass sat at the edge of a table, just waiting to fall. What you needed was someone to tell you what you needed, and though her heart wanted to tell you one thing, Mikasa’s mind fled to another. She knew what you needed.

“Tell me about him.”

“Eren?”

“No- fuck him… tell me about Jean.”

Jean paced back and forth across his apartment, racking his brain for all the ways he possibly screwed up with you. Jean knew that he was probably more in love with you than you were with him, that was something apparent to the both of you. Why he submitted himself to a half-assed relationship he didn’t know… he just craved you, ached for you, he was infatuated with every inch of you. Whatever you gave him, he took it, he absorbed it, basked in it, drank it all in. Whenever your storm decided to pass he stood in it, and let it twirl around him. Jean has flipped through and read every single one of your pages. He thought he had you figured out, keyword thought. As he stood in his room, clothes strewn everywhere, overwhelmed with the mess he made in his fit of anxiety, he was positive that he really didn’t know you at all.

But he knew you enough to know that you invited him over every night. You’ve done it every day for the past two weeks. If Jean were bold enough he’d think that you might’ve actually needed him.

Hey Jean :)

Hey!

Coming over?

Yeah

So why didn’t you invite him over last night? So now Jean sat at the end of his bed with his head in his hands, wondering what the fuck could’ve possibly went wrong. He sank his bottle of beer down his throat, running through every sentence, every action, every moment of the past 24 hours. How he spent the night, again. How he fucked you, your tears staining his skin as you hid your face in the crevice of his neck, crying about how sorry you were. How you wanted to give him everything, you really did, but “it's just so hard Jean.” He remembered the way your body racked with sobs in his embrace, begging him to keep going, babbling about how good he was making you feel. He replayed it all.

“J-Jean… fuck baby… please- don’t stop,” he remembered your soft whimpers, the way you felt around him, sucking him in as your legs drew his waist deeper into yours. The way your nails scratched the skin of his back. The way you sniffled in his ear or played with his necklace that dangled in your face, avoiding eye contact with him as he thrusted into you. Or was it the way your eyes squeezed shut, forcing salty tears to kiss your cheeks, as he wrapped a hand around your neck and you begged him to squeeze harder.

“M-more, Jean.”

“W-what? you won’t be able to-”

“Fucking more already…”

And he watched you smile, he watched a grin spread across your face as your eyes rolled back. Your hand laid on top of his and pressed in more… and more… and more… just how you wanted. Jean felt his heart stop, he felt the room spin, and he froze inside of you, his face twisting into an expression of confusion and terror. You looked like you needed help. You looked like you couldn’t breathe. You looked… at peace. It was only when you started to choke, when you started shaking, when your hand fell to your side, that Jean snapped out of his daze.

“Hey… hey!”

He struck your cheek with his palm.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey!”

He screamed.

“Stop this shit… hey!”

He hit you again and he began to cry. His body began to shake, he watched your facial features twitch and his voice broke over your limp figure. Jean’s eyes were puffy and red, the weight in his chest growing heavier and heavier. Were you dead? Dying? He rolled up a pillow and placed it under your head, lifting one of your wrists and checking for a pulse. It was there. You were still there.

“Fucking wake up!”

“Wake up.”

“Please.”

…

“I think I love you…”

It could’ve been those last words he whispered to your unconscious body… maybe you’d heard them. And maybe he scared you off. And maybe you never wanted to speak to him again. Maybe you didn’t want love, but god, was Jean prepared to love you. He wanted every single part of you. He wanted to drown in your storm, he was prepared to sink for you, to take all of your baggage and let it drag him down to the ocean floor. Because Jean swore he was in love with you, or falling in love with you. He guessed there was a huge difference between the two, whatever he was feeling was wrecking him from the inside out. He was taking hit, after hit, after hit, for you, because Jean was positive that he couldn’t waste anymore time. Not when he just watched you fucking fall unconscious before him.

Oh.

It could’ve been that you passed out in the middle of sex with him.

It could’ve been that.

“You… what?”

“Mikasa- look… I know how this sounds-”

“It sounds fucking insane is what it sounds like.”

“Mikasa… I just wanted him to choke me-”

“Okay, well you traumatized him is what you did babe.”

“Fuck… I ruined it… I always fucking ruin it!” You screamed, slamming the toilet shut and lifting yourself from the floor. You did, that was one of things you could always count on yourself to do, ruin shit! The other was getting pregnant. The cold kitchen tiles hit your feet as you reach into your fridge for a bottle of water, massaging your temples with your ring finger and thumb, and walking backwards until your back hits the counter. The last thing you saw before everything went black was him. You didn’t want it to be him. You wanted it to be anyone but him. His face, his eyes, his smile. You felt his hand caress your cheek, and his hair tickle your nose as he knelt over you. You smiled just before you fell unconscious because you saw him. And as everything went fuzzy he whispered to you, “Do you hear that baby? It’s our song…” like he always did.

And you fell.

Why the fuck did you have to see him?

“Hey, your phone's ringing…” Mikasa stood rigid in the entryway of your tiny kitchen, her arms crossed with one hand waving your phone in front of your face. The screen illuminated to display a name that's become familiar to you, one that brought you warmth, one that didn’t make you afraid. Mikasa noticed the way your tight expression relaxed when you read his name, she rolled her eyes.

“It’s Hallmark.”

“Yeah…”

“So… answer it.”

“Yeah…”

The phone shook in your hand, your thumb hovering over the screen, hesitant to answer but you accepted the call. You remained silent and out of breath as you held the device to your ear, the only thing Jean could make out was your sniffling and your deep breaths. He felt a pang in his chest, knowing how much you must’ve been struggling to recover from the last time he saw you. He wanted to hold you and start from the beginning. He wanted to forget everything that’s happened and be strangers, who build from the bottom up. He wanted to feel normal with you.

“You okay?”

“M’hm… I’m fine Jean.”

“Hey… can we start over? Or- go out tonight or something? Or-”

You pulled the phone from your ear and you sucked in a sharp breath, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. You just felt like crying, you felt guilty, you felt unworthy, you felt like a shit human being for still wanting to give Jean a chance. While holding the phone on your shoulder, hearing Jean’s little calls for you muffle in the fabric of your clothing, you broke down. You still wanted him to yourself, he felt like something good, and you wanted to not be a fuck-up for once and let yourself have something good. And you felt so goddamn selfish for it, you were trying so hard with him. You clasped a hand over your mouth to silence your sobs, and wiped at your eyes only to smear your tears across your hot cheeks. Everything felt numb, and the big, dark, monster that loomed over you was an old friend. The one that followed you with Eren, it was back and it was telling you that you didn’t deserve Jean either. All of the what ifs, what thens, and but hows flooded your mind. You couldn’t think straight, all you wanted to do was say yes but you couldn’t bring yourself to.

“Hello?”

“You still there?”

“Did I lose you?”

Mikasa watched you crumble with your phone clutched to your chest, coming to your rescue as she took your chin in her hand and shook your face back and forth, lightly tapping your cheek to bring you back to Earth, the sensation of her cold rings managing to wake you up a little.

“Talk to me… what does he want?”

“A-a date… h-he wants to-to-” She felt herself losing you again so she moved in closer, pinching your arm and wiping a tear from the apple of your cheek. She nudged your face to meet hers, searching for eye contact and holding it as she grilled you, knowing what you needed was someone to just help you through this.

“To what?”

“To start over.”

“That’s… good, no?”

“I wanna say yes but I-”

She was losing you.

“You what?”

“I don’t deserve him,” she wanted to agree with you, she wanted to shake you by the shoulders and say: Yes! You absolutely don’t deserve him! You don’t deserve either of these men! But she saw the way you exhaled, your chest lowering the minute you read Jean’s name on the phone screen, the way your face lit up when you spoke about him making breakfast for you every morning, the way it felt like he actually cared. And she couldn’t sabotage that, not for anything. Not with the way you were hurting, and surely not with the way you haven’t known peace since she met you.

“Shut up… don’t say that,” she took your face in her hands and made you look at her again as she drilled her next words into your skull, “You deserve someone good… so just say yes.”

“Why are you doing this?” Mikasa takes the phone from your hand and puts it up to your ear, mouthing the word ‘yes’ to you as you slowly nodded in agreement, the blue lights of the kitchen highlighting the grim looks on both of your faces.

“Yes… I’d love to, Jean… really.”

“You look nice… a lot better um- since last time.”

“Hm… why? I didn’t look pretty the last time you saw me Jean?”

“No! No I um, I didn’t mean it like that it’s just-”

“I know what you meant.”

You forced a laugh out, something to ease the tension, something to avoid the obvious elephant in the room, or should you say the diner. The diner you two sat in couldn’t even contain the warm-blooded mammal that stood in between the two of you. Jean looked his best, or at least he tried to. His hair was combed to the side, his face had been washed but his eyes were still red and puffy. He’d been crying relentlessly, and though he thought he did his best to conceal that fact, it was the first thing you noticed when you sat across from him at the table. You, on the other hand, couldn't have put less of an effort into your appearance, and though Jean noticed, he told you you looked incredible, because that's just what Jean does. But the bags under your eyes, the coffee stain just under your breast, and the lounge pants from your puking fit earlier, told him enough. That perhaps he really was pursuing a one-sided relationship, or maybe you just need someone, he wanted to be that someone.

“Here’s your coke, and one strawberry shake,” the waitress sets down your shake in front of you before tossing two straws on the table. Jean looked at you under the royal blue fluorescent lighting, while you looked at the street lights outside the window.

“You sure you don’t want anything?”

“I’m fine Jean, really,” you spoke under your breath, voice raspy as you tapped your straw against the table, hissing when you realized you cracked a hole into the plastic. You stared at the table while Jean stared at you, his gaze unwavering, begging for you to make some sense of the situation. He watched as you tightly sucked the malt up the thin straw, your hands picking at the polish on your fingernails.

“Jean just say it, whatever it is… let’s just get this over with.”

“Get this over with,” he muttered, laughing in disbelief at your choice of words. He scoffs as he squeezes the lemon wedge into his coke, running his fingers through his hair before he finally looks at you again, you were still looking at the table. He was sure that he was losing you, and he didn’t know why, because he didn’t know what he did wrong. His patience was wearing thin, but he didn’t want it to snap, not yet, he wanted to keep trying. And so he leaned in across the table, pulling your hands apart with his, being gentle as he began to wake up your physical being, knowing mentally you weren’t all there. You weren’t to be tampered with, you weren’t to be set ablaze, you needed to be coddled, and walked through the conversation slowly. He rubbed his thumbs over each of your knuckles, squeezing your palms lightly, before bringing a hand up to his lips and letting it linger there. You couldn’t understand why, why he was still there, why he had your hands in his, while you couldn’t even look at him without crying.

“Can you at least look at me? That’s all I ask,” he was so soft, he poured everything out to you with every word he spoke. He filled you up, made you feel warm, and you didn’t know what you could offer Jean in return. You still haven’t told him why you stopped calling, shit, you had to tell him you were pregnant. Your eyes wandered up his shirt and lingered on his lips before settling on his docile gaze that hasn’t left you since you sat down. That was when the first tear fell, you couldn’t stop fucking crying. You looked back down at your hands in his, he was holding you, even when you were the biggest piece of shit that you knew. Jean held you when he knew there was no way you loved him back half as much. Why did he have to be so good? It made you sick.

“Hey, what is it-”

“Jean…” the way you said his name broke him, as if it foreshadowed an unforgiving future, he inhaled sharply as he tried to swallow his sadness. You were shattered, shards of you piercing his skin and making him bleed out. All Jean could do was wonder why shattered glass sparkled the way it did, why in every fragment he could see his reflection, distorted and lost in the pieces of you.

“No, no… I want to try… so fucking bad with you. So please, let me try,” it was only you two, in the comfort of the booth, the plastic cushions rustling underneath you. It was just you two as the diner cleared out the last patrons of the night, the clock striking 1 am, the two of you too delirious and sad to have the conversation you really needed to have. Your drinks were still full, your hearts even emptier than when you walked in, and the sight the waitress walked up to as she began to tell you that they were closing was nothing short of depressing. She saw two lovers, well, two people desperately trying to create something that just couldn’t be there, “So… just shut up and let me try, okay?”

“I care about you Jean.”

“I know.”

“Jean it’s just-”

“I know-”

“No, you don’t… something happened-”

“Can I just take you home?” He asked, tired and confused, gaining none of the clarity he had hoped to from the conversation.

The walk back to your apartment felt safe. If there was one word that captured Jean’s essence it was “safe.” In the dark, under the stars, the brisk night air nipping your skin, you were safe. You could tell Jean how you felt, and you were safe. As long as you were with him, your emotions were protected, and you didn’t feel stupid. Your hand was wrapped in his and it didn’t feel weird, though your feelings for Jean weren’t mutual at the moment, you liked it. You liked feeling like you belonged to him, to someone. But somewhere that monster lingered, it’s hands gripping your shoulders, it’s breath down your neck, and you felt you weren’t good enough. He’s too good for you, it said, and it was right. This isn’t real, it said, and again it was right.

You were a person whose thoughts were written across their face, you thought with your eyes, nose, mouth, everything. Jean noticed that about you, the way your eyebrows pursed up when you were deep in thought. The way you bit your lips to ease your anxiety, or your nose flared when you took a deep breath. He noticed it all. Jean could tell that you were thinking about him, and for a second he felt warm, until he realized that there was much more that you were hiding, your unintentional transparency was admirable. Your train of thought was interrupted when Jean stopped walking and you looked up to see your apartment building towering above you. Just start over, you can do it, your brain murmurs, every piece of you working together to form your next words to Jean very, very carefully. Make them good, you thought, make him see you can try too, that you can be just as good as him. So naturally you panicked, and let your heart speak for you, your brain had clocked out a long time ago.

“Hey… I had a great time tonight,” Jean lied, but he still leaned down to kiss you, his eyes closing as he sighed into your lips, so fragile against his. He lied, and you knew he did it to make you feel better, but for some reason you thought that now would be a perfect time to finally tell the truth.

“Jean, I’m pregnant…”

Why did you have to say it now?

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I told you that. It’s none of your business, nothing to do with you at all actually! I’ll just- I’ll just, um… shit, I’m so sorry.”

The way Jean’s eyes widened in that moment, his mouth dropped, and his cheeks burned red, you watched him finally connect all of the dots right in front of you. The constant puking, the morning sickness, the mood swings, the tears, the anger, the everything. It all made sense to him, and he didn’t have a clue how to respond. He’d finally been hit by the eye of your storm, he knew it’d be bad, he didn’t know what to expect but this was far off than anything he imagined. Your body trembled as you tucked your hands under your armpits and your eyes drilled into his forehead as he stared at the ground, begging for a response.

“Jean fucking say something, please-”

“No it’s- it’s fine I- I just hope you’re okay. I just need to go… I’m sorry.”

You watched as Jean turned his back to you, you watched as his figure grew smaller and smaller as he walked down the street, and you felt your chest grow tight, a familiar feeling coming back to you. Why did this hurt so bad? Watching Jean walk away from you fucking hurt like hell, and you couldn’t stand it. The feeling of being truly alone, you understood it, this was it. Holy shit you were alone. You fell to your knees, the feeling you felt when Eren walked away from you coming back in its fullest force.

“Please don’t go…” you whispered to a dark street, your head in your hands and your tears staining the ends of your sweater. You were sure you were in hell, you kept pushing everything away. Sniffling in your snot and pawing the tears away from your eyes, you pulled out your phone to call someone who you hadn’t completely screwed over yet.

“Mikasa… I need you. I hurt him again. I think. I don’t really know. He didn’t really say much. Please I hurt everyone and I don’t wanna hurt you too-”

Her slick, black nails pulled the phone from her ear, sighing as your desperate voicemail came to end. Tapping her signal light with her pinky, she turned up her music and proceeded to turn back around after hearing the sound of your voice.

“What the hell did you do now? You fucking cry baby…”

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