◤ "𝑫𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒓𝒚, 𝒃𝒂𝒃𝒚 -
𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒆, 𝑰'𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍 𝒈𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖."◢
↳ The one where (y/n)'s problematic relationship causes her to end up underneath her hot next door neighbor.
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"Nice place."
And you more than agreed with Eren's observation— to the point where it was almost intimidating with how welcoming and inviting Mr. Ackerman's condo presented itself for his patrons. Everything was put in its proper place, the hardwood floors softly reflected against the warmth of the cream-tinted, dimmed lighting fixtures as the atmosphere wafted a gentle hint of citrus scented cleaning supplies.
Your venture takes you further into your temporary home as your curiosity becomes more and more imperative with each step you take— quickly popping your head into the bedroom where you would be sleeping. It was a decent sized master bedroom, fully furnished as was the rest of the condo— Mr. Ackerman was clearly a minimalist with the way it was designed. Just a bed, a lamp and a dresser— dark wood with an antique glaze.
You can hear Eren's heavy footsteps make their way over to what you can only assume is the couch, by the way the cushions sigh underneath his weight. With the faintest of sounds, a flick of a lighter sends panic through your body as you launch your way into the living— your feet scrambling as the shiny floors create slippage underneath your socks.
"Eren!" You scold, ripping the half-smoked joint from his lips just barely before he lights it. "You can't smoke in here!"
