#love drawing domestic fluff for two people who are just. fucking insane. you know what im saying.

[wazzappp]

The domestic fluff thoughts have got me by the throat

[untaemedqueen]

Third Wheeling

CEO!Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Strangers to Lovers!AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Chapter 10.

Warnings (Updating Still): Smut, Cheating, Unexpected Pregnancy, Unfaithful, Emotional Damage, Love,

Warnings In This Chapter: Heart To Heart, Fluff, Infidelity, Sera Is A Cunt, Triggering Moments (I.E): Hearing Infidelity, Making Light Of Other's Trauma, Mentions of Cigarette Burns, General Rudeness

A/N: This chapter is early because I’m hungover. Always a shoutout to @ppersonna, @xjoonchildx, @ladyartemesia​. Enjoy! 

The smell of blooming flowers is something you never thought you'd become fond of. It's never been something that you've even considered. But you find yourself so often these days finding small delights in simplistic things.

Sitting in front of the large fountain that has been hidden behind clean cut hedges and tall rose bushes, you let the gentle breeze wash over you.

You can hear Baeksoo quietly speaking to the plants as she waters them. It's calming in fact, to hear her speak words of praise.

You've thought long and hard about this evening. Which is astounding since it's just dinner. But, you don't know simple things about Yoongi.

You think to ask Maya but you want to do this by yourself.

"I thought I'd find you here," the voice draws your attention and suddenly you're misty eyed.

Just the way she walks and the tilt of her gorgeous face is enough to make you weep.

"Leena!" you cry out.

Jumping up from the bench, your arms spread wide as you feel relief flood over you.

"Hey, Miss Thing!" she cheers, pulling you into her arms.

You begin to feel as if you could breathe again.

"You look so great! I missed you so much!" she whines loudly, squeezing you tightly to her slim body.

"What're you doing here?!" you ask, pulling away to look at her pretty face.

She grabs your wrist, tugging you over to the bench you were just sitting on.

"Taehyung needed to bring Yoongi some documents for a mall or something before we're off to France, so I made sure I was able to come and see you."

You watch as she demurely crosses her legs and you make a mental note of it. She went to many etiquette classes when she was younger and you’ve always admired how graceful she is. It’s the way she moves so effortlessly and with such confidence. You’ve always wished to be like her.

The floral fragrance seems to enrapture you once more as you sit together. Flipping her hair over her shoulder, your best friend makes it a point to continue to hold you.

“How is he treating you? I swear to God, if you tell me that you’re being treated like the help I’m going to fucking flip.” your best friend asks.

You sigh gently, looking up at the clear cerulean sky.

“He’s treating me normally, I guess. One minute he’s so cold with me and the next he’s just being so sweet. I don’t know what the fuck to feel. Last night, we went at it and he came to apologize to me.” you reply as the breeze blows through your hair.

“Excuse me? Min Yoongi apologized to you?” she sounds dumbfounded and all you can do is nod in agreement.

“Oh my God, he’s so fucking whipped! That’s amazing.” you snort at her excitement, rolling your eyes before looking back over to her.

“I think he’s just being civil. We’ll see, we’re having dinner tonight.” your confession hits her like a stack of bricks and she squeals loudly, gripping your hands tightly.

“I’m gonna drop dead on this expensive gravel beneath my feet. YOU and YOONGI are having dinner tonight?! Like, eating in the presence of one another civilly?!” her blue contacted eyes go wide and her mouth drops open while you nod.

“Yeah. I’m cooking dinner,” you say, confusion enrapturing your tone.

She guffaws loudly, her head lolling back as she gasps for breath. “You’re so insane! This is amazing! He totally fucking likes you!”

“Well… I don’t know about that but-” your voice is cut off by hers.

“Shush! Silence! I’ve said what I’ve said! And it’s the law!” she cries out, pressing her perfectly manicured finger to your lips.

“Sexy girl! Let’s go!” you hear Taehyung scream.

Leena turns her head to the voice before pouting. “You better call me with all the details of your date. I want to know how he looks at you, how he eats his food with you around, how he fucking sneezes. I want the whole laundry list of things that happen tonight!”

You giggle at her enthusiasm before nodding. “Yes ma’am. A laundry list of all the things Min Yoongi does to make me mad.”

She rolls her eyes before kissing your cheek happily.

“Love you, Miss Thing!”

“Love you, too!”

Standing tall, she fixes her long dress. She looks around the garden impressed before folding her arms.

“I’m really happy for you, by the way. I think things are really going to work out here.” she calls to you, starting to walk away.

“Bye Yoongi!” she yells up to the house and your eyes follow hers.

He stands on his large balcony, a cup of coffee in hand staring at you. He bows his head to her, a smirk present on his lips before looking back at you.

“Little dove, good morning.” you hear him say as he retreats back into his room.

How long was he standing there? How much had he heard?

Listening to Frederic drone on about food is something you don’t think you could ever get tired of. He makes the French cook stereotype feel so alive. You’ve been in the kitchen plenty of times, have gone through the cabinets many, many times throughout the nights when staff and the chef were sleeping. But, to hear him feeling the need to explain it all to you as you both take small steps around the gigantic kitchen is humorous and you let him do his thing.

“Now this, this is a sieve. You can strain things through it,” Frederic says, picking up the large strainer.

You hum playfully as you lean down on the island counter.

“I have made my own food before y’know,” you quip to him as he unbuttons his chef’s jacket.

He tuts his tongue as he brushes some hair back behind your ear. “Ah oui, bien sûr Madame. I know, I just want to make sure you know where everything is.”

You smile at his kindness, it must be difficult to relinquish your kitchen to others especially after being in charge for so long.

“I promise I won’t make anything dirty and I promise, cross my heart, that I will take good care of your kitchen,” you swear to him as he throws his chef’s jacket over his shoulder.

He presses both of his hands to either side of your face, wiggling them slightly with a smile.

“Merci, Madame. You are in every word parfaite. I cannot be happier to make you food in this home,” he whispers as you tilt your head with a giggle.

“Go have a good day off, have fun,” you insist as he drifts his hand over the marble countertop, as if he’s finding it hard to say goodbye.

“Oui, bien entendu. I’ll have a drink in your honor, Madame,” he says with a sigh.

You give him a wink as he exits the kitchen and you watch him slowly leave to the maid’s quarter. Your lips sputter as you look around the large, empty kitchen before sighing.

“Okay, let’s do this.”

He should be working. He opened up his computer, he grabbed all the necessary documents from both Taehyung and his office but he just can’t seem to focus.

Yoongi can smell the aroma of food coming from the kitchen and it makes him curious. What are you making? How do you even know what he likes? Do you even know how to cook?

He wants to know more about you, or try to learn more anyway.

Recalling just this morning, he can hear you so clearly -- “He’s treating me normally, I guess. One minute he’s so cold with me and the next he’s just being so sweet. I don’t know what the fuck to feel. Last night, we went at it and he came to apologize to me.”

You think he’s cold and you’re absolutely right. He always has been and it’s gotten worse these last couple of years.

He doesn’t know who he even is anymore. At least he doesn’t think he does.

Then you mentioned that he came to apologize. It must have meant a lot to you. It was weird for him to feel that aching in his chest, to feel like he fucked up. Even in the past when he’s done and said horrible things -- he never had such an ache.

Something about you just… sends him reeling.

Then he remembers what Leena said, “You better call me with all the details of your date.”

Was this a date? He didn’t even think of it in that way. It’s just two people eating… right?

Just a man and the… mother… of… his… child.

“I need whisky,” he mumbles to himself, standing up.

He hasn’t been on a date in God knows how long. He hasn’t spoken to a woman, truly spoken to one, in what feels like a millennia.

Picking up the empty bottle of whisky from the small bar caddy, he curses to himself.

He decides it’s in his best interest to go all the way to the kitchen to get a bottle. Even though his bedroom is just a floor down.

But, it certainly isn’t because you’re in the kitchen cooking. No. Not at all.

As he gets closer to the kitchen, he can smell different types of herbs and delicious meats cooking. He can smell raw peppers and onions and it makes his mouth water.

Yoongi watches you from afar for a minute, just standing on the last step of the stairwell. You’re humming, the song is sweet and calm. You have on a cute apron around your waist, with small smears of what seem to be a sauce of some kind on it.

He can feel his heart lightening at the simple sight of you. You look so… beautiful. So fucking domestic. And, he feels like he doesn’t even need the alcohol anymore because just watching you makes him drunk.

How bizarre.

“What’re we doing?” Maya whispers from next to the stairwell.

Yoongi practically jumps out of his skin at the sight of her, pressing his hand to his heart.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he whispers fiercely, trying to calm his erratic heartbeat.

He hears the older woman giggle and he rolls his eyes at her giddiness.

“I’m just getting whisky,” he mumbles aloud, still trying to keep quiet in case it would disturb you.

“Oh. I see. I can get it for you, Sir.” she replies and he grabs her wrist gently as she tries to walk away.

“No, no! I got it. It’s okay. I was just…” he can’t even complete his sentence.

What was he doing? Checking you out? He was just watching you, feeling so serene.

“You were being sweet, like I raised you. You were entranced by her.” Maya says.

He grimaces at her. “No! I was just… waiting to see if she burned down the kitchen or not.”

Maya giggles to herself before bowing her head. “Of course, Sir. I see that now.”

He rolls his eyes as she takes off to the maid’s quarter.

He watches you wave to Maya with a shy smile on your face.

“Goddammit,” he mutters, combing his fingers through his hair.

He takes small steps, trying his hardest not to disturb you as he walks by the long bar.

“Oh, hey Yoongi!”

Your voice is so sweet. Especially when you say his name.

“Smells good,” he calls to you, walking through the small hallway before appearing in the kitchen.

“Thanks! I hope you like it,” you reply happily as you stir something in the pot.

As he takes in your face, he snorts gently at a small stain by your cheek.

“I think you’re a messy cook,” he teases, walking towards you.

“Huh?” you ask confused.

Stepping in front of you, he taps his index finger to the underside of your chin.

“Look at me,” he instructs.

As you look up at him, he can feel himself falling into your eyes. You’re so doe-like and precious even when you don’t know it. It’s kind of miraculous.

Wiping his thumb over your cheek, he snorts gently. Your breath hitches in your throat as he strokes his thumb over you.

“What’re you making for dinner?” he asks, trying to distract himself from how soft your skin is.

“Well, I made a lot of things.” you reply, pulling your face away from him to look down at the pot.

He hums inquisitively, grabbing a glass off of a rack and pulling out the whisky.

“Do tell, little dove. You’re making me hungry,” he jeers, pouring himself a large portion of the alcohol.

“Well for the appetizer, I made brussel sprouts with parmesan and bacon and a small salad. For the soup, I made a soybean sprout soup. And, the main course is veal with lemon butter sauce and glazed carrots.” you tell him proudly.

He begins to smirk at how pleased you are with yourself.

“Sounds good, I’m excited,” he replies, lifting his glass.

You giggle gently, turning off the burner underneath the pot.

Leaning down on the marble island across from him, you rub your hands together.

“I hope you like it,” you whisper.

You sound shy now and it peeks his interest. You’re like a frail flower. It’s so difficult to get a read on you or put you in a category. But, maybe that’s how it should be. You shouldn’t just be one specific way, you should be well rounded. And he thinks you’ve got that.

“I’m sure I will. Although, didn’t I put in the contract that you shouldn’t be eating so much?”

Finally for once it doesn’t come out as gruff and angry, it was meant to be a joke. Luckily for him, it came out that way.

You find yourself smiling, almost having the urge to stick your tongue out at him playfully.

“I haven’t been able to cook in a long time, this feels nice. Eating a lot once in a while isn’t so bad,” you counter good-naturedly.

He raises his glass at your words. “Touche. Little dove, touche.”

You lean your head on your shoulder, your fingers skimming over each other as you look down at the marble beneath you. For once, the silence isn’t awkward or uncomfortable. It’s pleasant.

“Was it nice to see Leena this morning?” he knows the answer, but he wants to see you smile wider.

And so you do. Brimming from ear to ear, you nod.

“So nice! I’m so happy that I got to see her,” you admit, looking up at him.

“Well, she can come over whenever she wants. It’s in the contract,” he suggests.

“I didn’t know if I wanted her to come over yet, y’know. With Sera around and stuff…” your answer falls flat as Yoongi chuckles across from you.

“That’d be like putting two piranhas in a tank and seeing who wins,” he chuckles.

You snort gently, pointing at him. “Exactly.”

He watches you fix things up around the kitchen, cleaning as you go.

And finally he speaks after some time. “What can I do to help?”

Humming you shrug with a smirk. "I got it. Why don't you go relax for a while?" you suggest.

As you go to lift the pot, Yoongi whistles loudly as if to tell you to stop.

"I read that pregnant women shouldn't be lifting anything heavy. Don't even think about it. I got it," he insists, waving his hand for you to move.

"You read something?" your voice is wrapped with humor as you move over.

"Very funny, little dove. Go set up the table," he instructs with an ever present smirk on his face.

Yoongi leans back in his seat, his stomach was full of delicious food by now but he can't stop picking at his plate. A true testament to how great of a cook you are.

"Damn." he whispers, wiping his mouth with his napkin.

You smirk across the table, your arms folding with pride.

"Good?" you ask softly, grabbing your drink.

"Very good. I'm impressed," he says as he slings his arm over the top of his chair.

You giggle gently, your head lolling back to look at the clear night sky.

"Who taught you how to cook?" he asks, watching as you count the stars.

So here it is. Will he be as truthful as you? Will he talk to you?

"My parents. My dad always liked cooking more than my mother. She was sick a lot when I was young. Always in the hospital. So my dad got comfort from making her food and I used to take it to her," you answer, looking back down at him.

Yoongi nods gently, it's starting to click in his mind. "That's why you hate hospitals?"

"That's why I hate hospitals. There was a time when she was admitted for a bad stomach ache and she got worse in the hospital because the bedding and the nurses weren't clean." you reply breathlessly.

The father of your child cringes at the thought, taking a sip of his whisky.

"You?"

Yoongi takes a deep, slow breath. He stares at your face and the task at hand is daunting. If people didn't already know him, he didn't open up. But, he should open up to you.

Or he thinks so anyway. You're having his child, you should know about him. And maybe if he speaks his history then it will break the cycle. Then he won't turn into his parents, he won't have a fucked up kid like himself.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," you say quickly.

You can see him wrought with nervousness. Just the prospect of letting things out must terrify him.

"No, I should talk about them. If not with you then surely a therapist," he jokes out of worry.

But, then he looks at your face. He feels that sense of dizzying calm once more. Like everything is going to be okay.

He chugs the rest of his whisky, his mouth watering and grimacing.

"No, I don't know how to cook. I'm not even sure my parents know how to cook-" he lets out a breath, letting the warm fire of the alcohol in his belly keep him going, "-they never took care of me. I was born and they were relieved to have a boy so they didn't have to try again."

You hum sadly at his words, tucking your legs beneath you as he runs his hand over his face.

"Maya has always taken care of me. She's always loved and cared for me. She's my mother by all accounts, if I'm being honest. My father was a very big disciplinarian… if that's what you want to call it. Most people would say abusive," he says, pouring himself another glass of whisky.

"Kneeling on rice, getting hit with sharp objects, burning cigarettes out. Things like that," he waves off the notion with his hand, shivering while even speaking the words.

Your heart breaks for him, thinking of how painful that must have been when he was a child.

"I haven't seen my parents in… four years now, since I got married. I hate them." he spits at the ground beneath his feet.

You can see the emotional turmoil he's reliving. You can't imagine how difficult that is.

"I'm sorry," you whisper and he shakes his head fiercely.

Picking up his fork, he taps it gently to the fine china as he thinks.

"So I grew up hating authority because of them and the teachers at Sairmount. They always said I should be doing better because of my position and what I would grow into. I hated that. Even when I tried my best I received no praise, and if I made one mistake it was like the end of the world. So I ended up just kind of… becoming a shell."

You nod to his words, your index finger swirling around the rim of your glass.

"What else, little dove?" he asks softly.

As he tilts his head, you take in his handsome features. He's just a product of his environment. You wonder what he would be like if he could thrive.

"I heard that you go to BDSM clubs and stuff, is that because you feel the need to put people in pain like you were when you were younger?" you ask, trying to be considerate of his feelings.

He takes a sharp breath through his teeth almost as if you've burned him.

"Jesus. You might as well be my therapist," he mumbles, running his hand over his face.

But, he doesn't feel awkward talking to you. He likes this. He appreciates how you listen. How your eyes stay soft and you don't judge him.

"When I was younger -- I was probably sixteen when I developed a taste for it. I was getting angry and violent. I was breaking shit and I needed to funnel that into something. So I started going to a club and learned how to be a dom. It was about the comfort of being in charge. I would have a sub and tell them to jump. They would say how high. I thrived off of being in charge. Thrived off people doing my bidding sexually. It just felt right for me to tell someone what to do and have them want to do it for me. I was in charge, people listened to me, I didn't have to do things others wanted. People did what I wanted them to do. I've toned it down since then."

"You were pretty dominating with me," you offer softly.

He chuckles at how innocent you look, his index finger swiping slowly over his lower lip. "That's because you're so sweet. I wanted to wreck you."

With a gentle giggle, you put your elbow on the table before resting your head on your hand.

"You kind of did," you reply, putting your hand on your stomach.

His eyes follow your hand and he begins to smirk above his glass.

"Clearly," he whispers, his eyes slowly drifting up your body to your swollen tits.

He licks his lips slowly, his teeth tugging at his bottom lip gently.

He never understood the attraction to pregnant women like his friend Jimin. The younger man was obsessed with the notion of it and Yoongi couldn't possibly begin to grasp it. But now, with you sitting here before him, he might be beginning to understand.

Averting his eyes from you, he tries to keep his rampant thoughts at bay.

"What else do you want to know, little dove?" he asks, trying to distract himself.

Your cheeks puff out as you think, your fingers combing through your hair gently.

"Sera? What's with her. If you hate her so much why did you get married to her?" you whisper.

Well, that's something to kill the sexual mood he was starting to feel.

He spits on the ground at the simple name of her. He stares far off into the distance, his eyes lingering on a grove of trees Baeksoo has so kindly planted.

"Sera…" he mumbles, stretching out his legs.

You might as well know. You aren't going anywhere in his life.

"Jesus, I think about it everyday and it still makes me mad," he chuckles to himself, the sound bitter and full of resentment.

You watch his face contort in pain, just the simple memory making it hard to withstand.

Without a second thought you're moving your chair. The sound is loud as you move the heavy metal and he watches you with amused eyes. Finally, your seat is next to him and you huff out gently.

"What?" he asks gently as you plop back down.

You grab his hand, intertwining your fingers to bring him peace. His head lolls back against the chair, his eyes fluttering shut at the simple move. It's a simple thing to hold hands but it feels powerful when it's you.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," you say to him.

His thumb drifts over the back of your hand, his eyes opening to the numerous stars that hang brightly in the sky.

"Everyone knows I hate her but no one truly knows why. Maya, Joon, Hoseok, they know. Hell, Hoseok dives deep into her bitter cunt at night and he knows." he shakes his head gently, his eyes flitting from star to star.

You begin to bite your lip nervously as he squeezes your hand tighter.

"I didn't always hate her. I loved her once. I loved the prospect of her anyway," he breathes out, his hand gripping tighter at yours, "I was engaged at fourteen. It was mandatory, the leech's parents were friends with my parents. Their company was going down the drain, they almost had to declare bankruptcy. So this was the easiest thing for both parties. It's very normal in the high profile life to be engaged to someone else for money. It didn't bother me at all that I was engaged, so were the people around me. I thought I was going to have a life like Namjoon."

He snorts at the simple thought and mindlessly he tugs your hand with his over your stomach.

Just the thought of his baby inside of you brings him peace.

With a gentle sigh, he continues. "She didn't go to school with us and I had only seen her a few times at balls and galas. She was annoying back then and she was always brisk with people. But I liked that, I guess. Because I was the same way. I had a childish crush on her for so long and it kept growing as we got older."

He stops talking only to down another glass of whiskey. He closes his eyes as you run your hand comfortingly over his. "When I moved into this house, I had it renovated to please her. I did anything and everything to make her happy. And I was so… excited to have someone that was mine. Someone to spend the rest of my life with. I didn't want our marriage to be like my parents. And, now it's worse."

You find how sad he is depressing. Frowning, you click your teeth softly.

"I'm so sorry," you whisper.

Shaking his head, Yoongi looks at you. He gives you a sad smile. It's heart wrenching to look at his handsome face so distraught.

Even if he can be an asshole sometimes, you can understand him better now. That's all you wanted. You just wanted to be able to connect the dots.

"It was the night of our wedding, that's when I became aware of how awful of a person Sera is." he says, staring off into the distance.

He couldn't understand why she wanted to get married on New Years. It's freezing cold but if it makes her happy then he should do it. It'll be his duty as a husband anyhow.

"Come!" Taehyung whines to him as he sits in the booth.

"I'm not having sex with a woman the day before I'm getting married. That'd be such a dickish thing to do," he counters as Taehyung wraps his arms around the stripper beside him.

"You've been celibate for a year or some shit. You abstaining for the Lord or for the sake of your new bride is not going to make you a born again virgin, okay?" the younger man asks with a laugh, running his hand over the stripper's pert backside.

Rolling his eyes, the Kisung CEO takes a sip from his drink.

"It's not about being a born again virgin, you moron. It's about fidelity. It's about trust. She and I agreed that we would just be for each other." Yoongi barks out gruffly.

Taehyung grimaces at the simple thought. "Fine. Well whatever pact you have with your blushing new bride is depressing me. I'm going to get my dick wet with… Luna. That's your name, right?" the hotel CEO asks the woman on his arm.

She giggles loudly, the sound frightening and way too forced. "Laura, silly!"

"Yeah. That. Bye Hyung. Try to cheer the fuck up or something." Tae calls, picking the stripper up with his strong arms before swinging her over his shoulder.

Yoongi snorts loudly, his eyes flitting from here to there in the large strip club. This wasn't for him anymore. He would be married now. To a woman all his.

He's been living in this fantasy. Waking up on weekend mornings next to his wife, eating breakfast together. Having a few kids. Being able to enjoy each other's company.

He loves the idea of that. He's gone through so much terrible pain in his lifetime. Maybe, fate is telling him he deserves a reward now.

Standing up, he finishes the rest of his drink. He tosses a few hundred bucks onto the table before heading out.

He knows it's not customary to see his bride the night before the wedding but, maybe he can just have a talk with her. He's dying to see her.

For once, Yoongi let someone else take the penthouse besides him. Sera should be fully comfortable before her big day.

They bought out the whole hotel. She wanted to be married in Italy on New Years. She wanted diamonds dripping from the fucking ceiling and she would have it. She would have it all.

The walk from the strip club to the hotel wasn't far. Yoongi can see the lights on in the penthouse and his heart begins to hammer in delight at the thought of seeing her.

She's so fucking beautiful. Albeit, she can be a little irritating at times but who isn't? She's almost godly in his eyes.

He's been waiting for this day since he was fourteen. He can remember when Namjoon got engaged. How fucking against it he was.

Joon always wanted to do things his way. He wanted to pick who he was with, he wanted to be happy on his own. He despised Yoona for years before their big day a year ago. Then he found out how similar they are. He fell in love with everything she's in love with.

Yoongi hopes it'll be the same.

The ride up the elevator to the penthouse is quiet. Gentle muzak plays that seems to lull him into a false sense of security.

Sera might be really big on traditions. She might have him sit in the living room for them just to talk but that's okay too. Whatever she wants.

The elevator opens silently and Yoongi fixes his blazer in the hallway mirror. He smiles to himself softly, looking like nothing can bring him down from this cloud.

Until he hears it. Until he hears the gentle groaning of a man in his sexual pleasure.

"Oh fuck, Sera. Do it again, you filthy slut." he hears and his world comes crashing down around him.

"Yeah, fuck. You like that? Your cock is so much bigger than Yoongi's. I want you to come play with me during the week while he's at work," she sounds breathless.

The CEO's eyes flutter shut and he grips onto the table before him to keep him steady.

"Yeah. I'd bet you'd fucking like that. I bet you love the idea of me fucking your little cunt while your husband is away at work. Let me cum in your pussy before the cuck gets home. You'll let him in this pussy with my cum inside of you," the voice is that of Sera's driver. The one man Yoongi never even gave any thought to.

His hand feels for the wall. His legs are shaking by now and he slowly slides down the gold wall, pressing his hand over his mouth.

"Cum on my cock, you fucking slut."

The sound of her orgasming will never leave his brain. He can hear how pleased she is.

Yoongi in his past has had sex with others too. But, they promised to be faithful to one another. He believed her.

He can feel his eyes welling up with tears as he squeezes them shut tighter.

He thought fate was giving him a helping hand. He was going to be happy! What has he done so wrong in his life for misery to consistently stay?!

Heavy breathing is heard throughout the silent penthouse.

"Why did you promise that stupid fuck you would be only for him?" Jungmo, the driver, asks breathlessly.

Sera giggles, a sound once so adorable it brought Yoongi to his knees.

"Because I want his fucking money. There's no prenup if he thinks I'm all for him. He genuinely thinks that I love him. He thinks I care about whatever the fuck has happened in his miserable past. Do you know that he told me that his dad used to burn cigarettes out on his skin? I was supposed to feel sorry for him." Jungmo and Sera laugh along with one another.

Yoongi's mouth opens at the sheer atrocity he's listening to. She's so fucking cruel. How did he never see this? How could he have this happen to him?

"You were supposed to feel sorry for that billionaire while you're only sitting barely comfortable at seven million!?"

"I know, right?! The fucking nerve! Like, he doesn't even understand that my life has been so much worse! I had to almost go fucking bankrupt! Who gives a fuck about your sad past? What about me?"

The CEO tugs at the blazer fabric situated above his heart. He clamps his hand tighter over his mouth to stifle the sob raring to break free from his throat.

"I can't wait to take all his fucking money and leave him with only his sad little memories."

Crawling over to the elevator, he pushes the button softly. Praying to God that it doesn't make any noise when it opens.

She's such a cruel bitch. So fucking vile.

He stands up on shaky legs as the door opens without a sound. Pushing the button for the floor below him, he waits until the door closes.

He waits until he is safe in his room.

He wails loudly, falling onto the carpeted flooring of the hotel room. He gasps for air, hands digging and pulling at his hair.

He cries for an hour, maybe more. Time seemingly stops in his distraught state.

When he calms himself down, he pulls out his phone. He crawls over to the bar caddy, wiping viciously at the tears he's spilled for the woman upstairs.

Yoongi doesn't even grab a glass, he just pulls the bottle of whisky down to the floor.

Sitting back against the long bar of the room, he dials the only number he can right now.

The sound of the phone ringing is so loud, it makes him want to weep all over again.

"Yoongi? It's two in the morning, what the fuck?" Namjoon calls blearily, through the phone.

"Joon… Please come to my room." his voice cracks and breaks as he picks up the bottle of whisky.

"Jesus, are you okay?" his best friend asks quickly.

"I need… I need a prenup. Please. Come." Yoongi begs, lifting the bottle to his lips.

"I'm coming! Hold on!" Joon calls to him before the line goes dead.

He gulps down the whisky at a ferocious speed, the liquor swirling and settling in his guts. The fire flaming and goading him on to no avail.

"YOU FUCKING WHORE!" he screams at the top of his lungs.

Yoongi launches the bottle across the room, burying his face into his knees as the sound of glass echoes all around him.

"Oh Yoongi. I'm so sorry," you whisper, clutching tighter to his hand.

Yoongi finds himself laughing at the memory now. He was so blind back then. So lovestruck.

"Nothing that isn't fixed now, little dove. Now we're both trapped in this marriage." his voice is devoid of emotion as he picks up the liquor bottle.

You can see how hurt he is even now. How reliving the memory is something akin to death to him.

You lean in towards his body. You press your lips to his cheek and he grabs you tighter at the feeling.

"Maybe that's why I liked you in the club? Because you seemed so completely opposite of the whore that lives in my house," he says finally as you pull away.

He turns his face to you, your lips just mere inches apart.

Yoongi lifts his hand, placing it gently on your cheek.

"You're a good girl, Y/N. You're so kind and sweet. Fucking understanding. You're going to be a great mother. I'm so sorry that you have to deal with me. Deal with an asshole every day. It isn't fair to you," he whispers, his thumb grazing over the apple of your cheek.

His hand is so warm against your skin, so soft. He's being so gentle.

"You're not an asshole. Not truly." you reply softly.

With a snort, he rolls his eyes. "See. You're almost too kind."

You giggle as his hand drifts down the column of your neck, his thumb rubbing over your jawline.

"I'm serious. You can be an asshole, for sure. But it's because of all the terrible things that have happened to you. If you were happy, really and truly happy. You might flourish. You might be able to find yourself again." you reply.

It comes out as a suggestion but it's really a wish. No one should ever be put through what he has had happen to him.

He tilts his head unsurely, pulling away from you.

"You're going to be a great dad. I won't let you be anything but a good dad to your child. No one is perfect, Yoongi. We can do this together." you say, earnestly.

Together.

The word makes his heart rate pick up speed.

You're pretty perfect in his eyes.

He can tell as you sit with one another, how heavy your eyelids are getting.

"You're tired," he observes.

"No, I'm okay!" you reply quickly to him.

He clicks his teeth, eyes narrowing at you. "We're going to be truthful with each other from here on in. Are you tired?"

With a hesitant hum, you nod. "A little. The baby makes me tired a lot these days."

"Okay." Yoongi whispers finitely.

Standing up, he moved your chair for you. With a simple grunt, he picks you up in his arms bridal style.

"I can walk!" you whine, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"So can I." he jeers cutely.

Wading with sure steps through the house, you find how easy it is for him to look down at you. His eyes are soft when they look upon you now. Like telling you about his life has taken a huge weight off of his shoulders.

He kicks open your bedroom door with a smirk.

"There would have been a time I would have died to bring you up here to ravage you," he says, goodnaturedly.

"You still can." you sing softly as he lays you down on your bed.

"We'll see, hmm?" he whispers as he lifts the covers for you.

"Stay," you mumble, arranging the pillows to your liking.

"You want me to sleep with you?!" Yoongi feels frightened at the notion.

"Yeah… just stay. Don't leave me," you whisper as you close your eyes.

He hesitantly walks around to the other side of the bed. He fumbles with his pants and his shirt almost embarrassingly so.

Yoongi hasn't laid with anyone in years. He hasn't thought about doing so in ages.

"Did you leave?" your voice is just above a whisper.

He watches you for a second, how pretty and serene you look with your hair splayed over the pillow.

"No, little dove. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere," he replies, laying down beside you.

Swallowing thickly, he gets comfortable under the same covers as you.

This is bizarre.

Tiredly, you pull his hand. His eyes go wide as you situate it over your stomach.

"It's not a big deal, Yoongi. Just sleep." You mumble as you turn onto your back.

He can feel the tiny bump developing under his hand.

It is a big deal.

To him.

He brushes some hair out of your face gently.

Maybe Sera wasn't his start to a new life. Maybe it's you.

Next Chapter ---->

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[makuroshi]

This fluffy fic is my Eruri Secret Santa gift for @danchou-smith! Your wish list left me open to a lot of options, and I’ve chosen the domestic fluff/humour route (with a tint of smut, of course)... I haven’t written in a long, long while so I’m rusty, but I hope you liked it~ Happy holidays, love :) *Also on AO3

Title: “hello fuck off, i’m erwin”

Ratings: M

Summary:

“I’m an editor now, but I used to work at a calendar factory,” Erwin says, popping a chip into his mouth. “I got sacked.”

Levi’s interest is piqued. “Why?” He asks, curious.

Erwin glances up from his plate, smirking like he’s up to no good. “Because I took a couple of days off,” he says, snickering as if something is so funny.

Levi doesn’t get it.

(or Levi meets the fabled oh-so-perfect Erwin Smith and instantly learns that he’s not always what he seems. He falls in love anyway)

---

“Listen,” Hange says, excitement evident on her face as she leans forward, encroaching into Levi’s space. Levi can already guess what she is going to talk about; she’s been harping on it for days. “I have this friend, you know? That tall blonde guy I went to college with? I was talking about you that day and he’s interested to know more about you.”

“Mike said he smells nice. Wonderful, even.”

“And why the hell should that convince me?!”

“You know how Mike is! He can smell evil from miles away!” Hange swings her arms in an exaggerated gesture and Levi sighs, feeling a headache coming.“I’m telling you, Erwin’s a great guy. Almost impeccable if not for—“ She pauses, as if suddenly remembering something, then brushes it off “Nevermind, just meet him once, please?”

“No.”

“I’ll make my students stay back to clean the classrooms and the office everyday for a month?”

Levi considers, and then- “Deal.”

And that’s how Levi ends up in a family restaurant across the street, on a set-up meeting (not a date) with the one and only Erwin Smith.

Erwin Smith is, to put it simply, insanely attractive. His flawless appearance might be intimidating to some people, but to Levi, nothing turns him on more than a calm and collected man who knows how to keep his suits crease-free and hair perfectly in place. The height is a very much appreciated bonus –the first time Levi hears that they have a good 1’ between them he almost drags the guy straight to bed. Almost.

Throughout their not-date, Levi slowly learns more about Erwin, and with each passing second, he’s solidifying Hange’s claim that he’s Mr. Perfect. Levi can’t believe his luck. But come to think of it… Hange did blurt something about Erwin, right?

“I’m an editor now, but I used to work at a calendar factory,” Erwin says, popping a chip into his mouth. “I got sacked.”

Levi’s interest is piqued. “Why?” He asks, curious.

Erwin glances up from his plate, smirking like he’s up to no good. “Because I took a couple of days off,” he says, snickering as if something is so funny.

Levi doesn’t get it. He replays what Erwin said in his head. ‘I got sacked from a calendar factory because I took some days off—‘

Wow.

“That was… awful,” he deadpans. “You in charge of Reader’s Digest jokes section or something?”

“Economics, actually. But I dabble,” Erwin smirks. Levi wants to punch his face at how beautiful he looks. “

So this is it. This was what Hange had almost let slip. Erwin Smith’s flaw is that he makes terrible jokes. And not just any jokes, he makes… dad jokes.

Uh oh.

“So?” Hange claps a hand on his back when she runs into him the next day. Levi knows she wants to talk, but he doesn’t.

“So what?” He snaps, pressing the red pen onto one of his students’ book so hard that it pokes through it. He looks at the front page. Eren Jaeger. Tough luck, kid.

Hange’s still starry-eyed, ignoring Levi’s distress. “So… with Erwiiiinnn? How’d it go?”

“Mostly amazing but…” Levi replies, pointing an accusatory finger at Hange. “You knew.”

“That he has a dreadful sense of humour? Yeah,” Hange chuckles, shaking her head. “But other than that, isn’t he just your type?” She grins. “Admit it, you’d totally climb him like a tree.”

He’s suddenly reminded of Erwin’s exasperatingly hot physique and shit, that’s a thought he doesn’t need when he has a class to teach in ten.

“Do you think you guys will work out?” Hange asks. Levi closes his eyes and replies, “We’ll see.”

 And they work out just fine, it seems. The subsequent dates go well (yes, he can call them dates now), and even though Erwin still sometimes say shit like “Did you hear about the chef, Levi? He pasta away” while they’re eating fucking pasta, Levi is willing to put it past him, especially since he gets to shut Erwin up nicely by riding his dick to oblivion after a particularly flirty night.

Mike smiles knowingly (note, creepily) when Hange and him hangs out on the weekend, and really, who cares about the teasing when Erwin’s such a fantastic fuck?

He has never thought it’d come to this, but somehow one thing leads to another and Levi moves in with Erwin after a year and a half of being together.

The place they get is in a gated neighbourhood, homely and convenient for them both, more so for Levi as the school he works at is within walking distance. Erwin still has to drive to his office, which is not a problem as his job sometimes entails driving around to meetings anyway.

Living with Erwin is surprisingly easy to get used to. They fall into a comfortable routine without much hassles, and life is going really, really great.

But if there’s something Levi has trouble with, it’s Erwin’s work timing.

Erwin’s job as a senior editor should be less taxing than it is currently, considering that he is now rather high up in the food chain. He’s well-respected in the industry, a favourite among the crowd for both his talents and charm; he no longer needs to work his ass off day and night to prove his worth.

Except it’s Erwin we’re talking about. He has always been a bit of an workaholic, not accepting anything less than perfect for the pieces he approve, and that results in him working extra hours, even on the weekends.

It’s not ideal, of course, but Levi manages.

Today is a rare but welcomed occurrence. For the first time in a while, Levi wakes up to Erwin’s broad chest smothering his face, warmth engulfing him in a bone-crushing embrace. He inhales the musky scent that he’s come to love, and runs a hand along Erwin’s strong back, scraping his nails on purpose. He’s sated from last night and still feels floaty and disgustingly happy.

Erwin stirs, eyes still closed. “Morning,” he mumbles.

Levi’s reply is a muffled ‘hmmm’ as he buries his face deeper into the comforting touch. He throws a leg over Erwin’s larger ones under the covers and contemplates sleeping in, before something suddenly crosses his mind.

“What’s wrong?” Erwin asks, plush lips settling on the side of Levi’s head.

“It’s Saturday. We have to take out the trash.”

Erwin groans and draws Levi closer, to his vocal protest. “Can’t we do that another day?”

“And let the maggots breed? No fucking way.” Levi struggles viciously against the hold and breaks free, making his way out of the bedroom. For the lack of better things to do now that the other side of the bed is empty, Erwin reluctantly follows.

Once they’re done with the trash (Levi makes Erwin clean the bin to make up for all the times he had to do it alone), Erwin pleads. “There. Now can we go back inside and cuddle?”

 They don’t, in fact, go back inside and cuddle. Instead, Erwin finds himself with a shopping list in a grocery store, crouching in Aisle 5 searching for honey. Levi’s off somewhere to settle the other half of the list, and they agree to meet up at the check-out after twenty minutes.

They don’t get much, after all it’s only the two of them (for now, a voice in Levi’s head says). The cashier, a kid with close-shaved head scans the milk and beams cheerfully at them.

“Would you like your milk in a bag, sir?”

Levi swears he sees it; the mischievous glint in Erwin’s eyes when the cashier asks the question. He cannot anticipate yet what he’s going to say –his mind isn’t as fast as Erwin’s when it comes to this- but he knows it is going to be nothing short of a disaster. Before Levi can kick him in back of the knee in a desperate attempt to rescue their dignities, Erwin has already opened his mouth to speak.  Shit, too late. Oh well, at least the kid has to hear this too.

“No thanks, please leave it in the jug!”

 Silence.

Erwin grins.

God, Levi wants to die.

He’s so sure that almost everyone within the vicinity had heard that, because Erwin had made it a point to say it with a loud, booming voice. That only happens when he is confident enough that his joke is funny, which is why the current situation is even more painful because absolutely no one is laughing.

Or so Levi thinks.

The kid (‘Connie’, his nametag reads) starts biting his bottom lip, face contorting into a mixture of constipation and holding back a wet fart. Connie’s shoulders are shaking visibly now, grip on the bread he’s scanning tightening (RIP bread), and it’s not long before Levi realizes that he is actually stifling a laugh. A giggle or two escapes him, then all of a sudden, Connie throws his head back and roars in laughter, hitting the counter repeatedly to emphasise just how funny he found that joke. The two young ladies behind them are also covering her face with their hands, probably concealing their own giggles. Erwin is undoubtedly very pleased with himself, glancing back and forth between Connie and Levi as if saying ‘hey look at that, I’m so funny right’ but Levi is not having any of that.

He sends a piercing glare at Connie, who upon seeing Levi’s murderous face resumes scanning the items at the speed of light. They pay, grab the bags and leave the shop in record three minutes twenty seconds

“You scared him!” Erwin says disapprovingly once they reach the parking lot, loading the bags into the car.

Levi jabs Erwin in the hip sharply, reveling in Erwin’s yelp of pain. He rearranges the bags so they fit and slams the trunk shut. “And you embarrassed me.”

“Awww come on, you loved it!”

“Save your dad jokes from when you actually become one.”

Levi can almost feel the world stopping the second he says it. Shit, that wasn’t supposed to come out! He freezes up, and he wants to run away because he knows Erwin will ask about it but he’s trapped in the car

“Levi,” Erwin carefully places a hand on his thigh, a sign that he’s not gonna let this go so easily. “Are you saying you wanna have kids with me?”

“Don’t spin my words, bastard.”

“Do you?” Erwin has a small smile playing on his lips. He is now staring at him like he’s his world, bright blue eyes so fond and tender and holy shit, Levi thinks, I’m really in love with this guy.

“Maybe,” He mutters, gazing outside the window to hide his face, worried of what kind of vulnerable expression he must be doing right now. “Someday.”

After that ‘Carpark Confession’ incident (no thanks Hange for the name), Erwin is visibly more affectionate than before. He steals more kisses from Levi than the norm, and his touches linger a lot, but at least he doesn’t bring it up anymore. Levi takes that as a sign that Erwin understands that he can see them having a future together, which is definitely more than enough. A typical day in their life now goes like this:

“Hey love,” Erwin sets a cup of tea on the table, leaning down to kiss the top of Levi’s head fondly. “How’s your day?”

Levi mutters a soft ‘thanks’ and lifts the cup by the brim, bringing it close to his lips. “They changed the janitor to one that can actually do his job… at least half of the class submitted their homework… and Hange blew up only one test tube instead of the usual five. So, ‘s okay, I guess.” He takes a sip from the tea and marvels in how it’s delicious as always, just the right amount of warmth and sweetness. Erwin’s not a big fan of tea, but boy does he make a good cup.

“Mmmm,” Erwin hums in content, engrossed in reading a magazine. “I got complimented on my driving today,” he says, nonchalant.

At that, Levi’s eyes narrow. Erwin drives like he’s chasing a flight or trying to escape assassins all the time, there’s no way somebody finds that kind of road skills praiseworthy. He turns to face Erwin, who is still avoiding any eye contact. Something’s not right. “Oh really.”

“Yeah, really.” Closing the magazine, Erwin stands up in a subtle hurry that doesn’t escape Levi’s attention. He’s already halfway across the room when he continues. “They left a little note saying ‘parking fine’.”

“Erwin,” Levi growls, expression darkening. “Did you get a ticket again.”

“Oh is that what it meant?” Erwin feigns innocence, laughing nervously. “I thought they were complime--” He doesn’t get the chance to finish his sentence before he bolts up the stairs hysterically, a fuming Levi hot on his tails.

Levi has been away from home for the past week for the annual Sina High team-building camp he’s forced to go as one of the class teachers. He’s convinced the whole bullshit is unnecessary and an utter waste of time, but Principal Pixis insisted that everyone attends and Levi wasn’t in a mood to argue.

So… a week apart from Erwin. The longest they’ve spent apart was four days, when Erwin had to go on a short business trip to Canada. One week is just three days added to that, they should be fine, right?

Right.

There’s a problem though.

He’s horny. So painfully horny.

Before he’d left for the trip, they have not been able to have much sex as Erwin’s sister was in town and had crashed at their house for a few days. So it’s really been two weeks since him and Erwin last fucked, which is downright insane considering how insatiable they both usually are.

Levi tries it with his fingers on one of the nights but it just isn’t the same. It feels good, but nothing like what Erwin offers when he slowly, carefully fingers him open, getting him ready for his cock. Erwin’s just… fills him up nicer and hits him in all the right places, and Levi is almost sobbing with frustration as he chases a weak release alone.

He gets home the next evening, thinking that he can finally get his fill of Erwin again. He opens the door ready to pounce, only to be greeted with an empty house.

Erwin’s working late again.

Levi sighs in disappointment, grudgingly heading towards their room, hoping that he will be back soon.

The rattle of keys wakes him up with a jerk. Desire and excitement coursing through his veins, Levi practically zooms down the stairs, and the instance Erwin appears at the door, Levi tackles and drags him down onto the floor, suitcase and work files be damned. They fall with a thud in a heap of tangled limbs, in the middle of the hallway that has not been swept and mopped for a week. Damn it. He should probably move this to the bedroom where it’s much more hygienic and conducive, but Levi doesn’t think he can stand another minute not having Erwin’s dick in him without spontaneously combusting.

“I’m so fucking horny right now,” Levi hisses, fingers scrambling to clumsily undo the buttons of Erwin’s black coat. He gets to the third button when Erwin chooses that moment to sit up, pressing his growing hard-on into Levi’s bottom in the process, earning a loud filthy moan from the man. “Shit, Erwin,” Levi pants, breathless.

“Levi, what’s gotten into you?” Erwin says, sliding his nimble hands under Levi’s shirt, leaving feathery touches in their wake.

“You, I hope. Preferably right now,” Levi replies, tossing away the coat haphazardly. It lands a little too close to the foot of the stairs, but he can’t care less. Ignoring Erwin’s chuckle, he tears hungrily at the tailored shirt, relishing in the sound of the buttons hitting the floor. He licks a stripe from Erwin’s collarbone down to the top of his pants, tasting the sweat on his heated flesh. “Stop laughing like an idiot and get on to it.”

Erwin is certainly more than happy to oblige. He eagerly helps rid Levi of his pants and watches in awe as Levi’s erection springs free, already red and straining for release.

“You’ve got a lot pent up,” Erwin grumbles, leaning down to blow onto the tip of Levi’s length, coaxing a grunt out of him. “Look at you… So needy like this.” He sneaks a hand behind and slips a finger into Levi’s ass, eyes widening at the realization that he’s already wet and open.

“You’re late. I had to prepare myself,” Levi gasps as Erwin reinserts his finger, playing with the rim of his entrance. His body arches in unabashed pleasure and he can’t fight the carnal urge to push back against Erwin, grinding against him frantically. “Wanted your cock so bad,” he whines.

“Fucking hell, Levi.”

Erwin surges forward to catch Levi’s lips in a frenzied kiss, never letting him go more than a few seconds as he slicks himself up and enters Levi, basking in the obscene sounds of skin hitting skin. 

Somewhere between Erwin eating his come out of Levi’s ass and Levi greedily lapping at Erwin’s spent cock, they make it to the bedroom to continue where things are left off, and after both their bodies ache delightfully from the hours and hours of incessant lovemaking, they lay together in silence, catching their breaths.

Levi is thoroughly satisfied and is about drift to a peaceful sleep when he feels Erwin’s big hand caress the back of his neck. He opens his eyes and there he is, grinning cheekily.

“Hey Levi, do you know the difference between a frog and a horny toad?” Oh no. Here it comes. “A frog says ‘ribbit, ribbit’, a horny toad says ‘rub it, rub it’.”

The smug look on his stupid face as he wiggles those godawful eyebrows makes Levi want nothing more than to rip them off and turn them into a doormat. Or a hand towel, Levi hasn’t decided yet.

For now, he settles for smacking the pillow hard into Erwin’s face, yelling at him to go to sleep.

It’s Christmas Eve, also so creatively coined ‘Levi’s Birthday Eve’ by Hange.

Levi’s busy preparing drinks in the kitchen for the party they’ll throw later tonight when his phone buzzes in his pocket, begging for attention. Thinking it’s one of the guys bailing out on the party or asking for directions, he checks it but is puzzled by the caller’s name on the screen.

It’s Erwin.

The guy is literally in the living room, setting up the table.

Levi picks up anyway, knowing that this is just one of Erwin’s demented method of flirting. He’s done this before, once or twice when he’s bored. Levi would humour him if they have the time, but the party is starting soon and they still have some preparations pending. “Why are you calling me?”

“Oh I don’t know…” Hmm, that’s strange. Erwin’s deep voice feels close, like he’s in the same room standing behind him. There’s also a nervous edge to it, which is unbecoming of the usually calm man. “Just felt like-“ Levi hears him both over the phone and in the other ear now. “-giving you a ring.”

Levi turns around sharply and sees Erwin, holding a phone in one hand and hiding the other behind him. He’s about to ask him to quit messing around when Erwin swiftly drops to one knee and holds out a box.

Levi stares, mouth agape.

“You’re fucking kidding me.”

“Knock, knock,” Erwin says, causing Levi to frown. A knock-knock joke, really?

“Erwin what the fuck—“

“Knock. Knock.” He repeats pointedly, sounding almost completely serious if not for the sheer absurdity of the joke and the situation itself.

Letting out a long-suffering sigh, Levi relents. Erwin is on his knee in front of him, looking like whatever Levi says next will either make or break him, and he can’t help but to play along. “Who’s there?”

“Mary.”

Levi’s breath hitches. He knows exactly where this is going. His heart is already going at a thousand miles an hour, threatening to leap right out of his chest, and there’s a lump stuck in his throat but he somehow manages to find his voice.

“Mary who?” He says, still staring down at Erwin though his vision is getting foggy.

Erwin’s lips curve up in a gentle smile, the one that always knocks all air out of Levi’s lungs and makes him want to drop everything to be with him. “Marry me.” He takes one of Levi’s hand into his own and presses a small kiss onto the knuckles, whispering, “Please?”

It’s cheesier than the lasagna they had for lunch -and that’s saying a lot because Erwin had made it with enough mozzarella to make at least three large pizzas, urgh- and a part of him kind of hates Erwin for pulling the stunt when he least expected it, on the Christmas Eve no less. But there is nothing in the world he wants more than to have the fleeting glimpse of Erwin’s face the moment he says ‘yes’ and pulls him in for a kiss be burned into his memories forever.

Oh, Levi thinks as he looks at the clock, remembering the party that’s happening in an hour. Hange and Mike’re gonna have a field day with this.

(Two months into their married life, when Levi asks when his appointment with the dentist is and Erwin answers with a casual “tooth hurt-y”, Levi realizes that he’s stuck with a relentless, irritatingly attractive middle-aged man with a penchant for horribly amusing dad jokes.

And the best part? He wouldn’t want it any other way.)