ʚ⁺˖ ↠ Blue

Junior year rolls around and ohh has highschoolsweetheart!Eren changed.

You hear him before you see him—his voice cutting through the morning hum of students catching up after the summer break. It’s familiar, unmistakable, and yet, when you turn around, your breath catches in your throat.

Oh.

This was not the Eren Yeager you left behind in sophomore year.

Gone was the lanky boy who used to trip over his own feet during gym class, the one who wore those wrinkled short-sleeved button-downs with the same rotation of black skinny jeans and scuffed Converse. The Eren standing before you now was… different.

Taller. Broader. The summer had done something to him—his arms, his shoulders, his entire build had filled out in a way that made your brain short-circuit for a moment. His hair, once perpetually messy but in a boyish kind of way, had grown out just enough to curl at the ends. He still had that same wild energy, the same excitement in his eyes as he grinned at you, but there was something undeniably new about him. And he was pretty. Not that he wasn’t always attractive—he was, and you’d never denied it to yourself. But this? This was unfair.

“y/n!!” He reaches you in a few easy strides, completely oblivious to the way your brain is currently buffering. Before you can even react, he’s throwing an arm around your shoulders like it’s nothing, pulling you in for one of those classic Yeager side hugs, all warm and familiar and way too casual for the internal meltdown you’re having.

“Dude, I haven’t seen you all summer!” he exclaims, ruffling your hair in that annoying way he always does, like you’re still kids and he doesn’t look like he walked straight out of a teenage coming-of-age movie. “Why’d you ignore my texts? I was about to file a missing person report.”

You blink. He’s looking at you like he hasn’t changed at all, like he isn’t standing there all tall and golden, like he isn’t suddenly one of the hottest guys in school. And you? You’re still standing there like an idiot, trying to piece together a response.

“I— I was busy,” you manage to say, and it’s only half a lie. You had been busy, but you’d also needed space. Space to sort out the mess of feelings that being best friends with Eren Yeager had turned into over the years.

Eren, being Eren, doesn’t notice your internal crisis. “Pfft, busy. You mean ghosting me?” he teases, nudging your side. “I should’ve just shown up at your house.”

You scoff, regaining some of your composure as you roll your eyes. “Like my mom wouldn’t have loved that. She’s still convinced we’re secretly dating.”

Eren barks out a laugh, shaking his head as he tosses it back. “She’s been saying that since middle school. At this point, I think she’s just manifesting.”

Your heart lurches at his words, but you shove the feeling down. This is Eren. Your best friend. The same guy who used to perform Justin Bieber songs in the middle of the quad for you. He might look different now, but he’s still him. Even if the way people are starting to stare at him—at you two together—is making your stomach twist in a way you’re not quite ready to admit.

The first day of junior year had barely started, and yet, you already felt like you were walking through some alternate reality. Eren was still draped over you, arm slung around your shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world, completely oblivious to the way people were looking. Correction: the way people were looking at him. It was impossible to ignore. You could hear the whispers as you walked down the hallway together, the way heads turned when he passed.

You roll your eyes, scoffing as you nudge him off you, but the warmth of his arm lingers on your shoulder. “Yeah, well, she’s gonna have to give it up eventually. We’re not dating.” You don't know if you say it to convince yourself that there is no possibility it would become reality.

Eren grins like a bad little kid, his eyes glinting in that Eren Yeager way that usually spells trouble. “Not yet.”

Your heart does this annoying little skip in your chest, but you quickly shove him with more force this time, scowling to hide the smile that forms against your own will. “Shut up.”

He just laughs, dodging your next attack like the menace he is. “Damn, I missed you,” he grins, and there’s something about the way he says it—casual, easy, genuine—that makes your stomach flip. You hate how easily he gets under your skin. How he annoyingly burrowed his way into your heart.

Before you can retaliate, a group of girls passes by, whispering not-so-subtly behind their hands. You recognize some of them—volleyball girls, cheerleaders, a couple of girls from your English class—but they barely spare you a glance. Their eyes are all locked on Eren. And he knows it. The worst part? You know he knows it, too.

One of them, a tall blonde with perfectly curled hair, flashes him a bright smile. “Hey, Eren,” she says, twirling a strand around her finger like it's a damn high school movie. You're usually a girl's girl, but right now you were shooting daggers at her.

Eren, to his credit, doesn’t look phased. He just tilts his head, grinning in that annoying way that makes your blood boil. “Hey.”

That’s it. Hey. And yet, the girl giggles, and you want to die. It’s like some cruel joke. Last year, nobody would have given him a second glance. He was your Eren—goofy, loud, a little dorky, always getting himself into trouble. Now? Now he’s on the varsity football team, his arms are looking a little too good in that fitted black tee, and suddenly he’s the guy every girl is looking at.

You hate it. You don’t even know why you hate it, but you do.

Eren barely acknowledges them, turning back to you like nothing happened. “Anyway,” he says, slinging an arm over your shoulder again like it’s nothing, like he doesn’t know what he’s doing to you. “What class you got first?”

You shake yourself out of whatever weird haze you’re in, clearing your throat. “Uh—math. Mr. Moblit.” Your eyes scan over the salmon pink piece of paper that held your class schedule, and Eren leans in just a little too close to read it.

He groans, dramatically throwing his head back. “Ugh, lucky. I got stuck with Mr. Shadis.”

You snicker. “That sucks.” You can't help but smile when you see the same characteristics from Eren. Even if he did look fine ass hell, oh so different from last year, he still acted the same.

“I know, right?” He sighs, dropping his head onto your shoulder in fake despair. “If I fail, just know it’s because Shadis has it out for me.”

“You fail because you never pay attention,” you remind him. You've had plenty of classes with Eren, with him always sitting next to you. He would be doing anything but pay attention.

“Okay, but, like, who even uses calculus in real life?” Eren squints his eyes, and you can feel every little movement he does as his head rests on your shoulder.

You roll your eyes, shoving him off you for the second time, ignoring the way your skin tingles where his head was resting. “Come on, dummy. We’re gonna be late.”

He groans again but follows after you anyway, falling into step beside you like always. Like nothing’s changed. Except everything has changed. And you’re starting to realize you have no idea what to do about it.

Lunch rolls around, and you find yourself dragging your feet through the cafeteria, still processing the weirdness of the morning. You’re not sure what to make of Eren’s sudden glow-up—or the way your chest does this annoying little flutter every time he looks at you like nothing’s changed. All the effort of trying to get over your little crush on Eren was wiped clean, the boy really had a grip on your heart now.

You end up at your usual lunch table, the one you share with Ymir and Historia, Sasha too but she was going to the culinary club's welcome party because duh, Sasha isn't going to miss out on extra free food. The two of them are already sitting, bickering about something stupid, but the moment you drop into the seat next to them, it’s like they both sense something’s off. They can feel the energy radiating off of you, the look on your face when something is bothering you. Ymir eyes you with a raised brow, and Historia’s gaze flickers to the door, where Eren is walking in, looking effortlessly cool, chatting with Armin as they make their way toward your table.

“Oh, boy,” Ymir mutters under her breath. “You’ve got that look on your face. What’s going on with you and Yeager?”

"How do you know it's something between me and Eren?" You raise an eyebrow, a little frustrated that she knows you so well.

"It's always about Yeager," Ymir and Historia say in unison, giving you that look of obviousness.

You roll your eyes. “It’s nothing. We’re fine.” A deep sigh still escapes your lips as you open the bottle of apple juice your lunch came with.

“Mmmhmm,” Ymir hums skeptically, but she doesn’t push it. Historia, on the other hand, flashes you a concerned smile. Her brows perch up with sympathy.

“You sure? You’ve been acting… different.” Her voice is soft, almost too knowing, but it’s enough to make you squirm.

“Seriously, I’m fine,” you say, the words coming out a little sharper than you intended. But it’s not like they’re wrong. You have been acting weird. And it’s all because of Eren, damn that boy.

Your thoughts are cut short as Eren plops down next to you, his familiar arm slinging around your shoulders like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Yo! What’s up, guys?” His voice is as loud and cheerful as always, but there’s something in the way his eyes linger on you that makes your stomach twist. Ymir raises an eyebrow, but Eren doesn’t seem to notice. Historia’s gaze flits between you two, but she stays quiet, focusing on her lunch.

“Hey, y/n,” Eren says, his voice a little softer now, and you feel your heart race. “You doing okay?” Your eyes flicker to him, seeing his pretty face in a concerned look as he stares at the side of your internally panicked face. It's enough to make your insides ache, enough to make your heart beat a thousand times faster.

“Yeah, just… tired,” you reply, shrugging it off like it’s no big deal, even though your mind is anything but calm.

“You sure?” His expression softens, and for a second, it’s like the world fades out, leaving just the two of you. His hand, warm against your back, feels like it’s burning right through your shirt. “You don’t look fine.”

You can’t help the heat that rises to your cheeks. “I’m fine, really.”

Eren nods but doesn’t look convinced. He leans in a little, lowering his voice so only you can hear, “If you say so. Just know, if you need anything, I’ve got your back, yeah?”

Your heart stutters at his words, the genuine concern in his voice tugging at something deep inside you. But the moment is interrupted by the loud cackle of a voice from across the table.

“You hear that, Historia?” Ymir teases, her grin far too knowing. “Eren’s looking out for y/n. Makes me wonder if you’ve got competition, huh?”

Eren laughs, unbothered, and flicks Ymir’s ear. “Shut up, Ymir. You know it’s just—” He looks at you for a moment, his grin faltering, then shrugs it off. “Just what we do. We're best friends. Nothing weird.”

You feel your heart drop a little, but you brush it off. “Right. Nothing weird.” It's almost as if you're trying to reassure yourself, which, let's be honest, you really were trying to. Trying to convince yourself that it's all in your head.

But the way Eren’s smiling at you, like he knows more than he’s letting on, makes your pulse race. His eyes linger a little too long, and you wonder if he’s trying to figure something out, too. The tension is palpable, thick enough that even Ymir and Historia seem to sense it. They share a glance, but neither of them says anything. Instead, Ymir kicks you under the table—hard enough to make you wince.

“Aye, stop thinking too much,” Ymir's expression says, clearly reading you like an open book. She doesn't even have to say anything for you to understand what she's trying to say “Just enjoy the moment. Eren’s not going anywhere.” And for the first time today, you almost believe her.

The conversation drifts as you try to settle back into the easy rhythm of lunch. But the moment is short lived. The clatter of trays and the loud chatter of students fills the air, and before you can catch your breath, a new wave of noise arrives.

Reiner, with his usual cocky grin, leads the pack of jocks toward your table. His broad frame and confident swagger draw attention the way Eren’s used to, but this time, you can’t help but notice the way the girls at nearby tables watch Reiner too. He’s got that easy, good-looking charm, but there's something about Eren that just hits different, even now, when the jocks are slowly taking over the cafeteria’s social pecking order.

“Yo, Yeager!” Reiner calls, leaning over the back of your seat, making you jump in surprise. “You ditching us for the weirdos?”

Eren’s arm drops from your shoulders as he shifts his attention to Reiner, but not without a small, teasing grin. “If you’re calling them weirdos, I think you’ve got the wrong table, man.”

A few of the other guys laugh, though it’s more because it’s Eren, and he’s got that goofy, unpredictable humor. The girls now huddled around your table all stand up a little straighter, their eyes darting toward Eren, and you feel a sudden, sharp pang of frustration deep in your chest. You try to ignore it, to keep the casual mask in place, but something’s different now. The subtle tension between Eren and you—it’s like it’s palpable to everyone but the two of you.

Reiner, not one to let Eren off easy, takes a seat beside him, shoving his shoulder lightly. “Come on, man, we’ve got practice in an hour. I’m dragging you back, and we’re gonna talk strategy, not... whatever this is.” His eyes flick over to you, and you swear you catch a hint of amusement in them. It’s like he knows something you don’t.

Eren glances back at you, his expression a little unsure, like he’s debating whether to stay or go. For a brief moment, his eyes soften, but then, in typical Eren fashion, he shrugs and grins, looking more at ease than you feel. A part of you hopes he'll choose to stay, just to reassure you that things really didn't change.

“Alright, alright, I’ll go. But only because you’re begging.” He stands up, brushing his hands off as if he’s wiping away the conversation, like he doesn’t even see the way your heart drops when he stands a little too far away from you now.

You open your mouth to say something—anything—but the words get stuck. All that leaves your mouth is a disappointed huff of a breath. Eren turns back toward you, like he’s about to say something, but then his attention shifts to the group of jocks calling him over.

“Later, y/n!” he calls, throwing a casual wave over his shoulder. “Don’t miss me too much, alright?”

You’re left frozen, your hand still halfway raised as you force a smile, though it feels more like a grimace. Reiner slaps Eren’s back in that overly friendly way he always does, and Eren just laughs, falling into step with him as they make their way to the other side of the cafeteria. You hate the way your stomach twists watching them go. It’s like they’re speaking an entirely different language—one you’re not part of. The table around you is quieter now. Historia looks at you, her expression sympathetic, but Ymir—well, she looks way too smug for your liking.

“Wanna talk about it?” Ymir teases, but it’s not unkind.

You sigh, dropping your gaze to your lunch. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Uh huh,” Ymir replies, that knowing smirk still lingering on her lips. “I’m pretty sure Eren’s just trying to keep his cool in front of the jocks. You’ve seen the way he’s been around you lately. He likes you, trust me.”

You frown, not sure how to respond. Eren might be acting like nothing’s changed, but everything has changed. And the worst part? You’re not sure if he even knows it yet.

“Don’t worry,” Historia sympathetically adds, her tone reassuring. “He’ll figure it out eventually. You’ll figure it out.”

You give a noncommittal hum, not sure if you're ready to figure anything out just yet. But as you glance across the room, watching Eren laugh with Reiner and the others, you can't shake the feeling that something’s coming. Something big. Some type of shift. You spend the rest of lunch pushing food around your tray, pretending not to notice the way your eyes keep flickering toward the jock table.

Eren looks good—annoyingly, frustratingly good. He’s leaned back in his chair, laughing at something Jean said, that lazy grin plastered across his face like he doesn’t have a single care in the world. His long fingers drum absentmindedly against the table, and when one of the cheerleaders—Annie’s friend Hitch, you think—leans in to whisper something to him, your stomach twists.

You snap your gaze away, cursing yourself. Why are you even watching? You’re not his girlfriend. You’re his best friend. And best friends do not sit there like jealous exes just because other girls are realizing what you’ve known for years—Eren Yeager is stupidly, effortlessly attractive.

“You’re making it too obvious.” Ymir’s voice is flat and teasing. You don’t even have to look at her to know she’s smirking.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mutter, shoving a bite of food into your mouth just to have something to do.

“Mm. Right. And I’m straight.” Ymir leans on her fist, watching you with open amusement. Historia sighs, nudging her in the ribs before giving you a softer look.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Historia offers, “he hasn’t actually looked at her once.”

Your eyes dart up before you can stop yourself, and— Historia’s right. Eren’s nodding along to something Reiner’s saying, but his gaze keeps drifting. He’s scanning the cafeteria, like he’s looking for something. Or someone. And then, just like that, his eyes find yours. For a second, time stutters.

Eren’s lips part slightly, like he wasn’t expecting to catch you staring, and for a fleeting moment, something flickers across his face. Something unsure. Something vulnerable. But then Reiner nudges him—too hard, probably on purpose—and Eren snaps out of it, laughing as he shoves him back. And just like that, the moment is gone. You exhale sharply, turning away. You hate this. The push and pull, the way he makes you feel like maybe—just maybe—there’s something more, only to act like nothing’s changed the next second. Maybe nothing has changed. Maybe the only thing different is you.

“You should talk to him,” Historia says gently.

You scoff, picking at your food. “And say what? ‘Hey, Eren, just wondering if you’ve realized you’re hot yet and if that means you’re too good for me now?’”

Ymir cackles, hands drumming on the lunch table as she childishly kicks her feet. “I mean, I would pay to see you say that to his face.”

You groan, rubbing your temples. “This is a nightmare. It's never been this complicated with Eren before.” It had always been complicated, but not this complicated.

Historia opens her mouth to say something else, but before she can, the cafeteria doors swing open, and the familiar screech of a whistle pierces the air.

“Football team! Practice starts now!” Coach Smith stands at the entrance, arms crossed, his stoic expression already promising death if they don’t get to moving. The jock table groans, but they all start standing, grabbing their trays. Eren stretches as he gets up, his shirt riding up just enough to show a hint of skin, and you swear you hear one of the volleyball girls sigh dreamily. You roll your eyes so hard it almost hurts.

Eren turns, catching your expression, and grins. “What’s that look for?”

You school your face into something neutral, a deadpan almost. “Nothing. Just wondering if you’ll survive an entire practice without getting distracted by your fan club.”

He blinks, then laughs—like really laughs, loud and unfiltered. “Pfft, fan club? Yeah, right.”

You open your mouth, ready to argue, but then you stop. Because—he’s serious. He really doesn’t see it. All the stares, the whispers, the way girls—entire groups of them—are looking at him like he hung the damn moon. He doesn’t even notice. Eren’s still just Eren, in his own head. You should be relieved. Maybe you are. But mostly, you just feel confused and overwhelmed.

“Well, try not to get tackled into the ground,” you say instead, grabbing your drink to take a sip.

Eren grins, nudging you lightly as he starts to walk away. “Aw, you worried about me, y/n?”

The drink nearly chokes you, the cooing tone of his voice making you feel uneasy and bashful. “Not even a little.”

He just laughs, throwing one last lazy wave over his shoulder before jogging after Reiner and the rest of the team. And you? You watch him go, stomach twisting, hating the way his absence already feels like a weight pressing down on your chest.

The late afternoon sun hangs low in the sky, casting long shadows over the football field. The team is mid-drill, running play after play under the sharp bark of Coach Smith. Eren is breathless, sweat slicking his skin, but his mind isn’t really in it. Not fully, anyway.

Because you’re sitting on the bleachers, and you’re laughing at something Historia just said, and it’s distracting as hell. His gaze keeps flickering toward the bleachers, toward where you’re sitting with your friends. You look relaxed, leaning back with one knee pulled up. He can’t hear a word from this far, but that doesn’t matter. He knows your expressions by heart—every little eye roll, every laugh, the way your lips purse when you’re pretending to be annoyed but aren’t really.

He’s staring again.

“Yeager! Focus!” The loud shout of Coach Smith jolts him out of his trance, but it’s too late. Whooosh.

Eren barely ducks in time to avoid a pass he wasn’t paying attention to. Jean groans in exasperation, throwing his head back and smacking his hands on his pads. “Dude, wake up! What the hell are you even looking at?”

Eren shakes his head quickly, clearing his throat. “Nothing,” he lies, trying to mask the way his heartbeat kicks up. Grabbing the football that he failed to catch, slackly tossing it back to Jean.

Jean, of course, is already following his gaze, his eyes landing exactly where Eren doesn’t want them to. The smirk that stretches across Jean’s face is almost unbearable. “Right. Nothing.”

Eren scowls, shoving Jean as he jogs past. But before he can settle back into formation, something shifts near the bleachers—movement that immediately snags his attention. Someone’s walking up to you. Eren’s brows furrow as he squints. The guy is tall, lanky, his bright red hair messy in a way that seems purposefully unkempt. He’s wearing a ripped band tee, chains dangling from his jeans, and—oh, great. Floch Forster.

The guy moves with a swagger that makes Eren’s teeth grind. Ripped jeans, faded punk band tee, chains dangling from his belt loops—he looks like he just crawled out of a basement concert. Floch has always been a talker, a surprisingly smooth one at that, and judging by the way he leans in, he’s in full flirt mode. Eren watches, growing tenser by the second. He expects you to roll your eyes, wave him off, something. But you don’t. You tilt your head slightly, a small, amused smile tugging at your lips. Why aren’t you moving away? Eren’s jaw tightens. Then Floch takes another step closer. That’s it.

Eren doesn’t even realize his feet are moving until Jean grabs his jersey. “Dude, where are you—?”

“I’ll be back,” Eren mutters, ripping himself free and jogging toward the bleachers before anyone can stop him.

You hadn’t expected company, least of all from Floch Forster. Historia had just nudged you, muttering something about incoming trouble, and before you could even react, there he was—Florian “Floch” Forster, king of misplaced confidence, leaning against the railing like he had all the time in the world. You don’t hate Floch. You don’t like him, either, but he’s harmless enough. He’s always been a little too flirty, but in a way that’s more for show than anything else.

“Well, well,” he drawls, his signature gaudy smirk already in place. “If it isn’t the prettiest girl in the bleachers.”

You exhale through your nose. “Oh, god.”

Floch grins, clearly unfazed. “What? That’s a genuine compliment. You’re breaking my heart here, y/n.” His tone is cocky, almost annoying.

You tilt your head, unimpressed. “Do you even have one?” A grin forms on your face, it felt kind of good to banter and maybe knock him down a peg.

“Oof.” He presses a dramatic hand to his chest, cheesing way too hard. “Harsh. But hey, I like a challenge. Y’know, if you ever wanna find out, I could show you—”

“You couldn’t,” you cut in. It's a little abrupt, shocks Historia a bit at the snappiness, but it just comes out.

Floch laughs, plopping down beside you with zero hesitation. “Alright, alright, I’ll cut to the chase.” He leans back on his palms, eyes flicking toward the football field before settling back on you. “How long are you gonna keep pretending your best friend isn’t in love with you?”

You choke on your drink, sitting up straighter now as you sputter a cough. “Excuse me?”

Floch just raises a brow, looking entirely too smug for your liking. “Come on, y/n. The guy stares at you like you hung the goddamn stars. It’s actually painful to watch.”

Your face burns, but you force a scoff. “You’re delusional.”

Floch shakes his head, watching your reaction closely. “Am I? He’s been in love with you since, what, forever? But the dude’s an idiot, so I get why you’re waiting. He’s probably still convinced you’re out of his league.” Out of his league?

Something about that statement makes your stomach clench. That’s not true. Right? Floch doesn’t miss the flicker of doubt in your eyes. His smirk stretches a little wider, sensing an opening.

“But y’know,” he continues, shifting closer, voice dropping just slightly, “if he’s not gonna make a move, maybe you should let someone else have a shot.”

Your lips part, caught off guard. “What?”

Floch leans in just enough for the air between you to thin, to start smelling like his axe cologne. “I’m just saying,” he murmurs. “Maybe you should let someone who actually sees you take you out sometime.”

Oh, you think, heartbeat stuttering slightly. Although your mind was still half focused on what he said about Eren. Before you can formulate a response, something shifts in the air—sharp and tense.

“Oh, hell no.”

The voice is unmistakable. Your head snaps up just in time to see Eren—sweaty, breathless, and looking pissed—hopping the railing in one effortless motion.

Floch doesn’t move. He just smirks. “Well, speak of the devil.”

Eren doesn’t respond, his fists clenching at his sides. His green eyes—usually filled with something bright, warm—are now dark with irritation.

“What the hell are you doing here, Forster?”

Floch tilts his head, all mock innocence. “Relax, man. Just having a friendly conversation.”

Eren’s jaw ticks. “Yeah? Well, have it somewhere else.”

The tension is thick, electric with an almost uncomfortable tension. You glance between them, unsure if you should intervene. Maybe you should, but all you can do is look up at Eren. The way some strands of hair stick to his forehead, the way his thick brows are furrowed. The way he almost seems territorial over you.

Floch exhales, shaking his head like this is all some kind of joke. He shifts his gaze back to you. “Really? You’re just gonna let him chase me off like that?”

You hesitate. And that hesitation is all Floch needs.

He incredulously chuckles under his breath, standing up and dusting himself off. “Man,” he mutters, shaking his head. “You really don’t see it, do you?”

Eren’s jaw tightens. “See what?”

Floch flashes one last cynical smirk before turning to leave. “Nothing, man. Nothing at all.”

And just like that, he’s gone, his chains jingling as he strolls down the metal steps like he hadn’t just stirred up a storm. The silence he leaves behind is suffocating.

You exhale, crossing your arms as you finally shake out of your daze. “That was so unnecessary.”

Eren scoffs, finally looking at you. “He’s a dick.”

You narrow your eyes. “He wasn’t doing anything wrong.”

Eren looks at you then, really looks at you, and for a split second, something unreadable flickers behind his eyes. His lips part like he wants to say something—something important—but instead, he just shakes his head.

“Forget it.”

And with that, he turns, hopping back over the railing and jogging toward the field without a second glance. But you know better. It wasn’t nothing. And now, you don’t know what to do about it.

Eren doesn’t look at you for the rest of practice. Not once. It’s infuriating. From your spot on the bleachers, you watch as he throws himself back into drills like he’s got something to prove, pushing harder than necessary, muscles taut with tension. His jaw is tight, brows furrowed in concentration—but you know him. You know when he’s actually focused and when he’s just using the game as an excuse to run from something. You also know what—or who—he’s running from.

You exhale, frustrated. It’s not like you wanted Floch’s attention. Hell, you would’ve been fine never speaking to him again. But Eren had stormed over like he owned you, like it was his problem to handle, and now he won’t even look at you? It was all too confusing.

Eren misses a catch from Bertholdt, taking off his helmet and throwing it to the ground with an audible 'fuck!' that echoed around the football field. Running a hand through his sweat drenched hair, the frustration in his face is super evident.

Historia, sitting beside you, hums in amusement. “That was deliciously messy,” she murmurs, sipping from her water bottle. "The whole situation. Possessive Eren, the little bicker, everything."

“It’s annoying.” A scoff leaves your lips and you can't help but stare at Eren with a confused and irritated expression.

“Oh, it’s both.”

Ymir snickers, her sunglass covered eyes looking at the way Eren is still pouting. “Dumbass is jealous.”

You roll your eyes. “He is not jealous.”

Ymir glances at you with an expression so patronizing you want to shove her off the bleachers. “Right. He just lost his entire mind over Floch flirting with you for no reason at all.”

You open your mouth to argue, but nothing comes out. Because—yeah. The thing is, Eren isn’t the jealous type. He’s never been possessive over you before, never given you any reason to think he cared about who talked to you. He’s always been the annoying one—flirting playfully, ruffling your hair, teasing you about your nonexistent love life like it was all some big joke. And maybe it was. Maybe he was just messing around, just playing into the dynamic you’d always had. But today felt different. And that scared you more than anything.

You wait for him by the locker room. It’s a stupid idea. You know it’s a stupid idea. You could’ve gone home, could’ve ignored the way your pulse has been pounding ever since practice ended, ever since he stormed off like you did something wrong. You could’ve pretended it didn’t bother you—the way he looked right through you for the rest of practice, the way his body went stiff when you so much as moved in his direction, the way he threw himself into drills like he was trying to hit something that wasn’t there.

But you’re still here. Waiting.

The late afternoon sun is sinking lower in the sky, drenching everything in a honey-gold glow. It should be pretty, peaceful even, but the knot in your stomach makes it hard to appreciate. The air is thick, humid from the lingering heat of the day, and your skin feels sticky, uncomfortable. The locker room door swings open in intervals, groups of players filtering out, laughing, talking about parties, weekend plans, things you can’t bring yourself to care about.

Then—finally—he steps out. Eren.

You feel his presence before you even see him, your body going still, your heart stuttering in your chest. He looks good. Unfairly so. His hoodie is loose over his shoulders, damp hair falling into his face, a few strands curling at the ends. His skin is still flushed from exertion, the glow of the sunset catching on the sharp lines of his jaw, the hollow of his throat where the collar of his hoodie has slipped down just enough. He’s effortlessly attractive, in a way that makes your stomach twist with something you don’t want to name.

He notices you immediately. Stops in his tracks. Something flickers across his face—something unreadable—but then it’s gone, replaced by a carefully neutral expression, like he wasn’t just throwing a damn fit over you and Floch thirty minutes ago.

Your arms cross tightly over your chest. “You ran off.”

Eren exhales, looking past you, jaw tight and thick brows furrowed. “Didn’t run.” His voice is flat, clipped. You know him too well to miss the way his fingers twitch at his sides, the way his shoulders are tense even though he’s trying to look casual.

You take a step closer. “Eren.”

His jaw ticks. “What?”

That’s all he says—short, sharp, like a blade cutting through the space between you. It makes irritation flare in your chest, a spark igniting beneath your ribs. He’s the one who lost his mind over nothing. He’s the one who got weird. And now he’s acting like you’re the problem?

You grit your teeth. “Are you seriously mad at me?”

His head snaps toward you so fast it nearly startles you. “Mad at you?” He lets out a dry, humorless scoff, running a hand through his hair, making the damp strands even messier. “I’m not—Jesus, y/n. I just don’t get why you were even entertaining that guy.”

Your stomach drops. The word entertaining rubs you the wrong way, makes your irritation flare into something hotter. “I wasn’t entertaining anyone,” you snap, voice tight.

Eren exhales sharply, shifting his weight like he’s trying to hold something back. “He was all over you.” yeah, he was dragging it.

Your lips press together. “And?”

His eyes darken, flickering with something upsetting, something raw. “And I didn’t like it.”

It’s barely above a whisper, but it slams into you like a physical force. Your breath catches. The words linger between you, heavy, charged with something neither of you can name but both of you can feel. Your heartbeat is erratic, hammering against your ribs. You’re staring at him, searching his face for answers, for clarity, for anything—but he’s already looking away, already forcing his expression into something unreadable, like he didn’t just say something that made your entire world shift on its axis.

He knows. You know he knows. And that terrifies both of you.

He inhales sharply, like he’s about to say something else—but then he stops himself. A muscle in his jaw twitches before he shakes his head. “Forget it.”

“No,” you say quickly, stepping forward, voice urgent, desperate. “Eren—”

But he’s already turning away. Already walking. And this time, you don’t try to stop him. Because the truth is—You’re just as scared as he is.

You don’t know how long you stand there, staring at the space he left behind. Minutes? Seconds? It feels longer than it probably is, but the weight in your chest doesn’t go away. You don’t get it. You’ve had arguments with Eren before. Dumb ones. Stupid ones. He’s annoyed you a million times, and you’ve annoyed him right back. But this? This hurts in a way you don’t know how to process.

Because it felt real. Because it felt like something cracked open between you—something undeniable. And because deep down, in the part of you that you’ve tried to shove away for years, you know the truth: You don’t want him to be okay with other guys flirting with you. You don’t want him to treat you the same way he treats every other girl. And if today proved anything—if the way he reacted, the way he looked at you was any sign—maybe he doesn’t want that either. Maybe he never did.

Eren’s hands are clenched into fists as he walks, barely registering the conversations around him. His heart is still pounding. His body is itching with leftover adrenaline, but it has nothing to do with practice. What the hell was that? His own words play back in his mind, over and over. "I didn’t like it." What the fuck was he thinking, saying that out loud?

He’s been reckless before. He’s flirted with you for years—always playfully, always in a way that he could pass off as a joke. But that? That wasn’t a joke. That was raw, unfiltered, stupid.

Because he can’t have you. Because you don’t see him that way. Because even if you did, he’s not good enough for you. You’re y/n. You’re his best friend. The girl who somehow makes everything in his life feel a little easier, a little lighter, just by being around. The girl he’s been in love with since he was old enough to understand what love is.

And you deserve someone better. Someone who isn’t just figuring out his place in the world. Someone who isn’t Eren Yeager—impulsive, reckless, always getting himself into trouble.

But even knowing that—Even knowing he should stop—He still turns around, just for a second, just to look back. Just to see if you’re still standing there. And when he sees you—arms crossed, head slightly bowed, looking like you’re caught up in your own spiral—It fucking kills him. Because if he wasn’t such a coward, he’d tell you the truth. That he doesn’t just like you. He’s yours. He’s always been yours. But it’s too late now. And it’s all his fault.

"I Found You" - EREN/READER - REVERSE ISEKAI (part 8 - FINALE)

reverse isekai, time travel, memory loss

post canon

reader/eren

word count: 3912

<- PART 7

*note: This part includes the song "Until I Found You" by Stephen Sanchez (spotify / youtube) and I very strongly recommend listening to it once that scene starts. You'll be able to tell when to play it.

And now, for the end:

*****

You thought that with Mikasa here, Eren would finally start to act more normal.

You thought wrong.

In fact, it almost feels like he’s avoiding you more now. 

You can barely catch sight of him in the crowded restaurant, as the hours pass and everyone gets a little more drunk. On the occasions that you do see him, he’s always tucked away in a corner talking to Armin. Or Mikasa. Or Jean or Sasha or Connie.

The fact that it’s them isn’t weird, they’re his best friends, but what is weird is that you’re not included. What is weird is the way the conversation comes to a sudden stop when you approach. What is weird is the sudden tension that washes over Eren as his back straightens, he takes in a breath, and his eyes immediately go to anywhere but you. 

It’s. Weird.

And it hurts so much that you constantly have to remind yourself not to cry.

You’re trying to piece together what happened. What you did wrong. But you genuinely have no idea! Last night had been date night. You’d gone out to see a movie that Eren had been dying to see and then you came home. You and Eren made dinner together before you fell into bed and passed out next to each other, feeling like your life was perfect.

But then you’d woken up this morning and things had been far from perfect. 

Things had been the exact opposite of perfe-

“You look like shit,” Hitch says as she leans against the bar next to you.

“Lovely to see you too, Hitch.”

Hitch is more of a friend-in-law than anything. A member of Eren’s social circle that you were sucked into when the two of you started dating. The only times you've really been “close” to her have been during drunken meet-ups in bar bathrooms when you've both sobbed about how pretty the other is while vowing to be best friends for life.

Normal girl stuff.

“Trouble in paradise~?” She teases as you roll your eyes and take another sip of your drink.

“No.” You immediately answer (despite the obvious lie).

Hitch laughs. “Alright, so the way you keep glaring at your boyfriend is some new form of foreplay then?”

Your cheeks burn. “Hitch that’s- you’re so gross!”

Hitch shrugs. “I’m just calling it like it is.” 

Her eyes follow yours and she looks over at Eren. He’s on the other side of the restaurant with Armin, speaking in hushed tones with a serious expression on his face. 

“I’m worried he’s about to break up with me.” The words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them.

In a shocking turn of events, Hitch doesn’t tease you about it. “Really?” She asks seriously.

“...yeah…”

“What makes you say that?”

“He’s just-” you sigh, “he was so weird this morning and he’s been avoiding me all day. When he looks at me it’s completely different from the way he normally looks at me. It’s like he’s- like he’s mad or something. I don’t get it.”

Hitch shrugs. “Did you guys get into a fight?”

“No.”

“Then he’s probably just being a weird guy about something. I bet you said something stupid and now he’s all in his head. Men are like that, you know. Stupidly emotional over the tiniest things.”

The world really must be fucked, because what Hitch is saying almost… makes sense.

“At the risk of regretting this,” you start before you tear your eyes away from Eren and look over at her, “what should I do?”

Hitch snickers and smiles that stupid Cheshire cat smile that you hate. “If it were me,” which you’re glad it’s not, given Hitch’s awful track record, “I’d give him a nice little reminder of what he’d be missing if he left.”

“Like what?”

“Quickie in the bathroom. I dunno.”

Your cheeks burn for the second time. “Hitch it’s the opening night of Niccolo’s restaurant!!”

She laughs loudly. “And what a perfect way to christen the handicap stall!”

“I can’t believe you…” You mumble as you stare back at your glass.

Then again… maybe she’s not completely wrong. 

Not about screwing your boyfriend in the bathroom of your friend’s newly opened restaurant, of course! But about giving Eren a reminder. It didn’t seem like an awful idea, anyway.

You stare down at drink.

And then you chug the rest of it.

*****

“So we’re just born again or something and it’s- it’s like no one even cares about before?” Eren asked, scowling at the table he and Armin were sitting at. Mikasa had filled him in about how everyone’s memories get triggered at some point, but she’d left it at that after they’d gotten distracted talking about-...

His eyes naturally trail across the restaurant until they fall to you.

His cheeks flush.

Damit.

He looks away.

Armin laughs softly. “I know it’s confusing right now, but you’ll get used to it.”

“Doubt that,” Eren mumbled as he returned to the subject at hand. He takes a nervous breath. “I-... I killed too many people to get off that easy.”

Armin was silent for a moment. “Yes we-... we did.”

Eren slowly looks over at Armin. Armin, who was staring into his glass as he ran his thumb up and down the condensation, seemingly lost in thought.

“The thing about this life though,” Armin starts, “is that everyone has an understanding that it’s… it’s different. None of the stuff that happened before happened here. Yes, you still need to make amends but- but everyone gets it. Everyone understands that our last lives were complicated and instead of focusing on that we just try to enjoy the chance we’ve been given to live again.” 

Eren looks around the restaurant at the people he knew hundreds of years ago who are alive again under completely different circumstances. 

Marco is playing darts with Reiner, Annie, and Bertholdt. He hits a bullseye and all four of them cheer. 

Sasha is sneaking a french fry off of Gabi’s plate. Gabi smacks her and with a scowl but Sasha flashes her a peace sign and sticks the french fry into her mouth. 

Samuel wraps an arm around Connie’s shoulder and ruffles his short hair as Daz laughs next to them. 

And then his eyes fall to you.

You, chatting with Hitch, of all people, at the bar.

You’re blushing about something, and he can’t help but admit to himself that you look cute when you do it. His heart does what it’s done all day when he looks at you and it starts pounding in his chest. He doesn’t get it. He really doesn’t get it. Who are you and how do you fit in with everyone here? You’re the only person in the entire restaurant that he doesn’t know, and yet the way you talk to everyone makes it seem like you’ve known them all just as long as he has.

Maybe even longer.

“You’re probably wondering who she is.” Armin smiles.

Eren’s cheeks turn slightly pink (again) and he quickly looks away from you as if he’s ashamed that he’d been caught.

And he is, sort of.

He is ashamed that he doesn’t remember someone who seems to matter so much.

“I wasn’t wondering…” Eren lies.

Instead of prodding, Armin just laughs and takes a sip of his beer. “Not everyone is like us,” Armin tells him, as he places his glass back on the table. 

“You mean reincarnated or- or whatever this is?”

“Yeah,” Armin replies, “exactly.”

“Why’s that?”

“No one knows.” Armin answers. “We all have our guesses, obviously, but it’ll be impossible to ever prove any of them right.”

“What do you think?” If anyone had it figured out (or at least mostly figured out) it would have been Armin.

Armin pauses for a moment. “I think… I think that this life gets given to people who deserve a second chance. People who didn’t get to live happily the first time around, so now they can try again.”

“What’s your proof of that?”

“No proof,” Armin laughs, “just a feeling.”

“Hm.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” Eren mumbles. “You’re just… different now.”

Armin throws his head back and laughs. “Hopefully not too different.”

“Nah. It’s a good thing. You were too much of a know-it-all before.” The corners of Eren’s lips tug into a small smile as he says it and it feels- it feels good to smile. He didn’t get to do much of that in his last few years alive. 

Armin scoffs before he laughs. “Rude Eren, rude.”

Eren’s smile grows wider as their eyes meet and he feels… alive.

For the first time since he woke up, he feels alive.

“Hey, Eren.”

The smile immediately wipes off his face as you appear next to him.

Coffee. Marker. Spaghetti and wine.

Eren rapidly blinks as he reaches up to rub his temples. “The fuck is-”

Your hands are in his. You pull them away from his head and Eren’s eyes flutter open to see you right in front of him. Just like how he’d woken up that morning.

He quickly looks over at Armin, wordlessly asking for his best friend to save him.

Instead, Armin smiles and says: “I’ll give you guys some alone time.”

“But Armin I-”

“What?” He asks with a short laugh. “Don’t tell me you don’t want to spend time with your girlfriend?”

Eren’s mouth slams shut. He feels like it’d be weird if he denied it because obviously the version of him that knew her would have been jumping at the opportunity. 

“Don’t stress about it, Eren,” Armin tells him as he places a hand on Eren’s shoulder. He suddenly gets a suspicion that his friend knows about the random thoughts that keep coming to mind. “Just take it slow and you’ll figure it out.” Armin pats his shoulder before walking away.

“R-Right…” Eren mumbles.

Ever so slowly, he looks back to you.

Your hands are still holding his as you stare up at him. Eyes wide, lips slightly parted and taking in shallow breaths. It looks like you’re studying him. Watching. Waiting for some sort of clue that’ll give you a big grand “ah-hah!” moment. 

And it makes his heart race. 

His fingers twitch with the desire to reach up and tuck a piece of hair behind your ear as if- as if he knows what it would feel like to do that.

As if he’d done it before.

“Follow your instincts,” Mikasa had told him, “no matter which lifetime, you’ve always been pretty good at doing that.”

Eren swallows a lump in his throat and, for the first time all day, he lets the part of him that has been begging him to talk to you, to be next to you, to touch you-

He lets it take over.

He lets his instincts take over.

His fingers delicately ghost across your cheek, which starts to warm under his touch. He tucks a piece of hair behind your ear but his fingers linger there for a moment longer, admiring your soft skin and the way it sends a rush from his fingers right through to his heart.

Laughing as you walk through the park on campus. Taking pictures at your university graduation. Drunkenly stumbling down the street after a night out.

This time it’s not single sensations with no context of where they’re from. This time the thoughts- the memories, Eren realizes, are more vivid. More real. And it’s you, clearly you, front and center in all of them.

It’s you.

“I’m-” he speaks without even knowing he’s doing it. It’s his instincts again. The part of him that knows you. “I’ve been- um… distant.”

“Yeah..” you answer softly.

“I just- My head’s all- I-”

“Eren.” You cut him off and he immediately looks back at you.

The night sky. The stars. A swirl of green and blue.

You smile as you reach up to cup his hand, the hand that’s still against your cheek, in yours. “I love you.” You tell him.

The words tumble from Eren’s mouth before he even has a second to catch them: “I love you too.”

“Let's clear up some space, guys!” Niccolo calls as everyone begins to push the tables aside to make room for a dance floor.

You and Eren, snapped out of whatever moment you’d been having, jump apart.

Before the music even starts Sasha excitedly dances around as she pulls Niccolo along with her in anticipation. 

Yesterday, you would have done the same thing as Sasha and tugged your boyfriend to the dance floor without the option of saying ‘no’. But today- today things are different and you still don’t know why.

You’re worried that if you asked him to dance he’d…

The music starts and you can’t help glancing over at Eren only to realize he’s already looking at you.

Your cheeks flush a light pink in response and, for some reason, his do the same. There’s a moment of hesitation, a moment where you think he’s going to turn away and avoid you like he’d been doing all day.

And then…

Georgia~

Eren holds a hand out to you.

Wrap me up in all your- I want you…

You slowly take it.

In my arms- Oh, let me…

He pulls you closer.

…hold you

His other hand presses to your lower back.

I’ll never let you go again, like I did

Oh, I used to say~

And then you’re slowly moving, just the two of you, sucked into your own little world as you become completely oblivious to everyone around you.

He avoids your eyes but still finds a way to steal little glances here and there. He seems-

Embarrassed. 

Just like he did the day you accidentally ran a black marker over his new shirt.

I was lost within the darkness, but then I found her- I found you

“Welcome back, stranger.” You smiled at Eren as he entered the coffee shop for the second time.

Georgia, pulled me in I asked to- love her

“Are you asking me on a date?” “Don’t laugh, you’ll hurt my ego.”

Once again You fell, I- caught you

You both jump as you walk side-by-side and your hands accidentally brush against each other. You look over at him at the same time he tries to steal a glance at you. And then you both burst out laughing.

“I would never fall in love again until I found her”

You kiss for the first time on a park bench.

I said, “I would never fall unless it’s you I fall into”

“I love you.”  “That’s… so cringe.”

I was lost within the darkness, but then I found her

You excitedly threw yourself into his arms as he placed his last moving box in your apartment.

I found you

The memories come back to Eren in vivid flashes as you move around the dance floor. It should be overwhelming- having two lives suddenly meshing together in his head but it’s- it’s not. It’s-

“Eren?” You ask, just like you’d been doing all day and never receiving an answer. “Are you okay?”

He slides a red velvet box into his bedside table before you burst into the room and ruin the surprise.

“Yeah,” Eren answers softly, “I’m-...” 

I would never fall in love again until I found her

“I’m great.” He smiles.

I said, “I would never fall unless it’s you I fall into”

His hand comes up to cup your cheek, gently stroking his thumb across your skin.

I was lost within the darkness, but then I found her

Your lips meet.

I found you…

You come to a slow stop on the dance floor as you kiss, the memories of his lives- both of them, settling in their entirety in Eren’s mind.

He might not have known you in his last lifetime, but he found you in this one.

And in that moment, to Eren, that was all that mattered.

Eren pulls away, smiling down at you as his thumb brushes across your cheek. He wonders what would happen if he did try to explain it to you. Sure, he might sound crazy, but he has a feeling that you’d believe him. That you’d understand. That you’d hear him out and be just as equally amazed as he is when you realize what an amazing opportunity he’s been given, they've all been given, to live for the second time.

So maybe he’ll tell you one day.

Maybe they all will.

Eren settles on the promise to himself. The promise that one day he’d be honest. For now though, he just wanted to enjoy the life he’d been given. 

And the fact that because of it, he found you.

********

“It looks great, Niccolo,” Eren tells his friend with a wide grin as he firmly shakes his hand. “Bet you’ll have the most popular restaurant on the whole block.”

“My only competition is a bakery that’s closed every day but Sundays,” Niccolo replies.

“See? You’re already killing it!”

Niccolo laughs and shakes his head. “Glad you could make it, Eren.” He says, patting Eren’s shoulder as he passes him a knowing glance. “And… we’re glad to have you back.”

You aren’t entirely sure what Niccolo means by it, but you figured that today was weird enough that you aren’t going to question it.

“Nicoooooooooo…” Sasha drunkenly drawls as she leans against the door of the restaurant. “There’s no more wineeeee…”

“Oh god.” Niccolo sighs.

You snicker as he turns around and catches his shit-faced fiancé before she ends up face-first against the pavement.

“Ready to go?” Eren asks, wrapping his arm around your shoulders before he presses his lips to the top of your head.

“Yep!”

You and Eren were one of the last few to leave. Everyone else had gotten way too drunk to stay any longer, but Eren hadn’t wanted to go home. He was having too much fun dancing, laughing, and bouncing around the room like a complete social butterfly.

“You had a lot of energy tonight.” You joke as the two of you walk down the street. 

Eren laughs. “I was excited.”

“Yeah, I could tell. I think you talked to everyone there, even Annie.”

He scoffs. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You normally try to avoid her after that time she threw you over her shoulder and kicked your ass.”

“No, no, no you’re remembering that wrong.”

“I am not!”

“Totally are. I kicked her ass, remember?”

“Okay,” you snicker, “just keep telling yourself that.” 

It doesn’t take you long to reach the train station. Eren’s arm is still around your shoulder as you take a seat on one of the benches. The sign above the station indicates that your train should be there in five minutes, but you don’t really care how long it takes.

With a sigh, you lean against Eren’s chest and he secures his arm around you, rubbing your shoulder as he does it.

“Cold?” He asks.

“Nah.” You reply. 

He pulls off his jacket and places it around you anyway.

“Now you’re gonna be cold, dumbass.” You mumble, tightening his jacket around you nonetheless.

Eren scoffs. “I’m too sexy to get cold.”

“So you’re saying I’m not sexy?”

“Eh.” He shrugs. “You’re alright.”

You playfully slap his chest but he grabs your hand before you can pull it away. “Hey.” He says seriously as he curls his fingers around yours.

“What?”

“I’m sorry.” He kisses the tips of your fingers. “For… For being weird earlier.” He kisses you again.

“...It’s okay.” You mumble.

“No, it’s not. I was being distant for no reason and it was probably really shitty for you.”

You curl your fingers around his and squeeze his hand as you look down into your lap. “It-… yeah it kinda sucked.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Eren reassures you.

“Then… what happened?”

He opens his mouth to say something, but just as quickly closes it again. “It’s-... It’s not something that's easy to talk about.”

He thinks about the promise he made to himself earlier. The promise to tell you one day. To tell you the entire story, not leaving out a single detail, starting the moment he woke up from a weird dream in Shiganshina and ending when Mikasa’s blade met his neck.

He needs time though.

Time to think about how to say it. To tell it. To put it in a way that he can convey how wrong he was in his last life and how much better he wants to be in this one.

Time.

One of the two major things he was missing in his first life.

Time and…

“It’s okay, Eren.” Your words cut through his thoughts. “Just tell me when you’re ready.”

The way you look at him, with so much trust in your eyes, makes Eren smile.

So he promises it to himself again. He promises that he’ll tell you, one day, after a little bit of time.

Eren reaches over to cup your cheek in his hands and pull you in for a kiss.

You sigh against his lips as your eyes slide closed and the comforting familiarity of his kiss makes everything in the world seem right.

It makes everything seem perfect, once again.

And you don’t want to change a single thing-

Crisp hospital sheets. The afternoon light against his bandaged face. Brightly coloured pills in a paper cup.

You freeze as Eren pulls away from the kiss.

“Are you okay?” He asks.

“I snuck you an extra apple, don’t tell anyone or they’ll accuse me of picking favourites.”

“Hey,” he brushes his fingers across your forehead.

“Why would I skip out on the festival, it sounds like fun!”

“What’s going on?”

Fire. Rubble. Screaming.

He calls your name.

A grip. A squeeze. A pop.

“Can you hear me?”

The deafening sound of complete silence. Followed by the terrifying sight of pitch black.

Your eyes flutter open. 

You don’t recognize where you are. You don’t recognize the sounds, or the smells, or the loud voice that comes from nowhere saying: “next train arriving, please stand behind the yellow line”.

But you do recognize something.

Someone.

And the sight of him, freshly shaved, hair cut and styled, free of bandages with no crutches to make up for a missing leg- it makes your heart flutter, just like it always did in that hospital room.

You smile, because what other reaction could you possibly have when you’re looking at the man you were forbidden to love, but loved so deeply despite it. 

You say the only thing that makes sense, given the miracle before you:

“Are we in heaven, Mr. Kruger?”

Suddenly Eren knows exactly who you are.

Suddenly, he remembers why he’d tried so hard to forget.

“She’s distracting you, Eren,” Zeke said, his baseball on the bench between them. “She’s not,” was Eren’s only reply.

But now Eren knew he could never forget again. Not the longing. Not the guilt. Not the feeling of bones breaking, the smell of fresh blood, or the bursting of flesh between his fingers.

“Then kill her,” Zeke said casually like the words didn’t mean a single thing.

No. Eren would never forget again.

He’d never forget how it felt when he, the attack titan, crushed you in his hands and discarded your lifeless body against the battered streets of Liberio...

[THE END]

playing for both of us

Karasu and Otoya know they’re sharing you way before you know. It’s just a matter of slowly acclimating you to it.

wc — 1k

tags — MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, fem reader, threesome, cucking kink, penetration, hand job (not from reader), title borrowed from Challengers lol, I'm stuck on bllk sandwiches

Karasu’s not a jealous man. Sometimes he’ll casually bring Yukimiya up while he’s buried in you just to see you squirm. It makes him laugh, his mouth buried against your neck as he feeds you slow, languorous strokes, his hips rolling with a gentle need. But mostly he’s doing it as a joke just to watch you fluster. 

Otoya’s different. He comes as an inevitability of dating Karasu. It’s real. From the very beginning of your relationship, he’s so touchy and handsy with you that it feels wrong. You feel so ashamed when people ask if you’re dating just to look shocked when Otoya cuts in that “No, she’s Karasu’s girl.” It feels like cheating except Karasu never seems upset by the way Otoya’s all over you. In fact, he seems to encourage it. 

Otoya almost always third wheels when you’re out together. It’s a safety thing, Karasu says, like having two bodyguards. He feels more comfortable leaving you alone when you’re out if he knows you’re with his best friend. Otoya will protect you if he’s not there. 

But who’s protecting you from Otoya? 

When he’s drunk, his already few inhibitions go out the window. The back of your neck burns with awareness as he grinds against you from behind, his head thrown back, hair plastered to his forehead with sweat as his hands circle your waist. They’re far lower than they should be. No one in this club would be able to tell that you’re dating his best friend with the way he’s all over you. 

It’s not that you’re just putting up with him, although you do like that it gives Karasu peace of mind to pass you off to him. It’s something about the way he hands you off with this air of easy trust that makes your stomach plummet in a pleasurable way, feeling so guilty for feeling so good. The way Otoya laughs when Karasu asks him to “babysit our girlfriend” makes you dizzy. He’s joking, but the sound of ‘our’ rings in your ears like a gong. 

Karasu returns, smiling at the two of you, watching as his best friend’s wandering hands feel you up. His hands are basically covering your tits, touching and squeezing with abandon while his thigh finds its way between your legs. It makes you feel like you’re the crazy one for caring that your boyfriend’s best friend is groping you on the public dance floor, but it doesn’t stop you from grinding down on the firm muscle brushing against your cunt while Karasu watches. 

The more you let him get away with, the more emboldened Otoya gets. When you’re in the kitchen together, he’ll bend you over the counter in the joking way boys do and pretend to hump your ass, his hips pumping once or twice as you yelp in surprise. Karasu looks up from the living room table and just laughs. He thinks the way you react to his best friend is so funny, goading Otoya on as he tries his best to get under your skin. 

You think they’re just being immature until you catch Karasu jerking Otoya off to the thought of you.

He’s sleeping over again. You told them you were going to bed, but you couldn’t go to sleep knowing they were hanging out without you. On tiptoe, you creep down the stairs and into the hallway, hoping you can sneak into the room and fall asleep on the bed without them noticing. 

Instead of gaming, which you thought they were doing, Karasu’s sitting next to Otoya, lazily jerking him off. Otoya’s pajama pants are dragged down his hips to give Karasu access to him. He drags his fist up and down Otoya’s length slowly as he whines, bucking his hips up in the chair he’s sitting in. 

“Please,” Otoya whimpers, but instead of Karasu’s name, it’s yours falling from his lips. Karasu chuckles and pins him back down as Otoya’s hips jump. He can't control his moans, hiccuping and soft sobbing into his ear.

“You’re so needy, baby,” Karasu says quietly. Otoya mumbles something incoherent. He’s nodding furiously. Karasu presses a soft kiss against his temple, so tender it makes your stomach clench. You feel not as if you’re intruding, not as if you’re a voyeur or even a witness, but a participant. Somehow, even outside of the room, your presence is with them. 

Your hand slips between your thighs almost without thinking. 

“Bite down on this,” Karasu murmurs, slipping the hem of Otoya’s shirt between his teeth. “You’re so loud. You’ll wake her up.” 

Otoya nods obediently, his eyes teary. He makes a soft, punched out noise and his eyes roll back when Karasu twists his hand around the head of his cock. 

“She’s so soft,” he tells him. “Soft all over. Smells so good too. I’ll let you take some of her lotion home. You can huff it like the pervert you are.” He cracks a sideways, secret smile. 

The shirt slips out of Otoya’s mouth. It’s wet with saliva, a small patch darker than the rest. His teeth have left imprints on the fabric. 

“Want it,” Otoya whines. “Please, I’m-“ his voice creaks on every syllable, so tightly wound it hurts. “‘M close.” 

You slip away silently, trying not to think about how sticky your thighs feel. You don’t know how to bring it up to them. For a while, things proceed as normal, which means Otoya flirts shamelessly with you while Karasu watches smugly. 

And then Otoya asks Karasu if he can kiss you one night. Karasu tilts his head at you.

Otoya’s as needy with you as he is with Karasu. 

“Easy, tiger,” Karasu laughs. He’s holding you open so Otoya can pound into you. His fingers dig into your thighs as Otoya's mouth runs nasty, panting as he fucks you. 

“She’s so tight, Tabito, I can feel her sucking me in. Shit, her pussy’s milking me, hungry for it, yeah, you want this, don’t you?” He can’t stop talking. “I’m, I’m going to-“ 

Otoya comes with Karasu’s hand on his hip, pushing him further into you. He keens against your shoulder where it’s pressed against Karasu’s chest. His wet, wet mouth kisses where your skin meets. 

When Otoya’s done with you, Karasu slips inside, fucking his best friend’s cum out of your tender, sore pussy. He grinds into you slow and deep, taking his sweet time. Something about seeing you sloppy and ruined has him harder than ever. He talks Otoya through it, telling him how good you feel, how wet he left you. 

You’re their girl. It’s only right that they each get an equal share of every experience.

baji keisuke fits into the 'mean tough boyfriend who's actually a big softie' catergory. i will not be elaborating further bc i need to finish my drafts LOLLLL

hint i might start writing tokyo rev soon since i started season two recently

husband!katsuki who has his sweet moments, not very often, but he has them.

‘do you know how pretty you are?’ Katsuki sighs as you’re laying on his chest one night, almost asleep

‘you tell me.. sometimes’ you say, his fingers intertwine in your hair ‘maybe I should tell you more’

‘you’re being nice, what going on’ you tease as he scoffs ‘you’re my wife, dumbass. I have to be nice to you’

‘there’s the man i married’

L.O.V.E. ୨୧ EREN

“when we die, i hope i will be the first one to go,” you whispered through the silent night you and eren enjoy.

you felt his body freeze as you declare those words.

both of you were lying on the grass as you two watch the fading sunset on the horizon. she’s painting the sky red as she confesses her love for the dense skies.

he hummed. “and why is that? you giving up already?”

“no,” you say. and that’s true. you’re not giving up. “i still have so much to fight for. but when that time comes, i hope i’ll be the first one to go.”

he kept quiet. eren didn’t know what’s going on inside your mind. you’re unpredictable. reckless, impulsive, and stubborn. you’re also efficient, reliable, and protective.

your family died during the first invasion of the titans and he always see himself in you. your fiery rage, your desire to burn the world if it means avenging your fallen clan. he wanted you. he wanted to swallow you whole. he wanted to devour your very being. he wanted to set himself on fire and burning every fiber of his soul if it means for you to walk this world with warmth and lightness.

“because i don’t think i can live a life without you, eren.” you looked at him with glistening eyes, tears threatening to fall like snowflakes against your soft cheeks.

you placed your hand on his cheeks and smiled. “and if one day the heavens decided to finally have your life, i would willingly go. i would trade my entire soul if it means for you to live the life you deserve, because out of everyone else here? you deserve to be the happiest, eren.”

you stare at the sunset giving farewell to her lover, promising to meet again like the first time. “i’ll wait for you there because the kind of love i have for you transcends beyond the life and death we always knew.”

fury | e.yeager

eren yeager x fem!reader

!!: SMUT, vaginal sex, oral sex (male and female receiving), pet names like (bitch, whore, slut, princess, baby), degradation, humiliation, orgasm denial, slight reader x jean kirstein, eren’s so fucking mean (sorry not sorry), making each other jealous, rough sex, dirty talk, jealous eren RAAAAWR.

Eren didn’t even need to say anything and yet you knew he was fucking pissed.

You almost stopped what you were doing due to his intense stare from half-way across the busy room—but, you held out. Knowing this whole debacle had a high risk, yet high reward. If it worked in your favour, that is.

You were currently situated in the sweaty, loud house party your friend had thrown—tipsy as fuck and feeling disgustingly cheeky. Your cheeks were flushed red as you pushed your bottom half back against the male behind you. You knew your boyfriend was watching you mindlessly dance with your ex-boyfriend, Jean Kirstein, who you knew Eren despised.

You were only grinding against the tall, mullet-headed male to piss your boyfriend off for starting a meaningless fight in the car before the party. You were petty, Eren knew this, but he never knew you’d take it this far.

Jean’s hands rest against your liquid hips as you swayed deliciously to the beat, your body on fire as Eren bore holes into Jean’s hands against your soft skin.

“Someone doesn’t look to happy you’re with me, huh?”

Jean’s voice snapped your attention away from Eren’s dark, hooded eyes to his familiar voice. You knew exactly what he meant as you swallowed thickly.

“He can sulk all he wants, I don’t care.” You lied—knowing you did care what he thought as you wouldn’t be with Jean if you didn’t.

Jean chuckles breathily as he runs his hands up to your waist and back down again, choosing to not reply as you continue to dance with him.

You knew you had gotten to Eren but until he approached you, you weren’t gonna stop. However, you knew Eren was stubborn as shit, so if it took you all night to make him give in, then so be it.

“Looks like the score board is one nil now.”

Furrowing your eyebrows, you follow Jean’s eyes as he laughs evilly, watching something intently. However, your stomach drops when your eyes fall upon Jean’s entertainment.

Eren, leaning up against the wall, not bothering to watch your childish acts any longer, standing infuriatingly close to a girl whom he smirked down at as she whispered sweet nothings into his ear.

You could kill him.

Eren only turned back to you as the girl littered kisses against his tattooed neck, smirking like a fucking asshole at you.

Jean laughs lightly against your ear, whispering delicately into it, “Well, now that our audience is back, let’s put on a show, hm?”

Jean half expected you to just continue dancing with him to piss Eren off further, but you knew that wouldn’t faze him anymore.

So, when you turned around to face your ex-boyfriend and pulled his neck down to smush your lips together in a feverish kiss—both boys were taken aback. Eren twitched angrily as he shoved the girl nibbling at his neck off him, huffing loudly in rage as he watched you shove your tongue down your exes throat.

Before you could even get a proper taste of Jean, you were ripped away from the kiss and dragged through the bustling crowd. You could’ve laughed at the sheer grip Eren had around your wrist as he dragged you through the house and into a deserted room, slamming the door behind him.

“You think you’re fucking funny, huh?” He spat, the angriest you’d ever seen him in your life. “Think you’re fucking cute?”

“N-no, Eren—“

His body flew to yours in lightning speed as he pushed your body against the wall, hands forcing your own against the cold brick, gripping them in place roughly.

“Had an awful lot to say earlier, didn’t you? Where’s that fucking bitch attitude gone? Jean kissed it all out of you?” He growled, his dark gaze glaring down at you.

Words failed at you as your jaw fell slack at the sheer fury that laced his words, his voice low and indignant due to your actions. Your heart rate picked up so fast you thought you were going to go into cardiac arrest at the thought of what he was gonna do to you.

“Speak, bitch.”

His words stung as you whimpered slightly, “I-I’m sorry, baby, I swear.” The sweet nickname you slipped in doing nothing but pissing him off further.

“No, you’re fucking not,” He snapped, slamming his fist next to your head, his anger sending shockwaves of excitement to your core, “God, when did I get with such a fucking whore?”

The disgustingly degrading nickname should’ve offended you, but, your pearly white teeth couldn’t help but sink down into your pink lips as you rubbed your legs together to get some sort of sweet relief.

Eren noticed your antics, pushing his knee between your leg, forcing you to stop. This only ripped a needy whine from your throat which you instantly regretted as you met his eyes.

Uh, oh.

He dragged you from the wall and pushed you roughly onto the plush of the bed, as he ripped his t-shirt from his body, then slotted himself between your spread legs.

“You fucking disgust me,” He spat, his hands coming down to attack your breasts in your dress, tugging at your nipples roughly as you whined. “You’re nothing but a fucking slut—good only for making me cum and whoring around, aren’t you?”

His hands ripped at your clothes like his life depended on it—tossing them aside as he stared menacingly down at your naked frame. He wasted no time in undoing his belt and pushing his jeans to the floor.

“Get on your knees.”

You practically threw yourself to the floor as you kneeled in front of him, staring up at him through your lashes as he glared down at you, nothing but anger and disgust in his expression as he pulled his achingly hard cock from his boxers. His tip dribbled pre-cum as it bobbed in front of your face.

Eren didn’t ask your permission, not that he needed to, before forcing your mouth open and shoving all eight inches down your throat. You gagged and spluttered around him as the abruptness of his actions took you by surprise. Tears welled up in your eyes as he didn’t stop to let you adjust to his size, only continuing to slide his heavy cock across your tongue.

“Oh, fuck, yeah,” He growled, his hand nestled in your hair, pulling at the hair so hard you thought he’d tugged some out as you whined against him. “Don’t resist me, baby, you know this is what you deserve.”

Your nails clawed at his thighs as he thrust his hips feverishly against your mouth, balls slapping your chin as his pace never faltered. Tears fell quickly down your flushed cheeks as he abused your throat, putting your gag reflex to use as his tip smacked against your uvula.

“Eren, please!” You begged, as he pulled you off him briefly as you caught your breath, spit and tears covering your face as you heaved for breath.

“What? You think I’d fuck you nice and slowly after your behaviour earlier? I’m not Jean, the weak, vanilla piece of shit.” He spat, laughing darkly, “You wanna act like a slut, you get treated like one.”

He forced you back down onto his cock with a loud, gargled whine from you as fucked himself faster down your throat. He grunted lowly in pleasure as he planted a harsh slap to your cheek, forcing more tears from your eyes.

“Fuck, gonna make me cum down that stupid fucking throat if you carry on gaggin’ on me like that.”

You absentmindedly rubbed your thighs together, moaning on him as you provided yourself some sort of action as he fucked your throat mercilessly.

Eren didn’t like that.

He kicked your knees apart angrily, “Don’t you fucking dare.” He snarled, pulling his cock from your mouth as you whined desperately.

Eren dragged you up to your feet by your hair, shoving you back on the bed harshly as he followed you. You barely had time to think about what was going on before he forced your legs apart and planted his hot tongue against your sex.

You cried out, your hand flying to his messy bun, threading your fingers through his hair as he sucked your clit frenetically, groaning against your pussy. The rumble of his moans against your throbbing clit had you climbing towards your orgasm quicker than expected.

“Can’t even let me cum because you just want to yourself, you selfish bitch.” Eren snapped, pulling his mouth from your hot core, spitting on your pussy lewdly, and planting a rough slap to your aching clit, eliciting a loud, scratchy whine from your abused throat.

“Eren, please!” You cried as you felt him slip two long fingers inside your soaking wet hole, back arching off the bed as he pumped his fingers in and out of you as he lapped at your clit. Goddamn did that man know how to please you.

“‘M gonna cum!” You wailed, eyes squeezing shut as you could nearly taste your orgasm, Eren continuing to suck your clit like a thirsty man in the desert.

Just as your coil almost snapped in your tummy, your pussy felt awfully empty as Eren ripped his mouth and fingers from you just as you were about to cum. You didn’t even hide your annoyance as you burst into tears, wailing loudly as your pleasure faded away as he ripped it from you.

“E-Eren, please! Please—hiccup, please I need it. I’m so sorry, Rennie, please, please make me cum, please!” You begged, hands flailing at him, attempting to pull his stiff body down towards you as you sobbed into his shoulder, gripping onto his shoulders, nails piercing the skin.

“Jesus Christ, you’re pathetic.” Eren breathed evilly, shoving you off him, your body bouncing off the bed, your tits jiggling with every movement that had Eren’s cock twitching. “You don’t fucking deserve it, okay? I gotta punish you somehow, hm? You did this to yourself.”

“B-But, that girl!” You fought back, feeling anger bubbling in your chest as the reality of the situation hit you, “Wasn’t just me.”

“She came up to me—you willing went out of your way to find that asshole and stick your slutty tongue down his throat.” Eren bit back, pushing your legs up, folding you in half.

He leant down to spit on your pussy once more, catching some of the slick on his cock as he nudged your entrance, jerking the lubricant over his aching boner. You whined loudly as he pushed his tip inside you, knowing the second he prodded the sweet spot inside you, you’d soon build your orgasm back up again.

“If you so much as even think about cumming, I’ll stop and never fuck you again, and I fucking mean it.”

His threat played with your heart strings—feeling awfully sorry for yourself as you threw your head back in irritation, crying out loudly. Eren’s hand flew to your neck as he pushed himself fully inside you, again, not letting you adjust to his length, revelling in the way you wailed in wanton at his size.

Eren’s pace was evil.

You’d never been fucked like this before. Your legs practically behind your head, his large hand choking your neck, cutting off your airflow, and his cock drilling into you at such a speed you thought you were going to pass out.

You tried not to enjoy the way he was treating you—but, you secretly had never been more turned on in your entire life. Your pussy wetter than it’d ever been, evidently as Eren was cursing himself mentally at how incredible you felt—but, he wasn’t about to praise you right now.

“‘Ren, p-please!” You gasped out, nails carving up his back as he fucked you up, revelling in the way you whined his nickname loudly every time.

“Gonna cum so fuckin’ hard.” He warned you, his voice hoarse as his eyes rolled back, “Open your fucking mouth.”

You did as he asked as his pace quickened as he chased his orgasm, groaning and grunting against your leg. He pulled out quickly and forced his dick down your throat once more, crying out in pleasure as he lolled his head back.

-

Jean furrowed his eyebrows as he felt two tiny fingers tap his shoulder, ordering him to turn around.

He felt even more confused at the sight of you in front of him—eyes red and tired, cheeks stayed in tears with a red handprint on display on one, hair a total mess and your neck littered in bruises and another large handprint around the circumference of the front of your neck. Behind you, resided your smug boyfriend, smirking blissfully at your ex-boyfriend.

“What the fuck is this, Yeager?” Jean spat, feeling suddenly a bit threatened by the presence of your boyfriend.

“Open up, princess.”

Eren’s words confused Jean as he looked down at you. But, they soon made sense as you lolled your tongue out for Jean to see, secretly loving the way his jaw fell slack at the pool of cum resting on the pink muscle.

Jean’s eyes shot open in shock as he watched as you peered up at him so innocently as some of Eren’s cum rolled off your tongue and onto the floor.

“Wanna kiss my girlfriend again, Kirstein?”

this is for you @jaegsnicotine 🤗

ode to a situationship — otoya eita

PART 1 - the first & second times

WC - 1.6k

SYN - No love story ever began with, “Once upon a one-night-stand.”

CW - [18+!] afab!reader but no gendered terms are used, reader and Otoya are both implied to be a little promiscuous, dubcon (only because of alcohol, both parties enthusiastically consent), alcohol use, fingering, oral (f receiving), light anal play, spit fetish

SERIES MASTERLIST — NEXT

the first time

You both still smell like the club: sweat, the faint bite of cigarettes, and a mix of your go-to fragrance and his. It mingles in the air like your tongues in each other’s mouths. Becomes acquainted like his palms with the soft skin beneath your skirt.

The two of you were quick about it, spurred on by a splash of alcohol and an overflow of attraction. He was the ideal ratio of chill to shameless flirt, and you had fuck-me eyes and a pretty mouth. It was a perfect alignment of intentions.

There’s not much talking, just heavy breaths and the sticky sweet sound of lips and tongues in the darkness of your apartment. You’re wrapped up in the feel of each other, all eager and greedy and hot. He blindly backs you into a wall corner and you gasp. “Shit, sorry,” he breathes, cradling the back of your head in apology, “Bedroom?”

You know he’s going to fuck you good by the way he looks when he’s climbing onto the edge of your bed and pulling his shirt over his head. By the way he emerges from the cotton and has a dark, hungry playfulness in his eyes. He’s a good kisser (even if it is messy in the way drunken one-night-stands often are) and he has the confidence to hike one of your legs up high and roll his hips into you. Once, twice, again, again as he licks into your mouth and along the side of your neck. Chasing the heat and friction, reveling in your unabashed moaning.

He knows what he’s doing. You can tell by his demeanor that he’s done it plenty of times. He asks you how you want it then gives it to you like someone who knew how to give it to you from the start.

In return, you voice all your needs without a hint of shyness. With the confidence of someone who’s as experienced as he is. You’re nasty about it, too. A little demanding. (Fuck me. Harder. Touch me, right here. Like that— oh my god. Hear how wet you made me? Don’t stop. Fuck, don’t stop.) It makes him lose his mind, just a little bit.

After you’re both left panting and satisfied, the fantasy wringed from your bodies and the condom tied off and thrown out, you begin the careful dance of getting him the fuck out of your apartment and he falls into step with you. Another unspoken understanding between you, that you’re on the same page.

As you’re walking him to the door he holds his hand out for your phone and inserts his contact information (you’re grateful that he enters his name because you don’t entirely remember it) then immediately calls himself. “That was fun,” he says with a hint of a smile, “I’ll text you.”

You don’t expect to hear from him ever again.

the second time

You hear from him a week later, to your surprise.

It’s surprising not only because he bothered to text you at all, but because he does it so soon. It’s also not the typical middle-of-the-night text. It’s like 5pm, the sun barely dipping into the center of the sky.

You’re sober now, and more than a little grateful that he’s still good-looking. Very good-looking. Even better looking in the warm light of dusk, shirtless and hovered over you as he rubs your pussy through your shorts.

He’s taking his time exploring you — far different from the first time you fucked, which was all raw tension and release. Every bit of you is hot and primed by the time he pulls your shorts to the side and dips his finger in.

“Already so wet,” he notes, playful in that flat way of his. You make a comment about how he’s been teasing you, which he ignores in favor of teasing you some more. His fingers explore where you’re wettest, getting all coated while avoiding your clit long enough to make your hips cant up, then he brings them to his mouth to taste.

He knows exactly what he’s doing; this move always works. But, to his surprise, you don’t become bashful at all. You don’t avert your eyes or call it embarrassing. Instead, your entire expression darkens. The sight of him savoring the taste of you acts like a flame to kindling, only emboldening you further.

Wrapping your hand around his wrist, you guide his fingers to your lips next. You hold his gaze, take them deep and suck. He can feel the back of your throat, the tip of your tongue, the dull skim of teeth. So warm and slippery around his fingers. Otoya breaks eye contact to watch your lips drag around them, and his jaw goes a little slack at the sight.

There’s a sort of inherent game being played in the early days of fucking someone new — one you enjoy above all else. It’s a playful exchange of power, a push and pull, a gentle testing of boundaries in search of the things that drive the other crazy.

A love for fucking is what you’d say you and Otoya have in common, but really it’s this. Playing this game, this exploratory back-and-forth as you’re trying to get the one-up on each other. That one, decisive move has given you the advantage in this game. And that makes both of you very excited.

Still, Otoya keeps his cool. Remains patient. He rubs your clit and kisses your neck and chest until you’re tangling your hand up in his hair. Sucks on the sensitive skin of your stomach and thighs until you’re opening your legs wide for him to settle between.

“Can I eat you out?” He asks, punctuating with another messy kiss to your inner thigh. “I’ll make it good for you.”

Implying that, first and foremost, it’s going to be good for him. You realize this with a warm rush of arousal.

You respond by shimmying out of your shorts, giving him a nice view of your pussy between your closed thighs as you fold your knees up and pull them off, then opening wide for him again. Glistening wet, and on full display.

His patience leaves him in one deep, heavy breath.

He uses his whole mouth, all warm and wet and rhythmic, a shameless make out session with your cunt that surprises you as much as it melts you down to the bone. It’s a slippery mess in no time, him drooling generously all over you and you leaking more arousal in return. He’s really enjoying this, you think, like he could do nothing but this and still leave satisfied.

And he’s good at it. Really fucking good.

Otoya massages your clit with his tongue, closes his lips around it to swirl and suck lightly, then starts the process over again. Methodical, practiced. All while he watches you, gauging your reactions with lidded eyes. What he’s learned is that you like grinding yourself on his flattened tongue, and you love watching him spit on it. He wants to know what else you like, find out what else makes your body respond like that. Experimentally, he dips down low and licks all the way back up, pushes your legs back into the mattress then dips down even lower— your eyes roll back.

Bingo.

“You like a tongue in your ass?”

You smile lazily down at him. “Is that a crime?”

“No,” his teeth graze lightly over the space between your thigh and the fat of your ass, a testament to how hungry he is for it, “‘s hot as fuck.”

You breathe out a curse as you watch him collect saliva in his mouth and spit it down onto you. It’s warm and slippery when it hits your pussy, followed by the sensation of liquid dripping low. He catches it with his tongue. You shudder.

He’s forward about eating your ass in a way that makes your resolve crumble. It’s the kind of thing that a lot of men pretend to be into, but aren’t actually nasty enough to go through with. Their desire doesn’t run deep enough to get a little dirty. But this guy — this nonchalant pretty boy you happened to take home from the club once — has his face buried between your legs like it’s the most honest thing he can do.

Running your hands through his hair, you gently grind yourself against his tongue – feel it dip past the tightness of your hole. It’s too much, hearing him groan and watching his pretty green eyes roll up. Every part of you is pulled so taut it’s aching.

“Please,” you whine in spite of yourself, dragging the word out pathetically.

“Please what?” There’s just enough smugness in his voice to make your stomach twist with need.

“Need your mouth back on my clit. And your fingers inside me. Please, Otoya.”

His face comes back into view. The lower half is glistening, messy. He runs a finger down your slit, turns his palm up and pushes in, then promptly adds another. You’re so wet there’s no resistance. You’re so wound-up you could cry.

He lowers his face back down, wrapping his free arm around your thigh to pull you close. So close you can feel his hot breath caress right where you need him. His fingers aren’t particularly thick, but they’re long and skilled enough to induce that pleasurable full feeling. Watching intently, he pumps them steadily deeper until your whole body is arching and flexing with tension.

He makes you wait just long enough to hear you breathe in, readying another whine. Then just before he gives you his tongue again, he tells you, inflated ego making his eyes sharp and his voice teasing:

“When you cum, call me Eita.”

“i can do the alphabet in sign language!” eri chirps to you one night, tugging at the bottom of your skirt as she gazes up at you with that sparkle in her eyes she gets when she's about to show you something important.

the city hums softly outside your window. cars in the distance, someone’s dog barking, the occasional clink of a bottle hitting pavement. you’re curled on the couch with your legs tucked beneath you, fingers grazing the hem of the throw blanket, and eri’s settled close, knees bumping yours, her face lit by the soft blue flicker of the tv screen.

your mouth parts into a soft gasp, eyes going round with surprise, delight catching in your throat. “that’s so cool!” you grin, reaching for her instinctively, brushing a hand through her snowy hair. “you should show suki, he’d really like it.”

she nods, mouth stretched into a proud little beam, her arms winding around your leg in a hug, like she wants to melt into your side and stay there forever. “okay! where is he?”

you glance up, eyes flicking toward the hallway without much thought.

“i dunno,” you hum. “i think he’s getting your bedsheets.”

“i’m gonna go find him!” she cheers, letting go of you and running off without another word, small feet padding down the hallway before you can call out a reminder. to be gentle and cautious.

you sink back into the couch with a quiet wince, already imagining the startle that’s coming. katsuki doesn’t wear his hearing aids at home. he says they make him feel alienated, like he’s underwater in his own home. says he prefers the quiet, even when it means he misses footsteps behind him.

down the hall, eri’s palm skims the wall as she turns the corner.

“suki?” she calls out, forgetting he can't hear her.

she finds him with his back to the room, broad shoulders blocking the light from the closet as he reaches for the folded sheets on the top shelf.

she slowly steps over to his spot, tapping his bulgy arm and looking up at him with pride. he jumps, and almost blasts whatever it is coming near him. he knows it's not you, you make sure to knock on the wall or anything just to make yourself known before getting close to him.

it’s not dramatic, not loud, just a sharp inhale as his muscles twitch beneath his skin, the sheets nearly slipping from his hands, turning his head to look down at her in surprise.

“you scared me,” he mutters, voice low, words shaped more from breath than sound.

eri just grins up at him, undeterred. she lifts her right hand, fingers curling and tucking until they make a neat little H. katsuki raises a brow, the closet door creaking as it swings shut behind him.

immediately after, she forms an I with a soft grin

then she follows it with an I, fingers small and steady, her eyes never leaving his. her smile is proud. soft. expectant.

the moment reached him slower than it should have, but she keeps going.

her fingers move carefully, like she’s practiced this a hundred times in her room, mouthing the letters silently as she went. she starts spelling out the alphabet, grinning with pride.

by the time she gets to K, katsuki's kneeling, bringing himself to her level as he sits on his heels so they’re eye to eye. his expression softens in a way only a handful of people ever get to see.

his hand rises— not to stop her, not to fix her hands, not to take over. just to mirror her. to do it with her.

his lips are twitching, not into a smile yet, but close enough. something fond, folded under layers of gruffness and disbelief.

“you learn all that just for me?” he asks, low and rough.

eri nods, both hands flying up now, fingers tangling as she shows him N, then O, like she doesn’t want to waste time answering him out loud.

katsuki exhales like he’s been holding it in since she tapped him, then reaches forward and cups the back of her head gently, thumb brushing through her hair.

“your hair needs to be brushed." he murmurs, like he's trying to escape from the feeling inside of him. he's not even sure what it is, it just feels nice. to have her, this little girl, learn a language for him.

he reaches for the fallen sheets with a smile, a real smile. the kind that pushes up into his eyes and softens all the hard lines around his mouth.

i just love tumblr…it’s like my little fanfic library 😞