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[cocomellxn]

seeing laufey today, so excited!!

[cocomellxn]

Losing my mind over this and I still have a research paper to write 😭

sweet nothing

actor!eren x f!reader

**part of my method acting fic

previous part linked here

songs mentioned: minor mentions of slut by taylor swift, new year's day by taylor swift, end of beginning by djo, turning page by sleeping at last, sweet nothing by taylor swift, and must be love by laufey

--

It feels like every new piece of information that comes your way is overwhelming as the weeks fly by. And really, that sinking feeling that things are coming to an end only feels deeper, more final as the days dwindle down to the end. 

Jean and Mikasa are getting married in two days. Your last day of filming together as a cast is in three. Lana and Sukuna are having another kid and you’re almost positive that Eren is in love with you. 

You have two weeks together before you part ways. 

Every second that the group of you spent together felt like the moments were only slipping out of your fingers, like you were hopelessly trying to hold onto a needle in a stack of hay. It was almost impulsive the way you were trying to linger around everyone – to memorize every last detail of the memories so that you can’t forget them when they leave. 

Falco and Gabi eat cereal in the morning before they go to set, Levi has a mole near his left eye, Eren loses all of his guitar picks. 

You shuffle through the stack of polaroids in your hand – an endless stack of pictures of Miaksa and Jean – and get more frustrated looking down at the empty page on your notebook. Eren’s handwriting is perfectly lined up at the top, light scribbles of lyrics and words he’s changed for the song you were gifting Jean. 

I spy with my little tired eye Tiny as a firefly A pebble that we picked up last July Down deep inside your pocket We almost forgot it Does it ever miss Wicklow sometimes?

Eren explained that Jean and Mikasa, after getting engaged (for the second time), took a two month trip where they just traveled together. Most of the pictures are from that time period actually – of Jean and Mikasa drunk in random bars, cheesing in front of billowing green hills, or napping on picnic blankets. 

You look up at the two of them, clearly relieving some wedding stress by getting tipsy, and dancing with Falco and Gabi a few feet away. You can’t help but smile as Mikasa teaches Falco how to dance – and how he profusely apologizes every time he steps on her feet. It’s almost as sweet as Gabi and Jean who are trying to do the most aggressive slow dance known to man and that neither of them seem to be taking seriously in the slightest. 

“Who’s getting injured first?” 

You look to your right to find Eren hovering over your shoulder, his hair damp from the shower and the sweet smell of his soap still emanating off of his skin. He gives you a boyish grin before taking the seat next to you on the couch, leaning his chin on your shoulder as you watch the group of them. 

“I’m sure Mikasa needs a bandaid already. Falco has stepped on her feet ten times already.” 

“Poor guy. I’ve never seen him stress out over something so bad.” Eren states. 

“What do you mean?” 

Eren laughs. 

“He’s freaking out about the wedding. He’s really worried that Gabi won’t enjoy it with him as her date – because he can’t dance and that sometimes he can’t think of things to talk about when he gets nervous.” 

You frown. 

“Baby.” 

“Tell me about it. Last night he was in my room asking my opinions on pick up lines and how you even initiate dancing with someone.” Eren states. 

“What did you tell him?” 

“I told him that he should suggest getting matching tattoos. I know girls love that type of thing.” 

You turn your head to glare at him. 

“I know you didn’t encourage my sixteen year old brother to get a tattoo.” 

Eren shrugs. 

“What’s the difference between sixteen and eighteen? He’s a big kid.” 

“He would get a tattoo of a cat jumping on a trampoline if he could. And that’s horrible advice.” 

Eren grins. 

“Worked on you, didn’t it?” 

You shove him in the side, earning you a laugh from him, as he takes the opportunity to peek down at the page – mainly at the fact that you haven't been able to write anything. You sink back into the couch as he offers you a smile, before flipping through the rest of the pages. 

“I have a question.” 

“What is it?”

“Are you ever going to release any of these songs? I really think some of them are great.” 

You lean over his shoulder to follow his line of vision, to all of the songs that you had produced out of the requests that you had been given. You eye the song he’s fixated on – called Slut, that you wrote for Sasha – as you shrug. 

“I do really like some of them.” you offer. 

“I really love this one. I think it’s perfect. And a lot of them are.” Eren adds. 

You lean back on the couch. 

“I know that…things are ending. And I have to think seriously about what I want to do after I leave here but sometimes it gets complicated when I think about it. But I am sure that...that I'll do something. In some capacity.” you state. 

Eren leans back to join you, leaning his damp locks against your shoulder. You mimic his motions, leaning your cheek against his hair and welcoming the cold touch.

“I like being here and…and being here makes the songs and the acting really easy. I feel like I have that support system, of people who care about me, who can kind of help me push through it. The thought of having to figure out things without people helping me when I leave here and…and not having that makes it seem impossible.” you state. 

“You don’t need other people to –” 

“I know I don’t need other people to do this, that I can write songs and act if I need to. But, I need them for me. I’ve spent a lot of time alone and I realized I don’t want to do that anymore. I want to be here forever, I’ve…I feel like I barely appreciated the time I had here and now it’s almost over and I can’t do anything about it.” 

It’s horrible timing. That the song in Connie’s playlist switches. 

There's glitter on the floor after the party Girls carrying their shoes down in the lobby Candle wax and Polaroids on the hardwood floor You and me from the night before, but 

You both sink deeper into the couch, cheeks pink as the song stops the conversation in full. You can feel that the group of them are all averting their eyes to where you and Eren are sitting, though none of them seem to comment on the fact that your love ballad is booming from the speakers. You turn to Eren and offer him a smile, one that he returns before nervously fiddling with his hair. 

“You still have time left here. You can make the most of it. And even after we leave here, we’re all still backing you up. It might not be all of us all in the same place but…but we’re here when you need us.” Eren states. 

“Yeah. I know that. But it’s just different.”

You pause, unable to put the garbled mess of feelings that’s rumbling in your chest into words. 

Three days ago Levi told you that they were going to put the house up for sale when you were leaving – and the thought of never being able to come back here, that someone else would be sleeping in your room and you’d never be able to return to it made you sick to your stomach. 

You had read the last bits of the script and it was perfect – except for the blank portions that Levi left in one of the sections. He had mentioned that he wanted you and Eren to do something similar to what you were going to do for the “what am I to you scene?” where he was going to ask you to improv whatever he had planned. 

There was a sense of urgency when he mentioned it, because that was actually going to end up being the last scene that you ever filmed. Because Mikasa and Jean were going to get married on Friday, the last day of filming with the entire ensemble was Saturday, and they were all out of there by Sunday night. 

And for the entire week that followed, you, Levi, Hange, and Eren were going to be in the house alone. Hange mentioned it as a sort of gift that Levi wanted to give you – that he wanted to grant the two of you time alone before you parted your separate ways. 

(Apparently he was just sentimental. Or projecting, according to Hange. And part of it was just that he understood because when he had his last weekend of filming La La Land with Hange, he just wanted them all to himself before he had to let them go. That he wanted that for you and Eren or just for himself instead.) 

The thought of being alone with Eren in the house, the way you were when you started filming all those years ago, made your stomach churn with anticipation. Only because you knew – that if something was going to blossom between you and Eren, if you were able to let go of whatever it was that was holding either of you back – it was going to be then. 

Or at the wedding. 

You had visited the venue with Eren a few days prior and the outdoor, woodsy venue that Jean and Mikasa had picked out was eerily similar to where Levi and Hange had their vow renewal. They were leaning into the same energy – of a backyard wedding, with all of their closest friends – and you were half convinced that the setting alone would have you word vomiting everything to Eren. 

Don't read the last page But I stay when it's hard, or it's wrong, or we're making mistakes I want your midnights But I'll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year's Day 

Eren reaches forward, placing his hand on top of your head, before he slightly rattles your head. 

“Okay, that’s enough being emo for today. Quit being sad and focus on writing the song. Jean is expecting something really great, you know?” 

You groan. 

“Don’t tell me that. I hyped it up so much to him just because he was being annoying but I’m really scared that he won’t like it. Every lyric I write is so ridiculously idiotic that I end up wanting to throw my entire book away.” 

“You’re trying too hard. Just do what feels natural.” 

You’re not sure why the thought crosses your mind, but right after it does it fills you with a bout of embarrassment. Because if you did what was natural, you’d lean forward and close the space between the two of you, only because you couldn’t help but feel like you were getting intoxicated by how much you wanted him every time you were alone like this. 

But that was just the thing. You weren’t alone. There were at least seven different people in the room. And the fact that it felt so intimate, so bare every time you talked to him like you were the only two people in the room made it impossible to be around him. 

Levi walks into the room with Hange, the two of them juggling cardboard boxes in their hands. Levi nearly drops all of them when Gabi and Jean almost salsa dance straight into him, but luckily enough, Niccolo is able to steer them in a different direction before they can. 

Hange and Levi set the boxes down at the center table, before gesturing for all of you to join them around the table. Eren holds a hand out to you – and it makes your stomach churn when he doesn’t let go as you both walk all the way to the table. 

You can’t help but focus on it. That you’re all circled around the table, that Niccolo is handing Sasha his water bottle, that Falco and Gabi are out of breath, and that Eren has his hand tucked into yours as he intently waits for Levi and Hange to explain. 

“As you guys all know, we’re going to be giving up the house in around a week. I know it feels a little early, but we need to start making preparations since things are going to start wrapping up really fast.” Levi states. 

“And this part is only logical. You guys were the ones who put the polaroids up. It’s only fair that you’re the ones who are going to take them down.” Hange adds. 

You feel your throat dry. 

“What?” Armin asks.  

“We can’t exactly leave them all up. Imagine how horrifying that would be for whoever moved in here after – just thousands of pictures of strangers that they didn’t know.” Levi states. 

“They would be so lucky. We’re literally famous.” Connie huffs. 

“Okay, Connie. Relax. Even then, I figured that you guys would want to keep some as you guys got ready to leave here. We can toss whatever it is you don’t want to keep.” Hange resopnds. 

It just keeps getting worse. You can’t even stomach the fact that they would even consider throwing any of the pictures away, let alone being so ready to pull them all off of their respective spots on the wall. 

“Are you insane? You can’t just throw our childhood away.” Reiner states. 

“Well, you can keep all of the stragglers. Drown in the polaroids in your penthouse apartment, Reiner.” Levi deadpans. 

“Oh, I plan on it.” Reiner responds, glaring at the two of them. 

You can tell that Levi and Hange were well prepared for the pushback. And you understand the frustrations, or at least the panic, everyone seems to be expressing. Armin’s trying to delay whatever this is to the best of his abilities – saying that the wedding pictures would be perfect with all of the polaroids in the background. Reiner said that taking everything down was only fair when Eren got to be a part of the death wall, and Sasha and Mikasa are already fighting over how they’re supposed to divvy up polaroids that we’re all in. 

And you get it, but all it does is fill you with the sinking pit of despair. 

This was the start. Taking all of the pictures down, wrapping your childhood into a little cardboard box and never returning to it again – at least not in the same way. 

The song from the playlist switches, finally mellowing out the ends of your voice, before changing to a different song. 

Levi’s ears immediately perk up at the sound of his own voice, booming through the speakers. 

Just one more tear to cry One teardrop from my eye You better save it for The middle of the night

When things aren't black and white Enter, Troubadour Remember twenty-four?

And when I'm back in Chicago, I feel it Another version of me, I was in it I wave goodbye to the end of beginning

“Who is playing this?” Levi asks. 

“Connie.” Eren offers. 

Levi shakes his head, almost like it’s thrown him a distraction, before he hands each of you the boxes and a marker. You all start begrudgingly inking your name into the cardboard, before halfheartedly clutching it to your chests. A few of them make the first move, until it’s just you and Armin left lingering in the kitchen, unable to move. 

“Jesus fuck, Hange. Why would he play this song?” Levi whispers, stuck in a conversation under his breath with Hange. 

“The timing is uncanny. Don’t go crying on them now.” Hange states. 

The two of them shuffle out of the room as you turn to Armin, noting the warm tears that are filling his eyes, as you offer him one of your hands. He opts to link his hand through yours, as you both task yourself with walking over to the fridge first, as you stare at all six of the polaroids stuck under the magnet. 

“I really don’t want to do this.” Armin whispers. 

“Me neither.” 

He snags the first polaroid off of the fridge, of Erwin wearing a sparkly pink apron with Kiss the Chef embroidered into the front pocket. You distinctly remember when Eren had gifted it to Erwin for his birthday – and how he refused to stand in the kitchen without wearing it, even if he wasn’t cooking anything. 

“This picture doesn’t belong anywhere but here.” Armin states. 

You snort. You can see that Armin hesitates, but he settles for putting it in the box. 

“We’ll make a pile on the main table, of who is in each picture. Then…then people can fight it out for who gets to keep which one.” 

“Good idea.” 

It’s quiet, leave for Levi’s voice booming through the speakers, as you and Armin start yanking the pictures off of the wall. The wallpaper has been fading for years, but it’s only more obvious when you start ripping the pictures out to see the brighter color that was covered underneath. 

Armin stops you every few seconds, only to pull on your arm to show you a picture. It’s quiet smiles that you give each other, when you find one of him and Annie, or he gives you one of Hange, and it makes it the slightest bit easier. 

But some of the memories hit you like a bullet train, only because you can’t fathom how much of them you’ve actually forgotten. You only remembered that Falco and Colt had actually been to set before, years before they were even on the show, when Eren flew them out to surprise you for your birthday. Or that on that same day, Mikasa and Armin were the ones to gift you the first notebook that you had ever scribbled your lyrics in. 

They were so deeply intertwined in the memories – every single one. You suppose that’s probably why it was the hardest to let go, to walk away from all of them and limit them to just being pictures in a box. 

And when I'm back in Chicago, I feel it Another version of me, I was in it I wave goodbye to the end of beginning (Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye)

“Armin.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Do you ever think about that night? In Seattle?” you ask. 

He pauses, abandoning the polaroid fixed in his fingers – of you and Historia cheek to cheek – as he sinks against the wall and sits on the floor. You join him on the ground, looping in your arm through his, as you lean your head against his shoulder. 

“Sometimes.” 

“Me too.” 

“I try to pinpoint moments where it feels like things changed. And there are lots of them, but I do find myself always going back to that one. Things felt so weird and out of line in the months before that, I felt like we were all moving in different directions, and that really solidified it.” Armin states. 

You pause. 

“Yeah, yeah I agree. Sometimes I wish I could go back and change things. But I also don’t.” 

“What do you mean?” Armin asks. 

“My first instinct when Eren and I started fighting was to ask him to tell the truth, to come with us and that we’d fix everything. Knowing what I know now, I wish that I had fought harder – that I trusted my gut more because I could clearly feel that something was wrong. But I also don’t, because sometimes I think the way things played out is how it needed to be, for me to feel how I am right now.” you state. 

“How do you feel now?” 

You pause. 

“I remember when we took Connie home with us and…and he started screaming at us. I felt really hopeless. I feel like watching him act like that, to be struggling so much, really sank me into that pit I was in. But I guess, I don’t know. Maybe I needed to see that and how he is now, to see how Sukuna was and how he is now, and Lana too to know that maybe there’s some way out of it for me too after I leave here.” you state. 

Armin smiles. 

“I’m really happy for Lana and Sukuna.” 

You grin. 

“I’m really happy for Connie too. And Eren and…and us too. So much has happened that I really can't even wrap my mind around everything that has happened, but sometimes all I’m left with is that I feel really grateful that we’re all here right now. Especially you and me. Sometimes I forget that you and I faced the worst of it together and…and that we’re here right now, the way that we are, just kind of…fixes it all in my mind.” 

“I agree. I feel like we saw the worst of it together, maybe acted at our worst together too, but it makes me feel better that we both came out of it the way that we did. I feel like we never learn and even though we burn bridges, we still ended up doing what was right at the end of the day.” Armin adds. 

Armin smiles, as he pushes up off the ground and holds out his hand to you. He pulls you up, averting his eyes to behind you, before you turn to find Annie and Eren standing behind. He gives you a knowing look before he switches places with Eren – and the two of them stalk off together. 

Eren gives you a smile, before aggressively sticking a polaroid in your face. You’re caught off guard by the suddenness, before you focus on the picture. It’s of you and Eren on the last day of filming Season Three – your arms wrapped around his neck as you both smile in the camera. 

“Yours or mine?” he asks. 

“Mine.” 

“Well, you should get a move on. I’ve already stolen whatever pictures there were on the wall near the bay window.” 

“No debate? No negotiating?” you ask. 

“Absolutely not. You snooze, you lose.” 

You and Eren fall into a quiet pace, the same way you were with Armin. It seems like it’s something everyone was adapting, because the house felt quieter as usual as you all pulled the memories off of the walls. 

He’d stop here and there and place a polaroid into the palm of your hand. It was getting almost overwhelmingly nostalgic, making that melancholy that seemed to reside in your chest almost impossible to breathe through. 

It was like watching yourself fall in love with Eren all over again.

Because all you can think about is the fact that you had really liked Eren at that award’s show, that you went on a date before that press event, that filming that scene was really fun because you had spent the entire day together. 

That you used to sleep in the same bed every night, that you made breakfast together every morning, that the safe confines of this little wooden house was the place that you and Eren got to be yourselves, where your love was saved from being touched and garbled by other people. 

“Eren.” 

“Yeah?” 

“What are you going to do with the pictures?” you ask. 

Eren pauses, eyeing the messy mess of pictures in his box, before he looks back up at you. 

“I’m staying at this place by the sea, in Ireland, for a few months after the show ends. It’s my parent’s cabin, but I just want to go there and take a break before I jump into anything again. I’ll put some of the pictures up there.” he states. 

You nod. 

You’re not sure why you ask the question, and it’s almost instant embarrassment when it comes out, but you have to stick with it after you do. 

“Will you tell other girls about who I am?” 

“What?” 

You bite your tongue. 

“I just mean. If people point to the pictures and stuff, you’ll tell them about us, right? All the pretty girls you’re going to take to your fancy cabin?” you joke. 

Eren seems to visibly relax when he figures that this has to be some weird idea of a joke that you’re making. 

“Oh. Yeah, of course. Trust me, when I take my children to that cabin, I’ll make sure they know the entire story before they leave.” 

You smile. 

“And what’s that?” 

“Oh, you know. That it was a moment in time, what you and I had. That people went crazy for it, that…that you and I did too.” Eren states. 

“Who said I went crazy for it?” 

Eren rolls his eyes. 

“You have not one, but two matching tattoos with me. We’ve written so many songs about each other, that people still listen to.” 

“I was just teasing. Relax.” 

Eren hands you a polaroid – a solo picture that he had taken of you at Hange and Levi’s vow renewal – that you tuck into your box. The walls are bare and empty as you peek your head through the other rooms. And you all group back together in the main room, boxes filled on the ground as you find too many of them locking their limbs together and swaying together in the air. 

You and Eren smile at each other as Reiner catches sight of you and makes a dramatic display of wrapping both of his arms around you. Jean and Mikasa follow next – somehow producing shots for everyone out of thin air. 

The only notable thing that stands out is that Connie’s standing by the far wall, stuck staring at the wallpaper. Normally, you’d expect him to be at the center of this, making some extreme, dramatic speech on top of the table about how we were all going down in history. 

You tangle out of Mikasa’s embrace to walk up next to him, only to feel your stomach churn when you find exactly what it is that Connie’s staring at. Because it’s not a blank patch of wallpaper – but instead, his shitty spelling marked into the wall, accompanied by the one polaroid you had seemingly forgotten all about. 

Of Marco, his tub of ice cream, and his bright smile when you had all inducted him as the start of the death wall. You look to your left to find Connie crying, as you lean your head against his shoulder, unable to stop your own. 

“I can’t take it down. He…he’s going to miss the wedding.” he whispers. 

It makes your stomach ache. That Marco won’t be there to see Jean and Mikasa get married, that he won't be at the wrap party, and that someone will have to come over here and rip him off of the wall for good. 

“I can’t do it either.” 

Eren’s the next to join the two of you, his arms warm around your shoulders, before you feel him physically tense at your side when he realizes. The crowd only seems to get bigger, until the entire group of you are standing there, limbs tangled in together as you all stare at the picture of him.

Levi and Hange, who are the last to join, are the first to break the silence. 

“No one can do it, can they?” Hange asks. 

You all shake your heads. Levi makes his way to the front – and you can’t help but study him as you watch him observe the picture. 

It was no secret to you that Levi had a soft spot for Marco, that it only intensified after he died, and that it was something that Levi was going to beat himself over forever.

You think about it often – that one time that Levi insinuated that what happened could be traced back to him, because Marco’s fame could be traced back to when Levi had cast him in the show. That if Levi didn't make Marco famous, the paparazzi would have called the ambulance instead of prioritizing the photo.

When he reaches for the picture, you realize that you can’t let him do it alone. 

You walk up to his side and pull on his arm. 

“Together.” you state. 

Levi gives you wide eyes, heaving a deep sign out, before he nods. You turn back to the crowd of them standing, as you gesture for them to join. 

You all place your hands on each other, making it literally impossible for you to all stand there as you try to jump and duck under each other to secure your hands on the picture. It’s all giggles because Connie asks Reiner not to touch his butt and they start bickering before you all pull. 

But on the count of three, you all pull it off of the wallpaper, before letting go. It’s left in Levi’s hands at the end of it. 

You all let him keep it. He shoots you a grateful smile for the assistance.

--

The air is palpable the morning of the wedding. You can feel it thrumming under your skin – the anticipation – the second you spring your eyes open. It reminded you of how you used to sleep the night before a field trip, unable to contain your excitement to the point where you were unable to quiet your mind before sleeping. 

You nearly shoot up because of it, unable to stop staring at Mikasa at your side. Her hair is tousled around the pillow, the sleep mask that she put on last night sticking to the side of her face, and she’s snoring horrendously loud. 

In your excitement, you lean forward and press a kiss to her forehead. 

“Jean?” 

You snort. 

“No. Don’t insult me in the early hours of the morning.” you state. 

Your voice is enough to wake Mikasa up, and similarly enough to you, she shoots up the second she’s regained consciousness. The green mask is falling off the right side of her face and her eyes are so horrendously wide that she almost looks like an alien. 

“Holy shit. “

“What?” 

“I’m getting married today.” 

You can’t help but smile from ear to ear as you wrap your arms around her neck and squeeze hard. It’s a mix of giggles, of the two of you squealing like you were fifteen again, and of you and Mikasa tickling each other in your hug.

The morning goes by relatively slowly. 

Whatever that feeling is, the warm, sweetness in the air – it’s hanging in the air. The group of you are all holed up in Mikasa’s room – Gabi, Falco, Connie, Historia, Armin, and Sasha. The rest of them were all stuck with Jean. You can already anticipate that there’s more panic and high energy in that room just from the sheer fact of Ymir being stuck with Reiner, Eren, and Jean in there alone. 

You were all in charge of getting Mikasa ready, of getting dressed yourselves, and getting her to the venue. They had to do the same with Jean – but you and Eren had to be there before to pass out the corsages and pin the boutonnieres. 

There was a slight panic in the background, but the calmness was making it taper into almost nothing. And really, the entire ordeal felt so homey, so ordinary that you couldn’t help but find yourself smiling as you all went about it, because you had been thinking – planning for it – for so long. 

Connie and Sasha tasked themselves with making iced coffee, Falco and Gabi had spent twenty minutes tracking down the Doordash order with the breakfast, and you were left alone to do Mikasa’s hair. 

It was just the two of you, humming in the bathroom to the quiet little playlist Jean had sent Mikasa as a gift this morning, as you quietly tasked yourself with doing her hair. It was relatively simple, just two braids at the front to tuck behind her ears, with little flowers intertwined in between. The veil was going to take up most of the space in the back, so you were just curling the ends for her. 

It’s quiet until you can hear her sniffling, only to look up in the mirror to her trying to blot her tears away from her eyes. You try to focus on the song that’s playing – only to find that Jean had put invisible string in the playlist – and you can’t help but smile. You pause, placing your hands on her shoulders as you squeeze hard. 

“Oh god. Are you getting cold feet because he’s ugly?” you joke. 

She glares at you. 

“Fuck off.” 

You laugh before tucking wrapping your arms around her waist and leaning your chin on her shoulder. She gives you a smile in the mirror – one that you return – as she finishes wiping her tears away. 

“Now really. What is it? You can’t be sad on your wedding day or else I’ve failed as a maid of honor.” 

She shakes her head. 

“Not sad. Just…I don’t know. I was reflecting. Feeling really introspective about a lot of things and I realized that there was a point that I thought this would never happen for me. And god, I’m so fucking happy it is.” Mikasa states. 

“This meaning…?” 

“You. Braiding my hair for my wedding. Jean. Actually marrying me after everything that happened. Getting to leave here with him.” 

You swallow hard. She turns around, placing her hands on your shoulder. You distract yourself by messing with how the ends of her bangs were falling, brushing them into place before you give her a smile. 

“Thanks for coming back. I would never want to do this without you.” she states. 

“Thanks for letting me. It would be agonizing to watch this from the sidelines.” 

She leans forward and hugs you, so hard that she’s leaning her entire weight on you. And every inclination that you made of letting go gets ignored, because Mikasa holds on to you for a long time. 

“You’re my best friend.” she mumbles. 

You can feel the tears accumulating in your own eyes, the sniffling coming from your nose this time, as you hear Mikasa spare a quiet laugh. 

“Seriously?” 

“I just started getting all fucking…introspective like you were. I’ve spent my entire life here, my entire childhood sleeping next to you and when I wasn’t, it was because Jean was in here. And now you’re getting married to him and I’m going to be right next to you when it happens, and I just…” 

You pause. 

“I don’t remember when we grew up. I’m glad I got to do it with the both of you.” you finish.

You try to etch it into your memory – this moment – so you can remember it forever. The two of you in your pajamas, barefoot on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor, breathing in tandem as you held each other while crying. 

She was hours away from being a wife. You were about to watch Jean and Mikasa get the perfect ending, that the nights that they spent together in your room all led to the two of them standing on that altar, exchanging vows. You would be two feet away from Eren, who was going to smile at you with his perfect green eyes and make your stomach do a somersault. 

You were going to hold hands, he was going to dance with you, and that might be the end of it. Or the start, if you’re both able to muster and get over that block that was always stuck in your throats. 

Connie and Sasha return with the coffee soon enough and Falco and Gabi with the food. You all sit in a circle, sharing bites and switching drinks, until Sasha locks herself and Mikasa in the bathroom to do her makeup and fit her into her dress. 

You take the free second to sit at the vanity, using the sweet free time to style Falco’s hair for him before you do your own makeup. You can see Connie brushing Gabi’s hair through the mirror, intently focused as he holds the bobbi pins in between his lips, and gathers her hair together at the back of her neck. You can’t help but smile as you focus back on Falco, trying to tame the unruliness of his hair with the mousse. 

“Be careful with Eren’s cufflinks today, Falco. He’s expecting those back.” you state. 

“No, he isn’t. He gave them to me earlier and he actually said that he wants me to keep them.” 

It makes your heart sink a little – only because you don’t know what it means. If he was giving it up to Falco out of good will because he was your little brother and he loved him or because he wanted to get them straight off of his hands since you two were going to be leaving and parting ways soon. 

“Well, be careful. They’re very nice. And they’re special too, so just. Take care.” you state. 

Falco frowns at you through the mirror, before turning back to look at you. 

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” 

“You seem sad.” 

“No. I just feel really sentimental. My best friend is getting married and we…we’re all going to be leaving soon. I’m watching two people who have been in love forever seal the deal before I won’t ever live with them ever again.” 

Falco frowns, before he reaches forward and wraps his arms around you. You can’t help but smile as you bury your nose into his shirt, breathing in the scent of his shampoo and laundry detergent mixed together. 

“You’ll have a lot of fun today. You’ll have Eren with you. And you’re performing your song, which will be amazing. Levi also told me that you have to save a dance from him and Connie said he’s going to mix drinks after the reception, so you have a lot to look forward to.” 

You glare at him. 

“The only thing you’re mixing is soda, Falco.” 

He gives you a grin. 

“Right!” 

“I’m going to tell mom.” 

He glares. 

“Don’t be a narc. I was trying to be nice to you.” 

“You’re going to get liver disease, Falco.” 

“Gabi and I have never tried it. We just wanted to do it together.” 

You pinch your lips together, before shaking your head. 

“I’ll just pretend like I didn’t hear that.” 

You watch as Falco’s eyes light up, before he presses a wet kiss to your cheek. You push him off, as you finish the last touches on his hair, and lean down to press a kiss to the top of his head. 

Falco runs off, mainly to Gabi’s side as he starts admiring her hair and she does the same to him. And as you quietly start smearing the makeup on your face, Connie takes the seat at your side at the vanity. 

It’s quiet. Mainly because he’s messing with the ends of his own hair and you’re focused on smearing the glitter on your eyelids that you don’t really acknowledge each other. You only break the concentration – and start the conversation – as Connie watches you struggle with your necklace. 

“Yikes. Want help?” 

You smile. 

“Yeah. Yeah, thanks.” you state. 

You hand the necklace over to him – and watch the smile spread across his face as he eyes the little Saturn charm – before he signals for you to turn around. The necklace falls perfectly into place before you turn back to him and silently thank him. 

“Eren’s wearing his pin too.” Connie states. 

“He is?” 

“Well, planning on it. I saw him walking around with it downstairs when we were making the coffee.” 

You hum in response, as you place the blush on your cheeks. 

“How did he seem? Is he stressed out?”

“No. He’s pretty zen, considering how batshit he was acting last night when you were running through the checklist.” 

You smile. 

“I just think he’s excited for the wedding. You know how much he loves Jean and Mikasa.” you state. 

Connie smiles at you through the mirror, before leaning his cheek in the palm of his hand. It’s a weirdly antagonistic look that he gives you, that you ignore as you rummage through the colors of your lip glosses and lipsticks to find the perfect one. 

“I know how much he loves you.” 

You give him a weary look. 

“You kissed three times. He smiled into the kiss. You used your tongue. We’re not about to play this shitty game.” Connie states. 

“I didn’t say anything.” you state. 

Connie smiles and really, the fact that he was rooting for the two of you so hard, that he approved, only made your excitement to see him later grow tenfold. 

“So you know that he loves you?” Connie asks. 

You swallow hard, before shaking the thought away. 

“Well, of course he does. We’re good friends.” 

Connie gives you a glare and it makes you fold. 

“Just…don’t tell him, okay?” 

“I won’t. But you…you do know, right?” 

You sigh. 

“Yeah. I’m just stuck on how to tell him, when the right time is, if…if he really wants to. I know that he loves me but that…that doesn’t necessarily mean that he wants to give our relationship another try.” 

Connie frowns. 

“He doesn’t know that’s on the table.” Connie states. 

“What do you mean?”

“You know he loves you. He has no idea that you love him too.” 

“There’s no way. It’s…it’s obvious. I’ve given him so many signs.” 

Connie shrugs. 

“Yeah. But he’s insecure. His mind plays tricks on him…and he won’t believe it unless you tell him, explicitly. Some days he says that he thinks you reciprocate and in the next hour, he’s moping in my room about how he’s lost you forever.” 

You deflate and give him a nod, as you secure your hands around one of your tubes of lipstick. Connie shakes his head, before taking it from you and digging through the little pouch himself. 

“No, you can’t wear that.” Connie states. 

“I didn’t realize you were so opinionated about the makeup I wore.” 

“No. Well, yes. But no, no Eren likes it when you wear glossy stuff on your lips.” 

“Why do you know that?”

“He’s down horrendous.” Connie affirms. 

“I’m not picking my makeup look based off of Eren.” 

Connie pauses and gives you a look. You sigh. 

“Okay, fine. Give it.” 

He gives you a bright smile, before handing it over to you. And you smear it over your lips, before taking the open room on the left so slip in your dress and meet Eren downstairs. 

--

You slip into your dress before you meet Eren downstairs, to make sure that everyone gets tucked into the correct cars, with flowers pinned to their jackets and secured around their wrists. You carry the pair of shoes you had chosen – black kitten heels to save your feet from the walking – as you make your way down the stairs. 

You can already see Eren standing in the kitchen, placing the boxes in a line, as you feel the nervousness prickle all over your skin. His hair is pushed back, tucked behind his ears. He’s not wearing his jacket yet, the sleeves of his white collared shirt pulled up to his forearms, and he looks perfect. 

You nervously knock on the frame of the door, as you drop your heels to the ground and join him at his side. 

“Hey. Want my help?” you mumble, feeling the shake in your voice. 

Eren’s fumbling with the plastic box in his hands, his throat bobbing, as he doesn’t respond, until it’s awkwardly been too long. And it’s almost like he’s realized it – that he was staring full on, that he had ignored what you had said – as he shakes his head before looking up at you. 

“Did-did you say something to me?” 

You can’t help but laugh, as you nervously rub at the sides of your biceps. 

“Yeah. I was asking if you wanted help.” 

“Right. Yeah, yeah. I was just making sure that the boxes had everyone’s names on it.” Eren adds. 

You hum in response, as you join him at his side, and eye the little list that he had set in the middle of the counter. You start to eye the little labels, leaving little star marks next to each one you found on the paper, as you try to distract yourself and the burning in the pit of your stomach. 

“You look beautiful.” 

You feel your eyes widen. 

“Huh?”

“I mean, you’re beautiful. You’re always beautiful, but you…” 

Eren lifts his gaze from the plastic boxes, as he looks over at you, eyes striking and piercing. It sends a shiver down your spine. He places both of his hands on your elbows and you mimic the motion by resting yours against your forearms as you look up at him. 

You watch as his eyes waver – first to your lips, before they drop down to your necklace. He reaches up, twisting the little Saturn charm in between his fingers, before he smiles up at you. 

“Mine is on my jacket.” 

You smile. 

“He has to be there some way, right?” 

He sighs. 

“Yeah.” 

“Speaking of…” 

He looks around the little plastic boxes, before he reaches for one that has your name scribbled over the top. You reach for it, before he pulls back, giving you an offended look. 

“Are you insane?” he asks. 

“What? That’s literally mine.” 

“What kind of guy do you think I am? You’re my date, I obviously have to put it on for you.” Eren states. 

“Oh.” 

Eren smiles.

“Yeah. Oh.” 

Eren opens up the little plastic box, pulling out the little corsage, before fidgeting with the little flowers until they fall perfectly. You hold out your left hand to him and he slides the little ribbon across your wrist, until it’s set in place. 

He lifts your hand and presses your knuckles against his lips, leaving a quiet kiss on your ring finger. It makes your chest burn. 

“Perfect.” he whispers. 

You swallow hard, trying to swallow the dryness in your throat, as you look up at him. 

“Can I do yours?” 

“I don’t have a corsage, sweetheart. Such a shame.” 

You shove him. 

“You know what I meant.” 

He smiles, as he reaches for his coat hanging from the chair. You find the box with his name on it as he pulls his jacket on, adjusting it. You take the little silver pins and the boutonniere as you press it to the lapel. And it’s going well until you poke a little too hard, in the wrong direction. 

“Ow.” 

“Fuck. I’m so sorry, Eren.” 

You can feel your hands shaking as you try to pin it properly this time, which only gets worse when you can feel that Eren’s watching you – and that he’s amused by how hard you’re trying not to stab him with the pins. 

“That didn’t actually hurt, Y/N.” 

You place the last pin before you unclench and look back up at him. You take the second to admire the little purple flowers on his coat, before smiling up at him. 

“Perfect!” 

Eren smirks, before he leans forward. He’s so close that you can feel the breath tickling your nose when he talks and the mint in his breath. 

“No kiss for me?” 

“Huh? Did…did you want one?” 

“It’s hardly satisfying when you have to ask for it. You have to offer it to me.” Eren states. 

And you were about to, but that’s right when Jean and Niccolo come tumbling down the stairs, readjusting their collars. You can hear the cars pulling up against the gravel outdoors, as Eren hands both of them their boutonnieres, and they run out the door. 

Everyone tumbles through like a stampede – as you get stuck handing all of them the boxes and get too distracted to hand them all out. You feel your heart burst when Historia realizes that she gets two corsages – since Reiner and Connie are both her dates – and the dramatic display that they both make of kissing her hand and her cheeks when they put them on her has you giggling. 

Levi and Hange are the last ones to leave, until it’s just you and Eren standing in the kitchen, facing each other. 

“Ready?” 

“Yeah. Just have to put my shoes on.” 

Eren gives you a nod, before grabbing them from the side and getting on his knees. His arms move around your leg, exposed from the slit in the side of your dress as he secures the buckles around your ankles. 

“Too tight?” 

You clear your throat. 

He has to know what he’s doing to you. That he can’t just place his head in between your legs like that. 

“No. That’s good.” 

He mimics the motion with the other shoe, fingers featherlike around your ankle, before he looks back up at you. And he holds his hand out to you, circling it around yours as the two of you walk out onto the gravel towards the car. 

--

The four of you are lined up inside, peeking out the window, at Jean standing alone at the altar. You can see groups of people running around the little makeshift aisles – Hange and Levi sharing a drink, Lana with a little baby bump and Teddy tangled around her knees, and Sofia and Ymir admiring the flowers around the aisle. 

“Lana and Sukuna are here. I can’t believe she’s showing already.” you whisper to Eren. 

You watch as Eren’s eyes scan the room, before he catches the sight of the three of them on the left and smiles. 

“Look at Teddy’s suit. He’s fucking adorable.” 

“Sofia and Ymir look fucking amazing.” Connie adds. 

“And Niccolo!” Sasha adds. 

The three of you turn your gaze to her, giving her a side eye, before you all burst out laughing. In the time that you have to wait for Mikasa, Connie somehow produces two popsicles from the little truck outside, one that he hands to you and Eren and the other that he shares with Sasha. 

You consider yourself lucky that Connie chose the blue one for himself and gave you and Eren the lemon, which had a translucent color. Connie later realizes his mistake when his tongue turns blue. 

You look up at Eren, whose eyes are still transfixed at the people lingering around outside. 

“You don’t want any, Eren?” 

He looks over at you, and down at the popsicle, before he wraps his arm around your wrists and uses it to lift the popsicle to his mouth. He takes one bite and gives you a smile, before dropping his featherlike touch from your hand and looking back outside. 

You can’t help but use your other hand to rub the inside of your forearm, where his fingers had just touched yours. 

And you watch everyone with him, the two of you silently standing at the window. Levi keeps getting Hange refills and Reiner and Historia go in the photo booth. Sukuna basically guards Lana like a dog – refusing to leave her side, leaning down every few minutes to whisper in her ear, with what you know is constant questioning of if she’s comfortable or not. 

Connie and Sasha yank on your elbows. The two of you turn your heads only to fall silent at the sight of Mikasa, excitedly smiling at you in her pristine and perfect white dress. 

“Ready to get me married, guys?” she whispers. 

You feel your heart squelch in your chest as you reach forward at the same time as Sasha, the two of you stuck in each of her arms and the fresh scent of her bouquet filling your nose. You can’t help but admire her – the shimmering glitter on her skin, the sparkling accents on her dress, and the veil flowing behind her. 

It’s perfect. 

She lets the two of you go before she gives Connie and Eren a shy smile, and they both rise to the occasion. They make a dramatic display of clutching their chests and it makes your heart sing as you watch Mikasa smile at the praise, at the two of them making it evidently clear that she’s one of the most beautiful things she’s ever seen. Connie and Eren both lean down to press a kiss to Mikasa’s cheeks, before you all line up, standing side by side. 

Connie and Sasha stand in front, followed by you and Eren, and then Mikasa alone. You turn to Eren and he offers you a wink, as you feel your nerves bubble as the entrance song stars. 

You can see it from the window – Levi seated at the piano with the microphone in front of him. And on his cue, Sasha and Connie walk out first together. 

I've waited a hundred years But I'd wait a million more for you Nothing prepared me for What the privilege of being yours would do

Eren extends his hand out to you and you wrap yours in with his, as you both walk out into the courtyard. The air is fresh, the sun is dipping into the sunset and making a perfect mix of purple and pink hues, as the little lights hanging from the trees start twinkling. 

You can’t help but squeeze hard on the bouquet as you walk down, nerves tingling. It’s warm in the little courtyard, but only because of how the blood rushes to your cheeks – it nearly hurts to smile this hard. 

You offer Sukuna a wink as you walk past, before you and Eren let each other go at the end of the aisle. You and Eren stop before Jean, before leaning forward to give him a hug. You press a kiss to his cheek, which he smiles brightly at, before you and Eren take your spots opposite to each other at his side. 

If I had only felt the warmth within your touch If I had only seen how you smile when you blush Or how you curl your lip when you concentrate enough

I would have known what I was living for all along What I've been living for

Levi’s voice is piercing, so warm and full that it makes the tears spark to your eyes. And when everyone rises out of their chairs and Mikasa steps out into the light, you instantly turn your head to the left to look at Jean. 

And surely enough, Jean’s hands are shaking at his sides as the tears start to sprout out of his eyes – as he looks at her glide down and doesn’t break his eye contact once. It’s full blown tears, from both of them, and Mikasa’s basically rushing down the aisle just to get there faster. 

You look past Jean to find Eren watching the two of them, with the brightest smile on his face. 

Your love is my turning page Where only the sweetest words remain Every kiss is a cursive line Every touch is a redefining phrase

When Mikasa makes it to the end, Jean reaches for her hand and pulls her up. You take the little bouquet from her hands, and she gives you a wink in response, before turning back to Jean and locking her hands in with his. 

I surrender who I've been for who you are For nothing makes me stronger than your fragile heart If I had only felt how it feels to be yours Well, I would have known what I've been living for all along What I've been living for

Levi finishes the end of his song with a dancing melody on the piano, before everyone takes a seat and they start the ceremony. 

You and Eren stare at each other the entire time. 

--

The reception afterwards is cast in silver moonlight. There’s a live jazz band, a little dance floor, and obviously an open bar. It’s a rush to make sure that Mikasa and Jean aren’t entirely shit faced by the time you’re able to perform your song and keeping them away from the bar before that happens turns out to be a horrendous task. 

But surely enough, you and Eren are standing by the piano as you wait for Levi to announce the first dance. You turn to Eren, looking up at him, as you watch Levi make his way over to the microphone. 

“Nervous?” 

Eren shakes his head. 

“Have you with me. We’ll be fine.” 

You give him a nod as you absentmindedly tangle your hand in with his at your sides, that he welcomes. And when Levi announces that it’s time for the first dance, Mikasa and Jean make their way to the center of the dance floor, the two of them blowing you a kiss as you take your seat at the piano. 

The second they look away, too entranced with looking at each other, Eren slides into the bench at your side and the two of you start playing the piano together. It’s only when Eren starts singing the first verse that they look back, at the two of you sitting there together. 

Eren:  I spy with my little tired eye Tiny as a firefly A pebble that we picked up last July Down deep inside your pocket We almost forgot it Does it ever miss Wicklow sometimes?

You look up from the piano keys to find Jean looking at you – smiling so brightly as the tears stream from his eyes – with Mikasa in his hands. You give him a wink, as you watch him turn his head away, his tears only increasing when he looks down at Mikasa. 

Eren and Y/N:  They said the end is coming Everyone's up to something I find myself running home to your sweet nothings Outside, they're push and shoving You're in the kitchen humming All that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing

Y/N:  On the way home I wrote a poem You say, "What a mind" This happens all the time

You can’t help but turn to your left to look at Eren, only to find that he’s already looking at you first. He tangles his foot in with yours under the piano as your fingers brush against each other and you can feel it – the softness enveloping you and Eren, that the feeling of being around him makes your skin tickle whenever he looks at you. 

Y/N:  Industry disruptors and soul deconstructors And smooth-talking hucksters out glad-handing each other And the voices that implore, "You should be doing more" To you, I can admit that I'm just too soft for all of it

You and Eren turn your heads back to the dance floor to watch as everyone joins Jean and Mikasa on the dance floor, hands locked together as they all smile at each other. Connie, Reiner, and Historia are trying some weird three way version of slow dance that has all of them laughing, and Hange and Levi are stuck in some deep conversation that they are whispering in each other’s ears. 

Falco and Gabi are so tense that it almost looks painful, but the smiles on their faces don’t indicate that they’re aware of how rigid they’re both being. And Ymir presses a kiss to Sofia’s cheek, which makes her laugh. 

Eren and Y/N:  They said the end is coming (they said the end is coming) Everyone's up to something (everyone's up to something) I find myself running home to your sweet nothings Outside, they're push and shoving (outside, they're push and shoving) You're in the kitchen humming (you're in the kitchen humming) All that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing

You and Eren turn to your left to give the jazz band a thumbs up, as they take over on the music and start playing soft violin music so everyone can keep going. And you turn back to your right towards Eren and lean forward to wrap your arms around his neck. 

And when you pull back, you secure one of his hands around his cheek and absentmindedly rub your thumb against his bottom lip. 

“Think it went well?” Eren whispers. 

You shrug. Eren smiles back, before mimicking your shrug in response. 

You can feel the breath leave your lungs as you feel a pair of two arms around you, only to find Jean and Mikasa strangling you and Eren from behind the piano. The two of you stand up, to hug the two of them openly, as they smile down at you. Mikasa seems to break off to talk to Eren, because Jean pulls you to the side. 

“Y/N.” 

“Just to be clear, that was your gift. And if you hate it, that’s too bad because I –” 

You’re cut off by Jean pressing a kiss to your cheek, before he envelopes you in a hug so hard that you can barely breathe. Jean lets go after a few minutes, his hand warm on your face as he smiles down at you. 

“I loved it. That was the song of my dreams.” 

You can’t help but grin at him. 

“You deserve nothing less, Jean. I…I’m really happy for you. Just take care of my girl, okay?” 

“That’s a promise.” he affirms. 

You’re joined by Eren and Mikasa at your sides and you can tell from the pink mark on Eren’s cheek that Mikasa was feeling just as sappy as Jean was. You reach forward and wipe the mark away from his cheek, as you look at the two of them. 

“I owe Mika a dance and then Gabi. I’m all yours after that, Y/N.” Eren says. 

You smile, before you wave him off. 

“Go ahead.” 

You take your seat back at the piano bench, as you collect the sheet music and the lyrics and tuck them into the little cabinet of the piano. You sit there for some time – watching Eren and Mikasa giggle on the dance floor before he switches with Gabi who can’t stop blushing. 

That’s until you’re joined by Levi at your side, who offers you a flute of champagne. You take it from him, as you tuck your arm into his, leaning your head against his shoulder. 

“Your song was beautiful, Levi.” you murmur. 

“Yours was too.” he responds. 

You both watch the room in silence for some time, at how animated and lively it all was. Teddy was falling asleep against Sukuna’s shoulder, but him and Lana were caught in a deep conversation – soft smiles on both of their faces as they talked under their breaths at their table. 

“I want to talk to you about something.” Levi states. 

“Go ahead.” 

Levi clears his throat. 

“I…I hear that my vow renewal all those years ago meant a lot to you. Eren and I were talking about it.” 

“Oh. Yeah, what about it?” 

“I want to know what it meant.” Levi clarifies. 

You lean back as you think about it – about the love in the room – and turn back to him. 

“That night was the first time that Eren and I said we loved each other. That…that was the last time before things went so horribly wrong. Because we sat on the bench and talked about the love in the room, about how it was between us.” 

You can feel your throat drying. 

“After that, I got so busy. I started working too hard. He got stuck on Satellite Port, he…he was around people we hated and there were just so many things that came between us. I let go but then he did too. I had him for a second and then he was gone for good.” 

You look back out at him, posing for a picture with Gabi encased in his arms. 

“I saw you and Hange that day and all I could think about was how in love you guys were. About how I knew love was real, because you guys had it. That…that was what I was going to strive for, what I still do strive for at the end of the day. You guys are perfect, you’re THE love story for me and…you always have been.” 

Levi sighs. 

“Can I say one thing to you?” Levi asks. 

“Yeah.” 

“You have a tendency to not see things as they are sometimes. Like Danny and Sareen taking advantage, like Eren saying it was okay when you let him go, and believing him when he said what he did.” 

You tilt your head to the side, in confusion. 

“Hange and I are far from perfect. I’ll tell you now, very clearly. Hange and I did a vow renewal because we needed one. Not because it was romantic and we wanted to do it again.” 

“What?” 

“We wouldn’t be together if we didn’t do it. And our relationship reached that point, where…where we needed to affirm it again. That we loved each other, that we were committed, that we were what was most important.” 

You sit back, dumbfounded. 

Levi and Hange were in love. They had always been in love. 

“I don’t get it.” 

Levi smiles. 

“What I mean by this is that…these things are normal in love. The initial attraction doesn’t keep you going. You have to pick each other, you have to be on the same side. It’s far more intentional, less cosmic as you think.” Levi states. 

You follow his gaze to Jean and Mikasa, clearly obscenely drunk out of their minds, eating their wedding cake. 

“They’re just as perfect as me and Hange are. It’s a fucking testament to them that they’re sitting here married after what happened with them. And it should be proof to you that what happened with you and Eren won’t hold you back, that…that it’ll really benefit you when it comes to it.  You’ve already gotten past the hard part, you just need to leap now.” 

You swallow hard. 

“Are you shattering my entire worldview by telling me the truth about your vow renewal so I’ll date Eren?”

“Yeah.” 

“Figures.” 

Levi looks over at you, hands warm on your shoulders. 

“Your mistake wasn’t picking him. His was not picking you when it came to it later, not in the way that mattered anyway. Now, fix it. Pick him now.” 

Levi abruptly stops when Eren’s standing at your side, tie loosened around his neck as he gives you a cheesy smile. 

“Ready for me?” Eren asks. 

Levi gives you a narrowed look, which you ignore as you nod and stand up at his side. Eren leads you to the center of the dance floor, securing his hands around your waist as you tangle your own around his neck. 

You and Eren sway to the violin in the background, the two of you quietly observing each other as you walk in step. 

“I’m sorry I took so long. I danced with Mikasa and then Gabi. Lana and Sukuna stopped to talk to me and I just got side tracked.” 

You shake your head. 

“No, no. I…it’s okay. I was with Levi.” 

Eren smiles. 

“I…I’m glad you’re here with me now.” he whispers. 

“Me too.” you whisper back. 

The live singer, a small gift that Levi and Hange had planned for Mikasa and Jean, arrives right at the start of your little dance, and her voice so soft and melodic that you can’t help but pull yourself closer to Eren as she sings, until your ear is muffled against his coat, barely catching the ends of his heartbeat. 

Time's moving so much slower lately It's like the world's playin' a joke Laughing at me for falling foolishly again But something's different with you

Traffic on Sunset doesn't phase me I'm just unusually composed That is until I touch you and I can't pretend I lose myself again, I do

I'm all in, I'm fallin' Can't get back up Can't think right, too tongue-tied It must be love

“Eren?” 

“Yeah?” 

“What are you thinking about?” 

He pulls you apart a little, until you’re standing properly and looking up at him. The violin’s are sending goosebumps down your arms as he looks down at you, pointer finger hooked under your chin as he guides you to look up at him. 

“That someone heard my prayers.” 

You smile. 

“Really?” 

He nods. 

“Armin and I used a whoopie cushion on Connie earlier. Gabi gave me a sweet kiss on the cheek and Teddy fell asleep in my lap earlier. Jean and Mikasa are getting married and I’m here with you. There was a point where thinking I’d ever end up here seemed unfathomable to me.” 

“You and Armin are so immature.” you state. 

Eren shrugs. 

“It keeps me young,” he jokes. 

Friends asking me where I've been hiding I'm losin' hours in your eyes Lost in your wonderland, I hope I'm never found There's no one else around, tonight

I'm not so used to being happy Now I just float down every street You made a sappy, stupid something out of me The kind I swore I'd never be I'm awake inside a dream

“I have…I have a lot I want to talk to you about, Eren. So…so much I want to say.” 

Eren’s eyes widen. 

“My time is always yours. What did you want to say?” 

“It’s so many things. And I want to say it right. There’s…there’s so much going on and I don’t want you to take it the wrong way and I don’t want to scare you off because you and I are just doing good again and I don’t think that –” 

Eren narrows his eyes. 

“Why are you so tense? There’s nothing you could say that would hurt my feelings. It’s just me.” 

You frown. 

“That’s the problem. It’s just you.” 

You feel a tapping on your shoulder, only to find Jean and Mikasa standing by your side, with two glasses in their hands. 

“Are we interrupting something?” Jean asks. 

You groan. 

“No. What’s up?” 

“We have one last request.” Mikasa states. 

“What is it?” Eren asks. 

The two of them give each other an excited smile – cheeks glazed pink – before they turn back to you. 

“You have to let loose and drink.” they state, pushing the glasses into your hands. 

You both give each other a pinched look, before turning back to them. 

“We don’t drink. It makes me sleepy. And he doesn’t like the taste.” you state. 

“We’re not going to force you. But really, you put so much time into the wedding. We just want you guys to have fun…loosen up a little bit.” Mikasa states. 

The two of them giggle as they walk away, leaving the two of you in the center of the dance floor, nursing the glasses in your hands. You look up at him, entirely lost from your train of thought, as he eyes the liquid. 

“Do you want to?” Eren asks. 

“I don’t know. Do you want to?” 

“It’s been a while since I’ve drank. And really, I only choose not to drink because I always seem to be around people that I’d feel uncomfortable losing my inhibitions around. But it’s just you and me and you’re basically one of the only people I could drink around. I don’t think a little wouldn’t hurt, I guess.” 

You nod, following his lead. Your moment to say your piece had passed already. 

“Okay. Okay, yeah.” 

You both lift the glasses to your lips and sip. 

--

Eren has to carry you back into the house. Because true to your previous statement, wine did make you really sleepy – and two bottles of it has you curled up into his lap in the back of the car. 

Eren can feel his heart beating fast, the sensation blooming in his chest as he tries to steady his breaths. He absentmindedly runs his hands through your hair, running his finger over the sole braid tucked behind your ear. 

He doesn’t think about it very well, but he leans forward and presses a kiss to the tip of your nose. Eren figures that he must have leaned too close because it has you rousing from your sleep, only nuzzling into his chest even more. 

“Are we home yet, Eren?” 

He can feel his chest tightening. 

“No, sweetheart. Almost, okay?” 

“Okay. Okay, just take me in with you, alright?” you mumble. 

Eren saves his retort about how he’d never leave you behind for when you’re awake, just so he could make sure that you’d actually remember it. And five minutes later, he’s left standing on the gravel with you, as you lean almost all of your weight into his side. 

Every move he makes has you losing your balance, almost toppling to the ground. 

“Hey. Can you lock your arms around my neck?” 

You give him a halfhearted mumble before following his instructions, only to feel him hook his arms underneath your legs and shakily walk you towards the door. You can tell that he’s stumbling a little bit – not walking straight as he almost backs up into the wall as he walks in. 

The two of you must have had too much to drink. Because as Eren walks straight up the stairs, he aims so horribly that he smacks your head straight into the wall and curses after the fact. 

“Eren.” you hiss. 

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t see the wall.” 

You groan in response. 

“Look out for it next time.” 

Eren scathes his way to the hallway to his room, which he kicks open before leading you in. You all but collapse on his bed face first as he leans against the wall – groaning from how dizzy he was getting. Luckily for him, he had thought ahead to lay out clothes for himself – and that he overthought so much that there was a second pair too. 

Eren walks over to the bed, placing one of his hands on your shoulder as he shakes. 

“Y/N.” 

No response. 

“Y/N. You can’t sleep in your pretty dress.” he whispers. 

“Tired.” you respond, voice mumbled. 

“Here. I’ll help you change, just work with me.” 

Eren holds one of his hands out to you, which you take. He uses it to pull you up until you’re leaning against him, head lolled against his shoulder and his hands on your waist stabilizing you. Eren secures his hand around your face and you lean into the touch as he looks down at you, eyes side. 

“Work with me here.” Eren whispers. 

“Okay.” 

“I’m going to help you with the zipper on your dress. Just slide the shirt that I left on the side, I-I’ll close my eyes.” 

You shrug. 

“No, it’s okay. You don’t have to close your eyes.” 

“What?” 

“I don’t know. Is that weird? It…it’s nothing you haven’t seen before. And…and I’m not…I don’t know what I’m saying.” 

Eren gives you a nod before he guides you to turn around, fixing his shaking hands on the zipper as he starts pulling it down. Eren can feel his breath hitch in his throat as he turns his head away, trying to banish the thought of the fabric pooling at your legs on the floor, at the small dip in your back that he always seemed to think about. 

He can feel you tugging at his arm and he turns back to find you drowning in one of his old t-shirts, as you look up at him. 

“Are you cold? I have pants you can wear or…or an extra blanket and I –” 

“No. No, it’s okay.” 

Eren didn’t really ask for the help, maybe because he was a little bit more awake than you, but he doesn’t stop you when you reach forward and start unbuttoning his shirt. Eren can tell that it’s more difficult for you than it would have been for him, but he doesn’t have it in his heart to stop you. 

Eren pulls the shirt off and discards it to the side, before turning around to unbutton his pants and switch into his boxers. 

“You…you don’t have to wear a shirt. If you still don’t.” you state. 

Eren can feel his cheeks burning. 

“You sure?”

“I actually don't want you to. That’s why I mentioned that.” 

You’re definitely drunk, Eren thinks. 

“And why’s that?” 

“I like feeling close to you. There’s nothing between my ear and your heart when I lean against you.” you mumble. 

Eren can feel his heart constrict – even more than it was before – when you look up at him now, the glitter smeared around your eyes. And he’s not sure what it is, but there’s tears accumulating in your eyes, replacing the sweetness in his chest with concern. 

“Eren.” you whimper. 

“What? What is it?” 

You swallow hard. You lean your hands against his chest, before pressing your cheek to his chest. 

“I love you so much.” 

Eren frowns, before leaning his chin against the top of your head. 

“That’s nothing to cry about, princess. I love you too.” 

You shake your head, bringing your hands up to your cheeks as you squeeze hard on the skin. 

“No. No, I love you, Eren.” you whisper. 

“Y/N. You…you’re drunk.” 

You frown. 

“You don’t believe me?” 

“I do. But I…I don’t know if it’s because you’re drunk. You might change your mind in the morning.” Eren states. 

You shake your head.

“Eren. Eren, you’re everything to me.” 

You look up at him, reaching to tuck the ends of his hair behind his ear, as you feel your voice shake. 

“I saw Mikasa and Jean and I just…I just knew more than I already did before that I want it to be me and you. I want us to write songs together, I want to wake up next to you, I want to give you haircuts in our bathtub.” 

Eren smiles. 

“Haircuts?” 

“I love your hair short. Just a little bit shorter than it is now, because…because it looks like your hair when I fell in love with you. I’ve been falling since then and I just need you to crawl down into this hole and be here with me, Eren.” you mumble. 

Eren sighs. 

“I’d do anything you asked me to. But, but I need you to say it to me tomorrow, when…when you’re being serious.” 

“I am serious. Eren, there’s no love in the room if you aren’t in it with me.” 

Eren has no words. He has to stumble something out – something because you’re looking at him so expectantly with your doe eyes like you’re waiting for him to give in. 

“Still.” 

You nod, as you stand on the tips of your toes to tuck yourself into the neck. 

“Can you give me one thing, Eren?” 

“What?” 

“Will you kiss me? Just once?” you ask. 

Eren pulls back, eyes weary as he looks down at you. 

“I don’t want to take advantage of you. You, you’re…” 

“I want to kiss you. I messed up our second kiss while we were filming because I wanted to kiss you so bad I forgot we were working. I think about it all the time. I want it so bad and I just –” 

Eren leans forward, pressing his lips to yours. You can still taste the remnants of the wine on his lips and he’s breathing shakily into your mouth as he cradles your face in his hands. 

You can feel your heart somersault when he smiles into the kiss, when he presses two, three, and four more to the side of your face. You drop your hands from his neck to his back, the raised skin of the scars on his back underneath your fingers as he presses kisses down your neck. 

“Eren.” 

“Sorry. Fuck, I’m sorry. Too much. We have to go to bed because you’re drunk and I…I can’t do this if you’re drunk and I am too and it…” 

You nod. 

“You’re right. Just…just let me sleep here with you?” you ask. 

“Come on.” 

Eren walks around to the other side of the bed, not without walking straight into the wall first, before he climbs under the sheets with you. And it’s the last thing he remembers before he goes to sleep – you wrapping your leg around him and pressing a kiss right on top of his heart before he goes to bed. 

--

When you wake up in the morning, Eren’s spot in the bed is empty. And you only see him an hour later, when you’re able to reel from what happened last night and see him in the kitchen. 

There’s ten different people milling around the kitchen. Erwin and Historia, Connie and Falco throwing a football, and Sasha taste testing Niccolo’s coffee. But all you see when you walk in is Eren, who just gives you a small wave. 

You feel the rejection sting as you offer it back and take the spot next to him. 

“Hey.” 

“Hi.” 

“Happy last day of filming. Well, not for us, but…you..you know what I meant.” he states. 

You feel your heart drop. He doesn’t remember last night. 

“You too, Eren.”

--

an: oh ladies and gentleman are we ready. ARE WE READY BC CONFESSION NEXT CHAPTER AND IM SO FRRRR. not proofread maybe ill do it tomorrow if I feel strongly enough about it.

also taylor as gojo, bsfs older brother sukuna, and method acting in three days. aka. I CRY A LOT BUT I AM SO PRODUCTIVEEEE ITS AN ART (no I don't I just though this joke was funny)

alsOOOO as I wrap things up I remember someone mentioned wanting some MA chapters from eren's perspective but I can't for the life of me think about which one's would be good for that. the main one that comes to mind is when y/n gets stranded and eren comes to her rescue with ricky LOL. anyways im open to ideas.

taglist: @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @cutiejg @bokutosthings @bookwrmm @mblrrr @wheredidmycrowngo @somethinginyoureyes7 @chilichopsticks @okaystopwhore @you-always-made-me-blush @itzmeme @firelordazulaaa @whoami-72 @g-ghostly @intimacywithceline @erensmoodygf @cocomellxn @princess-ackerman @jaegerfiles @cacapeepee @rui-0836 @moonmalice @invisible-mori @sofiasber @bbybeeb @timetobegone @tee4str @ttokki2 @leave-rae-alone @ec3lipsy @officialsimpp @gojojang @yookayyo @lordbugs @multiplefandomthings @iobeyfandoms @camilo-uwu @justanotherkpopstanlol l @mel-star636 @fvckingeetar @ttalgi @najaemism @ilovekimchi123 @youraggedybitch @xoyumiqls @leafguitar @spiidergirlsworld @luvs4kim @levin4nami i @florichun @hoonmyluv

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spring /summer theme pending

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I love making polls that I just end up ignoring

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Just took the worst Japanese literacy exam of my life 😭

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going through my drafts to see what I want to write and then I remember the poll I did 😭

Now I have to add that sukuna fic to the list and I have no ideas for it(it’ll figure itself out)

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reblog this if your blog is a safe space on april fools and won’t have any jumpers, screamers, or anything scary or anxiety inducing

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Gojo is now racist?! What did I miss

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Back in my eren to laufey songs grind

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Yall already know I love Ronnie and anything she writes

sofia

actor!eren x f!reader

**part of my method acting series

previous part linked here

songs mentioned: champagne problems by taylor swift, when emma falls in love by taylor swift, and minor sofia by clairo insinuation (+ the name of the chapter)

“Can I ask for a favor?” Eren asks. 

You look up to find Eren and Armin standing in front of the dining table, both leaning on the backs of the chairs. The first whiff you get is a mix of sweat and deodorant, and you instinctively push your notebook closer to you and nod. 

You hate that Eren and Armin work out together. 

Not really, of course. You’re glad that Armin was able to find some type of segway that felt comfortable enough for him to interact with Eren, that they were slowly building back whatever it was that they lost. 

You just hate that Eren always wears that stupid headband to keep her hair back and insists on wearing a tank top – or no shirt at all –  for the five mile run they do at the end. 

You’re lucky that today is the former and not the latter. 

“Yeah, what’s up?” you ask. 

Eren places the little glass bowl in front of you, before giving Armin a nod, and sliding into the chair across from you. Armin takes his leave with Annie at his side, before giving you a passive wave over the shoulder. 

The first thing you note is that Eren’s fish tattoo is on display. It’s one of the few moments that you get to admire it – the physical reminder of you inked on to his arm – since the makeup team is always covering it up or he’s wearing a jacket. 

And the second is that Eren doesn’t really fit in the chair – because his legs are overstretched and hanging against the sides of the legs – and he nearly falls back when he moves a little too much. 

It’s crazy to think that there was a time that you and Eren would have your feet dangling in the air from how high the chairs used to be. 

You eye the little bowl, before reaching forward for it, and taking it in your hands. There’s only two little requests left, though you swear yesterday that you only had one left – which was Eren’s. 

“I know I technically already have a request in there. But could you please do another one for me?” Eren asks. 

“Sure. Which one is it that you want me to pull? The green slip or the pink one?” 

“Oh, no. It’s a separate request. I need you to write a song about Mikasa for me.” Eren responds. 

“Ah, yeah. Sure.” 

You reach forward into the bowl anyways and pull both of the slips out but Eren’s quick to reach forward and snatch them from your hands, much to your dismay.

“Hey!” 

“I just asked you to write a different song. Why did you take both of these out?” Eren asks. 

“Why are you in such a rush? I already have a song about Mikasa somewhere in one of my books, I just need to find it. I’m more curious about who added a request yesterday because there was only one left last night.” you respond. 

“It’s part of my gift for Mikasa. The wedding is next week, idiot.” 

Shit. You had yet to plan what you were going to give Jean. 

Eren looks back at the little slips, before tucking the green one closer to him and handing you the pink. You take it in your hands and find Sofia’s name scribbled over the top and open the slip. 

“It’s Sofia.” 

You pale when you read the slip. 

write a song with historia about how she said no to ymir’s proposal. (please!!!! if you can!) 

You hand it over to Eren who reads it before setting it down on the table. 

“Just don’t sing it at the end, especially if Ymir is there.” Eren responds. 

“I…do you think I should? From my very limited information, I think Ymir would hate it if Historia wrote another song about her.” you respond.

“That information is very limited because you refuse to talk to Historia. And Ymir won’t talk about it unless you ask, which you won’t.” Eren responds. 

You slouch back into your chair. 

“I’m not refusing to talk to her. I’m just in my nice….ignorance is bliss bubble. I like Ymir and Sofia but I also like Historia. I don’t want to get all complicated with the feelings if I know everything that happened.” you respond. 

Eren rolls his eyes. 

“You’re already mentally siding with Ymir because you know that Ymir got on her hands and knees and begged Historia to be with her after she said no to the proposal. And because you like Sofia.” Eren responds. 

“Can we go back to when you weren’t calling me out on my shit? What gift are you getting, Mikasa?” you ask. 

Eren smiles, before leaning forward. 

“For the record, I…I sided more with Ymir and Sofia too. Or did originally at least. I feel like you’ll run into the same thing as me, but we can’t really hold it against Historia. She just has different priorities than us and picked differently than we would have, but it doesn’t mean she’s wrong. And I’m making Mikasa an edited video and I want the song in the background to be about her. Preferably written by her best friend.” Eren responds. 

“Do you think Historia will hang Sofia at the stake for requesting this?” you ask.

Eren shrugs. 

“I’m positive that Sofia just requested it because Historia’s been making lots of snide comments to Ymir all week. And saying stuff about Sofia that she eventually finds out about. Everyone’s been telling her about how the songs and stuff have been helping them with their own situation, so she might have just seen it as a segway. Just don’t tell Historia who asked for it and  make it seem like it’s your idea. I don’t think Sofia meant ill will.” Eren responds. 

“No. No, I don’t think she meant anything malicious either. She’s so sweet. And she must feel awkward since we all grew up together and she’s the other woman, or something” you respond. 

“Yeah, she is really sweet. She kind of reminds me of you, sometimes.” Eren adds. 

“As if. She reminds me of you – she literally has the same dimples.” 

Eren scoffs. 

“Lots of people have dimples. I would look like half of the people on the planet by that logic. She actually reminds me of you, when you first got here. She’s just so…” Eren responds. 

“Normal.” you respond. 

Eren sighs. 

“Yeah.” 

 You choose to withhold your comments about how you're not that type of normal anymore. And it sours all together – because that was one of the things that Eren really loved about you when you first started dating. 

Eren gives you a smile before making his move to leave. But he stops before he retreats to his room, his hand is warm on your shoulder as he squeezes. 

“Still the same in all the ways that matter. To me, at least.” Eren mumbles, before walking off. 

You sigh. 

If Sukuna was still here, he’d call you hopeless. And you’d have to agree with him. 

--

You find Historia on set, intently watching Eren and Armin while they’re filming. You take the seat next to her, reaching forward to squeeze her shoulder and catch her attention, as she shuffles to the side and makes space for you. 

“Hi Hisu.” you whisper. 

“Is the Y/N L/N finally gracing me with her presence?” Historia responds. 

You roll your eyes. 

“Shut up.” 

You feel a tiny smack, before you turn around to find Levi glaring at the two of you. And the guilty culprit – the pencil he projectile launched at the two of you. 

“You two shut up.” Levi warns, before walking back to where he was standing at the viewfinder, with Hange. 

You both smile, like you’ve been caught passing notes by a teacher, before looking back down at the script to the scene that they were filming. 

“So what did you think?” Armin asks. 

“About what?” Eren asks. 

“About Y/N?” Armin asks. 

You lean forward, tucking your legs close to your chest, as you watch them. 

“The makeup team did really well with the hair.” Historia whispers. 

“Yeah. It almost looks like he still has the man-bun.” you respond. 

“Which hair was your favorite?” Historia asks. 

You pause. 

“I like the length it’s at right now. But, I kind of liked his short hair, like from before. Sometimes I feel like when his hair is too long it kind of drowns everything else out, like his eyes and stuff.” you respond. 

“Imagine thinking you’re not in love with the guy but talking about him like that.” Historia grumbles, as you reach to shove her in the side. 

“Who said I think that?” you respond. 

You watch as Historia’s eyes widen and you turn back to the two of them. 

“Do you think she’ll be able to forget about you and live happily with someone else? Just like you wanted.” Armin asks. 

Eren shrugs. 

“Well. Who knows?” Eren asks. 

Armin reaches forward and punches Eren in the face. You bite down on your cheeks to stop yourself from flinching, as you turn to your left to find Reiner and Connie shoving their faces into their own scripts to avoid distracting them with their laughter.

Reiner and Connie never got over laughing at immature stunts. Like punching each other. 

“The hell kind of answer is that? I still haven’t forgiven you! How do you feel about the fact that you ignored Y/N’s feelings?” Armin screams. 

You bite down on your lip. The deja vu feels uncanny. 

“Y/N risked her life and only ever had eyes for you. Did you really think you could say forget about me and it would be just that?” 

Sometimes you wonder if Eren��s a sadist for writing scenes like this into the show. You’re positive Levi must have insinuated the same when he suggested the entire thing to him. 

“At the very least, Y/N should forget about a heartbreaker like you and find happiness. She might find a good guy sooner than you think and hit it off with him.” Armin responds. 

It comes out quietly – Eren’s voice. Almost like a whimper. 

In all honesty, you had almost forgotten he was there for a second, with Armin’s screaming. But when you look over, you find Eren sitting there in the water, with tears streaming out of his eyes. 

“No. No, that would kill me.” Eren responds, his voice breaking. 

You press your hands to your cheeks, letting your fingers block out the periphery as you watch the two of them, and feel your chest compress. It’s almost like you can feel everyone else looking at you – Jean and Mikasa, Historia at your side – and you choose to ignore it for the time being. 

“I don’t want her to find someone else. I want to be her one and only for the rest of my life! And after I die, I want her to pine after me for at least ten years!” Eren responds. 

Armin pauses, lifting his hands to tousle his hair. 

“Oh. I didn’t think you’d say something so…pathetic…” Armin responds. 

Eren sighs, shoving his palms into the sockets of his eyes to still the crying. 

“Don’t tell Y/N any of this. I want her to find happiness. I really do…I don’t want to die. I can’t leave Y/N…or any of you.” 

Armin crouches down, hands heavy on his shoulders, as he pleads. 

It’s enough to make the wave of discomfort bubble up in your throat – because it’s the exact same as last time. And even in the fictional version, Eren won’t heed anyone’s advice. 

“Eren! Let’s keep trying! Let’s find another way!” Armin screams. 

You can’t watch them anymore. You reach for your script, giving Historia a smile, before you retreat to the dressing room and give Levi a wave as you pass. You can tell that he shoots you a concerned look, which you shake off, before you settle into one of the makeup rooms at the back and slam the door behind you. 

“We don’t need you till later.” 

“Yeah, I…just needed a breather from out there. Do you mind?” 

The stylist shakes her head as you shoot her a smile and settle into the chair. You lift the script again, still open on the page that they were just shooting out there, as you pause. 

You focus more carefully this time on the lines. You had read this scene when Eren wrote it – way back when, when he and Armin were still fighting. But Eren had given you the second half – about meeting each other in hell. 

You never read the part that he just said because Eren never wrote it. The only line that he was actually in the script was the first one, about how it would kill him. 

He had improvised the rest. 

It was like a lingering thought that was in the back of your mind at all times. 

Now that your previous excuse, that you needed everything to be settled before you could even think about Eren, was virtually gone. 

You had done the awards show, you had given your performance. And as annoying as it was, Eren was right. The heaviness of letting go was because now you had to move forward, because that chapter of york ife was sealed now. Danny and Sareen, Scott Clarkson and Hyla, Ricky even – they were always just going to be a footnote from here on out. 

Which is why you spent all three days of the break that Levi and Hange gave you thinking about Eren. About what would be the right way to approach him again. And every idea that you came up with seemed horrible, not good enough to bring him back. 

Deep down, you knew that Eren wanted you. That some part of him still loved you, and that if you made the move, he wouldn't reject you. 

The fear was what came after that. What if your relationship wasn’t the same? What if you two had changed too much, that there was just too much baggage that you both came with, that it would eventually drag you down? 

Then you’d really lose Eren forever. It almost felt safer to keep it the way it was now. 

But that came with its own mess. Because Eren wouldn’t wait for you forever and if you had to watch him move on with someone like Sofia, the same way Historia had to watch Ymir, you’re positive that you would handle it worse than her. 

There’s a knock on the door and it’s almost like you’ve summoned her by thinking about her. Because Historia’s peeking into the room, gesturing for you to follow her out. And you oblige, as the two of you quietly march back to the townhouse, arm in arm. 

--

Historia takes you straight to her room. And you note the sign scribbled on the door, how Historia’s crossed Ymir’s name out as you walk in. You both settle into the sheets, Historia throwing the throw blanket over the two of you, as you stare up at the ceiling. 

It’s quiet. And the thoughts are racketing around in your brain like a pinball machine. 

“I’m getting deja vu.” Historia states. 

You laugh. 

“Tell me about it.” you respond. 

“Can I tell you something that won’t help in any shape or form?” Historia responds. 

“Please.” 

“He improvised all of those lines.” Historia responds. 

“I knew that already. I realized it when I went into the stylist’s trailer.” you respond. 

“Well, he kept going after you left. He’s either down horrendous or he really wants to win an award.” Historia responds. 

You smile. 

Eren probably would win an award for this. And if he was lucky, he’d win Actor in a Leading Role – and actually get to celebrate it this time around. 

The thought of getting to win a triple threat again crosses your mind, but falls dead in its tracks. No one’s ever gotten it twice. And it was insinuated enough that it was more of a…lifetime achievement award, so your chance was already out the door. 

“So. You said no when she proposed to you?” you ask. 

She doesn’t respond. You look over to find her staring at the ceiling, her eyes almost blank. You reach for her hands under the blanket, following her lead instead of asking again. 

You can only imagine how agonizing it must be to watch someone as…nonchalant as Ymir beg on her hands and knees. 

“I would have married her.” she whispers. 

You feel your chest tighten, as you pinch your eyes shut. This is exactly what you didn’t want to hear. 

“I-I really would have, I swear. I just wasn’t ready.” Historia repeats. 

The retort is on the tip of your tongue. How were you not ready when you’ve loved Ymir since you were kids? 

But then again, you’ve loved Eren since then you were kids too. And you have yet to muster up enough courage to go for him, when he’s standing right in front of you basically waiting for it. 

“It was really perfect. She had invited everyone to fly out and come watch us, after I was done touring. Levi and Hange were there, Sasha and Jean, even Erwin was there. And they were all watching from afar and…and she…” 

Historia pauses. 

“I…I was already crying when she started by saying my dear, Historia. I could see the little box in her hand and I knew what was coming. And then she….she dropped to her knees.” Historia starts. 

She shakes her head, almost like she’s trying to rid herself of the mental image. 

“I always had this stupid running joke, ever since we first got together, that Ymir would never humble herself to propose on her knees. That…that was never really her style, to do something like that even though I’ve always wanted someone to propose to me like that. I’m more traditional and…and Ymir really hates that type of shit, so I just figured she wouldn’t do it when the time came.” 

You sigh. 

“I only knew the answer was no when she actually got on her knees and asked me. Because…because if it was me, I…I wouldn’t ever do that for her.” Historia adds. 

“What?” 

“I wouldn’t do that for her. If getting on my knees and proposing wasn’t my style, I wouldn’t get on my knees and propose. But…Ymir would, for me. And I know it’s fucking stupid and not that serious, but I just…” 

Ymir loved Historia, more than Historia loved her.

“I couldn’t say yes in good faith… because I wouldn’t give something up for her like that. Or…or for anyone, at that time. Even if it was something as trivial as where you stand while you’re proposing.” Historia states. 

You pause. You can tell what she’s trying to get at, though the comparison is hardly fair. 

“Well, your career is hardly trivial to you. But in all honesty, I don’t think you’d lose your career if you were a popstar who was gay.” you note.

Historia sighs. 

“I know you don’t feel the same way. I know that…that a lot of you don’t and that…that I must seem stupid but. But –” 

You hear her sniffle, turning your side to note that there’s tears flowing out of her eyes. 

“I’m not a bad guy for wanting to keep my career the way it is now. I’m not the villain for saying no to her proposal and not wanting people to know that I’m gay. Getting to make music, being in shows like this – it’s what I love. You know that most things like this are…are temporary anyways. I still need something I can fall back on.” she responds. 

You deflate. There was a small part of you that was hoping that she would deny it. That this wasn't really the reason that she said no. You lean closer to her, resting your head against her shoulder. 

“No one thinks you’re the bad guy, Historia. And you’re not the villain for wanting to keep your own life private. We…we just don’t like that you think you can’t be a popstar and be gay at the same time. There’s….there’s so many people who are successful. Just look at Hange.” 

Historia shakes her head. 

“Hange…doesn’t count to me. I had even tried to talk to them about it, but…it didn’t really apply. They even agreed with me.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Hange blends in more than I do. Then Ymir and I would. They’re dating Levi and...if you didn’t know, you would think they’re a straight couple. On the outside, when they walk on red carpets together, they still look normal to people. But if Ymir and I…” 

“It would be different. There would be no question.” you respond. 

“You know that Hange gets overlooked for certain opportunities, right? Imagine if it were me. I’m not charismatic like Satoru Gojo and…and maybe I don’t want to have to forge my own path. I get that it’s glamorous to do things like this to some people but…it feels unfair that everyone else gets to do things normally but I have to be some trailblazer just to get to the same place.” 

You don’t know what to say. Because it makes complete sense to you. And she had checked you on what you had been thinking yourself. 

That Historia was insanely talented and that she’d continue to prove herself just as she did before people started doubting her. That when she came out of it at the end, people would love and praise her – for going above and beyond mere expectations that were put on her and staying true to herself. 

But it wasn’t fair. And you know well enough now, there’s nothing glamorous or fulfilling about climbing your way to the top like that. To have people speculate on every portion of your life, especially something so sacred like the ones you hold ear. To expect Historia to do it would be unfair. 

Eren’s words echo through your mind. Just because her priorities aren’t the same as ours doesn’t mean she’s wrong. 

It’s a silent thankfulness you have – that you and Eren are on the same page. You wouldn’t be able to handle it half as well as Ymir if he wasn’t. If he had picked his career over you.  

“Things like love aren’t temporary, though. You could have fallen back on her when things got hard.” you murmur. 

Historia scoffs. 

“You don’t believe that.” Historia seethes in response. 

“I do. There’s…there’s so many examples of it around us.” you respond. 

“I know that everyone’s on a high because Jean and Mikasa are getting married next week. But you weren’t here when they were fighting. I promise you, no part of that was pretty for Jean. She gave him more hurt than he deserved.” 

“But they moved past that! They love each other now.” 

“But not everyone does. Not everyone gets to rock bottom and climbs their way out – and in fact, most people don’t. Jean and Mikasa are the exception, not the rule. If you didn’t think that was true, you and Eren would be going to the wedding as a couple.” 

You sigh. She’s wrong. She’s so wrong – but you can’t throw it in her face. 

“It doesn’t seem like you really believe it either.” you respond. 

Historia shrugs. 

“Two things can be true at one time, Y/N. I can believe in love but know that Ymir and I are hopeless. We have been since she kneeled.” 

You reach for your notebook, which you had discarded on the floor, and for the shitty pen that was left in between the pages and scribble on the first open spot you find. 

sometimes you just don’t know the answer till someone’s on their knees and asks you 

The question bites at you. Historia still loves Ymir. 

“Would you say yes if she asked you now?” you ask. 

“Yeah. I think I would.” 

“Even if she got on her knees?”

“I’d crouch down just to be there with her.” Historia responds. 

The earnestness in the statement makes your heart crush. She was already too late. 

“What do you think about Sofia?” 

Historia rolls her eyes. 

“It’s irritating how likable she is. Like it actually pisses me off.” 

You snort. That sounds familiar. 

“Lacy, oh lacy…” you hum. 

“You’re not funny, bitch.” Historia responds, reaching to shove you in the side. 

You both laugh. 

“I wrote a few songs about her and Sofia. No one knew it was about them, but…but Ymir knew. Sofia knew, but she was too nice to say anything about it. I wrote this song called traitor, because technically, Ymir actually knew Sofia while we were still together. And she got mad because…” 

“Because how is she a traitor if you’re the one who said no…” you finish. 

“Yeah. It…it really hurt, Ymir. And maybe I did that on purpose, just because…I never actually expected her to move on. It felt like a betrayal to me.” Historia adds. 

“I know you’ve been making…comments here and there. To Sofia and Ymir. I know you don’t like her, but…you made your bed, Historia. You have to lay in it now.” you respond. 

She doesn’t respond. 

“I think Ymir and Sofia just want what’s best for you. Sofia is the one who wanted me to write a song with you about it, just…just so you could get some of it off of your chest. We all want you to be happy.” 

Historia pushes up off the bed, hiking her knees to her chest, as she buries her face into the hardness of her knees. You can tell that she’s racking out a sob, her breaths heavy, as you wrap your arms around her, resting your head against hers. 

“Historia–” 

“If Ymir wanted me to be happy, she would have gotten back together with me when I asked yesterday.” Historia mumbles. 

You cringe. 

“Don’t tell me you –” you murmur. 

“We…we were talking about how nice it was to be around each other again at the funeral. And Ymir was saying that…that I’d always be someone who would bring comfort to her, just like I did to her then. I thought she was trying to say that it was always going to be me so I asked. I begged her this time. And she said no.” Historia adds. 

“Historia, I’m so sorry. You–” 

She shakes her head. It’s almost like you’ve hit a brick wall, because instead of talking further, reaches for your notebook and scribbles the words onto the page with you. You can tell that the conversation is over, and that in true Historia fashion, she’s so stubborn she won’t touch it again. 

Wwith your permission, she rips the page out of the spine. The look she spares you over her shoulder before walking out of the room is haunting. 

--

Eren pops his head into your room an hour later. 

“Can you do me a favor?” Eren asks. 

“Can you stop asking me that?” you retort back. 

“My response is contingent on your answer.” Eren

“Yes. I can do you a favor, Eren. What is it?” 

Eren smiles, holding his hand out to you, as he all but yanks you off of your bed. 

“It’s not really a favor. I just wanted you to come into my room. Gabi and Falco are trying their outfits on for the wedding.” Eren responds. 

You smile as you walk straight across into Eren’s room, to find Gabi and Falco sitting eagerly on the couch. There’s four big boxes in his room, freshly delivered from the courier, as you take the seat next to Eren on the bed. 

“Okay. Falco, this is yours. Gabi, you can change in Y/N’s room and Falco take the bathroom. And don’t rip anything or you’re both going to the wedding naked.” Eren instructs. 

You watch as the two of them burst out into a fit of giggles, before they shuffle into their respective rooms with the hangers stretched over their shoulders. You turn to Eren, tapping on your thighs, as you wait for them to come back. 

“Your dress is here, too. If you want to try it on.” Eren offers. 

“Oh! Yeah, maybe I will. Are you going to try yours?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, I might.” Eren responds. 

It’s swelteringly awkward. You have no idea what to say. 

“I…found the song I wrote about Mikasa. Nico and Armin put together a backtrack for me so I’ll send it to you.” 

You watch as Eren’s eyes light up. 

“Thank you so much! I really hope she likes it.” 

“She will. You know how sentimental she is, I-I think she’s really going to love it.” you respond. 

“Speaking of. What are you getting Jean? I am morally obligated to hang you at the stake like it’s the Salem witch trials if it’s something bad.” 

You roll your eyes. 

“I actually need your help with my gift for Jean.” you state. 

Eren dramatically places his hands on his chest. 

“It’s your lucky day, Y/N! I live to serve. Especially when it’s you.” 

“When did you get so theatrical? Are you on something?” you state, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Not only am I extremely helpful, but I’m really generous too. I’ll give you some of my fix.” Eren responds, returning the energy back in full flesh. 

“Not me getting the princess treatment! What did I do to deserve this?” 

Eren shoves you in the side. 

“Shut up. What do you need my help with?” Eren asks. 

“Well…” 

It’s right at that moment that you hear Falco and Gabi’s giggly voices again, as they both run into the room. You immediately press your hands to your cheeks and nearly squeal at how cute they both look – and specifically melt at Falco’s bowtie matching Gabi’s dress. 

Seeing Falco wear suits is less cute than it was when he was a kid. Only because he looks like a full grown person, instead of being a sweet little kid, and it makes your heart hurt at how big he’s getting. 

You know that Falco can tell what you’re thinking and he preemptively complains about it. 

“Y/N. Quit looking at me like that. You’re embarrassing me.” Falco states. 

“Do you remember when you threw up on me in first grade? Don’t talk to me about being  embarrassing.” you scold. 

Eren shakes you off, before gesturing for Falco to walk closer to him. Eren’s readjusting the collar against the coat, tightening the tie, before he gets up and rummages around in his drawers. 

“Okay, Falco. I’m going to let you borrow my cuff-links for the wedding, but you have to promise to take really good care of them, okay? These are really special to me.”  Eren states. 

“Really, Eren? You’re going to let me wear them?” 

Eren reaches forward to lightly mess with Falco’s hair, before he hands him the box. Falco sticks his hand out as Eren secures them on for him, before offering him a smile. Falco’s sheer excitement makes your heart flutter – and melt that Eren so freely offered something of his own – as Falco excitedly shows them to Gabi at his side. 

“You didn’t have to do that.” you whisper. 

Eren shrugs. 

“Of course, I did. It’s Falco.” Eren responds. 

Eren turns back to the two of them, watching the excitement on his face, as they thank him profusely. 

“What’s special about the cuff-links, Eren?” Gabi asks. 

“I wore them at one of my first award shows where I won something for Attack on Titan.” Eren states. 

Gabi curls her nose in disgust. 

“Eren. You hate award shows. You don’t even care about awards!” Gabi complains. 

“You’re right. I don’t. But, it was a pretty memorable one for me. Got my first tattoo, performed with Y/N for the first time.” 

You turn to him, as he gives you a knowing smile, and you shake your head. And he has the nerve to call Mikasa over-sentimental. 

“Wait, Gabi. I have something for you too.” 

Eren watches as you quickly rush to your room, noting that you must really be rummaging through things in your dresser since he can hear you drop things and shout in pain, before you run back with a little blue box in your hands. 

You hold it open for Gabi, as she admires the little earrings. 

“Do you like them?” you ask. 

“I love them, Y/N.” 

“You can wear them at the wedding. Here, I’ll put them on for you.” 

Gabi excitedly pushes her hair back, as you watch Falco with his lovesick eyes as he observes you fixing them. You tuck her hair behind her ears as you admire her dress in full, squeezing her wrists. 

“You look beautiful, Gabi. They’re perfect.”

“Thank you so much, Y/N. I love you so much.” 

You can’t help but frown as she presses herself into your arms, returning her warm embrace in full. You look over at Eren, who wraps his arm around Falco and smiles at you. 

“Gabi! You’re going to be the prettiest girl at the party. You should have at least given Mikasa a fighting chance.” Eren jokes, as you watch Gabi shake her head and blush at the compliment. 

“You’re corny, Eren.” Gabi responds. 

“Do you have a date to the party, Gabi? It would make my night if the prettiest girl at the party walked in with me.” 

Eren’s so sweet. It reminds you of how Levi used to be with Sasha. 

“Sorry, Eren! You snooze, you lose. Falco already asked me.” Gabi responds, linking in her arm with Falco’s. 

Eren clutches his hands to his chest, giving the two of them a dramatic display of hurt, before he puts his hand on Falco’s shoulder. 

“Fair enough. You’re a very worthy opponent, Falco. Make sure you put the cuff links and the earrings back in the box nicely. And again, if you rip your clothes, you are going to the wedding naked.” Eren states. 

It’s an innocent thought that crosses your mind. That Eren would be a really good dad, when it came to it. 

The two of them wrap their arms around you again before they run out of the room again and Eren turns to you, narrowing his eyes. 

“You’re a copycat. You only got the earrings idea from me.” 

“You’re just bitter because she gave me a bigger reaction than Falco gave you.” you bite back. 

Eren shakes his head, as he starts shuffling through the tagged clothes and looking for your dress. 

“Have to ask. What’s so special about the earrings?” Eren states. 

You smile. 

“I wore them to Levi and Hange’s vow renewal.” 

It was the first time you and Eren said that you loved each other.  Eren turns back, giving you a soft smile. 

“You’re a sap.” Eren responds. 

“Takes one to know one.” you respond. 

Eren places the dress at your side. You eye the silver beading through the little zipper, admiring Mikasa’s cursive handwriting on the little label. 

“So what do you need my help with?” Eren asks. 

“Oh. Well.” 

You tap the open spot next to you. 

“When we were going to the awards show, Jean told me something. I had asked him back then if he was delaying his wedding because you and I were fighting. He said that it wasn’t just that, but it was because…he wanted you as his best man and he was having a hard time letting go of that thought when it was how he always imagined his wedding.” 

Eren nods. You figured Jean had told him as much. 

“He said that he’s always imagined his wedding the same way. That Mikasa would have long hair, a short train but a long veil. That you would be the best man and I would be the maid of honor. And that we’d sing a song for them, one that we wrote together for their first dance.” you state. 

Eren smiles. 

“Fuck. Your gift is way better than mine.” 

You laugh. 

“Is not.” 

“You’re giving Jean his dream wedding. I’m giving Mikasa America’s Funniest Home Videos.” 

“She loves that show!” you defend. 

“Alright, alright. I’ll help you write the song.” 

--

Levi attempts to ban Connie from coming to set the day you’re filming the kiss scene. Naturally, Connie decides to sneak in by dressing up as one of the crew members, before he’s dragged out by the ear when Hange catches him. 

You count yourself lucky that Hange and Levi had thought ahead and made sure that the cabin scenes were the last ones that you filmed for the show. Dead last – meaning everyone would have already been gone by the time you and Eren actually prepared to film them. 

It was enough consolation that you’d be alone with Eren in the last few days, before it was all really over. Similar to the way it really started, just the two of you in the townhouse.  

Eren’s sitting high in the makeup chair, lazily reading through the lines of the script, as the artists paint deep red lines into the sides of his cheeks. You give him a halfhearted wave as you take a seat a few feet away, cracking all your knuckles in nervous anticipation as they start powdering your face. 

Levi and Hange walk over, hands on their hips, as they look over to the two of you for weary eyes.

“Are you ready?” Levi asks. 

You give him a nod, Eren shooting two thumbs up to them, as they both squint their eyes. They don’t believe you.  

“Just one kiss. It’s not a big deal – you’re both grown adults. And you’ve done it before! So it’s not awkward. If anything, it’s like a peck. Just a quick one and you’ll be good, Y/N.” Hange adds. 

Eren glares at Hange.

“If it’s not awkward, why are you being weird about it?” Eren deadpans. 

Hange deflates. 

“Right then. Well, legs up in five!” Hange responds, before shuffling off to the other side of the room with Levi. You can hear the two of the murmuring under their breaths, rolling your eyes at how utterly disbelieving the two of them were of you. 

You turn to Eren, the two of you giving each other a shared annoyed look, before you turn back and focus on the scene at hand. You watch as the entire crew tasks themselves with testing the lights, pulling the cameras into view, and scribbling quickly on the clapperboard. 

It’s fairly simple. You just have to stand there and kiss him. No lines, no big confession – just one kiss.  

The cast stages you and Eren – bustling hands fixing the lapels of your clothes, the stray strands of your hair as you and Eren look at each other. 

“Hey.” 

Eren smiles. He seems fairly calm, considering things. You on the other hand, you can’t help but feel that bubbling ball of anxiety pulsating in your stomach. 

“Hi Y/N. How are you today?” 

“I’m good. Good, good. You?” you respond. 

“Great.” Eren responds. 

You shove your hands into your pockets, wiping the accumulating sweat on the inside of the pants, when you feel the little plastic box in your pocket. 

“I have something for you actually.” you add. 

You pull the box of Tic-Tacs out of your pocket, before holding them out in front of Eren. He gives you a hearty laugh, before cupping his hands and holding them out to you and you pour three in his hand, before downing your own. 

“That was very self-preservationist of you. But, I’ll have you know that I didn’t eat anything all day just to avoid this type of issue.” 

You snort. 

“No way.” 

“They had pizza for lunch. God forbid I taste like marinara sauce when you kiss me. I’m not a dog.” Eren responds. 

“I’ll admit. I did eat the pizza, but then I vigorously brushed my teeth for like five minutes.” you respond. 

Eren smiles, placing his hands on his cheeks. 

“All for me? I’m flattered, Y/N.” 

You smile. 

“Okay. So, like…do we need a gameplan? Do I lean towards the right? The left? Do you have a preference? Because I can –” 

You watch as Eren’s eyes go wide, as he looks at you like you’ve grown another head. 

You can tell that he’s trying not to laugh. You glare at him, huffing as you cross your hands over your chest. 

“What?” you seethe. 

“Are you…staging a kiss right now?” 

“Just so we’re on the same page! You know, I don’t want to just lunge at you and catch you off guard.” you respond. 

Eren smiles, before reaching forward and placing one of his hands on your neck. He uses his thumb to rub into the softness of your cheek, before narrowing his eyes at you. You can tell what he’s trying to say. 

Relax. 

“Okay, okay. I’ll just do what feels right. Sorry for being weird.” you respond. 

Eren shrugs. 

“S’not weird. I just think you’re overthinking it. We’ve done it hundreds of times. It’s on your move anyways, so you’re in control.” Eren responds. 

“You guys ready?” 

You and Eren look over at Levi and Hange, their legs crossed in the director’s chair, as you give them a nod. You turn back to Eren, who gives you a mini-salute, as you back up a few steps and shake your hands at your sides. 

“Alright, Y/N, we’re rolling. On your move.” Levi calls. 

It’s like your feet are cemented into the ground. You can feel the unease that had been pooling in your stomach all day wash over you as you become acutely aware of how thick and warm the air is. It’s almost like it’s weighing down on you – hanging heavy on your skin, nearly throwing you off balance. 

You try to shake the feeling off, shutting your eyes before cracking each of the knuckles in your fingers. You can see it out of your peripheral vision, Levi shifting his head to the side to look at Hange, and the embarrassment bubbles in your throat. 

“I’m good. I just need a second, sorry.” 

Levi shakes his head. 

“Take your time. Whatever feels right.” Levi responds, giving you a comforting enough smile. 

It’s just a kiss. You’ve done it hundreds of times. 

The walk towards him, though it’s only two or three steps, is excruciatingly long. The clothes are too starched, too constricting, as you reach forward, and press your hands to Eren’s cheeks. The makeup pressed to his skin comes off on your hand, as you tilt his head up – slotting your lips against his. 

Eren’s quick with it. His lips quickly glide over yours, the familiar taste of the mint you had just offered him lingering, as he lifts his hands too, pulling your face closer to his. 

Eren can feel it – your entire body freezing against his, like the first time he had ever kissed you. The urge to swoop in and fix it, even though you’re the one who was supposed to take the lead is too overwhelming. 

He knows it’ll crush you if you don’t do it right. 

(And maybe Eren’s a little selfish.)

You can feel the blood rushing to your head, as Eren brings his hands up – one hand cupping your cheek and the other one slithering around your back to pull you closer. You nearly gasp into his mouth as he leans forward this time, the softness of his hands making you melt in his hands. 

It’s Eren. Tender, soft, and intoxicating. You don’t want to stop. You return the kiss in full this time, properly leaning forward and giving it back. 

But Eren’s the one who pulls away, resting his head against your forehead, as he lightly squeezes at your neck, where his hands are resting. You’re both panting in tandem, eyes still pinched shut and foreheads pressed together, as you swallow hard and try to catch your breath. 

“Hey guys. Quick note for you.” 

You both flinch at the sound of Hange’s voice in your ears, awkwardly taking a step away from each other, as a different embarrassment washes over you. You avert your eyes from Eren and look at Hange, who shoots you a weird look before focusing back on Eren. 

“Hm? What, Hange?” Eren mumbles. You can see him out of your peripheral vision – lifting his fingers and pressing them to his lips, a slight shake in his hand. 

“Eren, honey. She just decapitated you. Like, cut your head off. You are dead.” Hange clarifies. 

“Right?” Eren hums. 

“So, you can’t use your hands to kiss her. You don’t have hands anymore! And…and that was way too lively for someone who is supposed to be dead. Tone down the excitement a little.” Hange responds before shuffling off, as Eren’s cheeks go bright pink. 

Eren turns back to you, giving you a sheepish smile, as you shake your head. 

There was no need to be embarrassed. Not when you were the one who led wrong and he was trying to fix it. 

Not when you enjoyed that way more than you should have. 

Eren watches as you march back to your spot, shaking your hands at your side, as you fix your hair. Eren turns back to look at Hange and feels the humiliation increase when they mouth something that looks an awful lot like touch starved. 

Eren throws the thought out of his mind as he leans back again, tucking his hands behind his back. The situation is less than ideal, with his eyes closed – because Eren doesn’t really clock that you’re kissing him until you’re actually doing it. 

It’s your sweet hands cradling his face and then the warmth against his lips – before he can feel himself sinking into your embrace.

You can tell that Eren’s more apprehensive this time, as you flutter your eyes shut and lightly bump your nose against his on accident. You pull him up closer to you, scanning his face and smiling, before you lean forward and rub into the skin on his cheek. You can’t help but smile as you lean forward, the anticipation palpable as you press your lips to his. 

Eren can still feel his heart thrumming, at the way you’re so carefully holding him like glass, while making him feel like his body was on fire. He’s caught off guard when he feels your tongue against his, unable to contain his smile. 

You pull back, your lips burning and skin humming, as Eren looks at you, with a soft smile on his face. You give his cheek a little pinch, which he responds to by giving you a wink, before Levi walks over – his hands crossed over his chest. 

Eren groans. 

“What did I do now?” 

“Not you, Eren. Y/N. Well, you too, but she started it. Y/N, you just murdered the love of your life. LIke fully, had to be the one to murder him even though you didn’t want to because you were the only one strong enough to do it.” 

“Right.” 

“Could you not…smile into the kiss? You have no reason to be smiling.”

You cringe. 

“Right! Right, so sorry, Levi. Won’t happen again.” 

“Okay, because. You smile and then he smiles because you did. And again, just for extreme clarification, he is dead. This is supposed to be sad.” 

Levi rolls his eyes, as he shuffles back to the chair. You spare him a glance while Eren isn’t looking and he mouths something that looks an awful lot like the word freak. You shake him off, as you turn back to Eren, giving him a sheepish smile. 

“Sorry.” you offer. 

“Not a problem. I love it when you smile.” Eren responds, running his fingers over his lips again before he drops them. 

You can feel your head spinning. 

“Okay. Last one.” you clarify. 

“Third time’s a charm, princess.” Eren responds. 

You walk back to the spot, before you wait for Levi to give you the cue. And this time, walk forward as slowly as you can and repeat it to yourself. No hands, no smiling, no tongue.  

You reach forward, placing your hands around his neck, and lean forward. You slide your lips over his, circling your fingers into his neck to ground yourself into the touch rather than his intoxicating smell, as you kiss him. It’s overwhelmingly tender this time – the way you linger over him, before you pull back and let go. 

But the second you pull apart, it’s an immediate pang in your chest. It felt too final. 

“That was great guys! That’s the one.” Hange responds, as you look over and give them a smile. 

You awkwardly drop your hands, letting go of Eren, as he offers you a polite smile in response, holding out his hand to give you a high-five. You oblige, slapping your hand into his, though you can’t help but notice that the smile he gave barely reached his eyes. 

--

On your way out, you can feel the steaming that was pooling under your skin fizzle out as you walk out into the cold air, as you start marching on the pavement back to the townhouse. You prepare yourself for the unnecessary barrage of questions, and for how irritating Connie can be, as you push into the foyer. 

When you walk into the main room, it’s unexpectedly quieter than you thought it was going to be, the faint sound of the piano getting louder as you walk closer. And when you push into the room, the quiet warmth that was blooming under your skin is replaced with an ice cold pinch when you catch sight of what’s happening. 

Historia’s playing the piano, for the group of them. 

Mikasa looks up at you immediately, giving you wide eyes, as you press your hands to your temples, and look to your left. Jean and Connie give you the same look, the group of you all sweltering in the awkwardness, as you avert your gaze back to Historia. 

You booked the night train for a reason So you could sit there in this hurt

Bustling crowds or silent sleepers You're not sure which is worse

Because I dropped your hand while dancing Left you out there standing Crestfallen on the landing Champagne problems

Your mom's ring in your pocket My picture in your wallet Your heart was glass, I dropped it Champagne problems

Eren walks in right behind you, nearly bumping into you, as you press your hand to his forearm and squeeze hard. 

“Wha-” 

“Be quiet!” you whisper. 

Eren gives you a puzzled look, as you watch his eyes scan around the room, and watch the realization register in his face. He looks down at you, giving you an awkward look, as you shake your head. The two of you avert your gaze to the left again, to find Sofia crying with one of her hands pressed to her chest. 

How evergreen, our group of friends Don't think we'll say that word again And soon they'll have the nerve to deck the halls That we once walked through

One for the money, two for the show I never was ready, so I watch you go Sometimes you just don't know the answer 'Til someone's on their knees and asks you

"She would've made such a lovely bride What a shame she's fucked in the head, " they said But you'll find the real thing instead She'll patch up your tapestry that I shred

Watching Ymir is like watching someone get sucker punched in the face in real time. It reminds you of the same reaction that Eren gave you the other day, while you were filming, a visceral physical reaction. You watch as Ymir stumbles back, nearly loses her balance, as the tears start collecting in her eyes. 

And even worse, watch as Sofia tries to reach for her but Ymir pushes her away. 

And hold your hand while dancing Never leave you standing Crestfallen on the landing With champagne problems

Your mom's ring in your pocket Her picture in your wallet You won't remember all my Champagne problems

You won't remember all my Champagne problems

The second she stops playing, Ymir runs up the stairs – her feet leaving a pounding sound before the door slams shut. And you watch as Sofia takes a deep and heavy breath, before running out the front door. 

--

You find Sofia two hours later, a block and a half away from the townhouse, on a bench. You reach down, picking up her bike off of where it’s toppled on the concrete, and rest it against the edge of the armrest, before taking the seat next to her. 

Sofia doesn’t hesitate to talk – like almost half of the people you know. 

“Is Ymir okay?” she asks. 

You shake your head. 

“Last I know, Eren and Mikasa went to talk to her. I’m sure they talked her down.” you respond. 

Sofia gives you a nod, inhaling shakily, as she hikes her knees to her chest. You can barely see her face – the hood pulled over her head obscuring her face – as she presses her cheeks into her knees. 

“I didn’t think she was going to sing it. I’m really sorry, I –” 

“Did you know that Historia asked Ymir to get back together with her yesterday?” 

You deflate. 

“Yes. She told me right before I went to film with Eren.” you respond. 

Sofia doesn’t respond. It’s chilling – to see someone you’ve only seen smiling for the past week and a half so defeated in one fell swoop. And even more than that, knowing how small it can feel to be competing with things that feel larger than life, in an entire world that you don’t feel like you’re a part of. 

“Ymir said no. I know she really loves you.” you offer. 

“I know she did. She came and told me right after it happened. She walked in all hot and heavy, nearly red in the face, pissed at the audacity Historia had to say that.” Sofia states. 

She pulls her hood back, resting her head against the back of the bench, as she flutters her eyes shut. 

“There’s nothing that…that gets Ymir moving like Historia. Whether she’s mad…or happy…or sad, no one can make Ymir feel as much as Historia does. If Historia and her have a good talk about how they’re always going to be important to each other, she’s on top of the fucking world. If she gets on her hands and knees and begs for her back, it’s enough to send her into a blind rage. And if she sings a song about how she got away…it’s enough to send her sobbing into her room.” 

You swallow hard. 

“I feel like I’m intruding on people who are meant to be. I don’t think I should be here.” she adds, her voice cracking. 

You shake your head.

“Ymir really loves you, I-I can just tell by the way that she looks at you. It would kill her if you left, Sofia.” 

She shrugs. 

“I know I’m never going to be Historia. And I know that first loves and…and sexual awakenings or whatever are sacred to people, but…I can’t sit here when I’m not even a part of the competition. I’m smart enough to know when two people still care about each other more than they should. I feel like I’m committing a fucking crime by keeping them apart.” Sofia responds. 

You bite down into the hardness of your cheek, before leaning your head against her shoulder. She welcomes the touch, leaning her own against yours before you break the silence. 

“I don’t necessarily think you’re wrong. There isn’t anyone that gets Ymir going like Historia. But that doesn’t mean that they’re right for each other. It doesn’t mean that you aren’t Ymir’s perfect match.” you respond. 

You shift. 

“Just because Ymir gets to these big…big emotions with Historia doesn’t make her better than you. In fact, I think that’s the leg that you have up on her. Why you’re the one who is marrying Ymir and not her.” 

“Really?” she whispers. 

“I’m not sure how familiar you are with Jean and Mikasa’s situation but –” 

“I know. Jean slept over at our house once when they were fighting. We ate ice cream together at three in the morning and talked till the sun rose.” 

You smile. 

“Jean told me that there’s lots of different types of love that you have in your life. And I just think that there’s one person…or one situation that deeply cuts into you, so hard that it changes you. I think that’s what Historia is for Ymir. Because to her, it must have been devastating that she would have done anything, that she could have changed herself any type of way, and she still wouldn’t be enough for her. I think that would get anyone moving, being reminded of the deep hurt, the complicated feelings that come with that person.” you respond. 

You feel your phone buzz, as you look at the little screen. 

[eren]: did you find her?  [eren]: ymir wants to see her.  [eren]: really badly. 

You respond back, before turning back to her. You have to turn this around for Ymir. 

“The big feelings aren’t the ones you chase after, Sofia. They fizzle out eventually, when the spark is gone. You pick based on comfort, on consistency. And Historia’s never…been consistent. She could never give Ymir what she wanted like you could. Like you do.” 

Sofia gives you a halfhearted smile. 

“You’re really sweet, Y/N. I really like you.” 

You smile, your chest panging with hurt. 

“I really like you too, Sofia. I hope you know that Historia didn’t do any of that to hurt you. She just…feels first, thinks second. It’s how she’s always been. And it’s not fair to you, but…but I hope you know it’s not personal. Or anything about you.” 

Sofia puts a hand on your shoulder. 

“Thanks.” 

You can tell that she’s ruminating over your words and the two of you sit there quietly, dangling your legs over the side of the bench, as you wait for Ymir. Your stomach rumbles loudly, as you shoot her an apologetic smile. 

“Sorry. I didn’t take my lunch after Eren and I were done filming.” 

Sofia’s eyes light up, through the redness and puffiness. 

“Didn’t you kiss?” 

You groan. You only oblige the conversation because you know she means well. 

“Yes. We kissed.” 

“Was it hot?” Sofia asks. 

You snort. 

“Um…kind of. I accidentally used my tongue the second time.” 

Sofia gasps, excitedly pressing her hands to her chest as she leans forward. 

“The second time? Meaning you did it more than once?” you ask. 

You bury your face in your hands. 

“Three times. He…he got too into it the first time. Then I got too into it the second time. It’s supposed to be a really sad scene but –”  

“But you guys are horny, I get it.” Sofia finishes. 

“We’re not–” 

“Ymir says you guys eye fuck each other. I thought she was being kind of crude, but you really do.” 

You groan. 

“Sofia–” 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! You guys are actually really cute and I hope you don’t think we’re all pressuring you. I just think it’s really neat the little things you guys do for each other. Connie was telling me about the mints that you got him before you kissed.” 

“Oh. Yeah. I was just kind of trying to break the ice so he was comfortable and stuff.” 

“No, I totally get what you mean. Okay, like. The first time Ymir and I went on a date, I was so ready to kiss her – I had been thinking about it all week. And before we got into the car, I ate an entire box of Altoids.” 

“An entire box? Doesn’t that get painful after a while?” 

“Listen, she’s like way out of my league. I had to impress her! Plus, it gets rid of that doubt in my head when I lean in and stuff.” 

“You wanted to impress her with minty breath?” 

“Okay, don’t question my methods. She’s my fianceé now. After we kissed and I went home,  Ymir told me that she really enjoyed it. So every time I went to see her, I would eat another box just so that she would enjoy it again.” 

“You know that Ymir hates mints, right?” 

“Is this just common knowledge that everyone knew or something? I literally had no idea. Mikasa told me a month later and I was fucking furious. God, I never bought another pack again.” Sofia complains. 

“You didn’t? I thought you said it got rid of the doubt.” 

“Yeah but, why would I? She doesn’t like them. I got over it.” Sofia states. 

You pause, leaning your head back. You refuse to comment on it, because winning her over was Ymir’s battle. And you surely hoped Ymir would be able to do it, because this was, in fact, her perfect match. 

Who would give up trivial things for her, like kneeling on the ground or chugging mints, just because Ymir asked. Just because it would make her happier. 

“How did Connie know I gave Eren the mints? Hange kicked him out.” you state. 

“Oh. He climbed onto the roof. That kiss was really important to him and Mikasa.” Sofia states. 

You roll your eyes. 

“Of course it was.” 

You scoff, before shaking your head. It’s enough to make her laugh through her tears. And surely enough, Ymir and Eren appear after twenty minutes – out of breath and panting. You take the cue and jump off the bench, reaching for Eren’s outstretched hand, as the two of you quietly walk back to the townhouse and leave them to it. 

“They’ll be fine.” Eren murmurs, trying to pull you into walking the other way. He’s trying to reassure you. 

You look up at him and smile. 

“Yeah, I’m sure they will be.”

--

Jean and Mikasa don’t do bachelor or bachelorette parties. Early on, Eren had clocked that something like that, a party celebrating them get married without the other present, wasn’t something that wouldn’t even be remotely fun to them. 

But you still had to do something. Which is why Eren settled for throwing the two of them a laid back party after filming at the end of the week, with enough alcohol for them to get drunk to their hearts desire. 

“Sometimes I have genuine concern for how their livers are still functioning.” Eren states. 

You avert your gaze from Gabi and Falco – who are sitting in the corner playing a very intense game of cards together and giggling – to Jean and Mikasa, who are very drunkenly dancing with Niccolo and Sasha, who unfortunately got roped into it. 

“Tell me about it.” you respond. 

You can’t help but smile as Niccolo takes turns spinning Mikasa around, as Sasha and Jean attempt a very dangerous version of a dip, which results in Jean dropping her flat on the floor. Eren’s ready to jump up, but Armin gestures for him to keep sitting before jumping up. 

“Sometimes I think it’s sweet though. I think back to all those award shows and realize that they probably had a really great time together. Just dancing together, enjoying each other's company.” you respond. 

“Yeah. That first one we did though was really fun. I mean, Sukuna and the lollipop thing was like really fucking annoying. But besides that, I really liked that we were all just sitting together having a good time.” 

You snort. 

“Do you ever think about how…important moments seem after the fact? And that…sometimes you don’t really know how much something will mean later?” you ask. 

“What do you mean?” 

“When we went to Seattle, I was talking with Lana. And I was telling her that Sukuna and I are nowhere near as close as you and her are. And she was telling me that Sukuna and I were like that. And that back then, when I met him, I was the one of the first people to kind of… understand that he was joking. To not immediately think bad of him or be weirded out by it, I guess.” you respond. 

Eren shrugs. 

“I guess. I mean, you showing up for my birthday dinner, it must have seemed to you that I was being so reserved when I left with Hyla. But that was the moment for me that I knew I wanted to be out of that thing, that kind of started everything.” Eren responds. 

You feel your cheeks heat up. And you’re sure that the four shots that Mikasa gave you earlier, the slight buzz in your veins, is what makes you say it. 

“This is one of them too. The important moments I’ll look back on.” you respond. 

You watch as Eren’s eyes go wide, before he awkwardly scratches at the back of his neck and smiles at the ground. 

“How so?” 

“All of this time that I get to spend with you. It’s up there, with everything else.” 

Eren reaches forward, linking his hand in with yours, before he squeezes three times. 

“Me too.” 

The two of you keep your hands that way, linked together and raised in the air, before the wind nearly gets knocked out of you by Jean leaning his entire weight on you. You can see that Mikasa is doing the same to Eren, hands tangled around his neck and nearly strangling him. 

“Did you guys know you’re the best maid of honor and best man ever?” Mikasa whines. 

Eren takes her hands, untangling them from cutting off his circulation, before letting her lean against his shoulder. You can see that he’s pleasantly surprised from the affection, wrapping his arm around her and leaning his head against hers as well. 

“Yes, Mikasa. We know.” Eren responds. 

“Stop being cocky, Eren.” Jean grumbles, as you turn your head to the side to smile at him. 

“Yeah, Eren.” you respond, emphasizing each syllable as he rolls his eyes. 

Eren shakes his head at the two of you, before looking down at Mikasa. 

“Are you ready for your gift, Mika?” Eren asks. 

“What? Really?” 

Eren gives her a nod as she nearly jumps up with excitement, teetering on the heels of her feet as Eren momentarily disappears to grab the little tape. Jean looks down at you, giving you a steely glare, as you roll your eyes. 

“What, Jean?”

“You are getting me a gift, right?” 

“Do you think I’m a nutjob? Obviously, I’m getting you a gift. You’re getting married.” 

“It better blow my fucking mind, Y/N. I have seriously high hopes after finding out what Eren got Mikasa.” 

You grin. 

“Trust me. It’s going to be everything you wanted and more.” 

Jean glares at you. 

“I don’t like your tone. If it’s a gag gift, you’re not meeting any of my children.” 

“They’re also Mikasa’s children. She’ll let me see them.” 

“No, I won’t let her.” 

“You don’t own the kids, Jean.” 

“The fuck do you mean? They’re my kids.” 

You elbow him in the sides. 

“These aren’t even real kids yet! Why are you getting territorial over people who don’t even exist yet?” 

Mikasa slings her arm around both of your shoulders, before squeezing the two of you way too hard under her grip. The two of you give each other wide eyes as she nearly cuts off your circulation and scolds both of you. 

“Why are you guys always so mean to each other? I thought you guys were getting along.” 

“We do get along!” Jean responds. 

“So along! We’re two peas in a pod!” you respond. 

Mikasa slightly loosens her grip as Eren walks up, twisting the little CD in his hand, as he eyes the three of you. She absentmindedly links her arm in with his and Jean, as Jean and Eren mimic their motions and loop you into the circle. 

There’s tears bubbling in her eyes, as you and Eren spare each other a glance, and prepare yourself for the waterworks that are going to follow. Mikasa was always an emotional drunk. 

“Thank you guys for planning such a good party for us. And for being really good friends to us.” Mikasa responds, voice cracking. 

You smile, cheeks nearly hurting, as you squeeze Eren and Jean’s arms. 

“Of course, Mikasa. You-” 

“We’re never going to be able to repay you both. I never forgot how many times you both took the fall for us back in the day whenever Levi got mad at us for switching our rooms around. And that you guys always did it whenever we asked.” 

Eren shakes his head. 

“I promise that we wanted to switch rooms just as badly as you guys did. Relax, Mikasa.” 

“I want you guys to be so happy. You guys are both such good people that it makes my heart hurt. You’re so, so perfect for each other.” 

You can feel Eren stiffen at your side as your cheeks heat up, the awkwardness sweltering in the air. 

“Thank you, Mikasa. That’s very sweet of you.” 

“I want my kids to be like ring bearers or flower girls at your wedding! I want our kids to be best friends like we were best friends and make those stupid videos like we used to do back in the day.” 

“Speaking of those videos, can I give you your gift now, Mikasa?” Eren asks. 

Mikasa lifts her hands, wiping the wetness off of her face, as she nods. Eren walks towards the TV, setting up the little video player, as you grab the group of them and signal them to join you around the couch to watch the video. 

The song starts playing, the soft little piano, of a song you had coincidentally written about Jean and Mikasa years prior. You and Jean had visited Mikasa on the set of one of her old films, Emma, and you had half heartedly scribbled some lyrics about it. You were able to find the old book in the back of your drawers and piece it together properly with Armin and Niccolo’s help. 

When Emma falls in love, she paces the floor Closes the blinds and locks the door When Emma falls in love, she calls up her mom Jokes about the ways that this one could go wrong She waits and takes her time 'Cause Little Miss Sunshine always thinks it's gonna rain When Emma falls in love, I know That boy will never be the same

'Cause she's the kind of book that you can't put down Like if Cleopatra grew up in a small town And all the bad boys would be good boys If they only had a chance to love her And to tell you the truth, sometimes I wish I was her

Eren pieced together the perfect videos. You’re positive that he’s stolen from all of Levi’s old tapes, as well as the dumb camera that the group of you all used in the early seasons. The clips are all of Jean and Mikasa – of such seemingly unimportant moments that nearly make your heart burst at the sight of the two of them now. 

There’s sprinkles of you and Eren in the videos, of the two of you recording them in the background holding hands when you were trying to catch their attention. And of Connie and Reiner just blowing kissy faces at them or Sasha and Bertholdt trying to imitate the two of them. 

Nearly everyone’s laughing at the clips – at how little Jean and Mikasa look at all of the clips – and Mikasa secures her hand in with yours. 

“Is that you singing? Did you write this song about me?” 

“Yeah. Way back when you filmed Emma.” 

You can see her face curl up in emotion, before she leans her head against your shoulder. She still has one of her hands wrapped in with Eren’s, stopping every few seconds to give him a really big smile that you can tell means the world to him. 

Emma met a boy with eyes like a man Turns out her heart fits right in the palm of his hand Now he'll be her shelter when it rains Little does he know, his whole world's about to change

'Cause she's the kind of book that you can't put down Like if Cleopatra grew up in a small town And all the bad boys would be good boys If they only had a chance to love her And to tell you the truth, sometimes I wish I was her Yeah, between me and you, sometimes I wish I was her

The clip ends with the group of you hugging, when you had finished wrapping season one. You remember the moment distinctly – the dread that came with it. Because you didn’t know if you were going to get a season two, if anyone was even going to like the show, or if you’d ever see any of them again. 

Armin initiates it first, by leaning forward over the couch and wrapping his arm around Eren and Mikasa. And then one by one, you’re all piling on each other – warm tears in your eyes as everyone ruffles Jean and Mikasa’s hair – the two of them pink in the face with their tears. 

You stand up to pop the CD out of the box as you watch Eren and Mikasa give each other a long hug, Eren responding warmly to the babbling mess coming out of her mouth. 

“Eren. Eren, I love you so much.” 

“I love you too, Mikasa.” 

“This is perfect. This is so perfect, you’re one of my best friends ever, you know that?” 

Eren laughs, before placing both of his hands on her shoulders. 

“You’re one of my best friends too, Mikasa. Save one dance for me at the wedding, okay?” 

“Of course. Of course, of course we have to dance together. You can’t leave me hanging, Eren.” 

“This was my idea! And you’re the one who’s going to be so busy. Just don’t forget me.” 

You’re caught off guard from watching the two of them when you feel a tapping on your shoulder to find Ymir at your side. You give her a smile as you both lean against the wall. 

“Hey.” 

“I was wondering if you could do me a favor. You can say no.” Ymir states. 

“Yeah, of course. What’s up?” 

“That was…a really sweet song you wrote about Mikasa. I’ve always really loved how you can feel the emotion in songs you write.” 

You smile. 

“Is there any way that you could write a song with me? About Sofia? Because, we’re good but I want her to know that she means the world to me. And she’s been a fan of yours for so long that I think that it would be something that was really special to her. And I know that things are complicated because of Historia and that you might have picked a side, but I’m just asking you for this as your friend and –” 

“I’m on your side too.” you state. 

“Hm?” 

“Historia is my friend. But you are too. And I want you and Sofia to be happy, I really like her and I really like you.” 

You watch as Ymir deflates. 

“Really?” 

“You’re meant to be together. I think that she can really love you in the way that you deserve.” 

Ymir leans forward, uncharacteristically affectionate, as she wraps her arms around you and squeezes your arms. 

“You’re a really good person, Y/N.” Ymir states. 

You laugh. 

“You must be as drunk as Mikasa.” 

“No, no I really mean it. You always have really good intentions at heart. I know that your whole lover girl branding must be…frustrating to look at after everything that happened. But that’s always who you’ve been, with all of us. It’s a really good part of you.” Ymir states. 

You smile. 

“You’re speaking really highly of me. All I did was say I was going to write a song with you, Ymir.” 

“I think you deserve really good things. People have given you way too much hurt than you deserve.” 

--

The following morning, you’re able to snag Armin to help you play Ymir’s song for Sofia. And surely enough, you can feel it radiating as you watch her face light up, the way she nearly beams at the two of you as you sing. 

You sit abandoned in the room, hours after Armin, Ymir, and Sofia trickle away. 

Only because it’s so overwhelming that it nearly suffocates you. The love in the room. 

Ymir and Sofia. Jean and Mikasa and Gabi and Falco. The way Eren and Armin have reconciled and how you always see Levi smiling at you from the back of the room when the group of you are messing around. 

You’re so full of it that you can barely breathe, so nervously anxious that it makes your stomach hurt. 

“You okay?” 

You look up to find Eren looking down at you. At the love in the room, staring at you so intently. 

“Yeah.” 

“I had a question.” 

You tap the open seat on the couch next to you, shuffling to the side, as he joins you. 

“Sure. What’s up?”

You watch as Eren leans forward on his knees, eyes trained on the ground as he cracks through each of the knuckles in his fingers. 

“You can say no. You don’t have to feel obligated to answer in any way because it was just an idea I had. I won’t be hurt if you don’t want to, or…or had other plans I don’t know about because you’re obviously entitled to that! And you know, it’s a harmless type of thing that I just wanted to –” 

“Eren.” 

He pauses, looking up at you. 

“Just ask.” you finish. 

“Will you be my date to the wedding?” Eren asks. 

You feel the butterflies swarming in your stomach as you smile at him, squeezing your hands into fists as you hold them close to your chest. 

“Really?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, I want to go with you. We’re doing a song together and…and we’re all good. It would be nice to be together, like we did back when we wrote invisible string. That and I kind of need you to point out all the love in the room for me just so I can remember it all.” Eren responds. 

You smile. 

“Of course. We’ll take turns. I’ll point one out and then you.” 

Eren grins. 

“Deal.” 

You reach forward, placing your pointer finger against his chest. He looks down before looking back up at you, confused. 

“What?” he asks. 

“You just asked me to point out the love in the room.” 

You watch as Eren leans his head back, unable to contain his smile, as he shoves your hand away and mimics the motion by pointing back.

--

an: anyways ymir requests a song about her relationship with historia later on and they write you're losing me. and yes, you're losing me and champagne problems end up being about the same relationship. also historia being so jo march coded by saying she would accept ymir's proposal now that she's actually with someone else and can't have her....anyways jeankasa wedding oh we cried

taglist: @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @cutiejg @bokutosthings @bookwrmm @mblrrr @wheredidmycrowngo @somethinginyoureyes7 @chilichopsticks @okaystopwhore @you-always-made-me-blush @itzmeme @firelordazulaaa @whoami-72 @g-ghostly @intimacywithceline @erensmoodygf @cocomellxn @princess-ackerman @jaegerfiles @cacapeepee @rui-0836 @moonmalice @invisible-mori @sofiasber @bbybeeb @timetobegone @tee4str @ttokki2 @leave-rae-alone @ec3lipsy @officialsimpp @gojojang @yookayyo @lordbugs @multiplefandomthings @iobeyfandoms @camilo-uwu @justanotherkpopstanlol @mel-star636 @fvckingeetar @ttalgi @najaemism @ilovekimchi123 @youraggedybitch @xoyumiqls @leafguitar @spiidergirlsworld @luvs4kim @levin4nami @florichun @hoonmyluv

[cocomellxn]

either imma do it or yall better hit me with a 30k worded fanfic

tattoo artist geto??

[cocomellxn]

Why do you all like sukuna 😭 I mean same but WHY?!

Poll time(These are all old drafts+a few new ideas)

Timing for each differs depending on length!!

Also if you’re here from the last poll the Aki fic is still on the list I’ve just lost inspiration to write it and I want to complete something else in the meantime, I’ll reblog with my print list shortly!!

[cocomellxn]

For the satosugu fanfic it was based off of a TikTok I saw 😭 me and bubs @makisoda were talking about the idea of dancers geto and Gojo being from a rival school and you get transferred over

Kind of like the plot to the cheerleading movie bring it on (also heavily inspired by the song get back by Britney Spears)

(Tongue piercing geto?🧐)

PLEASE PLEASENPLEASE PLEASE PLEA EOSOALSOS PICK THIS OJE I LITERALLY HAVE A PLAYLIST READY FOR IT AND EVERYTHINZG

Poll time(These are all old drafts+a few new ideas)

Timing for each differs depending on length!!

Also if you’re here from the last poll the Aki fic is still on the list I’ve just lost inspiration to write it and I want to complete something else in the meantime, I’ll reblog with my print list shortly!!

[cocomellxn]

Poll time(These are all old drafts+a few new ideas)

Timing for each differs depending on length!!

Also if you’re here from the last poll the Aki fic is still on the list I’ve just lost inspiration to write it and I want to complete something else in the meantime, I’ll reblog with my print list shortly!!

[cocomellxn]

Write fanfiction guiltlessly. Do it not only because it’s good practice, not only because you don’t feel like putting your energy into original stuff, but because you do feel like putting your energy into fandom. Write fanfics of epic proportions or tiny one-shots; write fluff or angst or cliches or tropes; publish the roughest version or keep the twelfth draft for only yourself. Do it without feeling bad. You owe no one anything; the act of creation is a gift in and of itself, and it doesn’t matter if you’re creating fanfic or original stories or whatever else you want. All that matters is you enjoy it, because why else would you do it at the end of the day?

Write fanfiction guiltlessly.

[cocomellxn]

dead meat

Alastor/reader (gnc)

romantic-platonic

word count: 11.1k

Or, the progress of going down and deeper. (please treat this as if theyre a bunch of drafts coupled together (they are) this read so much funnier if you keep in mind the fact alastor have genuine feelings/genuinely cares for you but he’s just batshit insane) its 13min til 2am if theres an error no theres not tw: gorish talks and imagery littered thru specifically 1, 5 and 7. alastor chased you down in 7.

1. Because you listen.

When you finally came back — frayed at the seams, run-through you with a headache and a rock in hand. You looked down, the warm wetness oozing from him and seeping into your pants quickly turn cold. You couldn’t tell what you’re looking at for a minute, adrenaline still running through you and your head ache just a tad. When you finally see the pink bits and the leaking blood, your breath runs ragged and your thought run miles. You try to remember all the warning your mother gave you about getting involved with a man like Alastor, you don’t know how you’ll tell mom she never gave you any advice or warning about this.

“God… Oh my God what did I—What—“

Not a single book warned you about the way you physically feel ill touching a body growing cold. So with guts churning and the prickling on your skins, you scrambled to throw yourself off and backing away from the body on all four. Desperately, you called out to whatever is there and beg in your head to wake you up from this nightmare of a show. And when you hit something distinctly warm and alive from behind, you call out to it, thinking it’s your mother, coming to save you from this, to tell you that it’s alright and that everyone make mistakes and this is nothing more than a bad dream. You’ll wake up from this soon, in your childhood bed, in your childhood room, in your childhood house and you’ll be anywhere else and not here.

But when the warmth embraces you, and you feel a warmer breath by your right ear, pressing a soft smile and a bliss-filled chuckle into it, it hit you that your mother would’ve hated you if she sees this. If she sees him.

“Oh, mon Chéri, I knew you’d have it in you” You hate the way the voice swallowed and a take a breath, as if mesmerized by the sight, like you but so wholly unlike you, it whispered in your ear, “What a show. What a show.”

Your eyes is focused on him, but not on him, not a person. That couldn’t be a person at all. Saliva tasting bitter, the bile rising in your throat hurts as you desperately tries and tear your eyes away from it. But enraptured by the intricacies inside his head, you only do so much before finding yourself looking closer for something you couldn’t understand.

“Don’t worry,” setting his lips on your temple, he sigh into your skin, one hand held onto yours and gently rubbing the red from your fingers onto his, as if helping you clean up, “It’s your first time, everything will be so much better once you’re used to it.”

Your eyes flickered between the thing and whatever of yourself visible to you. It’s all red, so much red. Its head, his head was caved in, you can see the front of his skull, everything else is everywhere. How could this ever get any better if it’s going to be this red? Was it going to be this red every other time too? You can feel your fingers going numb from the grip you have on that rock, you can feel the dent from where it dug into your palm, you can feel clearly the traces of well-kept nails running down your left arm from where he tries to pull you away. And every bit of it is red. And suddenly your clothes and his grip and the night air and your skin felt just a bit too tight, too suffocating. Your brain pulses and compressed against your skull. It hurts to think, it hurts way much more to speak.

“I—I don’t want to – I can’t-“

“I thought I couldn’t too, until I did it again, and then again. And then I realized that this,” raising the hand he held onto so kindly, almost like guiding your eyes to the sight. While the pain in your stomach is almost unbearable, he couldn’t sound any more ecstatic. “This, is freedom. Our freedom”

You were sure that the freedom that you’ve been yearning for wasn’t supposed to be associate with a corpse. No type of freedom will ever be going to drive someone to cracked open a skull in the middle of the night. There’s nothing but pure malice that will drive someone to bring a rock onto another man’s head and refuses to stop even when his ears bleed and he stop fighting and started begging. Your mother hated Alastor, and she never break his skull open. You hated your mother, and you never break her skull open.

You want to open your mouth and tell him to shut up. You want to say your mother was right, you shouldn’t have gotten involved with him, no matter how inviting his offer is. You shouldn’t have run off night after night chasing the daylight with him. He is a scoundrel, he is disgusting, he’s the worst type of delusional criminal there is, the most pretentious man in all of Louisiana. But you can’t, because you just maimed a good man and refused to hear his pleas. With nothing left to you, you all but break down into his arms.

“There, there~” he coos into your hair as your wailing get swallowed up by the cold night air, “I’m right here, aren’t I?” if only he’s anywhere else but here with you, mouth spewing reassurances one after the other.

(It’s alright, he’ll take care of it today. It’s ok, he’ll teach you about some other day. From now on, you’re going with him, whether liking it or not.)

2. Because you wouldn’t

“Isn’t he one of those highbrows you like to rub shoulders with?” her tone accusing and upset, you almost choked on your tea when she slapped the papers down in front of your food and walk out the living room. Even though you have an idea about what she talk about – the news came out just in time for it to be covered on the radio first, you still pick it up and scanned your eyes along.

“So I’m supposed to remember every face I came by now?” you glowered to yourself, “How do you know who I’m ‘rubbing shoulders’ with anyway?”

Over the sounds of your heart beating wildly in your ears, over the humming in your head, you hear her mumbled something about “that boy” as she starts to vacuumed the carpet. It’s a ridiculous thought, but for a brief second, you were sure she’s going to ask you about your numb fingers.

‘SON OF FAMOUS MUSICIAN, REPORTED MISSING AFTER NIGHT OUT-’

It’s so odd to you, how much he worth, yet how little people care. Name printed in bold font atop news about the fast declined of the economy and crashing stock markets a full week after he disappeared. He never told you his full name, nor does anyone around him ever make mention of it despite their occasional jeering and jokes. You didn’t bother with it at the time, you two weren’t the most talkative person in the room, let alone together.

Then again, it does make sense. He told you before that he’s not proud of what he came from or what he became, under drowsy lights and forced to sit side-by-side like all the other night. You still can’t drink, he still can’t dance while being miserably drunk, and nobody else wants to babysit a miserable drunk. You don’t get why anyone needs you to look after him, despite being so out of his head, he seems perfectly well with handling himself.

Your lift the tea cup to your dry lips and take a sip, the tea tasted bitter.

A voice loudly called for you, irritation written clear in it. You swallowed the lump in your throat and all but jump to her spot in the small hall, unwilling to let the two talks for more than necessary. Your mother stand with a huff to her posture.

“It’s him again.”

You laugh dryly, “It’s always him, mom.” tugging the receiver from her hand, you bring it up to your ears. The moment you do, a chuckle rang out. You shivers.

“There’s the lad of the hour! Why, I almost thought your mother was trying to stringed me along before shutting the line off again!” the mother in question grunt and grumble about how annoyingly persistent he is, you agree. Last time she did so, the phone kept ringing until she relented. “In any case, I hoped you’re all up and ready today!”

“We have nothing planned today.” Your reply was immediate and flat, hoping he would leave you alone, but Alastor only laughs in an almost affectionate tone.

“And I’m here to changed that!” he exclaimed, you run a hand down your face and try to keep your calm.

“Alastor, John’s missing. This is not the time.” you whispered sharply into the receiver, hoping to whatever’s true he’ll shut his trap for once. You’re not interested in getting caught by the neighbours over the phone of all thing.

“John? Now that sounds familiar…” he pauses, you can almost see the way he turn a brow up and pretends like he’s lost in thought, it’s almost endearing, “Why, isn’t that the lad I named on the radio yesterday?! What a horrible case! Some people are saying he finally throw himself onto a train and-“

“Alastor!” at the sound of your own voice scrapping in your ears, you pauses. You relax your grip and lower your voice, doing your best not to pay attention to the figure peeking out from your kitchen, “Listen, I don’t have the time to play around. Get to the point.”

“Clearly, you’ve the time for nothing, you and your mother…” sighing heavily, he dropped the act. “Fine, fine. I’ll stop kidding. We’ll talk once I get there. Be ready in twenty.”

“Wh— Alastor!“ The phone turn dead in your hand and you’re left standing in the hallway.

You stare at the receiver in shock, then, you grip it. Holding back the urge to break it open over the table it sits on, grinding your teeth, you place the receiver back. You clutched at the end of the table and count to ten, jaws aching and head spinning from anger. Even with your head hanging low, you can hear footsteps falling along the hallway. Your mother red house slippers stand in view from the side, you wondered if you can burn it and buy another pair.

“You’re going out with that creepy radio host again.” she’s standing with her hand crossed and an exasperated look, you just know it.

“Mom, please,” heaving a sigh of your own, you don’t want her to rub it in your face, even if she doesn’t know it, “Alastor’s not creepy. He’s a good man, I promise.” you have to believe he’s a good man, after everything. If you don’t, you’ll lose the rest of your mind. You prayed that she leave you alone, but she kept pressing.

“You keep saying that, but I know he’s nothing but trouble. I mean- look at you!? You looked so exhausted every day. Every time you leave with that scurf, you came back looking more lost than before!”

Turning to her, you have a retort at the tip of your tongue, you always do. But the looks on her face was nowhere near what you thought it was, so you stumbled. For a second, your vision blurs and your head spins. When it cleared up, your eyes met.

“That good for nothing man, dragging you out every night! Have he ever asked what you want before?!”

Standing like a cornered rat, you try to find your voice.

“I-“ you swallowed again, “I don’t mind it, mom. I like going out.”

Have your mother always looked this tired and worn beyond her age? It almost as if she’s been holding the world alone. She said your name, and you feel all lost again. Like a small child with bare knees stripped red and wailing for her to come and save you.

“You don’t even like parties.”

You remember how much she always scolded you when you got yourself into troubles, but your mom always patches you up while she does so. In the time frame before your home became more of a house and your front door is a front door without any sort of implications. And then it hit you just how old mom looked now. She used to be so tall compared to you, but now you’re over her slightly hunching figure, a little bit or a lot, it’s just enough to look down on her. Suddenly, the world feels too constricting and your skin feels too tight.

All this time, she wasn’t angry at all, weren’t she? Your mom haven’t been angry for a long time now. But it doesn’t change you, it doesn’t change anything else. You closed your eyes and push a breath through your nose.

“Maybe I’ve changed, mom,” you walk past her into the living and tug on your overcoat with fingers stained red, fighting against the waver in your voice and hoping she won’t hear it, “maybe you should be happy for me.”

Alastor always take less than twenty to show up, but you didn’t know how long he was watching you for before clearing his throat. You didn’t bother to respond, only lifted your head up to make sure it wasn’t some random prude before shifting aside. He have the decency to stay silent and sit down with you on your front porch, offering a sympathetic smile at your sorry state and gently wiped away your tears with his red handkerchief when you refused to move and take it yourself. It wasn’t the first time you sit out and wait for him on the porch instead of listening to her outburst, but it was the first time you ever cry over it.

You wanted so desperately to turn back and tell her that you haven’t change, that you’re still her little kid. The same one that want to sit out the parties and the smokes and the dancing and the jazz just to spent the days working on something with her nearby, in the kitchen working on something or sleeping in the armchair, always in the old set of red house slippers. You want to show her something you make, only for her to not get a single part about it. You want to fall at her feet and begged her to tell you you’re still the same kid. You want her to go back to closing the front door and locking you away from the world again.

But you’re nothing but a rat, fresh off from a murder. You’d soon throw yourself in front a running train than to ever let mom know her child will ever do anything wrong. So you swallowed everything back, stand up, and walked away from her porch with Alastor hot on your trail, smiling all the while.

(you want to tell her you haven’t changed at all, but you know better than anyone else. you thought you know better.)

3. Loosely, you’ll fall.

The show was an utter bore, you’ve concluded. The allure of watching history made quickly died out when it pertains to dancing, something you’ve been watching people do with much more grace. It might’ve been much more interesting too, if the dull drums in your head invites itself out. But even when you step outside into open air outside the theater, it remains.

“Well, that certainly was… something.” Walking after you in a leisured pace with one hand behind his back, another going back and forth on brushing off his coat or adjusting his glasses, to anyone else, he looked completely normal. But you know him long enough. “I could’ve sworn it’s a musical show.”

Usually, it’s fairly hard to catch Alastor in a flustered state, facial or demeanour wise. You supposed years of practice couldn’t really stamp out personal discomfort. You would’ve felt bad, but you don’t have enough strength to bother.

“There is musical, alright,” you grumbled, a hand to your temple as you walk on without waiting for him, “I’d say it’s too much even.”

Obediently, silently, Alastor traces your footstep as you seethe to yourself. You were supposed to be back in bed and sleep away this headache and your free day at this hour. It’s a shame you just can’t help from talking back to your mom and chased yourself out of the house, onto the street, and right into his games.

You wish you could rub those kissing scenes into his face and mocked his offbeat timid nature and tell him to go shove it. For once, the mere thought of intimacy itself reminds you of that night and forced you to think about how Alastor always stands just a bit too close to you, always just behind you. It takes everything in you to not scratch at your wrist and tears your skin open, so you opted for patience and sympathy, no matter how much the image haunted your eyelids said otherwise.

Before you know it, the voices and the hollers and bumping shoulders traded itself for a single bell chiming, then hushed murmurs and echoing clinks of porcelains and glasses filled the space. You invited yourself to a small spot off in the corner with a lone seat and hunched over with your left hand over your face, while Alastor comes up to the counter. When he came back, he pulls another chair from the table right next to yours and all but covered you from everyone else’s sight. You stare at him in between the webs of your fingers while Alastor rest his chin in his right hand and hums all softly at you.

“You should’ve told me it’s still there, dear. I wouldn’t have bother dragging you out.” His free hand brush against yours in a gesture you can blindly guess as benign and kind. Unlike the Alastor from this morning, unlike him in the theater. Unlike Alastor from the broadcast and unlike the man holding onto you that night. You’ve seen this so many times before in so many people, it’s just make-believe for adults and you’ve already seen this in him. You thought you have, anyway, so you take your hand away from him and look at the approaching waitress. It must’ve been a trick of the light, the way his eyes grows just a bit darker. But you still think hard about what you would’ve said back then.

“I need to get out anyway, better here than there right now.” You would’ve been fine with the idea of going back in, but by the time you do, Alastor was standing in front of you, and you would rather let him think whatever he wants than to pissed him off even further somehow.

“Better with me~” When push comes to shove, he is a bitter man with a silver tongue, you’ve seen him pour drinks onto people and getting away scot-free. It’s always funny to everyone else in the group, until they’re at the direct end of his bitter temper.

Alastor have never even so much as raising his voice at you in anger, but you also thought he would never kill anyone, so you refuse to take any chances. As long as you stay cordial and don’t step past your line, Alastor won’t ever have a reason to. So long as you keep to your leash, he’ll be pleasant and let you go home soon. It leave a nasty taste on your tongue, how you know exactly what to do with him.

“Whatever you say, Alastor.” Gently nursing your headache, you sits a bit straighter. You really couldn’t tell what’s worse, the oddly plastic smell of the café, or the light from the bulbs burning your retinas. “You never told me why we’re out here in the first place.”

Clapping his hand together, he grins. “Oh, yes! Terribly sorry my dear, I figured we shouldn’t talk about it over the party line. Who knows what else is lurking, yeah?” you stay seated despite your instinct telling you to run. You know this was coming anyway, “See, we didn’t get to celebrate the other day. You got so sick, after all-”

He kept on talking, seemingly perfectly fine with you tuning him out. Even if he’s not fine with it, he can’t do anything to stop the almost freakish way statics filled your head and washes your entire body in a cold and numbing wave of sweat, electrics ran through your head while you grips your hair. And it’s almost like he knows what’s going through you, because he wiped away a drop of sweat running from your forehead with a knowing smile.

“Be careful now, if you get sick, I’ll have to take care of you.”

“As if you can take a step into my house.” As if she’s ever going to let him take a single step inside after today. But he kept that irritating look on him, if only the thought of tearing it off his face doesn’t hurt you so badly.

“Who said it’ll be at your house~”

His chuckle right after shuts you up. Right, you forgot. Of course you did. He have a lodge somewhere near a bayou. You weren’t sure whether Alastor meant it as a tease or a threat, you don’t really want to think about it. So you forced a laugh when he grows just a tad silent. Tilting his head, he looked at you with something you couldn’t tell, and like aways, he switch topics without a bat of an eye while you sat there with sweats running down your back in the middle of winter.

You reach for your cup and bring it to your lips without bothering to know what’s in it, trying to follow along while Alastor rattled off a to-do list he made without your consent for today’s hangout. A visit to a confectionary shop, a trip to the tailor, quick stop at a small dinner he discovered recently and, if there’s still time, he can take you to your book shop. As your vision blurred for a second, the bitter taste of coffee hit your tongue, and it took everything in you to bite back a swear and to hold your mask of politeness. Accidentally flitting your eyes up, you catch him smiles. But it isn’t the kind of smile friend gives to one another, it isn’t the type where two people love and care for each other. So you keep your gaze low and keep drinking the coffee he ordered, at least they do a decent enough job at taking your mind off of John.

(somehow, it felt so familiar, it wasn’t until the moment you crawl back into your warm bed after a cold dinner that it hit you. it wasn’t against your ear this time, but it was the same smile. you swallowed the acid in your throat and thought about how many people saw it just before they lay six-feet under.)

4. And when you finally fall,

John wasn’t that much of an asshole, but he lives like he’s the most wretched man in all of Louisiana. A shadow of a person, beyond that of a ghost. Alastor told you that the only reason anyone ever stuck around is because John have more money than anyone could ever understand, and as long as you can withstand the awkward silent and the sneers, you can count your worries for the night’s drinks goodbye.

Coming from a long and well-known line of gifted artist, John was set for life, even with his less-than-responsible lifestyle. His great grandfather wrote plays, his grandfather paint, his father plays the piano and John drink himself blind. He stop touching anything that even insinuate the idea of creating art on his twenty birthday. Ever since, he wanders the night, going from place to place to emptied his family’s wealth into pretty floozies and drink away his own shame.

With an eerily out of place grin, just close enough to his normal happy demeanour to count, just a bit too wide to be normal, Alastor show you off to John like an exotic pet while his friends already dash off to dance.

“Oh! And how could I forget, this one might not be able to play it, but they have a fantastic taste in music!” then, he turns to you with a friendly hand on your shoulder and a sympathetic look, “If only you ever have the means to pick it up, you’ll be the talk of the town for sure!””

“Surely.” John reply with an odd laugh and look you up and down, suddenly the idea of sitting back with him and watching the others felt just a bit too much for you. But you only brushed their comment off with a wave of your hand. Acting like you didn’t pick up on how John down his drink with just a bit more fervour and Alastor smiles breached the border of normalcy before he pats your back gently, as if encouraging a shy dog to socialize, before inviting himself out and leaving you alone with a man you’re not sure was all there.

You tell yourself you just won’t go with Alastor to his night parties next time, but you pick up the phone every time. And every night you have to sit right by John’s side in complete silent when everyone spreads across the bar.

At first, it was somewhat scary and unpleasant. Then, it was awkward and uncomfortable. Every time you sit right next to him, he would scoff and chuff at you under his breath. Refusing to ever talk or look at you. Unless it was time to leave, John will never do anything more than call for a drink and then sip on it until he needs another one. Every time Alastor came to check up on you, he would smile at you sweetly and make a jab or two at John. You figured by now it’s a show of sort to him, but sometimes you still make a small effort to shut Alastor up and direct him back to whatever he was doing before. It became your new normal for half a year at least.

And then one night, completely worn out and tired with the day and the loud jazz inside a loud room with lousy lights and lousy companion, you stand up without a word to anyone and went out the back door. Outside in the cold air of October, you huddled by a wall inside the back-alley and pulled your knees to your chest. Staring at your hands, you can only sigh and ruffled your hair, digging the palm of your hand into the base of your skulls and wishing you can break it open.

“If you’re so tired, then why not haul yourself back home?”

Jumping up with a yelp, you clutched at your heart, completely missing the door creaking open the first time. You forgot how John even sounded like for a minute, voice low and gruff, completely contrasting everyone else in the group.

“…” halfway peeking through the door and staring impassively, you wondered why he even bother when he seems so done with you. Words right on the tip of your tongue, you him a passing glance, debating whether this worth an excuse out of your pocket. He cut you off before you even begin to open your mouth.

“What? You’re deaf now?” John shouldered the door and step outside fully, standing in front of you.

“…And if I am?” You frown, this feels too much like being scolded. At least his voice is kinder to your ears . “Better off if you are.” He chuckled, “…So?” You would be upset, but you’re too tired and he’s not leaving you alone, so you shrugs your shoulder apathetically.

“Horrible day at work, fight with my mom, then got dragged out here again.”

“Heh, figured.” You glare up at him, he raises his hands up in defence, whiskey with a single ice cube in its glass clinking as he does so, “You seems miserable whenever the lot isn’t around to see.”

You want to spat at him, what would he know about you? But you know he’s right. It really does feel miserable, going all the way out here just to sit and having nothing to do. So you dropped your head into your palm and groan.

“Ugh-…Is it that obvious?”

He cackle, you take it as a yes and sink your head a bit lower at the sound.

“Why not just—not come?” taking a sip from his whiskey, he sat next to you without invitation, “You can just say no to him, y’know.”

“As if I haven’t tried.” You grumbled, but stop when he raised a brow at you, motion for you to keep on. A bit clueless, you shrugs again, “What? You know him for longer than me. You should know that.”

John looks at you as if you’re stupid, and you’re beginning to think you are. Pointing a finger at you, he asked you about your job. Then with a nod, he stated outright.

“But you don’t do anything for him.”

You sputtered, the irony of a drunkard basically calling you useless and being right about it doesn’t escape you at all.

“What does that have to do with anything? He’s a persistent guy, that’s it.”

“That bastard doesn’t bother hanging around anything that isn’t useful. He’s not that type of guy.”

“Then what type of guy is he?” you ask. He looks at you, licked the top row of his teeth, then heave a heavy sigh.

Dowing the rest of his whiskey, John stand up and offers you a hand. You hesitate before slowly taking hold of it and nearly fell over when he pulled you up. He mumbled a half-hearted sorry with a look.

“Not whatever you’re thinking of him, that’s for sure,” he drag you inside by the shoulder, snickering when you try to keep up and failing miserably before slowing down for you, “Now common, I need another drink.”

It’s all John ever told you about Alastor, it’s all you ever need, but you never listen.

-

John didn’t change fully after that night, but he still change somewhat. The John that was so drained and empty was still there, but he sits up a bit straighter, as if managed to confirmed whatever else he have in his head. For three months, you two never talked about what happened in the back alley, nor do you talk at all. He still down enough drink to kill an elephant and lost his balance to the point someone needs to take him home. But he nodded his head whenever he’s not tipsy enough that the ceiling spins like a globe and you catches eyes, and sitting beside him felt a bit less draining and off-putting.

You told Alastor about it later, the conversation you two have in the back alley, because of course you do, telling everything to your good friend. Alastor would then look over whenever John’s acting friendlier to you, because of course he does, and joked about it. You saved him five years of his life, he laugh. You laugh along because his tone seems just a bit off. You sometimes think about who Alastor is, whenever you have a moment to sit back and contemplates everything between you two. But not for long, because like clockwork, Alastor would pull you away to do whatever he wants for the day, and like always, you would follow along with little to no complains.

Sometime before John went “missing”, you break the thinning layer of ice between you two and tell him out of the blue that you never actually touch an instrument in your life, but you wished you have the chance to. You thought he would’ve laugh at you, but he sat through your recount of younger you being enthralled by a street musician, seeing it as a form of liberty you can only hope to capture through any other art you made. He asked why, you said there was no space in your life for making music. Not then, not now. He asked if it’s ever a regret, you stay silent.

You asked him to play you something, he huff a laugh behind his glass, but shut up when you didn’t laugh along. A false police alarm got the place empty enough for your group early that night, and the owner was desperate enough for extra cash, enough for him to mousey up and play a song you remember by heart. He played really well, you told him. His playing is the bare minimum, it lacks the souls his father have, he sneers at you. He doesn’t need to have a soul in it, just get used to being mediocre while having fun instead, you reply, leaning against the piano and staring at the group chatting away from you two. He didn’t bother with a counter, but he kept playing, this time it’s a melody you’ve never heard before. You saw Alastor turning his head to you two, but you pay him no mind and turn back to John. He looked so calm playing something like this.

John trips over his fingers and curses a lot, you tell him to keep playing. Until the song’s finished and you left standing in silence for just a bit, waiting for the other to say something. Turning the word over in your mouth, you’re a bit speechless, like you’re face-to-face with a kindred soul. But there’s no real comfort in telling a drowning man he can breathe, so you say his melody felt like home.

Worn beyond his age and exhausted in a way that’s so out of place for someone who have the world in his hand, his smile was genuine, facing towards you, like an old friend and a warm meal. The bar dives and the social circles Alastor loved pulling you along have always made you feel so out of place. Their grin’s too perfect and their voices too pleasant, all with an oddly rotten attitude. It’s like watching a picture show, it’s not how people genuinely act, it’s the semblance of one.

Maybe that’s why you and John never got along too well, he was too busy hiding his face behind glasses of gin and whiskeys, you’re too busy hiding in Alastor shadows. But you both never play along, and you both never faced each other fully before that night. You hope John never have that realization, the fact you’ve never faced him at all.

Then before you knew it, his face to the ground, all red, turned from you. That’s all you knew about John Holloway, that’s all he ever get to tells you.

(deep inside, you want to say that it wasn’t your fault. but the difference between getting swept along with life and standing in a back alley with blood on your hands is that somewhere in your empty head, you did register his scream. there’s a reason you can’t see his face and there’s a reason the rock was in your red hand, sitting in your red palm.)

5. so far down, you won’t know the way home

The forest floor was red, by the time you realized it.

It wasn’t by your hand, but it’s enough for you to step back and breathe. It always so odd to you, just how easy it really is to see in the dark, even when the moon hides away behind strips of clouds. In the dark, at the dead of night, your eyes should’ve been blind to the red that’s bleeding all over, but it never does. It took you a second to remember what you’re supposed to be looking at, and you turn the light towards the main figure, standing so proudly in the middle of this. In through nose, out the mouth. Don’t focus on the thing below, look at him and smile. He smiles back, genuine joy stiches itself on every corner of his face. If only this flashlight is weaker.

“Sorry darlin’. This one have more fight in him than I thought he would,” he strides towards you, the familiar metallic stench overwhelms your senses when his red hand came up to tuck a strand of loose hair behind your ear, “Good thing we got it done before he find his way out, huh?”

Good thing he got it done at all, you thought. You can only bother to hide your exhaustion with a mute nod and a grim grin. Knowing exactly how this will plays out again, you remind yourself to be ready. Alastor laughs and pat your cheek affectionately before pulling you by your hand towards the corpse quickly growing cold amongst the grass. As he does, you try to ignore the echoing in your eardrums.

It was gut wrenching at first. The panting, the gasping, frantic steps that echoes through the empty woods, devoid of bird calls, devoid of life. Just a hound, chasing its prey, and a vulture perched on a tree waiting, watching. The choked exhale when they fall, eventually tired out and tripped over themselves or getting a bullet to the thigh. The way they all looked so confused, then they bargain, then they get mad and calls him every name under the sun before shutting up and look at him in the eye. You weren’t sure just how he looked to them, but perversely, you’re glad you never get to see it.

They scream and yell and beg for someone to please come and save them until they can’t anymore, but it felt like they never stop at all.

“Come here.”

He sits you down by the body, open and ready, still holding onto your wrist while you fight every bone in your body to keep your hand still and keep your foot nailed down. His face, flushed with excitement and sweat running down his forehead as he rattled on about how soon, you’ll have enough guts to do this with him instead of only ever following after and picking up the scraps.

“Remember that feeling? Remember the rush?” lifting your clenching fist up to his lips, he smiles and chases your gaze, you stare back, “Etch it into your brain, don’t ever forget it.”

With that, he plunges your fist into the open cavern of flesh and red and it feels so incredibly blasphemous and wrong. While Alastor knitted his fingers atop yours and guide your hand through the process, you feel your senses grows fuzzy around the edge. Half of you wish that headache didn’t die after the 3rd time, at least then you have something else to focus on other than the sopping wet red mush slipping in and out between your frozen fingers. The idea that someone’s inside would immediately cool off after their death is a farce to you, their warmth still so tangible and so fragile it takes everything in you to stop the burning acid from bursting in your throat. He told you on your fifth time that if you vomit on the body, he’ll have you cleaning it with him, sounding just a tad bit considerate, as if the idea of forcing you into doing something you dislike hurts him.

It's almost too much to think about, how you’re becoming something so different, something that’s just enough to his liking, to the point where all you have left are instincts and the alarms in your head. It felt like years ago when your weekdays are filled with nothing but sitting inside your cozy home and looking out the window, hoping one day you’ll be able to experience that high life and being cared for by someone who love you with everything they have, even if it’s the worst experience of your life. It’s almost like decades ago when your thoughtcrimes are no more than passerby on a long day and your smile is a sham but it’s ok because everyone bought into it and you do too. Now you spent your days looking behind your shoulders for excuses while pinprick runs up your neck, waiting for the day you’ll be buried with the people he hate.

You hope when, not if, you do have to, you’ll manage to come up with an excuse to mom for the body in that alley way. You clenched your fist, only the red squelching and spongy inside of a man you barely know respond.

(the hound stare up at the vulture and leave with a red maw, it watches the vulture from the shadow of the trees. the vulture learned to ignore the hound and feast away at leftovers.)

6. I hope you’ll call out for my name.

Unconsciously, you tap your index finger to a rhythm a man showed you some years ago. One you called beautiful, and one that made him smile. Like always, your weary and sunken eye catches red painting your left hand, but you only sigh and return to penning out your letter. A ringing echoes throughout your bleak and empty house, but no voice call out for you. There’s no point in picking up, you simply let the call die on its own. If it’s him, he’ll crawl his way to the front door with or without that call either way.

When the noise abruptly ended and didn’t pick up again, you put down your pen and hold the letter in hands that never lost its stain. Staring down at the words you’ve painstakingly poured over since her funeral, you crumbled the page and held your head. Over and over again, you write and write, hoping that some way, somehow, something can change.

But like always, nothing is enough, so you throw the paper into the small bin next to your seat, holding back the urge to throw everything else on the table with it too; your mom raise a murderer, not an ill-manner rodent. There’s no longer a point in lamenting things that can never be change in your lifetime. You can do this tomorrow, or the next day, or the day next to that, you’re considering how to go out still. As long as he’s not here, that is. You check the clock, eleven and a half, you have around fifteen minutes before he’s here.

Alastor was always suffocating, you thought, dragging yourself to a wardrobe that haven’t felt familiar for more than half a year now. Nosy and meddlesome, it’s something you picked up on even when you were a doe-eye little rat running across the night without realizing you were walking with a hunting hound, but you always thought it was simply how Alastor cares about people. Your mom was right, you were so naïve about him, thinking he can care for anyone else aside from his mother and himself.

He was always suffocating, but ever since the funeral, he all but latch onto you.

The pure black outfit he gave you was something you would wear to mom’s funeral. But coming from him, it makes you feel like a stranger was staring back from the mirror’s view, out of your own skin. So you boxed it and hid it under the sofa after the whole thing.

And of course, Alastor knows this. So whenever he browse through your wardrobe on his own accord, he would always make sure to make a comment about how these plain and boring clothes never look right on you with a good-nature smile. You no longer have the mind to bother with a reply, so you let him do whatever he wants. As long as he get his digs in, you get your peace of mind. The things in here means the world to you, but what use is there to defend something you’ll soon have no use for.

Clicking your tongue, you pulled out something that looks decent for the street and locked the door to your room. You fixed your clothes until it fits right on you and sat on your bed, wondering if you should just stay inside and make him take some couple extra steps. But decidedly, being in your own room with him will always be so much more unnerving of an experience rather than just letting him shuffling through your stuff on his own. So, the door to your room open with a click, and you step out into long familiar but distant hallways. You wish you can unlearn the concept of loving something that isn’t tangible anymore. It’ll make the hallways a bit brighter.

Like usual, you peek into the empty, almost sterile kitchen and walk up to her armchair. After confirming that you’re alone today also, you found yourself back on the sofa with nothing else to do, simply waiting for Alastor. Checking the time again, it’s exactly mid-day now, so his mother must’ve needed help with something, you’ll have to wait for a bit. Gulping down the uncomfortable heavy weight that settled over your heart since a year and a half ago, refusing to ever die, you lie down and close your eyes.

A year, a half, two week and three days, it’s really a wonder how you work. Maybe that’s what Alastor sees in you, a walking list of contradictions, or maybe this is how everyone works, and you were just cruelly kept out of the loop. Even though you never bother to consider her in your own life, ever since a year and a half ago, you wake up staring at the ceiling with bleary eyes wondering what’s she’s doing every day and why you can’t hear her. Then, remembering that she won’t be doing anything from now on, you get up and make yourself breakfast. Sometimes you would still hear someone calling for you, along with the constant ringing from the phone, but then one day, you forgot how she sounded like, so you starts to ignore the calls.

The day you realized you can no longer hear her voice, calling out to you from the door to your house, you’d tried to trace her footstep by opening her cookbook and making the dish she love. One moment, you were staring down into the pages, the next, you’re seated at the counter, surrounded by Alastor’s companions. You’d call for a  whiskey. Everyone find it absolutely hilarious and jokes about your new life while you held the glass in your hand and stare down into the amber-colour liquid. Just as Alastor laugh and reach out for your hand to take it away, talking about how you simply won’t be able to handle the aftermath, you knock your head back and the glass ran clear in one gulp. His friends all cheered for you and shoving another glass into your hand, assuring you’ll get used to this soon, but you don’t know how much you can trust them.

Quite frankly, the whiskey was beyond repulsive. As if you just swallowed flaming charcoal, your throat burns so badly, it’s stopping you from forming a single coherent sentence. You can’t stop yourself from tearing up over it, either, vision blurred and unsteady while a beginning of a headache started creeping up on you, so you down whatever’s in your hand again in the hope of becoming familiar with it fast enough to never have to think twice about it. Before a pretty dame in the group can pass you a third drink, you were hauled up by the shoulder and drag out the door, Alastor hissing a goodbye to the group through his teeth.

Storming off ahead and ranting about how utterly irresponsible you are while you stumbled behind him like a fawn, Alastor would slow down and stare when he can’t hear your soft footstep anymore. You remember walking by a closed tailor shop and flopping yourself down, back against the glass window and weeping without a word. He walked back and sit next to you after a while. You know he’s waiting for you to say something on your own, but you only shrink into yourself. You don’t know what was worse in that moment, the burning in your throat, the head splitting ache slowly brewing or the fact you never know your mother favorite food. How are you supposed to grief someone you don’t know anymore?

In the midst of it all is Alastor, who seemingly lost all of his previous anger. You’ve seen a lot of him over the years, you know he sees all of you. But this is the first time you break down without a word or a reason and you wondered if he feels just as lost and confused as you are. It as if he doesn’t know what to do with you once you actually breaks in a way that doesn’t serve his vision of you, in a way he never have to fix before.

“…Tough day?” with an oddly shy tone, he nudge you from the side, “Didn’t know you’re this much of a sad drunk, honey. Guess I was right to keep you off the bottle after all.” He chuckled, then trail off when you stay silent and stare off into nothing.

It must’ve been no more than ten minutes, but it felt like years before you gave up and open your mouth, voice breaking and quiet. “He made it look so easy.”

“He? Michael?”

He perks up the moment you speak, mouthing off the names of all his associates in hope of finding the one that raises your ire. You would’ve found him endearing if things were different, but you cut him off.

“John,” Then as if it’s not enough, as if Alastor never remembers anyone else, you try to keep your voice even while rubbing your eyes “John Holloway. He made drinking look so easy.” Even without looking, you can see his lips pulled into a taut line.

“Ah, right, John Holloway,” rolling his eyes and shuffling that much closer to you and pulling out his handkerchief, he sneers, holding your wrist still while wiping your face, “No doubt he does. If you didn’t take him out, that chump would’ve drink himself to Hell on his own.”

“At least then he gets to pick his own way out…” You huff.

“It’s been years, honey!” done with cleaning you up, he stuff the handkerchief in his left pocket, “I can’t believe you’re still hung up on him!”

With every word out of his mouth, Alastor’s fake and chipper accent gets just a bit firmer, as if finally knowing what to do. Sitting up straight and pulling his glasses off, he wiped it on his vest and ask dismissively.

“When did he die again? Was it 1928?”

“1929,” you breathe and lean your head against the glass, “Remember that musical you called innovative and new?”

“If only I can forget.” He blanch at the thought of it, you smile wistfully.

“The music was nice, it’ll be nice to watch it again.” From the corner of your eyes, you catches his. You hated how he look so content with this.

“That makes one of us…”

After that, a blanket of silence fell onto you two. With a headache in full swing, you recalled asking whether he ever remembers how they look. Chuckling, he only leans close until your nose almost touch and say that he does. You ask if he’ll ever remember you, he froze and stare into your eyes with an almost incomprehensible look. Standing up, he brushes himself from dust and give you a hand, you take it.

Before you two departed in front of a door that no longer lead to a home, he tells you in an almost too quiet voice that he hope he never have to remember you. You hate his everything in that moment. From how his stands was just a tad bit different from his usual tall and confident poised self to the way he looks so abnormal with the corner of his lips dipped down. You hate how you’ve grown fond of his smile, so you turn and closed the door with a good night.

In the morning, sounding like you just dragged yourself from hell back up, you asked him for a clipped picture from the old newspaper and leave it under your pillow. And ever since, you’ve been rewriting the same letter. To everyone that you ever have a hand on, and to John and your mom. But specifically to John and mom.

John was a good man. It’s a shame he drank too much and care too much in one night. It’s a bigger shame that you can’t keep your thoughtcrime as exactly that, a thoughtcrime. He was right, too. You never knew the man you called Alastor, you don’t think you’ll ever do and you’re happy for it. You only ever find the cowardice to take another man’s life with his help, and you’ll only ever find yourself in more trap than being free from it.

You still bought yarns and cookbooks that you think your mother would’ve love. You come back with enough groceries for two people and the kitchen table are always set for two. You check every day in the kitchen for her still. You still crept up behind the armchair just in case she’s sleeping. Her red slippers still sat patiently just in front of her door. You know she never will be there, but it’s a nice thought. And since mom won’t ever going to be there again, you’ll take a nap. Alastor can have fun dealing with half-asleep you once he’s here.

(you’re woken up by the sounds from your kitchen, the smell familiar. as if finally escaping a bad nightmare, you sprang up on your feet and peek in like a child. Alastor stood at the stove, smiling at you. for the first time in years, his smile didn’t reach his eyes.)

7. we’re going to hell together, after all.

Left, right, right, left.

The silent always puts you on edge, as if there’s something out here, biding for it’s time. If only it’s a beast you can take down with a shotgun. You try to recall the forest trail that you know is somewhere out here as shadows of trees covered you from the moon. But you know Alastor, and you know for a fact that if he wanted to, he could herd you out of New Orleans with just a couple of words and a smile. So you uselessly try to focus past the thundering in your ears, you can’t hear a trace of him anymore. So on the count of three…

Throwing yourself to the right, you almost slammed into a tree as a bullet lodge into the trunk of another just right ahead. A soft chuckle rang out from behind, you kept running. Left hand clutching your right wrist, a sob bubbling up from your aching throat, it’s between running like this and letting the hand ram itself into whatever’s there in the forest. Even if you’re blessed with the chance to get out of this alive, you’ll never have use for your right hand ever again. Bones doesn’t heal right when they sit past five days, but you’re not sure you can even hold a pen with a mangled thumb and a pinkie barely hanging on. You  lost a bit of your will at that, but the silence of the woods draws you from your thought. You want to die by your own hands.

Right, left, right.

But you know you won’t be able to. The moment you let him take you here, you already lost. Alastor knows the woods better than you. He knows hunting better than you. And you’re sure he knows he can outrun you at any time. You refuse to dwell on the meaning of it and push your left hand against a tree.

Another shot rang out, this time hurling right by your head and nicked the tip of your right ear and went into the night. You don’t know where it goes, but you staggered just a bit and nearly launch yourself forward when a small bush snatches the end of your clothes.

“Sorry honey!” his voice gets further and further away while he stand still and yell out to you with a casual tone, as casual as he can keep it, “Frayed nerves and all~” he laughs, the rest of his words intelligible, and then suddenly, the forest went silent again. You can’t afford to stop and think anything through, so you push on ahead.

When you’re stuck with only the breaking and crushing of leaves under foot and your own winded breaths filling your ears, you cursed. Your throat starch, your lungs burns. With every step you take, your visions blackened around the edge and breathing alone hurts so horribly. It’s a blessing you even lasted for this long, you never have to chase anyone like he did. You wishes you burn that letter instead of dropping it in the bin, you wish you burn that house down instead of living with a ghost you can’t see. You wish you burn him. You know something was off with him that day, Alastor couldn’t shut up to save his life ever since he gets the key to the house. But he didn’t so much as uttered a word to you while staring down at the cutting board, but you didn’t care enough to ask him. Biting back a curse when a stinging pain shot up from your ankle, you feel your head spin as a short and pained chuckle escape your dry lips, he was thinking about how he wants you dead, surely.

Left, left? Right. L-

You can’t help but cry out the moment the bullet sink into your right upper thigh and sent you down. You crashed sideway onto the forest floor and black out for just half a second when a rock dig into your left temple. Clutching at your thigh with a broken hand, your laugh sounds unfamiliar to your own ears, almost choking as it drags nails and spikes through your throat, like that of an animal, like you’re an animal. The loss of oxygen is getting to you, the irony doesn’t escape you.

While your body winds down and the pain and exhaustion settles in, you go into the most horrible aftermath you’ve ever have to endure. Your head pulsating with every beat of your heart and your limbs grew heavy and cold. Vividly, you pick up on leaves breaking and sticks crushed under heavy footstep and you abandoned all sort of dignity to scrambled and try to drag yourself away from him, fingernails dug into dirt and grass to pull your lead like body away. But another clink, another shot hit your lower torso from behind as your choke scream got swallowed up by the earth, left to clutch at your wounds with face buried into the earth and tears streaming from your eyes.

“Oh honey, why so sad?” a heel sit on your bullet wound, dancing in circle before he slowly press his whole weight onto it. Your suffocating wail isn’t enough to amused him, but he still laugh with such gentleness in his tone. “I thought this is what you want? Weren’t you writing to dear old John about leaving? Well, here it is!”

The relief he granted you last for all but half a second before he bring his foot down. Stinging, numbing pain spread through your entire body and you’re left gasping for air while he held your shoulder and set you to face him. Hunching over your shivering body with a hand on your face, he smiles. Or at least you think he is, there’s not a point trying to make out a single thing over the agonizing pain that’s making a home in your body. You wanted so badly to just black out and die right here, you pretty sure you did black out at some point, but Alastor slap your cheek lightly and calls your name with almost a whine to his tone. The warmth from his hand stand out amongst the incomprehensible burning of your flesh and the blood rushing through your head, why are you here again?

“Oh come on, don’t leave me hanging like this. You know I hate it when you ignore me.”

You’re not, you want to scream. If there’s anything you can ever say for him to get off of you and leave you alone, you would. You don’t know if it’s the blood lost or the pain getting to you, but your already waning visions of him blurs beyond recognition while he coos at you.

“I guess it really do hurts that badly?” he laughs, “One question solves then!”

At the mention of it, your blood ran cold and the forest felt just a bit more freezing than it already was. Right, he did say something about John, didn’t he? Almost like it was yesterday, when you’re sitting alone in your room at eleven in the morning. Although barely able to remember the exact wording of every letter, you know by heart the concepts and questions in all the letters you’ve written and rephrased a thousand times and over. But the question wasn’t in that one, it was at least several drafts before it, dropped because it was too presumptuous to ask your first and closest victim such a horribly him question. All of it, sitting neatly in the bin right by your writing desk. All of it, he could’ve read in the hours it took you to wake up.

You want to stick to what’s left of you and die raising your head just a bit higher than when you live by not letting him hear a word out of you, either the fact your throat still hurts so badly just swallowing or the fact you know it’s all but useless talking now that’s keeping you. But from the corner of your eye, you saw his right, red hand gripping tightly onto something that you can’t properly make out, and then you remember the reason you never anticipated any of this occurring within your lifetime.

“Th-the letters…” you groaned, “it’s not-you-“

Right, the reason you were caught off guard by him breaking your fingers while pinning you to his car, the reason you couldn’t even begin to make head from tail when he pressed you for the name of whoever it was that makes you do this. The letters that is, for all its intended purposes, your suicide note.

“Yes, yes,” with a draws to his voice, as if he’s tired of this, “Your lovely letters, to dear old ma and John. We both know I read all about them.”

“No-“ you cough, it’s hurts just to breathe, “I wasn’t going to- tell them-“

“Oh, that. I know.”

For just a moment, you’re void of anything. All the pain and the blistering heat and the cold night air leave your body for just a second and left you with nothing at his words. You’re aware of his every movement, even through the darkness of the night. Suddenly, everything is too much, too loud.

“I thought you’re smarter than this, love.” you can’t see him properly at all, but you can’t see him smiling and it scares you,  “It never was just about the letters.”

“Then what-“

Shushing you, he leans down until your forehead nearly touched, you try to focus and find his eyes at this awkward angle but it only worsen the unbearable pounding in your head.

“This, is what you want,” he pauses, you can see the outline of his jaw shifting, like rolling words on his tongue. You want to call him a madman, but you don’t even know if this is him anymore. This isn’t the Alastor you know for years. He would’ve never talk to you without that stupid accent that’s everywhere on the radio. The Alastor you know doesn’t need to considers his words talking to anyone, always with an excuse on his sleeve. And that Alastor would never gotten so close, wouldn’t have sounded so personal. “You said you want to leave. To get to that ‘freedom’, right?”

He sounded so hurt, as if it’s him that’s being crushed under weight with bullets in him and two broken fingers, as if it’s not you writhing on the forest floor, as if he’s the one dying tonight.

“You can’t bear to live anymore, right? You can’t do this with me anymore, can you?” you’re painstakingly reminded of the fact he still have his right hand on you, casually moving it down to your neck while he raises his left. You aren’t sure why, but you still try to claw at the hand clasping gently around you. You think this happened before, but you weren’t sure where the idea came from, the loss of oxygen getting to you quicker than you thought it would. Somewhere in the back of your mind, your fingers, two broken and eight dirtied with dirt and your own blood, it lost the red that have been clinging onto you like a disease.

“Al-“ in that moment, your vision suddenly cleared, like a last-ditch attempt at life. The grip he have around you is like that of a snake, too. Coiling gently and kindly, with a thumb digging into your skin while the inners of your ears felt like bursting open.

“It’s alright, mon Chéri, I’ll help you. I always have, haven’t I?” he always have been helping you, but that was Alastor, your friend and the demon on your shoulder. Not the man that’s staring down at you with such a look and speaking to you with such tenderness and love you can’t begin to dissect.

Desperately, you stare up at the image of an unfamiliar man with voices you’ve never heard before. He smiles a smile so painful, as if losing his mind too, but you can’t tell who he is anymore. Your mom was right, John was right, you’re right, but none of it matters when you’re running out of breath and the rock in his left hand fits so well into his palm.

“I’ll come see you when I’m down there, wait for me.”

Your vision bloomed and blurred away. You stay awake for long enough to hear the first crack of skull, reverberating through your eardrums. You’d stay awake for the second hit, and the third. And you stay awake for just long enough to grow envy of John for never having to faced you that night.

(the hound leaps, sharp fangs breaking tough skin and tearing veins, the vulture, without a mind to think of god, only knows how to cries out.)

[cocomellxn]

I recently got sick so any works will be postponed for the time being