"𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘥𝘰 𝘸𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘮𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘢𝘮?"
❛... A certain time we dwell upon as our bodies swirl as one, hearts bind and sever our purity of the outside world. our bodies misty, the air rough and blissfully clammy, yet neither of us...
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summary: the reader allows eren and sasha to stay over, as theyʼre not busy, but something that she wouldnʼt have expected to happen, happens. will it make or break the world she had adapted to with ease? promises are exchanged, but how long will those promises last?
The night remains dull, soft against your living room window as you, Eren and Sasha remained spread out between two different couches, eyes consistently darting to the screen as a Netflix series, you had decided on, played.
"Y/n, you good? You know I hate seeing you like this. You haven't been the same for a while. Whoever hurt you, I'll fight them!" Sasha speaks, her heavy head resting in your lap as she pondered on the message to send to her boyfriend as she was decided to stay with you and Eren for the night.
"You sure you would?" You softly murmur, your fingers threading through her tresses of hair as you lowered your eyes, her eyes becoming dead against your own.
"I'll fight them for you, Y/n. Fighting for a good reason seems like my type of thing." Eren cuts through the conversation, the thick book in his broad hand steady as his lips move, but eyes remain in stillness against your features.
"You wouldn't fight him, Eren. He wouldn't even show up for the damn fight." You subconsciously murmur, a chuckle pouring from your lips. His eyes flicked over to your face, his brow raising at your subtly off-putting words.
"So this man fucks you, never shows up, and lets a beautiful girl like you cry? C'mon, threaten his pride and ego and he'll be eager to fight," Sasha remarks, her head shifting in your lap. She glanced at the tv, the colours splashing and drowning her face with dulled, flickering hues.
"He... doesn't make me cry..." You say, attempting to assure yourself. This was stupid, compared to the thought that rested in the awareness of their mind.
Sasha shifts in your lap, with subtle discomfort at your words, sensing the altering of your body language as you spoke.
"Tell me the truth. You know I don't want my baby crying over no man." Sasha speaks, her tone light, yet thundering with a problematic source of heavy rain and haphazardous lightning.
