#dark eren yeager

[ryewwww]

mind games (2)

Attack on Titan

Pairing: yandere!bully!Eren x shy!fem!reader

Genre: Smut & Angst

Part 1

Word Count: 3K

CONTAINS DARK THEMES!

PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

Warning(s): Physical abuse, slapping, toxic behaviour, toxic Eren, dacryphilia kink, sadist!Eren, choking, manipulation, rough sex, abandonment issues, mean!Eren, degradation, baby trapping implied, blackmail, I’m probably missing something but you get the idea.

THIS FIC CONTAINS NON CONSENSUAL SEX!

READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR MEDIA CONSUMPTION!

When you arrived at his home, Eren didn’t waste a second. His fingers locked around your wrist, dragging you out of the car and through the door like you were nothing but a rag doll.

The door slammed shut. Before you could even process it, his hand was fisted in your hair, yanking your head back. “Fucking look at me,” he growled, lips ghosting over your parted ones before crashing down in a bruising kiss.

The air was knocked out of you as his grip tightened around your waist, lifting you with no effort. His fingers found the zipper of your dress, ripping it down in one aggressive motion before shoving the fabric down your shoulders. You barely had time to gasp before he was spinning you around, pushing you against the nearest surface—his hand pressing between your shoulder blades to keep you down.

His free hand slid between your thighs, yanking your panties down. He hummed, satisfied, when he felt the dampness there. “Knew I’d be there tonight, didn’t you?”

“N-No,” you lied, your voice shaking.

A harsh slap landed on your ass, making you jolt. “Lying little slut.”

Without warning, his mouth latched onto your cunt from behind, hot breath fanning against your sensitive skin. His tongue licked a long, slow stripe over your clit before sucking the bud into his mouth, rough and merciless. Your body betrayed you, thighs shaking, hands clawing at the furniture in front of you as you let out a strangled moan.

“Eren—fuck!”

His fingers dug into your hips, keeping you still as he devoured you. He was relentless, licking, sucking, fucking you open with his tongue until your legs were trembling.

The moment you cried out, spasming against his mouth, he pulled back, wiping his chin with the back of his hand. You barely had time to breathe before he was gripping your hair, forcing you down onto your knees.

“Open your mouth,” he ordered, already pulling his cock free.

You obeyed, only for him to slap the thick tip against your lips before shoving himself inside. You gagged as he forced you to take him deep, holding your head in place as he fucked your throat.

“Take it,” he growled, yanking your head down further. His cock twitched, and before you could prepare yourself, hot ropes of cum painted your tongue. You swallowed immediately, but it wasn’t enough for him.

His grip tightened on your chin, forcing you to look up at him. His thumb swiped over your bottom lip, collecting a stray drop of cum before shoving it back into your mouth.

“Messy girl,” he murmured, dragging you up onto shaky legs before pulling you to his room and throwing you onto the bed.

You gasped, still dazed, as he spread your legs roughly, positioning himself between them. He didn’t wait. Didn’t ease you into it. He simply lined himself up and slammed his cock into you in one brutal thrust.

You cried out, your body seizing up, but he didn’t care—his pace was punishing from the start, forcing your body to take every inch of him. The headboard slammed against the wall with each thrust, the bed shaking beneath you.

“Fucking take it,” he grunted, his fingers finding your throat, squeezing just enough to make your vision blur.

Your moans were strangled, body jolting with every rough, deep stroke. Your walls clenched around him, and he laughed breathlessly. “That’s it, cum on my cock,” he taunted, rubbing your clit roughly.

Your body betrayed you again, tightening around him as pleasure ripped through you. Your climax only spurred him on—his thrusts turned erratic, his cock slamming into you so deep it felt like he was breaking you apart.

“Gonna fucking fill you up,” he groaned, fingers digging into your thighs as he forced your legs wider, deeper.

You barely had time to protest before he buried himself to the hilt, spilling inside you with a deep, satisfied growl. His cock throbbed, pumping his seed deep inside you, refusing to pull out even as your body spasmed from the overstimulation.

The only sound in the room was heavy breathing, the squelch of his cum mixing with yours as he rocked his hips lazily, making sure none of it spilled out.

Finally, after what felt like forever, he pulled out, watching as his cum dripped from your ruined hole.

The next morning, you're awake before him. You know the routine, get out before Eren wakes up.

You slip out of bed carefully, legs sore from the night before, and gather your things in silence. The dread settles in your stomach as you prepare for the long walk back to your trailer. Your feet ache at the thought; you wore heels to the club, and shin splints are inevitable. 

When you finally arrive, exhaustion clinging to your body, an envelope pinned to your door stops you in your tracks. A 30-day eviction notice.

The five years were almost up, and your landlords were eager to get you out. The words on the paper blur as reality sets in. You have no home.

It’s devastating, but you force yourself to see the bright side. This is your chance—your push—to leave everything behind and move to the city. 

You don’t hesitate. You scrape together just enough money for a bus ticket, pack your things in silence, and leave before doubt can creep in. As the town fades behind you, a strange mix of relief and sorrow settles in your chest. This place held nothing but struggle, but it was still home. And leaving, even after everything, still hurts.

The city swallows you whole. New. Fast. Overwhelming.

Before you left, you applied to a university here, a last attempt at securing a future for yourself. You took a gap year to get your finances in order, but you knew school was your only way out. Education was the one thing no one could take from you.

And somehow, against all odds, you got in. A decent scholarship covers tuition, but the dorm is on you. With no other options, you take out loans, drowning in the weight of them before classes even start.

Adjusting is brutal. No support. No guidance. Just you.

The sheer speed of it all—moving, enrolling, surviving—leaves you gasping for air. Resources help, but there’s never enough time, never enough money, never enough energy. You push through, burying your emotions under the weight of assignments, shifts, exhaustion.

You tell yourself you’ll process everything later. But later never comes.

You wondered if people back in town ever thought about you.

Maybe your social studies teacher, the only one who ever believed in you. Maybe Sasha. Sweet, oblivious Sasha, who never treated you differently. Maybe Eren.

Was he angry? Or did he just not care? With Eren, it was impossible to tell. Some days, he acted like you were the only thing that mattered. Other days, you were nothing.

From what you knew, he had gone to university abroad. His parents were loaded. His connections were limitless. It was only natural for him to attend the most prestigious schools, network with the most powerful people, and secure a future most could only dream of.

You, on the other hand, had to build your life from scratch.

Time passed, and your old life faded into the background. You made friends, joined clubs, pushed yourself to meet people who actually cared. You landed a part-time job as a barista, but you were still applying for co-ops. 

For the first time in forever, things were looking up.

Your grades were solid. Your savings were growing—slowly, but surely. Your social life was thriving.

You wondered if life would’ve always been this good if you had been raised in the city.

Here, no one cared where you came from. No one whispered about whether you were rich or poor. No one judged your single mother for being a single mother.

Maybe if you had stayed here from the start, she wouldn’t have left you.

But it was too late for what-ifs.

It was a Friday night. Your closing shift at the café had dragged, leaving you exhausted as you made your way home.

You walked through the parking lot and that’s when your eyes laid on a sleek, black sports car parked in the visitor’s section. It looked brand new. You admired it from afar, wondering which rich student it belonged to.

You didn’t expect it to be his.

You didn’t expect Eren to be standing outside your dorm, waiting.

You didn’t expect to walk right into him.

Your room was the first one in the hall, leaving you with no chance to escape.

The moment your gaze met his, your blood ran cold.

He looked different—sharper. Colder. Bigger. But his eyes? Still the same. Still burning with something too dark to name.

A chill crawled up your spine as you forced a smile. “E-Eren? What are you do—”

He snatched your keys from your hand.

Your heart stopped.

He unlocked your dorm and stepped inside like he owned it—like he owned you.

Then, everything exploded.

Your plates—shattered. Your cabinets—ripped apart. Your lamp—smashed against the wall.

Everything you had worked so fucking hard for, destroyed in seconds.

“Stop!” you screamed, grabbing at his arm, but his rage was uncontrollable.

His hand flew across your face.

The slap sent you crashing to the floor. Your ears rang. Your vision blurred. But before you could even think about escaping, he was on you.

Fingers tangling in your hair, yanking you up, his voice dripping with something terrifying.

“You thought you could leave me?”

The last thing you remembered was the feeling of his body crushing you.

And the sound of your own sobs.

The moment he shoves you onto the bed, you know there’s no use in fighting him. Your wrists are wrenched above your head, pinned down with a grip so tight it makes your fingers numb. His breath is hot against your cheek, heavy with the anger that’s been building inside him for months.

“You really thought you could just fucking leave?” His fingers dig into your cheeks, forcing you to look at him. “Didn’t even have the decency to tell me? Just disappeared like some fucking ghost?”

Your lips part, but no words come out. The slap comes before you can even try to explain yourself, the side of your face stinging. He takes advantage of the moment, yanking your shirt over your head, his rough fingers bruising your skin as he tears your bra down.

“You don’t get to move on from me,” he growls, his teeth scraping against your jaw before he bites down hard enough to make you cry out. “You’re mine. You’ve always been mine.”

His hands shove your legs apart, forcing you open as he rips your shorts and underwear down. He’s not gentle, doesn’t give you a moment to adjust. There’s no care in the way he handles you, only a desperate need to claim, to ruin. He’s punishing you for leaving, for daring to think you could escape him.

“You think this city bullshit makes you different? Makes you better?” He presses his forehead against yours, his voice dripping with venom. “You’re still the same needy little thing that used to cry for me to fuck her. You just forgot who you belong to.”

His pace is brutal, unrelenting. Every thrust knocks the air from your lungs, his grip bruising your hips as he forces you to take it. Your body betrays you, shuddering beneath him, clenching around him despite the tears streaming down your face. He notices, of course he does.

His laugh is cruel. “That’s right. You missed me, didn’t you? You can lie all you want, but this—” He thrusts harder, deeper, making your toes curl. “This tells me the truth. Your body fucking loves me.”

His fingers wrap around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your vision blur. “Say it,” he demands. “Say you missed me.”

You shake your head weakly, refusing to give him the satisfaction. The refusal earns you another slap, harder this time, and then he’s gripping your jaw, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“Fucking say it.”

He doesn’t stop until you do. And even then, he makes sure you understand—leaving him was never an option.

It became clear that you never had a choice when he forced you to drop out. One moment, you were juggling classes and shifts at the café, fighting for a future you had built from nothing, and the next, it was all gone—erased with a single phone call.

Eren had paid for everything. Wiped your debts clean before you could even argue, as if the life you had struggled to create was nothing more than a temporary distraction to him. And then he gave you the ultimatum.

You had sobbed, pleaded, clung to the life you had fought so hard for.

“I don’t want this,” you had choked out, your body trembling in the cramped space of your dorm room as he loomed over you. “I’m happy here. I have a future here.”

His laugh had been bitter. Cold. “A future?” He stepped closer, eyes burning with irritation that made your stomach churn. “You think working yourself to the bone for pennies is a future? You think I’d ever let you settle for that kind of life?”

He had grabbed your chin, fingers digging into your skin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “You’re fucking stupid. So fucking stupid that even your own mother left you because she didn’t think you’d be successful. You’re not proving anything to anyone but yourself.”

The words had sliced deep, making you breathless, but it wasn’t until he pulled out his phone that you truly felt the weight of your helplessness.

The screen had lit up with a video, one you instantly recognized. You, on your hands and knees, back arched, tears in your eyes as you begged for release. Eren, behind you, gripping your hair, forcing you to look at the camera as he ruined you.

Your blood had turned to ice.

“Don’t do this,” you had whispered, voice barely audible over the rush of your own pulse.

His lips had curled into something sickly sweet, almost amused. “Then pack your shit.”

The humiliation, the sheer terror of what he could do, had been enough to break you. So you had done as you were told, stuffing what little you owned into a suitcase as silent tears streaked down your face. Every dream, every ounce of freedom, crumpled into nothing as he stood by the door, watching.

By the time he had carried your bags to the car, his grip on your wrist was firm, unyielding. He had popped the trunk open, shoved your belongings inside like they were weightless, and then opened the passenger door. A silent command.

You had hesitated, breath shallow, chest tight. But what choice did you have?

He had waited, unwavering, until you finally caved—until you climbed inside, pressing yourself as far against the door as possible, cheek resting against the cool window. Your sobs had softened into quiet sniffles as he drove. There had been no need for words. You had lost.

And then, just like that, your old life had been left behind.

Now, four years later, it felt like a distant memory.

You rocked gently in the nursery, the creak of the chair soft beneath you as you cradled your three-month-old against your chest. His tiny body was warm, breath slow and even as he slept.

Your hand rested on your swollen stomach, feeling the faintest kick from the life growing inside you. 

Your second child. 

The weight of it all sat heavy on your chest. There was no running now. There never had been.

Because Eren had made sure you had nowhere else to go.

The second week of living abroad with him, he proposed.

Not that it was really a proposal. There was no grand speech, no heartfelt confession, no space for hesitation. It wasn’t a question, it was an expectation. A decision already made.

The ring slipped onto your finger with ease, as if it had always belonged there. As if Eren had always known you’d be his, no matter how much you had fought against it.

And that same night, before you even had time to process, he placed a pen in your hand and the marriage documents before you.

"Sign."

Your fingers trembled as you stared at the paper, your name waiting to be written beside his. Your signature would seal your fate, binding you to him in a way that could never be undone. Unless he died. 

“I don’t—” Your voice had cracked. “Eren, I can’t.”

But his hand had found your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. His eyes, dark and ruthless, left no room for argument.

“You can,” he murmured. “And you will.”

And so, you did.

The wedding was a spectacle, grand and opulent, as if it had been pulled straight from a fairy tale.

Top of the line everything. A designer dress, a venue so extravagant it hardly felt real, champagne so expensive it could have paid your tuition twice over.

But for all the luxury, you felt like a guest at your own wedding.

You had no one to invite. No childhood friends, no family, no one who had been there before Eren decided to take over your life. Still, out of some misplaced hope, you had sent an invitation to your mother.

She never came.

Eren’s guest list, on the other hand, was extensive. Business associates, old classmates from his prestigious university, men in expensive suits and women draped in couture. They drank, they laughed, they celebrated your love—if that’s what they wanted to call it.

You had stood beside him, smiling on command, wearing the dress he picked, repeating the vows he had written, feeling the weight of his name wrap around you like a collar.

And when it was all over, when the guests had left, when the cameras had stopped flashing, when the music had faded, you found yourself alone with him in the dim glow of your honeymoon suite.

You knew what was coming.

Because Eren had given you the world, and now it was time for you to give him everything.

A/N: This was a highly requested so I finally did it🙂‍↕️sorry if it was shitty, I don’t remember what the plot for this was, it’s been so long sjsjsjbsjs. It’s not edited, I’ll do that in the morning but I hope you liked it :)

[erenthology]

a/n: nothing wrong with acne, this is self indulgent. The Eren brain rot has been taking over ever since watching the finale. Not proof read obs

Academic rival Eren who’s always made your life a living hell. while secretly obsessed with you.

Rival!Eren who flirts idly and is the most contusing person. you can never tell if he’s being serious or not.

Rival!Eren who stops you on your way out of school. “move, asshole.” of course, the life sized giant doesn’t. “did you not hear me? I called you an asshole.”

“Have dinner with me” he grins. what is wrong with him? you think. not liking the way your heart is beating 10 times faster

Rival!Eren who smiles watching you run away from him, knowing the tension isn’t one sided, and you do too

Rival!Eren who first laid eyes on you in pre school, crying because some kid had stolen your strawberry shortcake. you were both kids. Eren angrily pushed his cake on your plate, blushing when your tear streaked face thanked him

Rival!Eren who then made sure to make that guy’s life hell for the rest of the school year. You really loved your strawberry shortcake, the memory makes him laugh

Rival!Eren who slowly noticed you’re the only one keeping up with him in class. He still remembers the day you told him you’ll surpass him

Rival!Eren who then became your rival, who told the kids you had germs just so they wouldn’t take you from him and

Rival!Eren who loved you through all of your phases, and found you just as beautiful that summer you came back from break with your face covered in acne, and hair cut in a bob

Rival!Eren who couldn’t keep up with you in 8th grade because your boobs had grown so big over the summer, it was all he could focus on

Rival!Eren who nearly had a stroke when you got your first boyfriend. He even accidentally smashed the guy’s face in when he heard him talking about you in inappropriate ways

Rival!Eren who was right there to take the blame. He was fine with you hating him for the breakup, as long as you still talked to him, even if it was just to cuss him out.

Rival!Eren who was your first kiss. “If you score more than me on this, Eren, I’ll do whatever you want” you once so confidently said. he pretended to suggest the kiss as a punishment, but still reminisces over the way you both blushed and ran separate ways after the innocent pec

Rival!Eren who got accused of having a crush on you by the boys, and got so mad at the way you denied it, he started taking girls out on the dates just to get back at you

Rival!Eren who watched you slip away from him but nevertheless kept his eyes on you over the years. made sure no one was bothering you beside him

Rival!Eren knows, you know. whether you like to admit or not, you’re his. you have been since that day. he’s always been behind you, and you’ll always expect him to be

Rival!Eren who, even in collage, loves to compete with you. thrives over the fact that he has been opponent since you were both kids, and no one else

Rival!Eren who thinks you look so freaking sexy every time you score higher than him and gloat. your ego is through the roof and he loves it

Rival!Eren who also loves it when you crumble before his eyes as he exceeds you in certain subjects

Rival!Eren who goes out of his way to catch your attention. Pulling your hair in class, kicking your feet under the desk, anything, really.

Rival!Eren who touches girls, kisses them in the hallway right when you walk by just to look you in the eye and grin

“You disgust me” you mouth to him.

You’ve definitely heard rumors from girls gossiping in the school bathroom. Especially by ashley, who loves going on about the night they spent together. “Eren fucks like a god, he knows his way around a woman’s body.” bla bla bla

Rival!Eren who catches your eye in the school cafeteria. He always looks at you, but this time you really looked at him. He’s fresh out of the shower. must’ve had practice, you think. you really do love when he wraps his hair in a bun like that

Rival!Eren who stares just as intensely back at you, resisting the urge to come over and do the things he wants to. instead, he takes the opportunity to wink at you, chuckling over the way you get up and throw away your remaining food

Rival!Eren who runs after you to catch up, but is reminded of your stubbornness when you ignore his shouts, instead he wraps his hand around you and pulls your entire body towards him

Rival!Eren who leans forward and whispers, only for you to hear, “if you ever look at me like that again, I’ll come over and fuck the shit out of you in front of the whole cafeteria.”

Rival!Eren who pushes a strand of your hair behind your ear and soaks in the way you’re looking it him, trying his best to force his mind of your silken lips before you visibly snap back to reality and push him away

Rival!Eren who’s eyes gleam mischief when he’s paired up with you for a project. “We’re gonna have a lot of fun” he grins, adoring the face you’re giving him

Rival!Eren who gets mad when you cut yourself on paper. “What the hell are you doing?” he says, carefully inspecting your hand

“Just tell me what to do.” he snaps, taking over

That night you both stayed until late in the library, feeling overwhelmed by all the work. there was nothing weird about Eren’s hand finding yours, and yours finding his, as you both rested your heads on the table

Rival!Eren who blames the gentleman in him when you ask why he insists on driving you back home. “you think that lowly of me?”

Rival!Eren who’s ears spike when a guy in the locker room mentions asking you out. He won’t allow it. suddenly feeling eyes on him, he notices he just smashed his first into the locker

“Uh,” needing to be smart about this, he quickly comes up with an excuse, “nah, she’s too easy, i’d get behind Ashley if I were you, trust me,” he winks. Lies. no one is better than you, but you’re his

Rival!Eren who starts insisting on coming over to your place to get the project done. Wanting to see how you live, what color your sheets are, what you wear at home

Rival!Eren who’s eyes almost fall out of its pockets when he sees your bra lying on top of your gym bag. By no means is he unfamiliar with bra’s or the female anatomy. It’s the fact that it’s yours that send his mind into an orbit

Rival!Eren who thinks you’re getting closer, so why the fuck is he seeing you with another man in a coffee shop on a saturday night?

Rival!Eren who carefully waits until Monday where he tells you he needs to talk to you. even seeing your face is making him crazy, he hates it

Rival!Eren who asks if you have a boyfriend and why you haven’t told him. you’re confused by this for two reasons, 1, you don’t have a boyfriend. 2. Why would you tell Eren?

“Tell me the truth” he demands.

How can he say that after running through half the women in your college? “The truth? I hate you, so much. wish you would just leave me alone.” you say despite the lump in your throat

Taken aback, he speaks in an unsure voice, “you hate me?” It looked like it physically hurt him to hear you say it. “Got it.”

Sighing, you realize you might’ve overreacted. despite all your bickering, you’ve never snapped at him like that before, “Eren, wait-“ but he’s already gone

Rival!Eren who starts ignoring you. He still looks, but he doesn’t mess around with you in the joking manner that he used to

Rival!Eren who’s been on your mind a lot since the fight. so much so, that you’re falling behind on school. you decide to keep this distance he created once and for all, no more back and forth

Rival!Eren who stops listening to his friends the instant he notices your saddened look. to the avarage person, you probably look fine, but he knows you.

Rival!Eren who spams your phone with texts, tries his best getting your attention during class but to no avail. Did someone hurt you? Sitting through this lecture is killing him

Rival!Eren who follows you after class, forcibly taking hold of your hand. “Eren, no.” you sigh, pulling your hand out of his grip. Annoyed, he ignores your request and takes ahold of your hand again, “what’s wrong?”

“Why is it so hard for you to leave me alone?” you yell, surprised by the force in your own voice. both you and Eren’s eyes widen at your second outburst at him

“Alright,” he nods his head, “message received” he says and finally leaves you. Despite having asked for it, panic arises in you as you turn to watch him walk away, only to see him leaning against the locker, still there

A smirk finds his face, “thought I’d leave?”

he’s hit with a surprise when you put your head on his chest and starts sobbing. And you’re left equally as shocked by the relief that fills your chest

Rival!Eren who puts his arms around you and starts stroking your back. he wants to burn the world when he sees it’s hurt you

Rival!Eren who takes you back to his dorm with no room for discussion, but makes a quick pit stop, telling you he’ll be right back and to stay in the car

“Strawberry shortcake?” The look you give him makes him want to back inside and buy you all the cake they have

Rival!Eren who acts composed but feels his heart pounding in his chest all while he drives back to his place, while he’s leaning against the door frame as you’re explore his room, and as eat your cake in silence, with him staring at you

Rival!Eren who’s sure he’s mistaken when you flat out ask to give him to have sex with you, but is quickly corrected when you direct his hand onto the soft flesh of your boob

Rival!Eren who’s fingers act on their own, moulding and squeezing as he regains composure, “hold on, you’ve never done this before, right?”

“No.” you shake your head.

Rival!Eren who grabs ahold of your chin as a smile creeps up on his face , “good.” he’s going to teach you everything. but not today

Rival!Eren who’s thumb plays with the button of your jeans as he asks if you’re going to stop running away from him. loving the way you shy from his question

the way you hesitate makes him want to devour you whole. “I’ll kiss you if you don’t say yes” he leans forward to tease

“C’mon, hurry.”

“Yes.” you barely breathe out before he leans in and kisses the hell out of you. then proceeds to unzip your clothes

Rival!Eren who has the longest make out session of his life, making sure to prepare you by playing with every part of your body

Rival!Eren who’s soaking in the way your face twists into pleasure when he twists and turns his fingers inside of you, telling you to calm down and trust him

Rival!Eren who he talks you through your orgasm, flicks his tongue on your pulse point and whispers, “no one has ever touched you here before, right?”

Rival!Eren who holds you face in his hands after making you come, kissing you once, kissing you again, again, and again. he can’t stop stealing kisses from you, it feels like he’s been robbed of this his whole life.

Rival!Eren who declines your request for him to fuck you. only for you to get mad and get up looking for your clothes

“Yeah, but you’ll fuck every other girl passing by.”

Rival!Eren who laughs and drags your ass back down on his lap, he’s not letting you get away again. not a chance in hell

“You’re gonna belive rumors, baby? thought you were my smart girl.”

“Look, I may not be a virgin, but I might as well be. you’re the only girl Ive ever wanted. it’s not an excuse, it’s a fact. And I’ll keep showing it to you until one day you’ll believe it.”

Rival!Eren who promises to take your virginity one day, but not today.

[sahraleba]

Cycle is done, hopefully.

You can find me on Instagram where I post more: kachanskymaria 🤍

[hanmaitani]

CAUGHT BETWEEN

a shoes that were danced to pieces twisted fairytale...

PAIRING - Prince!Jean Kirstein x Reader x Soldier!Eren Yeager WC - 1.0k GENRE - smut CW - dubcon, threesome, spitroast, implied unprotected sex, oral (m!receiving) SUMMARY - after you've been disappearing from the castle every night, your father promises your hand in marriage to anyone who can figure out where you've been going and bring you home. one lucky soldier finds you've been dancing your nights away with a prince

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

You stared at the soldier in front of you. Terror flooded your system as you watched his green eyes flick down to where the prince behind you still had his hand on your waist from dancing.

“Please, don’t tell me father.” The words slip from your lips before you have the chance to stop them or think of anything more eloquent to say. As the princess you’ve always prided yourself on knowing what you should say and how and when to get the outcome that you want. But if you’re honest, you never expected anyone to find out about this secret of yours.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Eren, the soldier who has just found out your secret asks you as he glares at the other man still holding you.

“Please,” your voice seems to draw out, whiny as you start to panic, “I’ll pay you any sum you want. Please forget you’ve been here.”

“Why would I want some of your money? Your father has promised me your hand.” Eren’s grip on you is sudden and harsh and you gasp as he pulls you towards him. Your gasp is almost as pronounced as the prince steps with you, not letting you from his grasp.

“You can’t have my princess.” Your prince may be shy at times with you but he stands up to Eren with no problem, his chest puffing up as he challenges him. “She won’t marry you when she’s already set to be a Kirstein.” Jean had proposed offhandedly while dancing, and you, lost in the enchantment of the music, had agreed.

“Please,” you beg as Eren ignores the other male and begins to tug you back towards the boats you’d come in on.

“Leave her be!” Jean tugs on you as well, to try and keep you at the pavilion you’d been dancing on.

You whimper as you feel like your body is being jerked back and forth, you’re twisting, panic gripping you when you hear the fateful rip.

It’s like all three of you freeze, turning to look at the source of the sound in slow motion. The corset of your dress having split as your chest spills from its confines. Your first instinct is to cover yourself, but with each arm held by a different man pulling in opposite directions, you’re left unable to do anything but stand there as the two men ogle you.

“H-hey!” You exclaim, tugging on your arms in their grips, hoping that one of the men who has hopes to marry you, also has the decency to let you go so you may cover yourself. Neither do. Your cheeks flush as you tug and twist more, the motions only seeming to intrigue the men more as your chest moves with the motions. “L-let go!”

You’re panting by the time they snap out of their frozen state. “Why would we do that?” It’s Jean, now, who is questioning your requests and your stomach seems to drop.

“Let’s have a competition.” Eren suggests as he stops trying to tug you towards the boats and instead merely holds you in place between Jean and him. You don’t miss how Jean’s eyes light up at the idea of competing with the other man. “Whoever makes her feel better wins.”

“You make her feel better, and I’ll let you take her.” Jean agrees almost instantly, eyes locked on the soldier rather than you.

“You win and I’ll forget that I ever saw her here.” Eren muses, his amusement at the prince’s eagerness growing.

“Wha-what about what I want!?” You exclaim as your eyes dart between the two, your breathing ragged as you wonder what situation you’re now in.

“We’ll give you everything,” Jean replies, his voice smoothe like he’s trying to charm you.

“Everything and more.” Eren agrees, his free hand already moving to unlace the rest of your bodice.

You gasp as hands touch your bare skin for the first time, goosebumps rising across the surface as they undress you right there on the dimly lit pavilion. It feels wrong, but your skin is on fire with every place they touch you.

They touch you in the same way, rough, demanding, each as if they are trying to one up the last touch of the other. It’s overwhelming and dizzying and you’re not sure how to feel anymore.

Especially as Jean sinks into your cunt for the first time, his length warm as he slides you down, keeping you suspended for your head to fall back towards Eren. You’re almost positive that he doesn’t even care about his movements, too busy showing off the blissful look on your face to the other male as he repeatedly hits into your g-spot, fucking into you with the purpose to prove that he is who you should marry.

Eren doesn’t much care for Jean’s attempt at showing off, his own mission clear as he bends you backwards, further away from Jean until you’re bridged between the two men, your mouth at the perfect height for Eren’s hips. Eren’s cock fills your throat with ease, he doesn’t seem to care how it constricts around him as you choke on it, he rather seems to like it.

You’re sure that they can’t even notice how easily you cum between the two of them. They’re too busy arguing over whether you’re shaking from how Jean fucks into your sweet spots or how Eren steals your breath as he tweaks at your nipples.

You’re not even sure if they truly care about who gets to marry you anymore. Both their fingers bump into each other as they rub over your clit, the way both the holes of yours that they’ve filled tighten when they do has them wanting to keep at it no matter how tired your body seems to be getting. And you’re sure that it’s more about who can win over the other. You’re just their collateral.

A/N - short and sweet but <33

TAGLIST - OPEN

@needtoloveoutloud @littleplantfreak @hayatoseyepatch

@awkwardaardvarkforever @s0uldarling @seiri-ously @deepenthevoid @stunies

@little-miss-naill @theycallmenanamisgirl @raven-nevra

[kingkaisen]

FIVE HUSBANDS

˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐕𝐈𝐈𝐈 || 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐄 — 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈𝐈 ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗

˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗

˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗

˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗

♡ — 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: eren, armin, connie, jean, levi, & reiner x celebrity reader

♡ — 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: Plans, promises, & proposals have begun. Your next marriage comes about in an unexpected way. The celebrities of Los Angeles are hoping for peace, but a war for peace has never been an easy fight, and this particular battle will leave you forever changed. In the end, your one true love will always win.

♡ — 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓: 18+ ONLY || MINORS DNI || DARK CONTENT — fem reader, modern/celebrity au, smut, heavy angst, marriage, divorce, pregnancy, cheating, grief, violence & blood, gun mentions, mentions of miscarriage, mentions of false imprisonment, drinking, toxic relationship, manipulation, stalking, murder talk, illness, hospitalization, & major character death. Some of the warnings listed here don’t necessarily apply to this part, but the series as a whole.

♡ — 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 25k

♡ — 𝐀/𝐍: Hi everyone! I can’t believe this series is finally ending. Thank you to everyone who liked, reblogged, commented, and/or left me a message in my inbox. It has meant the world to me. I hope you all have enjoyed spending time with my version of the aot characters and in their crazy world. A big thank you to @spicerackofblorbos for helping me plot the finale. I couldn’t have written an ending I’m proud of without you. I had to post the epilogue separately, so don’t forget to click the link at the bottom of this post once you’re done reading this chapter.

I hope you all enjoy the final part, and please let me know what you think in the comments or in my inbox. Thanks for the support!

— CANADA —

Connie Springer was utterly sick of the entertainment news channels.

He had always despised it — gossipy brats who thought they contributed to society by rambling on and on about celebrities, secretly wishing that they could be one themselves.

Ever since he left Los Angeles that following morning after shooting Eren and that blonde-haired guy, he had done nothing but sit. 

Sit and watch the news. 

Sit on the couch and drink until the bottom of his beer bottles were dry, or until there wasn’t a single drop of golden brown liquid within his whiskey glass. 

His current place of residence was far from extraordinary. It disgusted him. Looked like his childhood home. It was a two-level shack where everything was old, brown, and smelled of dust.

But it was the perfect place to hide from the world. 

His other, more extravagant homes spread out across several different countries would have been too obvious, as right now, he needed to blend in, not stand out.

Even after he poured money into the hands of the Los Angeles police department and justice system, he couldn’t return home just yet.

He might not go to prison for murder — and attempted murder — but his reputation was still hanging on by a thread.

The only choice he had was to give everyone time. Time to move on and worry about the next Hollywood scandal.

Eren Yeager’s unplanned survival made everything tricky. 

He could yap to the cameras and tell everyone that Connie shot him. Even if no one believed the rockstar, his crazy fan girls would certainly take Eren’s side, and CS Records wouldn’t see another dollar from them. 

It also made it more difficult to blame you, which was the only benefit to having let you live that night.

Connie paced around the tiny living room of the tasteless property he had purchased just for situations like this, thinking . . . thinking . . . and thinking.

What could he do with Eren now?

Go back and finish the job, killing him completely? Force him into making music again?

No. That wouldn’t work. No amount of torture would work on a man who stared death in the face and lived.

Plus, fans would undoubtedly be paying attention to the warning signs now.

Thousands of videos with millions of views had gone viral on YouTube and other social media platforms detailing great conspiracy theories about CS Records. They took apart Eren’s lyrics, searching for hidden signs. Zoomed in on his photos to point out bruises that weren’t covered up well — Connie saw to it that the hired makeup artist at the time was now rotting in a refrigerator box on the side of the road — and, in short, everyone debated about what was true and what was a lie. 

Connie would have to clear his name soon. 

He’d have to work hard to save his reputation, if that was possible.

Then there was you. The bitch he wished he shot in the head that night.

He saw every clip of you visiting Eren at the hospital. Witnessed the footage of you leaving the police station, and he even laughed a bit at the Carrie White jokes made in reference to your blood-covered clothes. He saw the broadcasts detailing your residence with Levi Ackerman, then your reunited association with Reiner. 

He saw everything, and then he took everything.

Not only did he drain you completely dry of all of your money down to the last penny, but he owned every song you ever created. He owned everything associated with you.

And if he didn’t own it, he worked closely with the people who did and ensured that you wouldn’t see another dollar from any project. 

Your songs. Your movies. Your commercials. Your perfumes. Your Halloween costumes. Anything. Everything. 

It all belonged to him. 

You had nothing.

You were nothing.

The public notice of your divorce brought great joy and pain. He wanted nothing to do with you, the thought of you made him fucking sick, but after everything you put him through, who did you think you were to divorce him? He was the one who was supposed to make that first move. 

And to pour money into the lap of some divorce court to reduce a six-month process into one that could be handled in a few short weeks? It must have been Levi’s money. Were you in that much of a hurry to leave him? After everything you did to make him miserable? 

One night, Connie followed his usual routine: sitting on the couch with any sort of liquid substance that would burn his throat and numb his pain while turning on the entertainment news station. What he saw made his eyes widen.

The heat that ran through his veins wasn’t from any sort of alcohol. Not at all.

It, instead, was from boiling anger.

The television screen displayed both you and Levi Ackerman. You stood by his side, your manicured hand resting on his shoulder. You wore an engagement ring — an expensive silver piece of gemstone worth a fortune, smiling softly like an idiot as Levi spoke into the invasive microphones right in his face. 

“Y/N and I wanted to go public with the news of our engagement as soon as possible. There has been plenty of speculation and rumors about our relationship . . . our history together . . . and the only thing we can say for certain is that the two of us are madly in love, and we have been for a long time now.” Levi stared right into the camera. “Together, we’ve mourned the loss of our baby. It was made to seem as if Connie Springer was the father, but that wasn’t true. I was. But the only thing we can do now is move forward, let go of the past, and start fresh. And one day, the two of us will try again, and have a proper shot at becoming a family. We are-” 

The television screen went black as Connie grabbed the remote and turned it off. 

But he didn’t stop there. 

He threw the empty glass in his hand at the wall next to the TV, smashing the cup into a mess of shards.

The baby. It was Levi’s. Connie knew it wasn’t his — your doctor indirectly told him that — but now, he knew which lover’s child you tried to trick him with. 

Levi Ackerman.

And now, he had the audacity . . . the nerve . . . the guts . . . to marry you.

Connie wanted to kill him. 

He wanted to shoot him over and over again until the man had more bullets inside of him than blood. 

But he couldn’t. He had already gone too far by killing Armin and shooting Eren. And Levi wasn’t like those two. He wouldn’t be walking down the street holding a slushie. 

He’d be holding a gun. 

Someone like him wouldn’t be easy to kill.

But Connie couldn’t let any of this slide, either. 

An hour had passed. During that time, Connie paced around the living room, stepping on the sharp pieces of glass, which crunched and crackled under the weight of his shoes.

He then went upstairs, walked into the tiny, plain, and dark bedroom, and opened a plastic bag that he grabbed from the top shelf in the reach-in closet, pulling out your old phone to search for Levi’s number before texting him from his new one.

CONNIE: WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?

A few minutes later, Levi responded.

LEVI: I’m marrying your ex-wife. What about you?

Quickly, a second message from him appeared on Connie’s screen.

LEVI: Where are you, Connie?

CONNIE:Why would I tell you that?

LEVI: Why wouldn’t you? You plan on coming back to LA eventually, right? Who else would run your shitty company? We’ll see each other again one way or another. 

We should meet in person. 

Connie scoffed a bit as he started to angrily type.

CONNIE: You think I’m stupid enough to agree to that? You’re trying to set me up.

LEVI: Why would I set you up?

I witnessed most of the things you’ve done to other people and kept my mouth shut. We’d both go down together.

I only went on television like that because I knew it would make you reach out to me. I want to make a deal.

I’ll give you all the evidence I have against you. Every bit of it. I’ll even help you clear your name. 

You just have to promise to leave me and Y/N alone. Eren, Jean, and the others as well.

CONNIE: No

LEVI: Don’t you want to come back to LA? Go back to running CS Records? I’m guessing you’re staying in some sort of cheap hideout right now. You own tons of nice homes that you could come back to, and all you have to do is leave us alone.

If I wanted to kill you or get you locked up, I would’ve done it a long time ago, back when you first shot Erwin.

When you think about it, I’m the one who has to put all my faith in you. You could get the evidence from me and then kill any of us afterward. I’m trusting you not to do that, technically.

CONNIE: You really are trying to exchange evidence for peace?

LEVI: Yes.

It was a tempting offer. Connie didn’t know what kind of evidence he had, and while he could have made the evidence disappear from any police station should Levi ever decide to turn it in, the disgraced manager could decide to go public with it instead.

Ruining his reputation could ruin his business.

And with the latest chaos his name had been dragged through, he couldn’t afford to risk it.

It was a fine deal. 

Connie didn’t want you as an artist anymore. He clearly didn’t mind losing Eldian Devils as a band, considering he tried to murder Eren. Plus, he didn’t care that much about everyone else.

Best of all, he’d get his hands on that sweet evidence, and be able to destroy it.

He believed the idea that Levi would let him continue to run his company. After all, the man had kept Connie’s secrets for years now. He could continue to do so.

Considering Levi had slapped a ring on your finger, there wasn’t any reason for Levi to want to target Connie any longer for keeping you imprisoned. You were his now. Levi won.

After taking all of this into consideration, his hand rubbing his jaw as he sat on the edge of the disgustingly small, queen-sized bed, Connie texted Levi back.

CONNIE: Deal. I’ll head back to LA in a few weeks after this shit cools down.

—

— LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA — 

Levi’s plan was rather odd. 

The man wanted to trick Connie into confessing what he had done live on camera, where others could witness it, and no amount of money could erase such undeniable evidence.

However, there were a few things about his plan that still left you puzzled, but your former manager would simply dodge the questions.

“Why won’t you just release the evidence you’ve been collecting this entire time to the public? Why do you need a live confession from him?” You asked one day, leaning on his kitchen island as he sliced into a loaf of fresh bread. 

“I just do. What I have might not be enough.” He replied plainly. “Can you pass me the butter?”

The next day, as you followed him around his backyard, watching him pull weeds with his gloved hand, you questioned, “I understand us going on live television and telling everyone we were getting married and that the baby was yours would piss Connie off enough to make him reach out, but now that he has, why are we actually getting married? Don’t get me wrong, I know we love each other, but I imagined a more romantic scenario-”

“When all of this is over, I’ll make sure you have a proper wedding with a proper ceremony, I promise.” Levi wiped his sweaty forehead off on his arm.

You smiled at the thought of marrying him, temporarily forgetting that, yet again, he managed to avoid answering anything. 

So, for now, you pacified your curiosity by assuming that, maybe, you just needed to trust him, and together, you signed those marriage contracts with the promise of building something greater someday.

—

Although you had often spent your days hanging out with Levi at his house, your current residence was still with Reiner.

Until today, at least.

Holding a cardboard box with the few items you owned  — only after refusing Reiner’s constant offers to let him buy you anything — you made your way towards his front door, shoes clicking against the ground, filling the silence.

Reiner stood there, faking a smile, but those gorgeous hazel eyes of his couldn’t hide his sadness. Even as a professional actor, he wasn’t so gifted when it came to disguising heartbreak. 

Running his hand over his subtle facial hair, he sighed as you approached him.

“So this is it, huh?”

“Looks like it,” you smiled kindly. “Thank you for everything, Reiner. And not just for letting me stay here, but for always being there for me. Our marriage didn’t last very long, but . . . you were a great husband.”

Reiner glanced down at his boots. The sunlight peeking in through the little windows beside his front door only made his pretty eyes seem brighter, and it emphasized the despair poorly hidden within his gaze.

“He’s a smart man. Marrying you really did get Connie’s attention, I guess. Though I don’t get why it couldn’t have just been a fake announcement,” Reiner loosely folded his arms.

“You’re forgetting that we love each other too,” you said.

Reiner nodded slowly, and after giving a short sigh, he unlocked the front door, and, like the gentleman that he was, took the box from you and carried it to Levi’s car.

You followed him, eyes squinting from the beaming sunlight. 

But, even so, you caught a glimpse of a small FOR SALE sign in Reiner’s front yard.

The southern-hearted man placed your box in the backseat. When he turned to face you, you asked, “Are you selling your house? Why?” With a shrug, Reiner started to speak. “After everything that’s happened, I can’t view this industry the way that I used to. Being an actor isn’t worth all the trouble, so I’m going back home, back to Tennessee. Back to my family. I would have liked to take you with me, but I’ll get over it, ‘s long as you’re happy.”

“I understand.” Although you were happy to know he’d be somewhere safe and would get to be a kind, ordinary man and live in peace, you couldn’t help but feel a bit sad knowing that Reiner was leaving for good. “I’ll miss you.” 

You were optimistic that Levi’s plan would finally put Connie behind bars. Then, Reiner and his family would all be able to move back to Tennessee and live safe, happy lives. Their family home, passed down from generation to generation, could never be returned after the silent men burned it down, but at least they would have each other and could start anew. 

“I’ll miss you too.  I’m gonna stop by every now and then to check up on you, okay?” Reiner grinned softly, “But I know you’ll be alright. We both will.”

You wrapped your arms around Reiner’s waist, resting your head against his chest. His muscular arms hugged you back. It was a warm embrace, like always. One you would certainly miss. There was no such comfort quite like Reiner’s hugs.

Although your time together was brief, it was wonderful. He was a loving husband who introduced you to unconditional happiness. Someone who forgave you for your mistakes and did everything he could to protect you. In your time of need, he didn’t hesitate to help you, even if your existence in his life had cost him nothing but pain and grief.

Your love story had ended, but loving him was one of the greatest decisions you ever made.

Levi’s footsteps could be heard as he made his way towards his car. He had to take a private business call while you gathered your belongings, and now, it seemed as if he was ready to leave and take you back to his place for the third, and hopefully, the final time.

“Are you ready?” Levi asked, putting his phone back into his pocket. 

“Yeah,” you replied, pulling away from Reiner. “I just had to hug him goodbye. He’s leaving Los Angeles for good.”

“You are?” Levi raised his brows a bit. “Are you going back to Tennessee?”

“I am,” with a pause, Reiner sighed yet again. “Big decision, but I think it’s the right move.”

“I see. Well, I wish you nothing but luck.” 

Together, you and Levi started to get into his vehicle. 

Before getting into the passenger seat, you gave Reiner one last gaze, not knowing when you’d ever look into his eyes again, and you said, “Bye, Reiner.”

“Goodbye.”

Once you were both buckled in, Levi started to pull out of Reiner’s driveway. The blonde-haired man gave Levi a nod, one that wordlessly communicated: Congratulations, Levi. You’ve won.

—

There wasn’t a cloud in the sky that very next day. How nice it was — feeling sunlight on your skin. The unusual chilly weather had finally started to disappear, and today, you wore a pair of sunglasses as you arrived at the hospital, a cold water bottle in your hand.

Truth be told, you wanted to stay outdoors as long as possible.

Ever since Connie locked you in your own bedroom as his form of punishment, you cherished every moment spent outside. It was thanks to him that you struggled with a Vitamin D deficiency, amongst other things.

“Do you like the beach, Levi?” You asked, glancing at the man beside you as you both stepped into the lobby.

“The ocean can be calming, but I hate sand. It gets everywhere and cleaning it up is a pain in the ass. Why?” 

“I was just wondering,” you said.

It was a lie, one that Levi saw through with little effort. 

“We can go to the beach next week.”

The smile that appeared on your face would make every dull moment of trying to shake off sand worth it.

You and Levi found yourselves at the hospital today to help Eren out after getting discharged. Truth be told, your presence wasn’t needed as Eren had his entire family to aid him, along with a team of bodyguards and additional staff at home to tend to his every need.

Even so, he wanted to see you. 

The rockstar stood in front of the nurse’s station, jotting down what looked like his signature. If it wasn’t for the excited grins on the faces of the three, young medical staff members, you would have naturally assumed that he was signing some form of paperwork, but as he handed the pen back to one of the ladies and they all squealed, it was clear that he was giving them autographs.

At least they had the decency to wait until he was healed before bombarding him with fan requests. You thought about that one nurse who asked you for a picture while you were visiting Eren, never considering that even though you were a celebrity, perhaps, you wanted a bit of privacy to grieve. 

That frustrating memory did make you wonder about something, and as you and Levi approached Eren and exchanged greetings, you tilted your head a bit and asked, “I know this might be bad timing, and I’m not sure if you’ve thought about it, but what are you planning on doing career-wise?”

Eren looked down at his three-fingered right hand. 

“I know there are workarounds to playing the guitar, and there are some cool-ass legends who had some missing fingers too, but I think I’m done with music. Touring . . . awards shows . . . concerts . . . screw it all.”

It was a conversation he already had with Jean earlier in the week. Eren’s departure would end Eldian Devils, as there was no band without him. No one could replace such a reputable band leader. 

Even so, Jean understood. He and Eren hugged it out as well, shockingly.

Neither one of them could remember the last time they embraced each other.

“I’m sorry. Must’ve been a hard decision,” Levi said.

“Nope,” Eren shook his head, smiling softly. “No one ever cared about my music anyway, just my face. And they can go to hell.”

“Wait, but what about your contracts?” Frowning, you added, “Are you going to hire a lawyer or something? You’d never win.”

Eren rested his elbow on the top of the counter. “Aren’t you two working on a plan to get Connie locked up? I’m hoping CS Records goes down with him, and I’ll be free from all of his stupid contracts.”

You looked at Levi with a face of uncertainty.

After all, his plan had a lot of holes — left you with questions he refused to answer. Missing pieces of a puzzle. 

Reiner and his family were moving back to Tennessee, hoping to live safe lives. And, now, Eren was determined to leave the company, both of them resting their futures on the promise that you and Levi were going to take care of Connie for good.

However, Levi didn’t share your worried expression. Instead, he looked at Eren with confidence, and said, “You’re right. Don’t worry about your contracts. Just worry about recovering.”

“So, what will you do now, then?” You asked.

Eren shrugged. “Whatever I want, I guess. What about you two?”

His tone was heavy, coated with jealousy that the poor man tried to hide, but failed miserably at doing so.

When he had heard about your marriage to Levi, all in the name of both love and luring out Connie, he couldn’t help but mourn what he had lost, and what Levi had won.

And when you looked at Levi with a loving, shy smile, Eren felt his heart snap into pieces. 

“I think that I’ll finally do what I’ve always secretly wanted to do, and write my play,” you said. 

Eren softly smiled at you. Then, suddenly, Eren’s eyes darted over to Levi, and his grin faded into a serious, gentle frown.

“Levi? Can I talk to you?”

“Yeah.” 

The two of them stepped off into a nearby, empty waiting room that smelt of stale coffee. The brown walls, cushioned chairs with wooden arms, and the flat screen television hanging on the wall displaying old reruns of Deal or No Deal were all drastically different compared to the sterile, white, and cold interior of the rest of the hospital.

When Eren sat down in one of the chairs, Levi figured that him sitting meant one of two things: he was still recovering and couldn’t continue to stand any longer, or this was going to be a long discussion. 

Either way, Levi sat in the seat positioned diagonally from him and faced his former client. 

“What is it?” Levi asked, furrowing his brows with worry.

After being bombarded with world-shattering news back to back over the last several months, he had grown to always feel anxious whenever anyone wanted to share something with him.

Eren couldn’t tell just how much his ordinary actions were making the other man panic inside. 

“Y/N . . . she doesn’t know your real plan, does she? She just thinks you’re trying to get Connie thrown in prison, nothing more?”

Levi was silent for a moment, lost in thought. He unintentionally scanned Eren’s black jeans, long-sleeved grey shirt, and low, messy manbun.

Eventually, his eyes darted down to the floor, and he sighed softly.

“Yeah.” Levi paused. He hadn’t discussed anything about his plan with Eren, but either way, he was grateful that he kept his mouth shut around you. “Thanks for playing along, but how’d you piece it together?”

“I’m an idiot, but I’m not stupid,” Eren smiled, but it faded away as quickly as it had come.

“Does it bother you? Knowing what I’m planning?” Levi blinked at Eren.

And Eren was much conflicted.

One second, he despised Connie, wanting him to burn in hell for murdering someone as innocent as Armin and for trying to kill him, and getting others to abuse him long before then. 

But, the next second, he thought about the boy he had grown up with, the silly kid who once never dreamt of hurting anyone. 

Connie was always smiling — always laughing. The funny one in the group of four idiots, he was. 

Eren had met the amusing kid in Kindergarten — he later met Jean in first grade and Marco in second grade — and Connie was Eren’s very first friend. 

—

On Eren’s very first day of elementary school, the small five-year-old held on to his mom’s hand as she walked him to the intimidating, terrifying school entrance. The bee and butterfly stickers on the door certainly helped other kids feel welcome, but not Eren. He was stung by a bee the week prior. The school must have known that and was out to get him. Bees were waiting for him in his teacher’s classroom. He was certain of it.

Eventually, his mom halted her footsteps, pulling her son to the side as other kids walked through the door after saying goodbye to their parents.

Kneeling, Carla smiled lovingly at her boy. 

“Okay, this is as far as I can go, Eren. Do you remember your teacher’s name? And her room number?”

“Uh huh,” the brown-haired kid nodded, hands clenching the straps of his red backpack. “Ms. Green, and room two-one-five!”

“Good,” Carla’s grin widened as she reached forward and straightened out her son’s dinosaur shirt. “When the teacher says it’s snack time, there’s goldfish in your backpack.”

“Okay, momma!” Eren could imagine the multi-colored cheddar goldfish already. 

“Here’s your lunch,” Carla said, giving him a small box with a cartoony T-rex on the front of it. “Don’t be scared, sweetheart.”

“I’m not scared!” He lied.

Carla laughed a bit, and then, she hugged her boy goodbye and sent him on his way. 

He remembered where his classroom was from meet-the-teacher night, and once he arrived, the kind, curly-haired educator helped him find a seat. 

Luckily, there were no bees around, and school seemed easy-peasy. 

About ten minutes later, other students started to fill the colorful, animal-themed classroom as well. 

Those other students were chatting and playing with one another as they waited for school to start, showing each other their backpacks and whatnot and making new friends immediately. 

Should he approach them? Show them his backpack, or his cool lunchbox? What if they thought it was silly? 

All the other kindergarteners seemed to naturally gravitate towards each other. Already, he was feeling left out and lonely. 

It was worse than thinking his classroom was going to be filled with bees.

Suddenly, a small finger poked his shoulder three times. 

“Can I sit here?”

Eren turned his head to see a teary-eyed, slightly smaller boy who wore a shirt with three triceratops on it. 

“Sure! You like dinosaurs!” Eren beamed. 

The other kid wiped his eyes with the back of his hands, sniffling softly as he sat down next to Eren.

“What’s wrong? Are you scared?” Eren tilted his head a little bit, and the other kid nodded.

“I miss my mom,” he mumbled.

Connie’s dismissal with his own mom wasn’t nearly as graceful as Eren’s was. He was kicking and screaming, but the five-year-old was, unfortunately, forced out of his car. He had calmed down a bit, but that’s when the crying started. 

Seeing everyone else quickly make friends only made the tears fall even faster, so he decided to approach the other kid in class who was also wearing a dinosaur shirt.

“I miss my momma too, but don’t be scared. We’re friends now, ‘cause we both like dinosaurs.”

Eren grabbed the building blocks in the center of the table, feeling happy that he now had someone to play with, and because he hoped that it would help the other boy feel better.

“Wanna play with me?”

The other kid nodded. As Connie reached for two building blocks, one red, and one green, the kind teacher walked by, caringly rubbed Connie’s back, and handed him a tissue for his runny nose. 

In actuality, everyone had assigned seats, but she wouldn’t dare separate two students who were able to comfort each other, especially when they weren’t causing any sort of trouble yet.

As the two boys played together, Connie coming out of his shell rather quickly, he asked, “What’s your name?”

“Eren. What’s your name?”

“I’m Connie.” 

“Do you wanna keep being friends?” Eren asked, worried that the boy might leave his table after cheering up. 

“Uh huh,” with a smile, Connie said, “we’re gonna be friends forever, promise?”

“Yeah, I promise!”

And, after sealing their promise by twisting their pinkies around each other, the two boys continued to enjoy each other’s company until class officially started.

—

“Eren?” Levi leaned forward a bit. 

He had asked the other man if he was bothered by his secret plan, but Eren failed to answer.

“Huh?” Eren mumbled, snapping out of his daydream. “My bad. Uh . . . it doesn’t matter how I feel. It’s the only way to keep everyone safe, so what I think doesn’t matter.”

“But I still want to know how you feel.”

“Why won’t you tell Y/N what you plan on doing?” Eren dodged the question. “Are you worried about how she’ll feel? I’m sure she’d support it. He killed someone she loved.”

“That’s why I don’t want to tell her. I don’t want her to be any more involved than she already is. If she finds out the truth, she might want to help, and I can’t let her come with me.” Levi looked away from Eren. He noticed how he avoided his earlier question but decided not to press further. “But, anyway, just don’t tell anyone. Let Y/N think that all of this is just about getting Connie to confess, and exposing him to the public so prosecutors will have no choice but to toss his ass in prison.”

“Okay.” 

Levi started to get out of his seat, but then, Eren spoke up again. “I know you’re already married, but give her a proper wedding later on, okay?”

Eren’s emerald eyes were glistening with such intense pain and sadness, that Levi could no longer make eye contact with him.

“I’m planning it already,” Levi paused. “It’s kinda stupid since we’re already legally married, but I’m going to do it anyway. I just don’t want our marriage to be nothing more than a way to lure Connie out.”

Levi went on to describe the details he had imagined, prompted by your request for a romantic scenario. 

Eren nodded sadly, heartbroken.

“Are you upset with me?”

“No, just jealous as hell, that’s all.” Eren pushed himself out of his seat. “Anyway, let’s leave. I’m sick of this hospital. Smells like peas and shit in here, you know what I mean?”

“Peas, shit, and Clorox wipes.”

“Oh,” Eren said. “Thanks for mentioning Clorox wipes. I know what wedding or birthday gift to get you now.”

Levi scoffed lightly with a grin, getting out of his seat. 

“Don’t you dare. I’ve gotten enough cleaning supplies from you.”

It was Eren’s go-to gift for every event dedicated to celebrating Levi. 

“Fine,” Eren frowned. 

If he couldn’t get cleaning supplies, then he’d get appliances. It was his second go-to gift. 

He’d search for a brand new, expensive, eight-burner stove later on. Possibly after mourning losing the love of his life to another man.

—

As the sun fell, darkening the sky that very next day, Eren’s mansion was filled with music, warm food, and celebration.

This particular party was quite different from the ones Eren had thrown in the past. Technically, this party was thrown for him by his family, and the gathering was more family-friendly than the sin-filled nights that often took place whenever lots of people were in Eren’s home.

Carrying a tray of food, you walked into Eren’s kitchen where he was leaning against his kitchen island, chatting with a popular movie star, a singer, and a few relatives.

A short distance away, you spotted Jean talking to an unfamiliar woman.

Darting your eyes back in Eren’s direction, a beautiful smile appeared on his face upon seeing you.

He excused himself, sat his cup down on the counter, and approached you.

 Taking the tray out of your hands and sitting it down on a nearby counter, he said, “Hey, you made it. Thanks for showing up.”

“Of course,” you grinned. “And guess what? I cooked this all by myself.”

“Really?” Eren raised his eyebrows in complete surprise. “You’re learning how to cook?”

“Yep. Levi’s teaching me. I made steak . . . fajita . . . quesadillas . . . or something. I don’t know, but it’s good, trust me.”

Eren couldn’t help but lean down and kiss your cheek in the most friendly way possible. Sorry, but you were just too cute.

He would, perhaps, spend a lifetime trying to get over you.

“Who’s that girl Jean’s talking to? She’s pretty,” Eren turned around searching in the general direction you pointed out discreetly by nodding your head.

“Oh,” Eren said once he spotted the grinning pair of chatty partygoers. “That’s Ava. She’s a pianist.”

“Hm. She’s making Jean blush. He seems happy. I’m glad he’s moving on.” Eren faced you again as you spoke. “Anyway, I’m so proud of you, ‘Ren. Your recovery has been amazing.”

“Thank you,” Eren paused. “So has yours. Not just from your illness, but you’ve been happier lately. I can tell.” 

You smiled once again, god — it was devastatingly beautiful. 

“I’m glad you’re happy, Y/N,” Eren reached out, grabbing ahold of your hand, and gently tracing his thumb across your skin. “I mean it. And I’ll be as happy as you are one day.”

Looking into Eren’s gorgeous eyes, you softly said, “I know you will be. And I can’t wait to see it someday.”

This time, you were the one to peck his cheek. Then, you both let go of each other’s hands, and you walked away from him.

—

Sunshine, ocean water, and warm sand filled your early afternoon a week later.

The gentle, crashing waves were a sight to see. On your hands and knees, you collected tiny sea shells along the shoreline for both you and Levi to keep. 

As you did so, you couldn’t help but think about your childhood days, on your hands and knees, digging through dirt and grass for cool rocks and interesting bugs with Armin. 

Dragging your thumb across a gorgeous white shell, attempting to remove some of the wet sand, you mumbled, “You would’ve loved this, Armin.”

“Hm?”

Levi stared down at you through his dark sunglasses. He was standing in the water, letting the waves crash around his ankles.

“Talking to myself,” you replied, smiling sadly. 

Then, you shook off the grieving thoughts, letting a real, happy smile grace your face this time as you searched around for more shells. 

Suddenly, you heard Levi’s phone click as he snapped a picture of you. 

It had become his latest hobby — photographing you at every opportunity, and not bothering to tell you beforehand.

If anyone scrolled through his photo album, they would see pictures of gorgeous sunrises and animals he spotted in his backyard garden, but mainly, they would see captured art of you learning how to cook — smiling in your little apron as you successfully made your first California sushi roll, or you in the middle of a fancy dinner, mid wine sip. 

There was also a picture of you reading a book on the couch, wrapped in a blanket. 

Or you hunched over Levi’s desk, working on your play. Watering plants. Putting on lipgloss. Laughing at a silly movie. Yawning. 

Whenever he had the chance, he took your picture, capturing every little, happy moment and potential memory.

“You’re the definition of a spoiled rich dude,” you said with a teasing tone. “No way would I hold my phone over a body of water unless I knew I could easily buy another.”

“You can,” Levi took another photo of you as he spoke. “We’re married, remember? What’s mine is yours. That includes money.” 

You couldn’t help but smile — and Levi snapped yet another photo at the sight of it, of course. 

“Hey, how about you take a photo with me, for a change?” You asked, eyes squinting from the sun.

Levi lowered his phone. “Why?”

“Why not?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“Okay.”

You gave a celebratory grin as he walked over, kneeling in the sand beside you. Levi gave the softest grin, and while your own smile was brighter, you were both equally just as happy. 

It had been a long time since you had known joy quite like this, and Levi was certain that he had never known such happiness before. 

—

After leaving the beach, you and Levi returned home to shower and change clothes before heading out for your dinner reservations.

It was a lovely restaurant, one that was classy enough for you to not have to worry about prying eyes, as you were surrounded by fellow celebrities and wealthy citizens who paid you both no mind.

After dining on gourmet meals and sipping on fruity wine, you and Levi returned home.

As your back hit the bed, a giggle escaped from between your lips, which spread into a cheeky grin.

“Leviii,” you whined, reaching up and grabbing at nothing in particular, “Take your damn clothes off.”

Levi shrugged off his dark blue blazer. “I think you might’ve had too much wine.”

Tipsy or not, the moonlight casting through the big master bedroom window had illuminated Levi’s face enough for you to see his cheeks were a faint shade of pink.

“Think you might’ve had too much wine too,” you giggled yet again. 

Levi mumbled something you couldn’t quite make out, and then, he kissed you deeply. Sloppily, despite his clean nature. 

While his kisses to your lips and skin might have been rough, he removed your clothing gently, as if unwrapping a fragile present.

He ran two of his fingers from your lips, across your heart, in between your chest, down your stomach, and finally, made contact with your aching clit, rubbing gentle circles around your button.

He loved the look on your pretty face — eyelids fluttering, mouth slightly agape as sweet moans slipped out from between your wine-stained lips, which were the tiniest bit swollen from kissing.

When Levi suddenly swirled his tongue around your nipple, before sucking on it, your moans grew louder — he was in love with the sound of it. 

Your hands made their way to his hair, fingers tangled in his soft black strands. 

“Levi,” you whined. The call of his name was followed by incomprehensible blabber, which was only interrupted by sudden, loud moans as he plunged two fingers into your awaiting hole.

Soon, you would learn that his quick fingering was just the preview, as after Levi made you soak his fingers with your cum, he would then thrust into you with his hard cock. 

His rhythm — the way he hooked his hands under your knees and pinned your legs, fucking you in such a method that resulted in you alternating between gripping the thick, soft, pale cerulean sheets, and digging your nails into his back, decorating his skin with bright red scratches.

“I don’t think we were made to just love each other,” Levi’s forehead was pressed against yours as he spoke lowly. “I’m starting to think we were made to fuck each other too. You’re taking me so well.”

You shut your eyes, turning your head to the side as skin smacked against skin, legs trembling as yet another orgasm was approaching. 

“You’re not getting shy on me, are you? Look at me.” Levi moved his hand away from your leg and gripped your jaw, making you face him. “Look at me while you cum. You understand?”

“Mhm,” you hummed obediently, tears falling from your eyes from complete and utter pleasure, and it wasn’t long before you were gushing all over Levi’s cock. 

Feeling your hole clench around him is what drove him to his own orgasm, and he came inside of you, your pussy milking his cock for all it was worth.

As he finished cumming, he kissed you yet again. 

“I love you,” he whispered breathlessly against your lips, pulling away from the kiss to look into the eyes of the one person he’d do anything to protect.

“I love you too.”

—

A few days later, after having breakfast with you — your overcooked eggs got stuck to the pan, and Levi had to take over and make omelets, which was fine — you excitedly prepped the guest room for two special visitors while Levi left to go pick them up.

The irritated man waited patiently for the plane to land in the big, open area deprived of any people aside from him, his four bodyguards, and a few people who worked for the private jet company.

Soon enough, two people stepped through the jet door, one at a time.

“Levi! I missed you!” Hange shouted, dramatically pressing their hand against their head. “We were on that jet for hours!”

They practically jumped off of the steps, stretching a bit before running up to Levi and hugging him tightly. “I’ve been so worried about you, oh my goodness.”

“You’re squeezing me.”

“I know,” Hange said, not bothering to release the grip they had on him. “It’s called a hug. Don’t be a jerk.”

Eventually, the lingering, blonde-haired man made his way out of the jet, taking his time in thanking the staff members for the transportation and for carrying his and Hange’s luggage. 

Erwin approached Levi and Hange with a soft grin. 

“It’s good to see you, Levi,” he said. 

Eventually, Hange released him, and Erwin was able to hug him as well, normally. 

“You’re both late. What took so long?”

“I dunno. Slow jet, maybe?” Hange shrugged.

“It’s my jet, Hange. It isn’t slow.” Levi briefly glanced at the staff members who loaded their luggage into his truck. “But anyway, it’s good to see you. Thanks for coming. I know it isn’t safe, but I needed some help, and I didn’t know who else to ask.”

“Hey,” Erwin reached out, touching Levi’s shoulder. “We wouldn’t have come if we cared about danger.”

Levi told his two best friends his plan beforehand, but even so, he needed to make sure that they understood just how important their role was. 

“You understand what needs to happen, right?” Levi darted his eyes between their faces. 

“You’ll trick Connie into confessing while Erwin and I stream it live for the world to see,” Hange said. 

“It’ll be evidence no one can fully erase,” Erwin added.

“Then we cut the cameras off, and . . .” Hange didn’t dare to say the next part aloud, but they continued to speak lightheartedly. “And hope to god you’re rich enough to avoid prison and keep us from going down with you, that’s all!”

“That’s right,” Levi mumbled. 

He understood Hange’s enthusiasm. After all, Connie tried to murder Erwin. Even so, there was nothing easy or fun about what the three of them had planned, no matter how cruel Connie was.

As they headed back to Levi’s home, they discussed the finer details of what would take place tomorrow night, during which Connie Springer would walk into his own assassination. 

—

— YEARS AGO, CALIFORNIA STATE PRISON —

“After you hurt someone, how do you feel, Connie?”

The older, brown-haired woman crossed her legs, her knee-length skirt shifting a bit. “Do you feel a sense of gratification, or do you feel dread? Or regret, maybe?”

The chains around Connie Springer’s wrists rattled as he played with the clicky fidget cube in his scarred hands, hands that were covered in cuts and bruises from his latest fight with a fellow inmate in the cafeteria. 

A fight that was so brutal, it resulted in him being tased. 

Of course, the correctional officers could have simply pulled him off of the other guy. He was pounding an adult man’s face in, but even so, he was still a kid. He could have easily been lifted and carried away. 

But it was no secret that the immoral officers had it out for Connie. Around here, locked away from the rest of society, no one cared about what happened inside the isolating prison walls. 

The guards would ruin his entire life simply because their wives forgot to pack them a soda with their lunch, and they wanted to release their anger and frustration on someone easy to bother.

The kid trapped in an adult prison, for example.

And most of his inmates were no better. 

The monsters he was trapped in hell with had turned him from a harmless, kind, and silly teenager — who, once upon a time, had never known pain aside from falling on a concrete sidewalk and scraping his knee, because he forgot to tie his shoes before running to Eren Yeager’s house — to a violent person who had to be taught how to fight just to survive behind bars.

But it wasn’t enough.

He was still just a kid. 

A kid who never wanted to hurt anyone.

A kid who was easily targeted by everyone, and couldn’t do anything about it.

“Connie, did you hear my question?” The older woman spoke up yet again. “How do you feel after you hurt someone?”

The seventeen-year-old’s hazel eyes never once looked up at his therapist. Instead, he glared at the cold, gray floor.

“I don’t know,” he mumbled.

He had given that response to the last three questions she had asked during her attempts to pick his brain. 

“Try and think of an answer for me.”

“I said I don’t know.”

Despite his stern tone, despite the way he raised his voice, his therapist didn’t flinch. Nor did she completely back down.

“Tell me; when you hurt someone, do you think it’s justified because the world has made you suffer with an unjustified prison sentence, so you have the right to hurt others now? Even if those people haven’t done anything to you?” 

“That one motherfucker spilled his drink on me. He deserved what he got.”

“It was an accident, Connie.” The older woman leaned forward a bit. “Fighting can result in a longer prison sentence. Do you know what disciplinary action is?”

“Yeah. I’m not stupid.”

“I know you’re not,” she paused. “But now, you’ve temporarily lost a few privileges. Your friends and family can’t visit you for the next few months. How does it feel knowing you can’t see your friends and family for a little while?”

Connie shrugged. 

“Connie, honey, listen to me.” The therapist dropped her voice to a whisper. “I need you to cooperate and try your hardest to work with me. I’m only trying to help you. I won’t make any promises, but your willingness to help yourself can result in a shorter sentence. Did you know that?”

Aside from the gentle rattles from Connie’s chains as he shifted around a bit, the empty, gray room was otherwise silent for a moment.

But the lady was right. If the corrupted system was somehow kind enough to lessen his sentence, or at least, consider moving him out of the adult prison and to a juvenile detention center — where he should have been, considering his crime was committed accidentally and he was still a child — then they would talk to her first. And she would report what she evaluated.

Connie released a shaky sigh.

“You were such a sweet boy when you first arrived here. I remember meeting you in group therapy sessions, and you were trying to make the best of your situation. You couldn’t stop talking about your friends and how much you loved music. Do you remember that?” 

“Yes.”

“That was only one year ago. What happened in such a short amount of time? beyond being incarcerated, of course.”

The prison was rather cold. Even the therapist had to bring a sweater despite the hot summer sun shining down on Los Angeles, and perhaps, that was why Connie started to tremble.

No. That wasn’t it. 

His eyes started to water a bit, warm tears that brimmed in his waterline threatening to fall down his face, which was pale from lack of sunlight. The teenager clenched and unclenched his jaw. Lowly, he sniffled.

“They hurt me here.”

“They hurt you here?” The therapist repeated. Despite working in mental health for twenty years, she was unable to hide her sadness and concern. “Who hurts you, Connie? Staff members or the other inmates?”

Once again, Connie was silent. The therapist asked yet another question.

“When you say hurt, what exactly do you mean? How are they hurting you?” 

He didn’t want to cry. Clenching his trembling jaw to hold back tears had failed, as one streamed down his cheek anyway. 

If only he hadn’t said anything. Just what was he thinking? 

If his therapist discovered the truth — the unspeakable pain that he had gone through in just a year — then she would have to report it, and he would be labeled as a snitch. 

“I’m just messing around. I didn’t mean to say that. My bad.”

“Connie-”

“Can I go now? Please?”

The therapist looked at her watch, noting that he still had fifteen minutes left in his session. Even if she failed to get some sort of confession out of him, she, at the very least, had to do something in her power to brighten his ruined life. 

Could she convince someone to move him to a different prison? Or, perhaps, fight to have his old privileges restored, such as visitation? 

He adored his mom. Even his therapist knew that much. 

Maybe he would tell the truth to a trusted adult or one of his friends, be it his parents, siblings, Eren, Jean, or even Mrs. Yeager. 

Someone. Anyone.

That realization made his therapist ponder. She leaned back in her seat, thinking.

“I bet Eren would storm the entire prison if he found out someone was bothering you here, hm? I know your mom would be very upset, and she would do everything she could to help you. Do you think you’d talk to one of them?”

“I don’t wanna talk about this. No one’s done anything to me, okay? I was just joking.”

“There’s nothing to be afraid of-”

“Nothing to be afraid of?” Connie’s sudden, sharp glare sent a chill down the older woman’s spine. “Are you fucking crazy?”

“Well, am I wrong? Is there something to be afraid of? Is someone making you feel . . .”

Connie dropped his head, tuning out the rest of her words. For the remainder of their session, he was unresponsive, refusing to say another word, fighting back the urge to cry as his thumb flicked at his fidget cube. 

If only he could have been honest.

 If only he wasn’t terrified of what would happen if he told the truth. 

If only someone could save him. 

If only he didn’t feel so alone.

As tough as he pretended to be, punching adults in the face, hoping, and yet, failing, to scare away anyone who dared to hurt him, he was nothing more than a terrified teenager who wanted to go home. Who desperately wanted his mom to soothe him, or his dad to protect him. 

But the boy would have to be content with only daydreaming about being saved as he drifted off to sleep with one eye open, because for the next few years, he would know nothing except for this miserable hell.

— PRESENT DAY —

Levi’s private jet wasn’t the only plane landing in Los Angeles today. 

Throughout Connie’s flight back to Los Angeles aboard his private jet, he spent the majority of the ride shaking his leg from pure nervousness.

Could he truly trust Levi Ackerman?

Evidence for peace.

Peace for evidence. 

That was the deal.

Maybe. Maybe not.

But he wanted that evidence badly enough to risk it. 

Glancing out of the tiny plane window, the beautiful city of L.A. came into view, mesmerizing high-rise buildings below a bright blue sky welcomed him home.

Tomorrow night, he and Levi would meet somewhere privately, and soon, everything would go back to the way it was.

Peaceful.

—

It was dark. 

The night sky had shown few stars, and the nearby orange streetlights, softly buzzing, were the only source that provided sight to Levi as he walked to the agreed meeting spot.

It was a shady area behind an empty building, one free from street surveillance cameras, as Levi promised Connie.

However, it was not free from the little tablet camera peaking out from behind nearby bushes, Hange’s finger hovering over the button to start a livestream as soon as Connie arrived.

It wouldn’t take long. 

Slow footsteps could be heard before Connie came into view, appearing from the side of a building in clothes as black as the night sky. His hands were in the pockets of his nice pants. Even when his life was falling apart, he still bothered to dress impressively.

Hange started the livestream.

Erwin started another livestream from a different social media platform, just in case something happened to the other one. And, as a last resort, they had a camera positioned elsewhere, which wasn’t broadcasting anything, but was for safekeeping, rather.

Thousands of confused fans of Eldian Devils and Levi Ackerman flooded either one of the two live streams. 

After all, he never streamed anything.

The last time a notification such as this one appeared on their phones from Levi’s accounts, was when a drunk Eren Yeager had opened his manager’s phone and started a broadcast without his permission. 

That was years ago.

“Do you have it?” Connie asked, staring into Levi’s suspicious, glistening eyes.

“Yeah. I do. You know what’s on it?” Levi reached into his pocket, pulling out a little black flash drive. “It contains your illegal money transactions. The shitty contracts you make your artists sign. Doesn’t have anything on it about what you’ve done recently, though, like shooting three people and killing one of them.”

Take the bait . . . take the bait . . . Erwin thought.

Hange and Erwin made sure their cameras successfully captured Connie’s face so no one could deny that it was him.

What an idiot he was. 

“You sound pissed off about it,” Connie yawned a bit.

“Of course I’m pissed off. You murdered Armin and tried to murder Eren. Why is that so hard for you to comprehend?”

“I didn’t know you cared so much, man. Sorry if I’m used to you not giving a damn about anyone but yourself.”

Hange shared a knowing look with Erwin. One that communicated their thoughts and worries without them having to say a word: Was that good enough? He hasn’t directly confessed, but he hasn’t denied anything either. Would this be enough?

Erwin gave them a nod, one that told them to keep recording.

Keep recording until it was time to stop.

“Armin was a good person. I’ll never understand why you had to kill him.” 

“Because I had to, okay? Can I have the flash drive now? Because all of this extra chatting could’ve happened over the phone.”

“Fine.” 

It was a good enough confession. 

Levi reached into his pocket and pulled out the flash drive. 

Hange and Erwin were told to end the livestream once Levi reached up and scratched his left ear — not wanting to get what would happen next on camera — but he hadn’t made the move to do so yet, so they continued to record.

And why he hadn’t yet signaled them, they weren’t certain. 

Perhaps, it was because he was hesitant. 

Levi looked into the eyes of the man who, right now, trusted him entirely. The man he had trusted for years. He could see it now — the look of trust in his hazel eyes. And, perhaps, there was a look of regret as well.

Maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as comfortable with being an evil murderer as he pretended to be. Maybe he could still be saved.

Once Connie took the flash drive from Levi’s hand, Hange’s thumb hovered over the button to end the livestream, awaiting the other man’s signal.

With one hand, Connie shoved the flash drive into his pants pocket. With the other, he swiftly grabbed the handgun out of his inner coat pocket, pointed it at Levi’s chest, and pulled the trigger.

—

— YEARS AGO —

After a long day filled with drills, exercises, and aggravating tasks all under the name of serving the country, Levi, Erwin, and Hange sat around a wooden table, playing a card game to blow off some steam.

“Shit . . .” Levi took a swig of his tea, glaring down at the deck of red and white cards in his hand. “You’re cheating, Hange.”

“Huh?!” With a frown, Hange placed down another card, coming closer and closer to winning the card game Levi couldn’t remember the name of. He didn’t care that much. 

“Ignore him,” Erwin laughed softly. “He’s finally bad at something, and he can’t stand it.”

“Is that why he’s drinking tea like it’s liquor?” Hange turned their attention from Erwin to Levi, speaking with a teasing tone. “It’s not gonna turn into whiskey, Levi.” 

Levi grabbed another card, glaring playfully.

Being that he was only twenty, he had no choice but to settle for tea. But that lovely idiot across the table surely made him wish he was downing a bottle of something — anything.

“Hey, Erwin? Where’d you go after training yesterday?” Hange darted their eyes up at Erwin, then back down at their cards.

“I had a date, remember?”

“Oh, right! With, uh, what’s her name . . . Maddie? Mia? Macadamia?”

“Maria,” Erwin corrected, smirking just a bit. He was starting to win the card game, relying on strategy instead of luck. 

“Nice, nice,” Hange nodded. “And what about you, Levi? Take any lucky girl out last weekend?”

“I’ll hit you.”

“What? I’m just asking a question,” Hange playfully wiggled their eyebrows.

“Erwin, please tell Hange to leave me alone in a nicer way than I’d put it.”

“I don’t know about that, Levi,” Erwin glanced up at the man. “I must admit that I’m curious about your love life myself.”

“See?” Hange gestured at Erwin with their hand, then looked at Levi. “Do you find anyone attractive? Are you in some wild, secret relationship we don’t know about?”

“No,” Levi placed his cards down. Erwin won the game, but everyone was too focused on hearing Levi’s revealing words to celebrate or sulk. “I don’t have a love life. I don’t care about any of that.”

“Why not?” Erwin questioned, furrowing his brows. 

“I think romance is a waste of time. Loving someone is stupid, because no matter what, it’ll always end in pain. Heartbreak, divorce, death . . . It’s unavoidable, so why waste your time when you’ll always get hurt in the end? That’s what I think, at least.” Levi took another sip of his tea. “If I die alone, I’m fine with that.” 

—

Hange’s livestream ended abruptly because they had unintentionally thrown their tablet, cracking the device and breaking it. 

Hange and Erwin ran to the fallen, bleeding man. It felt as if their bodies were moving in slow motion, and yet, everything had happened regrettably fast. 

Connie disappeared into the darkness surrounding the abandoned building they were stationed behind. Moments later, tires screeched as a car sped away. 

Hange scraped their hands collapsing at Levi’s side, but the little blood on their bruised palms paled in comparison to the pool of blood pouring out of their best friend’s body. 

“Call the police, Erwin! Call an ambulance. Oh my god, Levi, please, no . . .” 

His eyes were open. A streak of blood seeped out of the corner of his mouth. Hange scooped their hand underneath his head, cradling him.

As Erwin contacted the nearest first responders, Hange pressed their hand against Levi’s injured chest, attempting to stop the bleeding.

As they did so, bloodied hand against his bullet wound, they felt the unsteady rise and fall of his chest. 

“Levi? Can you hear me?” Hange stared down into his eyes, but he wasn’t looking at them. He was looking at the few stars twinkling up above. 

“I’m . . . sorry.” Levi’s voice was weak. A tear fell from his eye.

Erwin dropped the phone. He pushed Levi’s hair away from his face, leaning in to hear the man speak.

“Sorry . . .” Levi repeated.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, do you understand me? This screwup isn’t your fault.” Tears brimmed in Erwin’s waterline. When he blinked, it fell onto Levi’s warm cheek.

“You’re not gonna die like this, Levi, we promise,” Hange said. They could barely see him through their tears, which blurred their vision. 

Levi’s blood started to touch their knees.

“Take care of her . . . okay?” Levi whispered. He had to use all of his strength to speak. More blood pooled from his mouth. “Take care of-of Y/N . . . help her learn how to . . . cook. She’s learn . . .  she’s learning. Help her produce her play . . . promise me. Keep her . . . happy. Tell her that I love her . . . okay? Promise . . .”

In the distance, ambulance sirens blared.

Erwin smiled, stroking Levi’s forehead. “You hear that, Levi? It’s an ambulance. You’re going to be just fine. You can tell her all of that yourself.” 

Hange held Levi’s hand. 

He just needed to hold on a little longer . . . just a little longer . . . and he would be just fine.

This time around, no one could hear Connie’s footsteps before he came into view.

This time, they weren’t aware of his presence until he was standing right behind them with his gun drawn, his hand trembling, eyes filled with tears.

“I’m sorry,” Connie spoke with a shaky voice, one filled with regret — the same regret he felt after he fired a bullet into Eren.

Erwin’s eyes widened. 

He must have returned to kill him and Hange, eliminating any witnesses. After all, he had no idea about the livestream. He had no idea that thousands of people had witnessed tonight’s events unfold, soon to be millions upon millions as the news spread.

Erwin didn’t care about his own life, and he tried to reach across Levi and pull Hange away, but the bullet was fired too soon.

It didn’t hit Hange. 

It didn’t hit Erwin.

It hit Levi in the forehead, killing him instantly. Killing any chance of survival.

If the police cars and ambulance trucks racing down the street nearby didn’t know where to locate them, they certainly would after hearing Hange’s scream. 

But when they showed up, there was nothing they could do. 

They were too late.

Hange cradled Levi’s warm, bleeding body, trembling arms wrapped around him while Erwin did most of the talking, communicating with the police officers as best as he could, masking his pain to better tell the tale of how the corrupt justice system is what led to this situation to begin with.

But nothing — nothing — would ever be as difficult as arriving at Levi's home that night, promising to return to the police station in the morning for more questioning.

As they stepped through the doors, Hange’s sobs quiet as they made their way into the foyer, you were preparing a surprise celebratory dinner in honor of their success, confident that the three best friends would return victorious.  

Hange sat down on the foyer floor. They couldn’t walk anymore. They couldn’t feel their legs. 

“I’ll be right back, give me one second.” The sad man stroked his crying friend’s hair. 

He stepped into the archway of the kitchen. For a while, you hadn’t noticed him.

Darting back and forth between the stove and cabinets you were, and Erwin didn’t disturb you just yet, wanting to let you hold on to your happiness just a bit longer. 

Then, your eyes darted up to his face briefly, just long enough to see that familiar head of blonde hair, but not long enough to notice the pained look within his blue eyes, nor the blood staining his body.

“You’re back!” You said, turning away from him to pull a tray of baked chicken out of the oven. “I know it’s late, but there’s nothing wrong with a midnight dinner, right? I, uh, I cooked everything myself. I burned the chicken a little bit on the bottom, but I just cut that part off. It’s fine. I can’t wait to see the look on Levi’s face! I even made dessert . . . well, I bought dessert . . . but only because I didn’t have time to bake anything. Of course, the one thing I’m good at, I don’t even have time to-”

Your words were abruptly cut off as you looked at Erwin yet again, your eyes lingering long enough this time to notice his distraught appearance.

As you stood there wearing your oven mitts and your apron, holding a tray of oven-roasted vegetables, you worriedly asked, “What’s wrong? Why are you so . . . did someone get hurt?”

Before Erwin could respond — although it took him a moment to get ready to speak, as his voice had faded away due to the lump in his throat — you reached for the stove behind you, turning off a sizzling pan to better your hearing. 

That’s when you heard Hange’s sobs coming from the foyer.

“Erwin?” Your tone was thick with worry. “What happened? Where’s Levi?”

At that moment, when that haunting question fell from between your lips, Erwin wished that he was the dead one right now. 

“Y/N,” he spoke as calmly as he could, nodding in the direction of the nearby breakfast nook. “I need you to sit down for me.” 

You shook your head. Your mitted hands clenched the hot tray. Your legs started to wobble. Your eyes started to glisten with hot tears.

“Where’s Levi, Erwin? Where is he? Where’s Levi?” 

He couldn’t tell you. Not like this. Not with you holding a hot tray in your hands. You could get hurt.

“Y/N . . .”

You started to cry.

“Where’s Levi? Where?” 

Despite your words, you knew the answer. You were a woman who knew the look of unspeakable grief quite well.

Erwin approached your trembling body slowly as you sobbed.

The hot tray fell from your hands. Erwin was quick enough to smack it away so it wouldn’t touch you, burning his hand and arm in the process. It hurt, but none of that mattered. Not right now. 

He caught you before you collapsed to the ground. One hand was wrapped around your body. The other hand cradled your head. 

Crying into his chest, you continued to ask: “Where’s Levi? Where is he?”

—

— THREE DAYS LATER —

The world had come to know the truth — an ugly piece of honesty that no one could deny: Connie Springer was a coldhearted murderer, and Levi Ackerman was dead.

The latest chaos appeared worldwide on notable news channels. Headlined the most popular articles and newspapers. 

But none of it mattered.

Even after shooting Levi twice — once in the chest, then circling back around to kill him completely, not wanting a repeat of Erwin and Eren’s situation — Connie was still a free man.

He very well couldn’t buy his way out of this one. 

The general public had seen his sins with their own eyes. 

But, even if the government was forced to do its part and uphold its own laws, laws that wouldn’t help them purchase a Beverly Hills mansion and secure their children’s future in top-notch Ivy League schools, it didn’t mean a thing, because no one could find him.

The master bedroom door opened, and gentle footsteps made their way towards the side of the bed, where you laid on your side, head resting on a pillow. His pillow.

It was uncomfortably wet from your tears.

“Hey,” Erwin’s voice was soft. “I made breakfast. You should try to eat something.”

You didn’t respond. 

You couldn’t. 

Grief took your voice away — snatched any desire to speak, as your throat was dried to a crisp.

Therefore, you only shook your head, and Erwin sighed a bit. 

He sat down a white bowl of some steamy, nutritional substance on the nightstand nearby.

“It’s here if you change your mind. I’ll be in the living room if you need me.”

The grieving man walked away.

It wasn’t fair. Truly. It wasn’t. 

He was suffering just as much as you and Hange, who occupied the guest bedroom, having their own tear-soaked pillow to sob into with a bowl of uneaten food on their nightstand as well.

But he couldn’t sit around and grieve. Instead, he had to take on the role of a caregiver, trying his hardest to do what he could for you and Hange. 

Over the last few days, he cooked. Cleaned. Opened the door only to allow visitors who he thought would help lessen your misery, like Sasha, Annie, and Eren.

Although the paparazzi once again lurking around Levi’s property were indeed pests, he took advantage of that. Standing in front of their cameras, speaking into their microphones, he spoke on and on about how horrific Connie Springer was. How none of his artists were safe until he was locked away.

“You care about their music. You care about their concerts. You care about their interviews. Now, it’s time to care about their lives,” Erwin once said, his words broadcasted worldwide for millions to hear. “Help us find Connie Springer, so every artist he has worked with can seek justice, and sleep soundly and safely. Continue to be outraged at him and everyone at CS Records who holds a position of power. 

Eren Yeager almost lost his life thanks to him. I almost lost mine as well, both of us, victims of his violence.

Armin Arlert was a kind, hardworking man who was simply walking down the street with Eren Yeager, drinking a slushie. Now, he’ll never know what it’s like to grow old. To live comfortably.

Levi Ackerman died trying to protect his loved ones. This is the same man who brought your favorite singers to the spotlight. Avenge him by finding his killer, so that he and Armin Arlert may rest in peace. Thank you.” 

—

Around noon, Erwin, once again, made his way into the bedroom. You hadn’t moved a muscle.

Silently, he grabbed the uneaten bowl of breakfast food, which had gotten cold and dry over the dreadful hours.

He replaced it with a plate. On it, there was a sandwich, cut in half, and a few pieces of fruit.

Taking the old bowl away, he returned moments later with a glass of water, and a hardcover, brown, book of some sort. 

He sat the water down on the nightstand. Even the gentle clink-clank of the glass was too much to bear.

“Y/N,” he said softly. “I found this. I think you might want to take a look at it.”

Your eyes shifted in his direction. Much like you did when he offered you food earlier, you simply shook your head.

“It’s from Levi. I found it in his office. I think it’s . . .” Erwin paused. “Look at it, when you get the chance.” 

He reached over you, placing the book on the other side of your bed.

After that, he left.

An hour and twenty minutes had passed before you built up the courage to sit up in bed and grab the book. With trembling hands, you opened it, only to discover that it wasn’t a book at all.

It was a photo album.

Every picture that he had taken of you, both mundane and extraordinary, was printed out and filed neatly on every page you had flipped. He added the dates as well, written along the white spaces underneath every photograph, as well as a little description of what was happening or where you were.

Planting new flowers

Sasha’s birthday party 

Making tacos

The beach

After the photo of you and him on that beautiful day, there was one more.

It was the picture he took of you on the date afterward. There you were, smiling, holding a fork that was getting ready to dive into your first course, a fresh, creatively-plated salad, all while wearing your favorite dress. 

Your tears splattered onto the pages. It blurred your vision, but after blinking a few times to clear it, you were able to read the final description.

Our last date

Gripping the edges of the photo album, you brought it closer. Perhaps, you read that incorrectly. Maybe it was a result of dehydration and depression.

But no. The words remained the same.

How could he have known that your last date would indeed be your last date?

You flipped the page, not expecting any more photos to appear. And there weren’t. The remaining pages were empty photo slots waiting to be filled.

There was, however, an envelope tucked in between one of the pages. 

Your name was written on the front of it in Levi’s perfect handwriting.

Shaky fingers ripped open the envelope rather quickly. With one hand, you wiped your tears, and with the other, you unfolded what appeared to be a letter.

Y/N,

If you’re reading this, then I’m sorry.

I’m sorry because I’m going to die soon, and I have to put you through even more grief. I hope you can forgive me for it.

I wasn’t being honest with you, or with anyone.

Some think I plan to kill Connie. They’re wrong. You think I plan to put Connie in prison, which I am, but not in the way we discussed. I need more than a live confession. I need people to see him killing someone they ignorantly think is more important, someone who matters more to Hollywood than a waiter. Getting him to admit to Armin’s death won’t be enough. The flash drive alone won’t be enough.

The only way to cause enough outrage is if I die too, and everyone sees it. No amount of money can erase what I’m hoping millions of people will see. Outrage would mean no amount of money can persuade the justice system. 

That’s what I’m hoping for, at least.

Thinking that Connie will kill me is a gamble, but I’m certain he will because I know him. I really know him. I know he’s wanted to kill me for a long time, and once he gets what he thinks is a flash drive with evidence, he can finally do it. Killing me means killing his biggest threat.

And, there’s also the fact that you manipulated him with my kid. 

I knew mentioning that on TV could be what will finally push him into killing me.

The flash drive I plan to give him is fake. There’s nothing on it. The real one is in my office. I don’t want to risk giving that up, dead or alive. It could come in handy. Who knows.

I had to take a page out of Connie’s book and make a few jerks rich, but I poured money into ensuring that Connie goes to a specific prison where he will never be able to escape, assuming he gets arrested and doesn’t get away after killing me. I hope not, or else this will all be pointless.

But that isn’t the only reason I have to do all of this.

I married you because I love you, that’s true, but I also did it so that you’ll get my life insurance once I die.

Connie took everything from you, but everything I own, everything that belongs to me, I give to you. He can’t touch it.

You won’t have to depend on anyone anymore. You’ll be able to live comfortably now, which is all I want for you. You won’t be alone, either. Erwin and Hange will look after you, I know it. Eren’s still around, and knowing him, he isn’t going anywhere.

But, Y/N, I want you to grow old. I want you to become the playwright you always wanted to be. I want you to be happy, even if I’m not around to see it.

The rest of this photo album is blank. Fill it with whatever you want. Pictures from the past. Pictures you’ll take in the future. 

And once you’re happy and free from all this pain and trouble, share it with someone. 

You were my one true love, and I will never regret dying for you, Y/N.

Sincerely, your husband, Levi

—

— CANADA, TWO WEEKS LATER —

The disgustingly small hideout was once again Connie’s residence as he hid out from the rest of the world. Now, oddly enough, it felt smaller. More suffocating. 

Connie slowly paced back and forth around the tiny living room.

How long could he truly stay here? Was this truly a situation he couldn’t toss money at? With the entire world watching, he had no choice but to accept his fate. He had gone too far by giving in to his bloodlust, all in the name of evidence and revenge.

The computer sitting on his desk against one of the plain living room walls suddenly dinged. It was an indication that he had received a new email.

He would have ignored it. It was probably some sort of advertisement or business that could wait until morning. 

Despite thinking this, Connie found himself walking to his desk, sitting down in the chair, and moving his mouse around to fully awaken his computer — it was as if his mind and body were no longer in sync.

When the bright screen displayed his inbox, an unsettling chill ran up his spine when he read the name of the sender from an email delivered thirty seconds ago. With a trembling hand, he clicked it.

Levi Ackerman (no subject)

Connie,

If you’re getting this email, that means you have successfully murdered me. Good job.

But, if you’re able to read this, that means you aren’t behind bars somewhere, and my plan has failed.

I’m worried that it will fail. I’m worried that even after I set you up and I die by your hand, the people I care for will still be in danger because the shitty cops can’t find you, or maybe, the public doesn’t care about both me and Armin dying as much as I hope they do, and their lack of outrage means that you can pay off law enforcement once again and get away with it all. I don’t know. 

But that’s why I’m writing this email and scheduling for it to be sent after a certain date, because I know that if you see it, you’re still a free man, and you can hurt everyone I care for. 

So, I want to talk to you one last time.

People often wonder why someone like me became a manager. I don’t give a damn about fame or music. I told myself that it was because I wanted to look after Eren. His family took care of my cousin, so I wanted to help him accomplish his dreams and protect him. I did a shit job doing that, clearly.

But I also became a manager because of you, too.

I know a thing or two about shitty childhoods, Connie. When I met you after your time in prison, you had that same look that all troubled kids have, and believe it or not, I wanted you to be happy. I wanted you to be successful, and to rub it in the face of everyone who hurt you and doubted you.

So, when I witnessed you become a monster with my own eyes, I did nothing. Hurt people hurt other people. I knew that. 

But I made the wrong decision back then.

If I had done something back then, if I had been there for you in a different way like I should have been, maybe things would have turned out differently now. Maybe you could have gone down a better path.

I can’t say. 

But I’m sorry, Connie. I really am. I let you down. I let everyone down. Leading musicians into what I knew would be a horrific situation contract-wise is something I will never forgive myself for, a burden I can’t shake, so my death won’t just serve as part of a setup to imprison you, but it’ll be my freedom.

But, Connie, it’s not too late to start over. It’s not too late to become a better person, the person you should and would have been if someone had been there for you all those years ago.

That’s why I’m reaching out.

Please leave Y/N alone. Leave everyone else alone. I’m begging you. Let my death be enough.

Anyway, if I survive, then I’ll come back and delete this email before it sends. I doubt I will, though. But, if I do live, then that means you are really willing to accept my deal for peace (then I’m the asshole for trying to set you up, but whatever.)

If that’s the case, if you are willing to have peace, then maybe, I could help you find your own form of happiness too. In the future, we could have tea and talk about all of it once everything dies down. 

But if that doesn’t happen, and you kill me, then I forgive you. 

Sincerely, Levi

—

When tears brimmed in Connie’s waterline, he was uncertain what emotion had provoked such a reaction from him. Sadness? Anger? Regret? 

Either way, his trembling hand moved the mouse, dragging the cursor to a little garbage can icon, and he deleted the email.

—

It wasn’t déjà vu. 

Yes, seeing yet another casket lowered into the ground at the hands of Connie Springer was familiar. The horrific pain was recurring. But this time, at this depressing, heartbreaking funeral, you didn’t cry uncontrollably. Your legs didn’t give out. 

You stood there in yet another black dress, but you were emotionless. Speechless. Eyes dry. 

Your misery was an old friend. Travesty was like a neverending dream. 

But it wasn’t your familiarity with pain that resulted in your unsettling composure. 

It was because you were too angry to properly mourn. 

After all, Connie was still gone, which meant Levi Ackerman had died for nothing, and you refused to let that happen.

No longer would you sit around, having to be consoled and cared for by others. No longer would you sit on the receiving end of every action at the hands of that monster you so desperately wanted to find.

It was time to make Connie suffer too.

And you’d become as twisted as he was to do it.

—

— THREE YEARS LATER —

“I’m nervous, Mom, oh my goodness. What if they changed their minds or something? What if I mess up?” 

Jane Caddell wiped her sweaty hands off on her pants leg as her mom pulled into an empty spot in the spacious, multi-level parking garage.

“You’ll be fine, sweetie.” The older woman said. “I'll be right next to you the entire time, okay? You should be excited!”

“I am!” The blonde-haired nineteen-year-old girl grinned nervously, glancing down at her nice outfit to make sure there wasn’t any lint or cat fur. “I’m just . . . I don’t know. I’m scared.”

“You can be scared, honey. All that matters is that you do it anyway. What you don’t want to be, though, is late. So let’s go.”

The mother and daughter got out of their car, a white vehicle with a Wisconsin license plate, which stuck out in a place like California.

Holding hands, they made their way into the enormous, fancy building. Designing it must have been an architect’s dream. It was rather extravagant — white, mainly, with golden finishes and black accents stretching throughout the lobby and hallways. 

Jane and her mother couldn’t help but stare, wide-eyed, at the beauty that was just a tiny fraction of the first floor alone. 

After meeting the receptionist sitting behind a massive desk, also with golden finishes, they waited for their escort — a tall, blonde-haired man — and made their way to the hallway of elevators.

As they did so, a well-known pop singer walked by. It only intensified Jane’s inner panic. She couldn’t calm her racing heartbeat.

They arrived outside of a spacious, modern office. The man who escorted them, and also doubled as head of security, held the door open, and nervously, the mother and daughter stepped in. 

“Your 12:30 appointment has arrived,” the man said.

“Thank you, Erwin.” 

After giving you a nod, he left, leaving the mother and daughter in your grand office, which looked like a mini version of the lobby several floors down.

You sat in a chair behind a desk with your name imprinted along it.

With a smile, you looked up at the two visitors, and softly, you said, “Have a seat, please.”

They took their positions in the two white chairs in front of your desk. 

“Welcome to Arlert Records, ladies. Would you like something to drink?”

“Oh, um,” the mother looked at her nervous daughter, “that would be nice, yes! What do you have?”

“We have everything here.”

The mother laughed in disbelief. 

“Oh, well, just water will be fine.”

You pressed on the tiny, bluetooth earpiece in your right ear. 

“Two waters,” you requested.

Darting your eyes between them both, and said, “It’ll be just a moment, ladies.”

“Okay, that’s perfectly fine,” the mother smiled politely. The older woman made eye contact with her anxious daughter, then flickered her blue eyes in your direction with a little nod of her head.

Eventually, her daughter took the hint.

She leaned forward, extending her trembling hand, and nervously, but with a smile, she said, “It’s n-nice to meet you, Mrs. Ackerman. I’m Jane Caddell.”

“The pleasure is mine, Jane,” you shook the girl’s sweaty, warm hand. “And, please, call me Y/N.”

“So,” clearing your throat, you paused, looking into Jane’s blue eyes. “I know you have gone over the finer details of your contract with legal representatives, but I wanted to personally meet you myself and welcome you to the record label.”

“Thank you so much,” Jane grinned brightly. “It’s a dream come true!”

After giving two knocks, a woman walked in carrying a tray. She sat down two glasses of iced water with lemons on the rim on the table in between the two chairs. After receiving thanks from the mother and daughter, she left.

“You remind me of myself when I was younger, Jane,” you leaned back in your seat. “Unfamiliar with Hollywood, having nothing to rely on except a beautiful voice. They used to call me a diamond-in-the-rough, you know.”

Jane laughed nervously. Once again, she wiped her hands off of her pants. 

“Anyway, I plan on making you a star, Jane. I hope you weren’t too attached to that retail job of yours, because you won’t need it anymore.”

A tear rolled down Jane’s cheek. 

Were you telling the truth? Would she no longer have to work double shifts at Walmart just to help her mother out with the neverending bills?

“This all just sounds too good to be true, I mean, I can’t believe it. My daughter . . . a star.” The mother reached out, grabbing ahold of her daughter’s hand. “What happens now?”

“Well, this is completely optional, but I would recommend moving down here to Los Angeles, or as close to the city as you can get, that way you both won’t have to constantly travel back and forth.” You adjusted yourself in your seat. “But, career-wise, you will work with our songwriters and producers to create your first official song. One of my signed artists, Jean Kirstein, has created countless amount of hit singles and albums for other artists, so I would like for you to work with him. In the meantime, when you’re not in the studio, you will have to take a couple of lessons — private classes, if you will — for media training, stage presence, and things of that nature. While you’re working hard, my company will be promoting you until you become a household name. How does that sound?”

Excitedly, the doe-eyed mother and daughter rambled on and on about their excitement. 

How innocent they were, having no clue what Hollywood was truly like.

Pitiful. 

The meeting came to an end around thirty minutes later, after discussing more career-establishing details. And, once they were escorted out, your fake smile faded away. You were left with nothing except the soulless expression that graced your face over the last few years, nothing more.

Pressing your earpiece, you softly said, “Send Jean Kirstein to my office, now.”

Ten minutes later, Jean appeared in your office, opening the door with his hand, which had a beautiful engagement ring on it. 

He took a seat in one of your chairs.

“Something wrong?” He asked plainly.

“Not at all,” you crossed your legs. “I signed a new artist recently. Her name is Jane Caddell. I want you to help her out. Write her songs, produce her music, do whatever is necessary to make sure her first album dominates the Billboard.”

“No problem,” Jean nodded. “Anything else?”

Tilting your head a bit, you questioned, “How are you doing? I haven’t talked to you in a while. It’s good to see you.”

Truth be told, Jean was in your massive building almost every single day, mainly in one of the recording studios, but your paths rarely crossed. After all, he was a solo artist now, making music for himself with the exception of moments like this, where you asked him to help out other artists.

He didn’t mind one bit. After all, there weren’t any silent men around to abuse him, and he was no longer living in anyone else’s shadow. 

He was happy. Truly. 

“I’m fine,” Jean smiled softly. “Great, actually. My wedding’s in a few months. We’re sending invitations out soon, and we’d love for you to come.”

“Maybe,” you replied, giving him a fake grin, one that he could see right through, but decided not to comment on. 

There was, perhaps, one thing in his life that wasn’t perfect.

You.

Someone he considered to be a close friend now after everything that has happened.

After all, he hadn’t seen you flash a real smile in years. Forgotten what your amazing laugh sounded like. What worried him more than anything, was that with every passing day, every moment that Armin and Levi went without justice, you were becoming more and more like the very person law enforcement failed to hunt down.

Manipulating others to achieve your goals.

Dominating Los Angeles and the entertainment industry.

There were some differences, though. Those you were willing to hurt financially, emotionally, or physically were often targets because they hurt your friends and artists intentionally or unintentionally. Everyone you cherished was cared for. Even so, Jean couldn’t help but question your values nowadays. It seemed as if money was all that mattered.

Money, and being merciless.

Shortly after Levi’s death, CS Records shut down completely. Some artists and employees enjoyed their newfound freedom, but the majority of people felt lost and were worried about what the absence of a record label — one that was known for paying their artists and employees insanely well — would mean for their careers.

That was when you started your own company with the help of Levi’s money. 

It had blossomed tremendously over the last few years. Artists and employees who previously worked for CS Records now worked for you. 

And that wasn’t all.

Arlert Records was only one of your companies. 

Ackerman Studios, for example, was your film company, and both businesses, along with others, existed underneath your global mass media entertainment conglomerate, The F/N L/N Corporation. The headquarters for it were in another California city about forty minutes away. 

You were now worth billions. Your name was worth billions. Your companies were worth billions.

The unspeakable amount of wealth you possessed was far greater than what Connie had ever pocketed, and in only three years.

If only you were happy. 

“Well, I better get going,” you started to get out of your chair. “I need to go down to headquarters today, and the film studio. There’s business to attend to.”

“Wait,” Jean stood up as well. “Do you want some company? I can come with-”

“No. I’m fine.”

With that, you headed for the door, heels clicking against the ground as you said, “There’s lots of work to do, Jean. Get back to it, and I’ll see you later.”

“Someone lock up my office in about five minutes,” you ordered into your earpiece.

—

Four bodyguards accompanied you during your transportive journey to your film studio across town.

Filmmakers, actors, and productive crew members were hard at work — either surrounded by green screens and cameras or shooting inside of the houses and buildings you build on the surrounding land of your property — everyone creating interesting movies that would certainly dominate the box office next year.

However, today, your business was with a very specific director named Brox Garrett.

A stupid name for a stupid man.

In your office in the main building, you sat on top of your desk, legs crossed, two bodyguards at your side.

Then, that stupid man with the stupid name entered, a smug look on his face.

“Brox! It’s good to see you,” you lied with a beautiful smile. “Have a seat.” 

“I’m fine with standing-”

“Have a seat.”

His bottom made contact with a chair instantly. Your kind, yet assertive tone was frightening. 

“I’m not happy with you, Brox. Do you know why?”

The middle-aged man gulped a bit, terrified to answer. 

“I take your silence as a sign that you don’t.” You frowned at him. “I’m not happy because I truly, truly hate myself right now. I hate myself for being such a fool when I hired you, the hotshot director who promised me that a fantastic action film would be released this next year.”

“We’re not that far off schedule, we just-”

“Stop talking, please.” You raised your hand. He didn’t say another word. “Anyway, I’ve had a very busy week. The last thing I wanted to do today was come down to the film studio, but here I am, all because I hired you. A fool. So, tell me, whose job was it to make sure Annie Leonhart’s harness was fully operational before shooting a jumping scene? As the director, it’s your job to double-check those things, isn’t it?”

“I didn’t mean to-”

“Annie’s a very close friend of mine. Someone I absolutely adore. And, now, she’s recovering from a broken leg and a concussion.” You sighed. “So, that’s exactly how you’re going to leave here today . . . with a broken leg and a concussion.”

You got off of your desk, making your way towards the door, whereas your bodyguards stayed behind, glaring at the director. 

“Wait, wait, wait-”

“Oh,” you turned back right before leaving, “and you’re fired, by the way. I’ll see to it that you never get a job in this industry ever again.”

Reaching into your purse, you pulled out a small packet, and tossed it at him, the wrapper crinkling as he caught it with trembling hands.

He glanced down at the item.

It was a beef-flavored pack of ramen noodles.

“For you and your children to share,” with a soft smile, you whispered, “use it wisely.”

He shouted something as you closed the door — what he said, you couldn’t have cared less — and you left him trapped in the office with your bodyguards who would make sure he left in the same condition his careless actions put Annie in.

One of your assistants, who was waiting outside of your office for you, perked up as soon as you came into view, clenching her iPad in preparation to take note of all the orders she was certain you’d bark at her. 

“Please make sure Annie is recovering well. Let’s send her on a vacation once she’s healed. Two weeks. Somewhere tropical. Write that down.”

“Yes ma’am,” your assistant immediately jotted that down. “It’s about time to cover Hange Zoe’s bills. Would you like to make any adjustments before I send the funds?”

“Yes,” you started walking down a hallway with multiple movie and TV show posters made by your studio hanging on the walls as decor, and your assistant trailed behind. “Their cat’s sick, so I’ve heard. Send enough money to cover the vet bills, and enough to buy a new cat if this one doesn’t pull through. In fact, just triple the amount we usually send. I don’t care how much they protest, either.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Does anyone else need anything?”

“Uh . . .” your assistant checked her notes, double checking to make sure that Hange, Erwin, Jean, Annie, and Sasha were all taken care of.

Mikasa hadn’t been in contact with you in years. 

Years.

But, according to Jean, she was doing alright, coping with everything that had happened by continuing to climb mountains and dive in the ocean, traveling from one country to the next.

Reiner, lovingly, didn’t need or want anything from you.

He did keep his word and traveled to Los Angeles about twice a year to check up on you. However, upon hearing how you’ve changed, he wanted you to come visit him down in the South. Even so, he knew good food and kind people couldn’t fix your problems like last time, but it was worth a shot, he figured. 

But you declined every invitation.

Then, lastly, there was Eren, who had spiraled after Levi’s death. But, he was starting to heal from his dark mental state. The same couldn’t be said for you.

“As far as requests involving money and career opportunities, all of your friends, clients, and employees are cared for, and all of your upcoming business events are all planned out. However, there are some . . . social requests.”

“Social?” You stepped into an elevator with the young woman.

“Yes ma’am,” she nodded, then darted her eyes down to her iPad. “Reiner invited you to yet another barbeque . . . Jean’s having a party . . . Erwin’s-”

“No, no,” you raised your hand, shaking your head. “I don’t have time for any of that. Just send everyone who has an upcoming event a gift of some sort.” 

“Yes ma’am.”

You knew what your friends were trying to do. They wanted to bring out the human side of you. The side that smiled. Laughed. Cared about things other than the entertainment industry and wealth. 

And, for a while, you promised them that, one day, you would show up for them.

Eventually, you would attend Hange and Erwin’s Thanksgiving dinners. You would grab drinks with Annie and Sasha. Teach underprivileged kids how to sing and play piano with Jean. Go down to Tennessee and visit Reiner and his family.

All of those promises were made and broken. 

But your friends never gave up on you, no matter how much you wished they would.

—

Together, you and your assistant traveled to the marvelous headquarters of The F/N L/N Corporation. There, the business you needed to attend to wasn’t directly connected to the entertainment industry. There, your business was personal. On the top several floors, men and women worked incredibly hard to keep your companies running, handling business, managing talent, and making your bank accounts grow. But, down in the basement to which you were escorted, a different set of employees were working on something entirely different. “I think you’ll be pleased, Mrs. Ackerman,” your escort said, guiding you down the twisty hallways and into a secure room with bright computers and intelligent minds at work. “I better be,” you replied. “If I traveled all this way for nothing, all of you are getting fired.” Stepping into the room, a dark-haired man looked at you with an unreadable expression — as if his soul was trapped somewhere between happiness and fear. “What?” You questioned, glancing around at the other faces staring at you. “What is it?” “We found him, Mrs. Ackerman. We found Connie.”

A photograph of Armin and Levi’s murderer appeared on a big display screen at the front of the room. There the bastard was, wearing a hood and sunglasses to conceal his identity. But, while the average Joe strolling down the street might not have recognized him with a hood on his head, surveillance cameras would. Weeks ago, Connie was assumed to be in Canada. Getting access to his old bank transactions had shown he had a house built out there years ago. It was almost as if he was prepared for his future, knowing that it would be filled with nothing but trouble. However, the details were locked up pretty tight, leaving no specific address that could be tracked down. But there he was. “Looks like he’s leaving some sort of market, so I’m guessing he might live close,” you commented, eyes darting down to the little brown bag in his fist. “Give us a week, and I’m certain we’ll be able to pin him down exactly.” “You have three days,” you started to walk away. “Address or not, I’m going to Canada, and I’m not leaving until I find him.” You could see it now, boarding a jet with your team of security, and finally being able to get your hands on Connie. Then, everyone could live safely. No longer would everyone who was affiliated with him need bodyguards surrounding them or their properties constantly.  And, best of all, Armin and Levi would have justice. Peace.

—

There was something rather somber about your days coming to an end. While you might have had one of the biggest mansions in Los Angeles, which was a gorgeous piece of modern, chateau-inspired art, it only intensified your loneliness. Your driver pulled down around your divine water fountain, dropping you off in front of the grand staircase that led to your double front doors. Your heels clicked with every step, the sound of it echoing into the night. In your house, you had live-in security and staff, sure — but they were employees. They did nothing to fill the gaping hole in your chest.  Before you reached your front doors, a moving figure caught your eye. Glancing up, the startling sight of someone sitting on your steps made you gasp. “Eren?” You frowned. “What are you doing here? You scared me.” “Sorry.” The man stood up from where he sat.  “No one tossed you off of my property?” Glaring, you added, “Everyone knows I don’t like visitors. Someone’s getting fired for this.” “No, don’t fire anyone, it’s my fault. I was trying to come see you, and you weren’t answering your phone, so I asked Erwin, and he said I could wait for you here.” Your face visibly softened. Erwin knew you wouldn’t dare fire him for this, but to disrespect your wishes and allow something like this only meant one thing: even he was trying to cure your loneliness, just like the rest of your friends. Of course, none of them were as persistent or stubborn as Eren Yeager.

“Why’d you want to see me? Do you need something?” “Yeah,” Eren smiled sadly. “I needed to see you.” “Well, I can’t help you with that.” You walked past him. Being alerted of your presence, a bodyguard standing by one of the doors opened it for you. “Go home.” Suddenly, Eren’s hand was wrapped around your arm, halting your footsteps.  “Wait,” he said.  “I wasn’t sure if you’d want this, but here.” He reached into his pocket, pulled out a little box, and handed it to you. “Happy birthday.” Your eyes, which bore into his, glistened with utter confusion, and a look of shock that silently asked the question: You remembered? Slowly, you opened the gift. It was a ring, and not a last-minute purchase from Pandora. It was a silver band with a precious, bright gemstone.  “Thank you,” you mumbled. “It’s beautiful.” “You’re welcome,” he gave a soft smile. “Have a good night, okay?” He started to walk away, but he barely made it three steps down before you called his name. “Eren, wait.” The former rockstar turned around, gazing at you with curiosity, confusion, and hopefulness. “Do you want. . .” you sighed, fighting against the self-hatred you felt from being vulnerable. “Do you want to come inside for a little while?” When Eren smiled, it was as if no time had passed, as it was the same beautiful smile he gave you when you first met.

Red wine trickled and swooshed around as it was poured into the two glasses sitting on a table in the middle of your wine cellar. Eren preferred other alcoholic beverages over wine, but he’d be a fool to complain. After all, this was the first time you and him had hung out in over a year. He was curious about what had made you want to let him into your residence but refused to ask. But, once again, that expressional face of his betrayed him. As he sipped his beverage, you could see the curious gaze within his emerald eyes, along with his slightly furrowed brows, and you knew exactly what he was thinking. “If you’re wondering why I invited you inside,” you paused, putting the expensive wine bottle to the side. “It’s not because it’s my birthday. I’m celebrating something else right now.” “What is it?” “Well,” your face changed into a serious, yet excited look. “I’m getting closer to finding Connie. Surveillance cameras spotted him.” “That’s great,” Eren smiled. He was happy, truly. While the police were still looking, they had failed to make any progress over the last three years.  Eren did everything he could, which amounted to never shutting up in front of the cameras, and opening his mouth about everything CS Records had done to him and Jean Kirstein.  With your help, he was able to get a few Silent Men tossed in prison, but not Connie. As badly as he wanted him to be punished, there was one thing he wanted even more. He wanted your old self to come back. “After he’s dealt with, do you think you’ll come hang out with your friends every now and then?” Eren asked softly. “We all miss you.” You took another sip of your wine.  “I can’t make any promises, Eren. Finding him won’t bring Armin and Levi back, and that’s what really . . .” your glass clinked as you sat it on top of a marble coaster. “Everyone’s always telling me that they would want me to be happy. Move on. And I know that, believe me, but what if I don’t feel better after Connie’s dead or in prison? What if I feel this shitty for the rest of my life? I keep telling myself that once they get justice, everything will go back to normal, but what is there to go back to? In the beginning, all I had was Armin. In the end, all I had was Levi. Who’s left?” “Your friends, Y/N.” Eren leaned forward. “We’re still here, and we aren’t going anywhere. I’m not going anywhere, you know that. Me, Jean, Annie, Sasha, Erwin, Hange . . . Reiner and Mikasa might not be close by, but they’re still here too.” “You say that, but Mikasa hasn’t said a word to me in years,” you took another sip of your wine, wishing that it was something stronger. “Have you reached out?”  You didn’t respond, which, indirectly, was an answer in itself. “If you don’t stop a friend from walking away, then you’re the one who has to reach out to bring them back. That’s how it works.” “Is that what you’re doing now? To me?” You raised your eyebrows at the man, who suddenly had grown wiser over the last few years.  “No,” Eren’s eyes darted down at the exquisite wooden table. “With you, I’m the one who walked away and I’m the one who’s reaching out. I just wish you wouldn’t push me away.” “Don’t take it personally.”

A few moments of silence passed.

Eren suddenly pulled two things out of his pocket. The first item was an old, braided, paracord keychain with faded green and brown colors. The second item was something you recognized. It was an overused, bent, blue bookmark. “This,” Eren held up the keychain, “belonged to Marco. He put his house key on this thing. I’ve kept it for years.”  “This,” Eren put the bookmark on the table, “belonged to Armin. He left it at my house that night before he was shot. Those two never knew each other, but they had a lot in common, you know? Both too kind for their own good.” “Both were killed by Connie.” You didn’t mean to sound so bitter, but you couldn’t help it, even if Marco’s death was an accident.  “Anyway, I just like to hold on to things people love, sometimes. They don’t necessarily have to be dead, either. Jean’s guitar pick is at my house . . . I have a scarf Mikasa used to love wearing . . . I have your-” “Do you have anything of Levi’s?” Cutting him off wasn’t intentional, but luckily, he didn’t mind.  “Yeah,” Eren’s eyes darted down to the ring he gifted you. “That ring.” “What?” You gave a confused frown. “What does that mean?” “I didn’t realize it at the time, but when Levi and I were talking at the hospital a few years ago, he told me in great detail what he wanted your wedding ceremony to look like. Even though you were already married, he was still going on and on about it. After he died, I realized that he wasn’t telling me his plans. He was trying to help me plan.” Eren smiled sadly. “I guess he thought that after his death, after grieving for a few months, you’d come right back to me. I don’t think he knew how much his death would change things. I don’t think he understood just how much you loved him, or how much I’d miss him. I used to look up to him, you know? But . . . I know you and me aren’t . . .” Eren stopped speaking. A pained look flashed in his eyes.  “Either way, no matter what, that ring was meant for you, so I wanted to give it to you.” A soft, miserable laugh of disbelief escaped you.  As smart as Levi, he was truly a fool if he thought moving on from someone like him would be so easy. No. Both he and Armin had left you forever changed. “I remember him promising me that I’d have a proper wedding with a proper ceremony. I didn’t know he wanted it to happen with someone who wasn’t him.” “Hey, don’t get the wrong idea,” Eren sat up a bit. “He did want that stuff with you, he just knew it couldn’t happen. That’s why he passed it on . . . to me.”  You nodded, indicating that you understood. And truly, you did. You understood just how cruel the world was. “Sometimes, I forget I’m not the only person grieving.” You reached out, touching Eren’s arm. “You know a thing or two about it as well, hm?” “Worst feeling in the world.” Eren suddenly sighed, masking his grief behind a false smile. “I guess I better get going. It’s late.” A frown appeared across your face. You wanted to ask him to stay, and knowing him, he would have, but you only stood up, getting ready to walk him out.  “Once all this is over, come find me, okay?” Eren smiled beautifully. No matter what, his grin could and would always make you go weak at the knees.  “I won’t make any promises,” you held onto one of the double doors as he stepped through.  “But thank you for coming over. It was nice. Goodnight.” “Goodnight.”

Eren gave you one last smile and made his way towards his car.

—

— CANADA, ONE WEEK LATER —

Connie knew it was a trap. 

A bearded guy was urging him to come into his family-owned bar, prattling on and on about how much he sought customers, and when Connie stepped into the dusty environment that smelt of wood, he knew something was off.

There was not a soul in the bar.

Connie sipped on the cheap bottle of beer, sleeved elbows pressed into the counter as the bartender watched him.

Connie cracked open a peanut. Sipped on his beverage. Listened to the soft music playing in the background. 

If this was a trap, just as his gut told him, then he wanted it to happen already because he was tired of this life. Tired of running. Tired of having nothing. 

The bar doors opened. Connie didn’t bother turning around, but he could hear it being locked.

Finally, he thought.

He could hear footsteps approaching, and he recognized them. It was the same rhythmic pattern of the person who once lived in his old mansion, walking up and down the halls, glancing into every room to see what he was doing. 

“I thought I told you I’d kill you if I ever saw your face again?” Connie shouted out, taking another swig of his beer.  

“And I told you that when you manipulate someone, you end up teaching them all of your tricks.” 

You made your way up to Connie, grabbing a seat on the stool next to him, crossing your legs as you smiled devilishly.

The bartender pulled out a gun, glaring at the former entrepreneur. 

He must’ve been some sort of bodyguard, as well as a shitty actor.

“You come here for revenge or some shit?” Connie rubbed the dark circles underneath his eyes. “Is that what this is? Are you trying to kill me now? ‘Cause I don’t think you have it in you.”

“Do you want me to try and kill you? Is that why you made it so easy for me to find you recently?” You tilted your head a bit. “I couldn’t piece together why, after all these years, would we suddenly be able to catch your face on camera. But it’s starting to make sense now.”

“I just wanted to see if what I heard was true. That you’ve turned out to be another version of me. Personal guards, business owner-”

“My businesses are greater than CS Records ever will be — or ever was, I should say. In such a short amount of time, I’m already more successful than you ever were,” you reached out, teasingly touching Connie’s shoulder. He could feel your hatred for him just in the way your fingertips graced his clothed skin.

“You can say that, but we’re the same, you and me. I started out only hurting people who hurt my friends and employees too. Manipulating people to make myself richer. Then, I started hurting anyone who made me look bad. All you need now is some fresh-faced, diamond-in-the-rough artist who’ll show up and ruin every-fucking-thing you worked hard to build. I suggest you find a hideout for yourself too.” 

Connie tried to take another swig of his beer, but the bottle was empty. 

“I had a great thing going until your ass came to Hollywood. Everyone was happy. Not just me, but my artists too. Then you just couldn’t keep your hands to yourself, huh? Why the fuck couldn’t you stay in New York?”

“I wish I stayed in New York too,” your voice was soft. “I wish I never met you.” 

 “Take it from me, Y/N.” For the first time since you arrived, Connie looked into your eyes. “Don’t fuck up like I did. Get your shit together . . . before it’s too late.” “Look who made words of encouragement their fun, new hobby,” you spoke with fake, sugary enthusiasm. “Keep working on that while you’re in prison.”

“What?” Connie furrowed his brows, his eyes darting over to the man with the gun. “You’re not gonna kill me?” 

“And put you out of your misery? No way,” you smiled cruelly, pushing his arm as if you were talking with a friend — chatting with a dear old pal. “No, see, what’s going to happen now is that you and I are both going to live, and we’ll both be miserable, because you’ll have nothing, and I’ll spend the rest of my life grieving. But, the only difference is that you’ll be behind bars, and I’ll be behind my office desks.”

You got up from your seat. 

“So, are you going to try to make a run for it, or will you make this nice and easy?”

“I’m not running.”

“Why not?”

“‘Cause I’m tired, Y/N.” Connie got up from his seat. “Please don’t send me back to prison. Just kill me or something . . . Please.”

Your mind was made up, that much was clear, but Connie figured that he’d still try his hardest to change your mind. 

As the images of prison flashed through his mind, he was certain, for a fact, that he would rather burn in hell. “Hearing you beg like that reminds me of when I begged you not to imprison me after my album release party. Remember that?” With a small, little laugh, you started to make your way towards the doors. 

As soon as you unlocked the doors and stepped through them, your team of security bombarded the tiny, old-fashioned bar, and successfully detained Connie.

After yet another week, the prison Levi had poured his money into years ago was more than willing to continue with the deal. Not that he had any ounce of power to influence anyone to free him, to begin with. 

But, after a chaotic session of trials, overwhelming evidence, and teary-eyed speeches, Connie Springer would die in prison.

And, more importantly, Armin Arlert and Levi Ackerman could rest in peace.

—

— ONE MONTH LATER —

You were nervous. 

Panicked, even. 

But, even so, you knocked on the light brown door to Eren’s childhood home, which was rather nice, given that his dad was a doctor.

Carla answered with a look of curiosity, wiping her hands off on a kitchen towel as she greeted you. 

Even though the Yeager family had briefly moved to Maine for their safety, Eren still owned their home, hopeful for days like these, in which they could come back. And here they were. Right where they belonged.

“Hi, is Eren here?” You asked with as much kindness as you could muster. 

“He sure is,” Carla stepped to the side, welcoming you into the foyer. “Eren! Come here!”

Eren often spent Sunday afternoons visiting his family, so you heard. It was a new habit, one that came to him after almost losing his life and having his mother’s safety put in danger.

So, as it was 1:30 on the last day of the weekend, you had sought him out here, and from down a hallway, he approached, an amused grin appearing once he realized you were here.

“Hey, Y/N. You okay?” 

“I’m fine,” you said, glancing down at your shoes, then back up at him. “I know you’re spending time with your family and all, but I’m busy next weekend and the weekend after that, and weekdays are no better, so I was just wondering if I could . . . um . . .”

“Sure,” Eren agreed to whatever plans you hadn’t yet planned. “Let’s go.”

Minutes later, you and Eren were strolling down the street, side by side. Your eyes scanned his clothes. Something was rather different, and rather quickly, you pieced together what it was. He was wearing a white shirt with some sort of logo on it. His sweatpants were light blue.

Dressed only expecting to see his mother and father today, perhaps some cousins as well, certainly, but even so, you couldn’t help but smile, knowing what it symbolized.

“You’re not wearing black,” you pointed out. 

“Huh?” Eren looked down at his outfit. “Oh. Yeah. I love black clothes, don’t get me wrong, but it’s nice to not be forced to have to wear it, you know?”

He truly meant what he said long ago — that he was done living in the spotlight.

“What have you been doing lately? Since you’re not a rockstar anymore?”

“I don’t know. Nothing. Everything.” 

“Those are two different things, Eren.”

“C’mon, you know what I mean,” Eren kicked a rock, his hands in his pocket. “I’ve been hanging out with my family, traveling, trying new foods — oh, you ever try octopus before? Don’t eat it, you’re not missing anything — uh . . . what else . . . I’ve been playing guitar, which is pretty easy even with eight fingers . . .  I have time to watch movies now. I can nap. I don’t know, but I’m happy.”

You laughed softly. “Yeah, I can tell. Trust me.”

Eren smiled gently. You were both silent for a second, then, he asked, “Why’d you wanna come see me?”

You hesitated to answer for a moment, but then, you decided to tell him the truth.

“Connie . . . he gave me a bit of a wakeup call. Told me that I was headed down the same path as him. In fact, he warned me to change. Can you believe that?”

For once, in the longest time, Eren felt grateful for Connie’s existence. As stupid as he was, the idiotic, murderous man was correct.

“He’s right,” Eren said.

“I know. I’ve been wanting to reach out to you all month, but I finally just got the courage. Trying to not be like him won’t be easy, but I’m . . . trying. I went to Levi and Armin’s graves. Told them they could rest peacefully now. I started therapy. I’m hanging out with you. I’m trying.”

Eren halted his footsteps. As soon as he heard a sniffle come from you, he moved in front of you, pulling you in for a hug as a few tears streamed down your cheeks.

“I’m proud of you,” Eren whispered. “I started therapy too. Why do you think I’ve started to become so wise? And you know what he told me? He said that grief becomes manageable. I hope his ass is right. He can afford steak, lobster, and caviar with how much money he’s squeezing outta me because I’m there every week.”

Lightly, you chuckled a bit, although it was more of a puff of air rather than a laugh. 

You weren’t a fool. There was, perhaps, something that could help you feel just a bit better, even if it couldn’t cure your problems completely.

“I think I need to leave L.A. for a little while, maybe for a month. Maybe a year.”

Eren pulled away from you, surprised to hear such a statement coming from you. Your therapist must have cost a fortune too if they were this  incredibly skilled. 

“I agree, but, where are you going?” Eren frowned with worry.

You shrugged. 

“I don’t know, but in a few weeks, I’m going to briefly trust my companies to Erwin and Jean until I return. I think I want to visit the south, maybe. Aside from touring with you, I’ve only been down there once, but I miss it.” Shyly — an emotion you hadn’t experienced in years, you asked Eren, “Do you want to come with me? Maybe?”

Eren smiled. 

He was far from southern. Couldn’t wrap his mind around the sweet tea obsession and being overly friendly to strangers at the grocery store, but he’d go to hell with you if you asked him to. Even now, a few weeks early, he was ready to head home and pack his bags. 

After your long walk, you returned to Eren’s childhood home and had dinner with his family.

—

— TENNESSEE —

As an artist, Eren had the ability to travel the world, as grand in size as it was. Flying from state to state and from country to country was a gift, truly, but he never had the opportunity to explore. To sight-see. To witness the way other people outside of Los Angeles lived their lives — something he was very interested in, as he was a nosy person.

While on tour, he was only able to see backstage dressing rooms, hotels, and stadiums. Nothing more, usually.

But, now, as you and him rode in the backseat of a car, staring at gorgeous mountains and colorful, beautiful trees, he had to admit that it was a much better view than the Hollywood sign. 

Even so, it wasn’t nearly as beautiful as the woman sitting beside him, staring out of the window with a soft smile.

Around two hours later, you and Eren arrived at a spacious, modern farmhouse with a black and brown exterior that you purchased solely for this trip.

“It’s nice, right? Perfect place to hide away for a while?” 

You started walking up the steps, and Eren followed as you continued to speak. “And, listen, I don’t expect you to want to stay the entire time, because, like I said, I plan to be here for a few months if not an entire year, so you can leave whenever you’d like.”

“It means a lot that you asked me,” Eren said. “If it’s alright with you, I don’t wanna go anywhere.”

—

The next three days were spent exploring the surrounding tourist attractions. Together, you and Eren admired nature on hiking trails, drove to Nashville to experience music festivals, and of course, introduced yourselves to southern cuisine.

It wasn’t a total escape from the world of flashing lights and cameras, of course, as you and Eren were both still celebrities. 

But, even the simplest disguises — sunglasses and a hat or hood — often prevented people from doing a double take, and you were both able to enjoy yourselves somewhat peacefully.

As the sun started to set, the sky fading from a soft blue to a mesmerizing soft orange, bright and quirky neon signs were now on full display. Nearby, country singers performed on the street with nothing but a nice voice and an acoustic guitar, drawing in small, happy crowds. 

People walked up and down the strip with their friends and families.

As you stood there, waiting patiently for Eren, you couldn’t help but admire them.

They all had someone. 

Loneliness was starting to creep back up within you like an old enemy, a subtle frown appearing on your face. But, just before those negative feelings could overwhelm the happiness you felt right now, Eren's voice snapped you back to your refreshing reality — unintentionally reminding you that you weren’t alone.

He was here, and he wasn’t going anywhere.

Never had. 

Never will.

“Here,” he held out a tiny paper plate with peach cobbler on it. “Have you tried this before?”

Taking your plate as he glanced down at his own, you replied, “Yes. It’s really good!”

Your sudden excitement was all the convincing he needed. He bit into the sweet dessert, tasting the soft crust and sweet peaches. It was, indeed, a heartwarming meal, one that made him smile.

“I get why you wanted to come down here,” Eren said, going in for another bite as you took one as well. 

“See?” You sighed happily. “But anyway, tomorrow, I was thinking we could go canoeing. There’s a big lake nearby, and I’ve always wanted to try canoeing.”

“Okay,” Eren grinned.

“We can also go to a spa.” 

“Okay.”

“There’s also a cool restaurant I want to try.”

“Okay.”

Amusingly, you grinned, “is there any chance you want to count grains of sand with me too? You’re agreeing to everything right now. You’re the true definition of being down for whatever.”

“You knew that when I agreed to come to the south for a year on a whim,” Eren took another bite of his cobbler. “It’s nice to see you smile again, you know? You think I’m crazy enough to ruin that by turning down something you wanna do?”

“You’re adorable,” your compliment was mumbled, as, truly, it was something you meant to say in your head, but you spoke unintentionally, and Eren’s never-fading smile only brightened — adorably, of course.

Leaning down a bit, he softly kissed your cheek.

“You’re going to get peach cobbler on my face. That’s nasty.” 

He ignored your little comment, and kissed your cheek again, all because it made you smile.

—

When visiting a different state for longer than a couple of days, there comes a point when hopping from one tourist attraction to the next, trying an abundance of different foods, and relaxing near some sort of body of water had to briefly end to handle real-life adult tasks and responsibilities.

Typically, you would have had your live-in chef stock the fridge with groceries, and it had become a task that you were no longer familiar with doing. 

Every time you opened the refrigerator, there was a variety of food. Always.

However, during your attempts to heal your soul, you left your staff behind in Los Angeles, except for two bodyguards.

Even with Connie locked away, you still faced danger as a billionaire, celebrity, and human being. That was life, unfortunately.

Therefore, when you opened the fridge today, you were quite puzzled to see that — aside from three water bottles and a blue carton of eggs with only two remaining — it was empty.

“Eren,” you called out to the shirtless man in the living room, who just finished showering after working out in the home gym downstairs.

“Yeah?”

“I have to go to the grocery store, I’ll be right back.”

“No, I’ll go, you stay here.” Eren offered, already walking to his room to get fully dressed. 

“We could just go together.” Your suggestion went unanswered.

Shortly after, Eren left.

—

Two hours had passed. 

The closest grocery store wasn’t far. You hadn’t done such mundane things like grocery shopping in an incredibly long time, but it was just the two of you. 

There was no logical reason why he wasn’t back home yet.

You called him, twice, but after following the ringing sounds around your temporary home, you found his phone downstairs in the gym. He must’ve forgotten it while rushing out the door.

Maybe he was having trouble leaving the store. 

Maybe people realized who he was, and he was being bombarded by fans. Did he remember to wear a hat or hood? Did he have sunglasses with him? You couldn’t be certain.

Thirty more minutes passed.

You were pacing back and forth on the porch, waiting for a car to appear in your driveway.

What if he was sick of being around you, and he used this opportunity to escape back to California?

Why else would a man who has won Grammy awards be so excited and eager to go to Walmart?

What if he had gotten hurt? What if Connie did something, somehow? 

What if he had gotten into a car accident? Or a robbery?

What if he was dead?

“Jacob, can you please go to the local Walmart and see if Eren’s okay?” You said to one of your bodyguards who stood nearby, watching you pace around, biting your manicured nails.

“Yes ma’am.”

Moments later, his car drove off.

Your anxiety was all-consuming. The nausea you felt, swirling around in the pit of your stomach, made you consider hovering over the nearest toilet, but no. You couldn’t go back inside. Not now.

After what happened with Levi, never again would you assume that someone you cared for would return home after leaving.

Around twenty minutes drifted on by with you pacing, pacing, and pacing, only to stop when your phone rang. It was your bodyguard, informing you that he couldn’t find Eren at the nearest grocery store.

He promised to check again. Said he’d try a few other stores as well. He said something else too, but by then, you were sitting on the porch step, crying into your hands.

How guilty your other bodyguard felt — standing there, watching you. Rarely did you ever talk to him, and you hadn’t known anything about him aside from his name, which was Carter, but he was a sweet person, and he wanted to comfort his boss. But he couldn’t. His job was to watch over you and keep his eyes open, and only come in contact with you if it was to push or pull you out of harm’s way.

But you were crying. Sobbing. Assuming the worst.

When headlights came into view, you glanced up from your soaking-wet hands. Eren had barely parked the car before he hopped out — forgetting about the groceries entirely — and rushed up the steps before sitting by your side.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” He asked with great worry, rubbing your back soothingly.

Both relief and great aggravation washed over you. 

“Where the hell were you, Eren? I was worried! How long does it take to buy a few groceries?”

Eren turned around, looking at your bodyguard. “Can you give us a minute?” 

Carter nodded and decided to busy himself by bringing the groceries in, putting them away, and telling the other bodyguard to come back.

“I’m sorry,” Eren spoke softly. “I took so long because I bought a lot of groceries, and I ended up talking to some people, and just taking my time. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You’re such an idiot,” you cried. “Why did you leave so eagerly, then? Why didn’t you ask me to come with you?”

Eren reached over, swiping his thumb across your cheek as he wiped your tears away. “Because I wanted to surprise you. I bought the stuff to make that salad you like. The one that reminds you of Armin? The strawberry chicken one? I didn’t mean to make you cry. I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“I thought you might’ve gotten hurt, or worse,” you sniffled. “Do you know how terrifying it is? Not knowing if someone you’re in love with will make it back home? Damn it, Eren . . .”

Eren pulled you in closer. From where your head rested near his neck and shoulder, you could feel just how fast his heart was beating.

Perhaps, it was from your confession, although, truthfully, it should have been a fact that he was well aware of. After all, Eren always had a place in your heart — something you told him repeatedly.

Love, in its truest and purest form, doesn’t ever simply die. 

“I’m here. I’m not going anywhere, so you don’t have to worry about me, okay? I’m not going anywhere. You couldn’t get rid of me even if you tried. You should know that by now.” Eren kissed your forehead. “And I’m in love with you too, but you should know that as well, right?”

A soft laugh escaped you.

When you pulled away from Eren, you stared into charming eyes that gazed into yours with nothing but love, and a tad bit of concern.

“What is it?” He asked.

Your lips were suddenly pressed against his before your new fear of being loved could overwhelm your desire to kiss him. And, god — when his hand cupped the side of your face, lips moving against yourself as if a lost piece of his soul was being restored, it felt as if you were both falling in love all over again, even if you were, perhaps, already there.

— One year later, Eren proposed. He had to outdo himself — create a romantic experience that would shame his former self, who married you in Las Vegas the first time around and tossed together a last-minute wedding.  Though, your marriage back then fit the wild love story you once both shared, but, even so, he had the pen once again, and he was determined to write this new fairytale properly.  And it would start with the perfect proposal. God, was he nervous. He arranged a beautiful display of twinkling fairy lights wrapped around gorgeous trees, flower petals spread on the ground, and he gathered a few musicians to play the violin as you both approached the desired spot. Much to your surprise, he got down on one knee, looking into your eyes with a hopeful gaze, and asked, “Will you marry me?” Eren rose to his feet and kissed you lovingly after you said yes.

— Leaving the South was like waking up from a dream — an amazing, beautiful dream, but, even so, you were determined to make your reality just as perfect. And it started with marrying Eren. Not yet had you returned to Los Angeles. Europe was your next destination, as it was the place where you and Eren were to be remarried. Much like your wedding to Connie, the memorable ceremony was held inside a gorgeous castle with lavish candle chandeliers and pretty flowers, esteemed guests, and a beautiful gown that graced your body — every immaculate detail that Levi had once imagined had come to life.  Upon seeing you in a gorgeous dress, tears streamed down Eren’s cheeks. He couldn’t believe his luck, getting the opportunity to marry you again. And Jean, who was his best man, having mended their friendship over the last few years, teared up a bit too out of complete and utter happiness for you both. They were all there to watch you walk down the aisle. Not only Jean, but Reiner, Hange, Erwin, Annie, Sasha, and even Mikasa — another friendship that was recently mended.  Loving vows were exchanged, romantic gazes cast upon one another. As you stared into the eyes of the man you would spend the rest of your life loving, you said, “I do.”  And you said it for the very last time.

—

No longer was your mansion in Los Angeles a place of loneliness. Eren had moved in, and your friends had visited quite often, filling your home with love and laughter, as it should be.  It wasn’t long before that very special night came, in which Eren thrust into you softly as he moaned, pressing kisses against your naked skin — touching his lips wherever he could. Never had he come so much in his life. He was almost embarrassed about the way he stuffed you, his pretty wife, and moaned your name like a prayer. That was why, although incredibly happy, he wasn’t surprised when you showed him a positive pregnancy test soon after. The best doctors in the world would guide you through your pregnancy.  Having miscarried before, it was tempting to let your pregnancy be consumed with nothing but fear and worry, but this time, you had someone to hold your hand. “I’m right here,” your husband often said. “I’ll always be here.” Giving birth in a hospital bed to a beautiful, healthy baby girl named Nia was one of the greatest, and most chaotic, days of your lives.  But Nia had a father who cried upon holding her, and a waiting room packed with family and friends who also adored her. She had you as well, a mother who would protect her and see to it that she wouldn’t ever know anything other than love and joy.  And thirteen years later, she was sitting outside on the luxurious patio with you, listening to you tell her your life story, which started with your old friend, and a tiny bakery in New York.

𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄

♡ — 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠!

🎟: @consuming-karma @lilvampirina @okaystopwhore @chrollohearttags @nanamochii @bunny2612 @cupids-soul @crazychaoticizzy @ramonathinks @averysmolbear @seishirogf @6sakusa @levin4nami @chaotic-on-main @sad-darksoul @gwapbby @katestrophes @ventdavi154 @lovelyless-fiction @svftackerman @musegonemad @moonmalice @inciteterr0r @honeybleed @zeninsbitch @purple-milk24 @itzgabz22 @mooomuu @micafecitoconpan @beaniebanby @anonymousme23 @theitchbbbb @skit-brentfaiyaz @princessos-blog @elliesbabygirl @the-mrs-steve-harrington @kittenbabe00 @magictrump @hetalia-tumbler @hon3y-c0mb @bol0-de-morang0 @thisisketchy @yoongirecs @allofffmypeaches @sasha-glass @getwaves @deluluvibes @p3nislawd @emery-333

[cheekylittlepupp]

Listen listen, I’m not judging, people can do and like whatever they want but… gods am I judging you if you ship Cazador x Astarion.

[joogios]

I love you.

But there are things older and murkier than love,

Things that live not in the heart, but in the entrails.

I don’t want you to see me with the wolf.

I don’t want you to see what he does to me.

I don’t want you to see what I do to him.

Catherynne M. Valente, “The Red Girl,” from The Bread We Eat in Dreams

[aengelren]

A new life rose, as death march behind

This cinematography might be one of the most grotesque yet symbolic scenes I’ve ever seen. Up to humanity to save it from itself. Schindlers list movie reference

[chaosu-no-hime]

when that one person is your whole world in every sense that exists >>>

[ryewwww]

Hi! Are you taking requests right now? If so, can you do one with older neighbor eren: baby trapping, dry humping, blindfold, face slapping

-> yes, requests are open!! (send me some juicy ones with lots of details)

-> I also just want to remind people that I don’t write sub!eren!!! (This is not towards this anon, I’m just saying in general so you know!!)

⚠️: NONCON, Corruption, manipulative!Eren, dry humping, use of blindfold, face slapping, baby trapping, breath control, squirting

Read at your own risk. I am not responsible for your media consumption.

Your parents were very conservative and kept you sheltered from the real world.

Their ideologies is what drove most of their families to stop talking to them

So it’s always just been the three of you

But it was okay—you were okay with it

They were excellent parents, bought you whatever you wanted and never yelled at you

They raised you to be good, and you were

Naive, sweet and selfless. Helping your elderly neighbours with their Facebook accounts and fixing all their internet problems.

You did good in school too, straight A student but your parents didn’t allow you to do extracurricular. They didn’t want you out of the house late.

They also had strict social media rules and a time limit on your phone—even after you turned 18.

But they paid for it, you lived under their roof so you had no choice but to obey.

When your elderly neighbor passed away, their house went on sale and a young guy from the church you frequented bought it.

You’d seen him around and heard about him through your dad. They often talked at church. He was in his mid thirties, divorced, no children. Came to town to start a new life, just wanting to be content.

His name was Eren, and he was easy on the eyes.

You’d be lying if you said he didn’t make you feel heated. You felt terrible for feeling that way, but when he’d talk to you, pay attention to you like you were the only girl in the world, it made you pretty feral.

It didn’t help that he often leaned into your delusions. He’d “accidentally” brush against your ass while trying to get some water. Or at church, his hand would slide between your inner thighs mindlessly.

You never spoke up, too ashamed to admit that it made you aroused.

Eren charmed his way to your parent’s good side. Your dad was best friends with him, which meant he was over at your house a lot. Nearly every evening, he’d join you for dinner and would stay for a beer or two afterwards with your dad.

Point is, your parents trusted him.

So, when your dad’s father passed away, they asked Eren to stay over and watch over you.

You couldn’t go with your parents because you had school, and found it bizarre that they didn’t trust you to stay home alone.

You tried to defend yourself but your dad was already in a tough place. So you let it slide.

Your parents leave, embracing you one last time while telling you to good, and to listen to Eren.

“I’m not a child, mom. I’ll be fine. Have a safe flight.”

They lug their bags out, start the car and leave.

You were about to go back to your room until Eren spoke, “you wanna get some pizza?”

“Um, sure.”

“Cool.”

God, you don’t know why it was so awkward. So you scurry back to your room to escape the tension.

When the pizza arrives, he calls you down. You go, grab 2 slices before heading back up stairs.

“Where you going? Let’s watch a movie or something. Is this house you treat your guest?”

He was teasing, but you were a bit embarrassed. You softly apologize, sitting at the edge of the couch, while he sat down right next to you.

Your heartbeat was ridiculously fast as you watched him turn on a horror movie before sitting back and munching on his pizza.

You hated horror—your parents would never let you watch this kind of shit in the first place.

But you were meek, too afraid to speak up because Eren seemed to be enjoying it.

For most of the movie you hid under the blanket. But during the scary parts he pried it away forcing you to watch.

You closed your eyes, plugged your ears and he laughs while tickling you to look

The whole thing left you in a compromising position

You were laid on your back, breathless. Your tits were pushed up, nearly slipping out your tank top. Your shorts had moved down a bit, exposing a little bit of your baby pink, cotton underwear.

Eren’s above you, taking in how you look beneath him, his cock growing harder by the second.

He stares for a moment before leaning down and kissing you. He’s impatient, ripping your tank top into two, lips attaching to your hard nipple.

The shorts are torn apart too, exposing the wet spot in the middle of your underwear.

His hands were quick, sliding in your underwear before sliding two fingers in

Your hips buck, hands coming up to grip his biceps

“You’re so fucking tight.” He hissed. “Let’s fix that, yeah?”

He pulls his sweats and boxers down in one motion and you panic (cuz of his huge cock).

You sit up, backing up a bit.

“Wait, wait I don’t think I’m ready for that.”

But he doesn’t back down. Are you kidding?

He pulls you back down and you yelp, pushing at his chest. He’s got you folded in half, giving him a perfect view of your glistening pussy

“Wait, I-I don’t”

“It’s okay, I’ll be gentle”

He hushes you, pushing his tip into you.

You squirm, crying at the stretch. “Please! I don’t wanna do this.”

Eren expected you to be a virgin. You were tight like one but when no blood leaked through, he roughly grabbed your neck, forcing you to look at him.

“Is this your first time?”

Your face burned in shame because it wasn’t. Back in high school, you were pressured to give your precious virginity to the popular boy.

You shook your head and he slaps you, making you sob harder.

“And here I was going easy on you. You’re a fucking whore. Does your daddy know you’ve disgraced yourself?”

From there, he had no mercy.

He waited long for this. Ever since he laid eyes on you, all he wanted to do was corrupt you.

He got close to your family, was your dad’s only friend. Isolating you was too easy—your parents had practically done it for him.

Now it was his time to take.

His pace increased, balls slapping against your ass. You can only cry. Eren was much bigger and stronger than you, there’s no way you could fight him off.

He held your body down, tightening the grip on your neck when you moved around too much.

Eren had no mercy on you. Not one ounce of remorse. He fucked you through each orgasm.

“Please slower! It hurts- it’s too much, please!” You whimper out but he backhands you hard.

“Shut the fuck up. I don’t wanna fucking hear you.”

His hand pressed down on your stomach so he could feel himself. He was in deep, tip pushing against your wall with each thrust.

He didn’t stop until he was satisfied.

You had passed out of exhaustion, head fuzzy because he was restricting your breathing

When you woke up, there was a blindfold on you. You were on your side and Eren was behind you.

His arms were wrapped around your body, keeping you close to him

You move frantically, trying to get the blindfold off, and it seemed to wake Eren.

He groaned, pulling you tighter against him before throwing his leg over yours and grinding his dick against your slit.

It’s enough to get him going so he quickly manhandles you to be on top of him, grinding his hardening cock against you.

You couldn’t help but moan. The tip of his cock was rubbing against your clit, and it left you wanting more.

Eren notices this of course, and ruts against you faster and when you respond by moving your hips, it was game over.

“Atta, girl. You fucking love this just as much as I do, don’t you?”

His cock slips in, you whimper but let him hold you against his chest. His hips move faster into you and you move with him, eager to release.

The room filled with filthy sounds, his grunting and your moaning until you squirted around him, soaking his pelvis and the bedsheets under.

Eren whistles before chuckling, “and you were fucking begging me to stop. Your pussy begs to differ, sweetheart.”

You definitely weren’t in your right mind, but Eren was so big, the way he filled you to the brim had you seeing stars

“Take the blindfold off. I can’t see anything.” You whine, breathlessly.

“That’s the whole point, baby.”

He doesn’t take it off, instead pulls you down for a kiss before flipping your position. He’s got you on your back, thighs pressed into your chest.

He pushed in again, hips snapping into you, desperate for another release.

At this point your thighs are shaking, and you’re throbbing down there. It was a new feeling, it hurt but felt good at the same time so you didn’t know what to think of it.

Eren’s pace was ruthless. He had pretty good stamina plus, making a mess of you, it kept his dick pretty fucking hard.

The weekend was filled with filthy fucking.

When I tell you he fucked you all over the house, I goddamn mean it.

Kitchen, living room, shower, closet, the fucking laundry room. He had you outside, legs spread as he fucked you on a lawn chair.

He was pounding into your pussy, rubbing your clit while saying, “gonna marry you, baby. Make you my wife, knock you full with my kids. How does that sound?”

“N-no! My parents would-ah! Eren!” Your fingers flew to his hair, legs shaking as you came around him.

He slaps you, “you don’t have a fucking choice. Unless you wanna disgrace your family name by having a child before marriage.”

You rubs your clit before bottoming out and cumming inside you again. You shake, as he pulls another orgasm from you

“When your parents come back, we’ll ask for their blessing, yeah?”

Hope you liked it <3 sorry for any mistakes 😵‍💫

[espeiderman]

An attack on Titan artwork I had scribbled down shortly after I finished the series

[rellikart]

Mommy?

[yutamayo]

so this is really just a broad possible passing maybe thot but I'm watching Killing Eve and in love and wondering if I would ever write a fic following the exact (with slight alterations) storyline but for one of my fave ships.

Who do y'all think would fit Eve & Villainelle? 👀

Update:

It's gonna be YUTOGE

Yuta = Villainelle & Toge = Eve

I'm going to have to probs finish/or at least get a couple seasons in (total 4) before I start writing properly but will already be planning it as I go. It'll be alot easier to write than my few previous fics bc I'll p much be following the show completely w/just adjustments to fit JJK better but will post updates and idk hopefully will actually not take 84 years to write this

[lotus-n-l0ve]

YOU WERE MINE, ARE MINE & WILL BE MINE

— Yandere!Eren Yeager x Female Reader

*⁠.⁠✧ SYNOPSIS : Your boyfriend Eren is no longer the sweet and caring man you once knew.

*⁠.⁠✧ WARNINGS & TAGS : Au, dark!eren, possesive!eren, yandere!eren, non-con, sexual assault, kidnapping, abuse, physical abuse, beating, yandere theme,1.8k words.

*⁠.⁠✧ — NAVIGATION // ATTACK ON TITAN MASTERLIST

DO NOT PRESS [READ MORE] IF YOU ARE NOT COMFORTABLE. MINORS DNI, IF YOU DO THEN IT'S YOUR OWN RESPONSIBILITY.

Eren Yeager, Your boyfriend was not the same sweet and caring man you had met years ago. You met Eren through a mutual friend, Armin Alert, at a party. While he was the captain of Tokyo High's football team, you were an average student with only two close friends.

Though both your lives were polar opposite of each other, you two instantly it. By the end of the night you were parting away with each other's phone number and an already fixed date.

On your first date he brought you to a beautiful cafe on the outskirts. He told you occasionally visited the place. It was like a dream. He was the boyfriend every girl asks for. He would take you out on dates, buy flowers and gifts for you.

Always noticed every little thing about you. He knew things about you that even you didn't. He was always so affectionate to you. At first you were flattered that he was giving your relationship so much attention and love. But soon things turned really creepy.

He started to get more possesive over time. Someone stared at you too long. You stayed out too long outside. You should not be out that long. Why did a stranger ask you for directions? Why does your classmate sit so close to you?

In the beginning he would doubt others' intentions. He would say they have ulterior motives to harm you, harm your relationship. But soon he started doubting you too. The distance from your college to home is 19 minutes but why did you take 24 minutes? What did you do in that extra time?

Those doubts created cracks in your once beautiful relationship. Fighting became more frequent. From him saying shit about others to questioning your characters. Until everything went too far.

"Eren, Toru was just a classmate asking for notes." You shouted at the man standing in front of you.

"A classmate or the guy you keep on cheating on me with?" Eren glared back at you, qually angry.

"You know what? I'm done with your bullshit. Always accusing me of cheating. I'm leaving. Bye."

As those words left your mouth, the temperature of the room dropped. In a blink of an eye Eren was in front of you, breathing down your face. His hand clutching your jaw. He had never been much scarier.

"What did you just say?" He gritted out, "Leave me? You will leave me?"

"Eren let me go. You are hurting me." You tried to push him off of you but he ignored your pleas, "When did you get so bold huh? Is it that guy you are cheating on me with is giving you all this courage? I need to put you in your place before you decide to do something stupid and try to leave me."

He mumbled the last part before he threw you on the floor. You yelled when your head hit the marbled ground. Before you know it Eren was holding the standing lamp over his head and bringing it down on your left ankle with his full strength. He did that repeatedly ignoring when cry and scream in pain and beg him to stop, only mumbling —

"You need to know your place."

"How will you leave me when you won't even be able to walk?"

"That classmate of yours is trying to break us apart baby."

"I won't let him do that."

"I'm doing this for us."

"If you can't walk, you won't leave me. You can't leave me. I won't let you."

He hit you till your ankle broke. The pain was so immense that you wanted to faint and you did just that. The last thing you remember is Eren taking you in his arms and whispering how much he loves you.

The next time you woke up to the sound of various chirping of birds. Weird. Because the part of the city you live in doesn't have many of them because of all the pollution. You blinked your eyes open. A wooden ceiling coming in your view. But your bedroom's ceilings are white and definitely not made of wood.

Confused, you sat up on the bed when you felt agonising pain in your left leg. It was bandaged up in a cast. You sat up straight as the horrendous memory of Eren beating you like a beast came back.

What happened after you passed out? Where was Eren? And most importantly where were you?

Quickly you got down from the bed and limped to the window. You gasp as you push the blinds away. In front of you, you could only see trees in your view. Your heart filled up with worry and you felt nauseous.

Your body stiffened when the bedroom door opened and someone walked in, "Oh! You are up, love?"

He sounded surprised and just like the man when you had started dating years ago. You turned to face him.

"What the fuck is this? And where am I?" You snapped.

"Calm down love. Why are you getting all angry?" He talked as if nothing had happened, "Come sit on the bed. Your ankle is injured and needs rest."

He walked up to you and tried to hold your hand but you jerked his hand off of you, "Stop playing Eren."

"Listen love—" He tried to calm you down but you cut off his words, "Don't listen love me. You are accused me of cheating, you always fight with me and now you broke my fucking leg, Eren. I want to go back home. I don't want to be with you. I want to fucking leave."

"Why the fuck are you always talking about leaving me?" Eren sneered as he fisted your hair, making you yelp, "It's all because of him right? Don't worry. By the time I'm done, the only thing you would think about is me."

He pushed you back on the bed and hovered over you. That day for the first time you hated the feeling of his hand on you. The room echoed with your begging to be released and cry for help. But Eren didn't stop. He ripped off your clothes and laid you bare on the bed. Marked your body with red, purple bruises and the bites of his teeth.

He violated you, torn you apart, from inside and outside. After what felt like painful days but were really hours he stop. By that time you were numb, exhausted and unconscious.

Since then your days in hell started. You could not move for almost a week. That time he was all affectionate and caring towards you but you couldn't wouldn't trust him anymore. Not after what he had done to you. When you finally gained the energy to move you tried to escape.

Eren was out that day like you have observed the last few days and would not return till evening. You had plenty of time to get out of there. You somehow pulled yourself up and sat on the bed. Throwing off the blanket off you stumbled up, your left leg hanging in there air.

You lumped around the bed and opened the door. Looking both sides of the hallway, when you were sure there was no one, you decided to go to the right. The hallway was long and dimmed. At the end of the hallway you found stairs going down. The stairs led you to the living room. You could see the front door.

On checking you found the door unlocked so without any wait you ran out of the house and into the woods. All this while unaware of a certain pair of green eyes following your every movement through the many CCTV cameras installed in the house and as well as throughout the forest.

Eren snickered seeing your tiny figure running through the forest, trying to find your way out. He knew you would try to run away but poor you, you didn't know that you were so deep into the forest that there was not a single human being in 90 kilometres of radiation.

"I'm not that heartless. I will let you enjoy your freedom. For now." Eren muttered before averting his eyes to the bloodied whimpering figure tied to the chair, "Now, where were we, Toru?"

You ran and ran with your broken ankle as much as you could but you felt trapped. Wherever you see, there were only tall similar looking trees. You don't know how long it was before you stopped under a tree to rest. You leaned back on the tree, chest heaving up and down. The sun was already setting. Soon it was night and you didn't know what kind of wild animals were roaming around here.

Fear creeped in your heart. Was running away without any plan a bad idea? You wondered. But you could not stay there either. No with him. You didn't know what he would do. The sudden sound of leaves rustling startled you, followed by the sound of footsteps.

"Y/N." He dragged you name, making you still, "Where are you?"

You slapped your palm over your mouth and stopped breathing to not make any noise.

"I know you are here."

"Come on. Come out already." He whined.

"Oh! I understand. We are playing hide and seek." He giggled as he stopped walking, "But you forgot something, love. You always get caught."

Your eyes widened and your heart stopped. He................He was standing behind you. You hasitentaly turned your head back. Your body was shaking as you lifted your eyes to meet his lunatic ones. His eyes were shaking, unfocused while his lips were curled up in a maniac smile.

You screamed as you got up and started running away with tears rolling down your eyes.

Eren's eyes followed as he snorted. You never understand do you?

"By the end of the night you truly will forget the word runaway."

Your vision was blurry but you didn't care. You had to get away from there. Away from him as soon as possible. His mad face flashed in your mind making you quiver. You could not recognise him anymore. He was not your Eren. Your Eren never scared you but-but you were scared of him.

Fast stomps followed you whichever turn you took. It was catching up on you. Suddenly your broken leg stepped on a branch and you fell on your face. Your head hit the solid ground. The lack of oxygen was making you dizzy as you slipped in and out of consciousness.

Eren walked up to you and crouched down beside you before picking you up in his arms. He started walking back to the wooden house with you in his arm—

Don't worry Y/N. I'll never let you go. You were mine, are mine and will be mine. That classmate who tried to separate us is already dead.

© 𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐔𝐒-𝐍-𝐋𝟎𝐕𝐄 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑, 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 — all content rights belongs to LOTUS-N-L0VE. do not plagiarise any works and do not repost or translate onto any other sites.

All the rights and credits of the characters, gifs, songs and pictures used here belongs to their rightful owners.

[kingkaisen]

FIVE HUSBANDS

˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐕𝐈𝐈𝐈 || 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐄 — 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈 ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗

˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗

˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗

˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 || 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗

♡ — 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: eren, armin, connie, jean, levi, & reiner x celebrity reader

♡ — 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: Following Connie’s murderous attack on two of your ex lovers, one of them fights to stay alive, but the other person tragically died. Your world has turned into nothing but a mess of rumors, sadness, and fear, but there is hope — and hope comes in the form of your remaining lovers who haven’t yet given up on you. But, in the end, your heart will forever belong to your one true love.

♡ — 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓: 18+ ONLY || MINORS DNI || DARK CONTENT — fem reader, modern/celebrity au, brief sex mention, heavy angst, marriage, divorce, cheating, mentions of violence & blood, gun mentions, miscarriage, mentions of false imprisonment, toxic relationship, manipulation, stalking, murder talk, suicide consideration, illness, hospitalization, & major character death. Some of the warnings listed here don’t necessarily apply to this part, but the series as a whole.

♡ — 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 23k

♡ — 𝐀/𝐍: Hi everyone! Welcome to part 8, or rather, part 1 of the finale. Shoutout to @spicerackofblorbos for helping me plot this! I can’t believe this series is coming to an end. Please let me know what you think in the comments or in my inbox! There’s one more part after this.

— YEARS AGO - NEW YORK CITY —

“Mom? We’re back.” The front door — old with worn-out creases along its faded white wood — creaked when you opened it. 

If your mother couldn’t hear your voice as you greeted her upon returning to your apartment, then the sound of the raggedy front door announced your presence for you.

“Hey bird,” your mother’s comforting nickname, derived of the word songbird, made you smile. It always warmed you up, just like her cooking did as well. Even with a tight budget, her meals were always exceptional. 

Expensive ingredients grown and processed in beautiful foreign countries couldn’t compare to meals that were made with the love of a mother, who stood over a hot stove, preparing recipes that had been passed down from one generation to the next.

Perhaps, the thought of food was on your mind thanks to the tantalizing aroma of stew simmering in the kitchen a short distance away. A few steps away from the front door usually landed you right in front of the stove — the outdated apartment was rather cramped.

It too had been around for generations and generations.

Stepping to the side, you let Armin Arlert enter your home before shutting the squeaky door behind him.

“Armin’s here,” you called out, but truth be told, you didn’t need to. Armin was always here. He was practically family.

Together, you both made the short stride into the living room, where your mother was sitting on the couch, watching television. It wasn’t the nicest or most modern T.V. set in the world, but even so, Armin’s blue eyes were instantly glued to the impressive screen consisting of moving images. He didn’t have a T.V., and all of the other fifteen-year-old kids his age made it their duty to make fun of him for it.

“Hi miss L/N,” Armin greeted your mother, a soft smile gracing his face, his eyes darting between her and the television.

“Come on and have a seat.” Your mother nodded to the empty spot on the sofa next to her. Her hands were steadily knitting what appeared to be a blue sweater.

Armin politely sat down beside her. 

You sat on the floor as there wasn’t enough room on the tiny, dark grey sofa — your mother despised the depressing color; she dreamed of having a cushiony beige couch with lots of decorative pillows. 

You leaned your head against Armin’s knee, feeling the cool fabric of his worn-out blue jeans against the side of your head. Unbeknownst to you both, your mother saw the gentle display of affection, and she smiled. 

The sight of her daughter slowly falling in love — even if neither you nor Armin realized it yet — warmed her heart. 

“We can switch if you want to sit on the couch,” Armin offered.

“I’m fine. I like the floor.”

Armin ruffled your hair a bit. “Okay,” he said.

Turning his attention toward your mother, who glanced between the small and heavy T.V. and her knitting project, glasses hanging around the tip of her nose, he asked, “What are you watching?”

“The news,” placing both of her knitting needles in one hand, she grabbed the remote sitting on the arm of the sofa next to her and turned the volume up three notches. 

“I know you teens don’t watch the news nowadays, but you both should look at this, now. A kid in L.A. around your age just got arrested for playin’ too rough.”

“Huh?” You wrinkled your nose. “What does that even mean?”

“He was hangin’ out with his friends and ended up pushin’ one of them down a hill. Poor baby got hit by a speedin’ car. Now the boy who did it is gonna go to prison.” 

As you looked at the television screen, the image of a mugshot appeared. It was a teenage boy with sickly pale skin — probably stress-related, you figured — and a shaved head, his hazel eyes shining with tears.

“This story made national news because your generation needs to learn to be more careful. You two are always hangin’ out outside, so just be safe, alright?”

“Yes ma’am,” you and Armin replied in unison.

Several minutes of news-watching passed on by. Your stomach started to rumble, hunger greeting you like an unwelcomed, familiar friend. 

But if you were hungry, then Armin must have been starving. 

Unlike you, he didn’t have breakfast that morning, or dinner the night before. Though the servings were small, it was better than surviving off of small pieces of bread and water like he was forced to do.

Turning around, you glanced back at him. He was fidgeting with his thumbs. 

The sweet smell of food traveling from the kitchen to underneath his nostrils certainly didn’t help the hunger pain.

While he knew your mother would offer him a warm plate, as she always did, he didn’t want to let on just how starved he was. He was too polite to show any indication that he was hungry.

But you recognized the signs. He was your best friend, after all. 

And you knew what to do.

“Mom? Is the food ready? I’m hungry.”

“Hm?” She mumbled, distracted by the news, which displayed the teary-eyed teenage boy in court, handcuffed like a criminal. “Oh, yes. Everything’s ready. You two go wash your hands and get somethin’ to eat. Make sure you turn the stove off.”

After making your filling, steaming bowls of stew, you and Armin decided to eat your food outdoors, sitting on the curb in front of your apartment.

The sky was a darkening shade of blue, orange streetlights brightening up the road — which meant you couldn’t go beyond the curb.

Mom’s rules.

Insects chirped in the distance in the high, green grass nearby. Fireflies started to dance.

“I hate when my mom watches that depressing stuff,” you said, scooping up a soft carrot with your spoon and taking a bite. “She always turns it into life lessons too. Like, I’m not gonna push you in front of a car or whatever. I’m not that stupid.”

“She just wants you to be safe,” Armin paused to swallow his food. “I think it’s kinda sweet.”

“You’re just saying that because she’s feeding you,” you teased, elbowing him gently. “She’s your best friend right now.”

“Got that right.”

For a few moments, you and Armin both ate in a comforting silence.

“Do you have to leave soon?” With a frown, you glanced up at him. “Mom said she wants to cut your hair.”

“Guess it’s getting pretty long, huh?” Armin touched his blonde strands. “I can’t stay though. Work.”

“Really? But what about school in the morning? Can you even work this late? Aren’t child labor laws a thing?”

“Shush, it’s fine.” Armin stood up, and you did the same. “I’m dropping out of school once I turn sixteen next year, so I guess it doesn’t matter if I show up tomorrow tired.”

“Okay,” you mumbled with a little frown. “I’ll take your bowl back inside then since you can’t stay or whatever.”

“Thanks,” Armin smiled kindly. “And tell your mom I said thanks for the meal.”

Suddenly, the fifteen-year-old reached down and plucked a yellow weed out of the ground. 

“Dandelion,” he said. With a playful grin, he stuck it behind your ear. 

“Get that dirty piece of grass out of my hair,” you grimaced, but even so, you didn’t dare remove it. 

“Absolutely not,” his grin softened. Despite his smile, his blue eyes glistened with sadness. He despised leaving your side, even for a work shift. “Well, I bid you an adieu or whatever.”

Your childhood friend started to walk away. 

“That’s the worst French I’ve ever heard, but bye!” You shouted with a small laugh.

However, your amusement quickly died out. 

A stomachache from hunger — which was now gone, thankfully — was similar to the twisting pains of watching your friend walk away, even with the promise of seeing them again. 

As if sensing your sudden sadness, Armin briefly turned around. The orange streetlights illuminated his kind face. 

“I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Okay,” you mumbled back. “See you later. So long, or whatever.”

With a soft smile, Armin started to walk off again.

The boy you unknowingly loved was gone.

— PRESENT DAY - LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA — 

“Good morning everyone, and thank you for watching KTLA news. I am Daniella Robinson, reporting live from outside former CS Records manager Levi Ackerman’s house here in Los Angeles, California. Yesterday evening, police dispatchers received a disturbing phone call from singer and actress F/N L/N, in which she claimed that Eldian Devils band member, Eren Yeager, had been shot. Along with him, a waiter named Armin Arlert was shot as well. Both men were ex-husbands of Y/N, and after being questioned by the police, Y/N claimed that they were apparently shot by her current husband and owner of CS Records, Connie Springer.” 

The breeze blew through the young woman’s black hair. She stared into the camera lens in front of her, clenching her microphone.

“We have not been able to get our hands on the original phone call made by F/N L/N yet, nor reach out to her for a statement, but images of her leaving the police station with Levi Ackerman are currently being posted all over the internet and social media platforms, with some headlining articles claiming that the shocked woman, soaked in blood, looked like Carrie White, a fictional character from a horror novel created by Stephen King. As cruel as those comments are, they pale in comparison to the onslaught of articles, videos, and tweets circulating social media accusing Y/N of shooting the two men herself, or at the very least, conspired with Connie Springer to do so. 

While the police haven’t been able to locate Springer yet, we do know that Y/N is inside Levi Ackerman’s house, whom she has been accused of having an affair with in the past while married to Reiner Braun, an actor. When it comes to the fate of the two victims, Eren Yeager pulled through a very complicated and fatal surgery and is currently in a coma. However, Armin Arlert succumbed to his injuries, and has died around two A.M. this morning. Stay tuned for further updates as they become available to us.”

—

Annie Leonhart had warm hands.

Levi’s living room was cold. The air conditioning blasting throughout his mansion made sure of it. But Annie’s fingertips graced your skin before she wrapped her hand around yours snugly, and she was warm. You were grateful. 

Her sudden, comforting touch reminded you to breathe. To stay in the present.

The mechanical click of your eyelids cleared your blurry vision, which granted you the ability to see her hand holding yours, intertwined fingers resting on your thigh — your legs covered by a pair of black sweatpants you hadn’t seen in a long time. 

It must have been an article of clothing you accidentally left behind after moving out of Levi’s home a long time ago. 

Temporarily living with Levi after Eren got arrested for physically assaulting Jean was, perhaps, the last time a piece of ordinary fabric touched your skin. Nothing fancy. Nothing worth hundreds or thousands of dollars. 

If only you could go back in time.

If only you could have fixed everything back then. 

If only your problems were still revolved around being a heartbreaker, and not witnessing murder.

No.

That wasn’t good enough.

If only you and Armin had stayed in New York City together, spent your days working in that little bakery and sitting on the rooftop of that abandoned building, staring at the beautiful stars above.

But now, you would never get a chance to look up at the stars with him ever again. 

You would never get another chance to stare into his gorgeous eyes, listen to his soft voice, or hug his warm body — his subtle scent of cinnamon rolls washing over you.

He was gone.

He transitioned from this world and into the afterlife not surrounded by loved ones as an old man in a cozy bed as he once dreamed, but surrounded by unknown surgeons — cold, terrified, and in an unspeakable amount of pain. 

Nothing could bring him back. 

Nothing could . . .

“Hey,” Annie softly called out. 

The blonde-haired woman leaned forward a bit. You could see her concerned gaze within your peripheral vision. You didn’t have the energy to turn your head and face her. 

“Your breathing was . . .” Annie paused, trying to search for the right word. “Just try to breathe.”

Breathe.

What a difficult activity that had turned out to be.

Your panic attacks were something Levi had told Annie to watch out for. He gave her quite a few directions as he gathered his belongings, getting ready to leave his home.

“I’m going to pick up Carla and Grisha from the airport and take them to the hospital,” Levi had said earlier. “I have to keep Eren’s parents safe. What a fucked up world we live in.”

Eren forced his family to leave Los Angeles to get away from Connie. They dreaded the thought of living far away from their son, especially when their boy forced them away for their safety, and yet, was staying behind. His poor mother often stayed awake at night, sitting by her cell phone and staring at the television, hoping that her famous, endangered son would survive another night in Hollywood — hell on earth, as she liked to call it. 

Her worst fear had come true.

Her beloved son had been shot and could die at any moment — while she was packing her bags, boarding the private jet with her distraught husband, or during the long flight from Maine to California.

“I’m about to leave,” Levi stepped into the living room after grabbing his car keys. “Come here, Annie.”

Annie pushed herself off of the couch, and the two of them stepped into the foyer.

“Listen to me,” Levi frowned. “I’m not worried about the paparazzi outside. They know better than to step on my property, so just let them take their shitty pictures from across the street. I don’t know where Connie is, but if he’s watching any news channel, then he knows Y/N’s here. He could show up. If that happens, there’s a gun in the storage closet. There are cameras outside as well, so you can see whoever’s walking around my house using the tablet in the living room. Keep the doors and windows locked.”

“Okay,” Annie nodded. “Anything else?”

“Reiner’s on his way,” Levi’s eyes darted away from Annie’s for a moment. “I don’t know if I can trust him, but he’s been calling my phone all morning. He was going to show up here anyway, so I’m hoping he can help you watch and protect her, but . . . keep an eye on him too, alright?”

“Wait, if you don’t trust him, then why would you let him come over-”

“I don’t trust anyone. Not entirely. But in this shitty situation, I don’t have much of a choice. You and him are my best bets. Mainly just you, but I don’t like the idea of you being here by yourself either. I trust him enough, okay? But still . . . watch him. You can’t ever be too goddamn cautious.” Levi unlocked one of the double doors. “I’ll call if anything happens.”

“Okay,” Annie said.

When Levi opened his front door, bright lights from invasive cameras flashed repeatedly. News reporters and paparazzi screamed his name. He shut the door behind him, which muffled the chaos outside. Annie locked it with a sigh, grateful for the silence.

The cold surface of the front door soothed her worries a little when she leaned her head against it.

She wasn’t used to dealing with stuff like this. 

When it came to protecting others as a women’s rights advocate, her work usually revolved around starting protests. Creating petitions. Hosting fundraisers. Telling misogynistic men to go to hell. 

As a stunt double, she’d fill in for celebrities during action films, and she had incredible skill when it came to parkour and martial arts, but beyond that, she wasn’t involved in celebrity scandals or murder tales happening in real life. 

Along with that, she barely knew you. 

You both spent time together, going out to dinner, grabbing drinks, or playing cards at Levi’s house, but it was never alone. It was always with the others: Mikasa, Sasha, Reiner, and occasionally, Levi. 

She didn’t mind watching over you. It was the right thing to do. 

But . . . if Connie came through Levi’s door with a weapon, would she put her life on the line for yours? 

Her life?

Annie touched the lock on the door. 

Who could blame her for wanting to leave? For not wanting to be your security guard and risk her own life?

She started to unlock the door, started to reach for her phone to call Levi and tell him that she couldn’t do it — but she didn’t.

She took her hand off of the lock.

If she left you alone and something happened, especially at the hands of your crazy, murderous husband, she would never forgive herself for leaving a defenseless woman behind with nothing but a gun you didn’t know how to fire.

Annie sighed once again. Taking the hair-grip off of her wrist, she pulled her hair into a low ponytail.

How likely was it for Connie to show up, anyway? With the cops looking for him and several potential witnesses with cameras and microphones outside, it was highly unlikely. 

Not to mention, it was Levi Ackerman’s house.

And Levi was truly a dangerous man.

“You can leave.”

Annie was startled by the sound of your voice, but the calm woman kept her composure. 

Slowly, you walked into the foyer, your hands in the pockets of your sweatpants. You coughed dryly. While you weren’t actively contagious or dying, you were still under the weather — someone who should be in bed, resting and recovering.

“I don’t need a babysitter. I’ll be fine,” You gave Annie as much of a smile as you could muster, which amounted to a half-hearted grin. 

One that — despite barely knowing you — she could see right through.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Annie said, stepping toward you and away from the door. “Come on, you should be in bed. Levi didn’t wash those sheets for nothing.”

Pressing a warm, comforting hand against your back, Annie started to guide you in the direction of the guest room, but before you both could make it far, frantic knocking occurred at the front door.

Based on the way the noise from outside picked up, along with the flickering white camera lights peeking through the curtained windows, Annie gathered that it must have been Reiner.

Even so, she ran to grab the tablet off of the living room coffee table first, and when she opened the camera footage, she saw a worried, kind-looking man impatiently waiting for the door to open, trying his hardest to avoid the cameras snapping rapidly from a distance.

Annie opened the door and practically pulled the man inside by his forest green jacket before shutting the door back and locking it. 

“Reiner,” you called out, and those gentle eyes of his locked with yours.

“Oh my god,” he sighed with relief. Blinking, a tear fell. 

Reiner walked over and wrapped his arms around you, giving you a comforting hug you so desperately needed.

The tall, gentle man rubbed your back soothingly, and you exhaled. Only then did you realize you were holding your breath.

“I couldn’t see you in the hospital,” Reiner leaned down and kissed the top of your head. “I tried, but Connie was in the lobby. Wasn’t sure you’d wanna see me anyway, but I had to see you now. I’m glad you’re safe. I’m sorry for your losses, Y/N. Both Armin and your baby.” 

“Reiner . . . you should leave Hollywood as quickly as you can.” 

“I’m not leaving without you-”

“Stop. Yes, you are.�� Pulling away from him, you looked into his eyes with a glassy gaze. “Connie shot Eren and killed . . . Armin because of their affiliation with me. He’s gone fucking crazy and you need to leave. I need to find Jean and tell him to leave too, or not to come back if he’s already gone. I-I haven’t seen him lately. Levi should go as well. Everyone should, even Annie and Sasha and-”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Annie interrupted, folding her arms across her chest. “Let's say we all move to Maine or Rhode Island, and for a while, we’re safe. Then what? We change our appearances and identities? Hide for the rest of our lives?”

“She’s right,” Reiner looked over at Annie, then stared back into your eyes. “Connie left you alive. Make him regret it.”

Several hours had passed.

Sitting at the breakfast nook in Levi’s kitchen, you couldn’t help but think about the good memory, a fleeting moment of happiness, that had occurred around this table, long ago. Drinking and playing cards with the others while Levi cooked steak a short distance away. 

Even he had managed to smile that day. 

Now, on this horrific day, Reiner was making homemade baked potato soup for dinner — his mother’s recipe. He knew how much you loved her cooking. A recipe for disaster, she called it, and meant it literally. 

“Whenever I was sick or feeling down, mom would make this for me,” Reiner said softly as he chopped up some potatoes. 

While Reiner cooked, Annie got up from her spot in the booth-like breakfast nook, turning around a bit as she opened the blinds, peeking out of the window.

“Everyone’s still out there,” she announced. “I think there are more reporters now, actually.” 

“My fault,” Reiner said, tossing a kitchen towel over his shoulder. “The world knows I’m here now, too. Not to mention they know Levi left and will return. They probably plan to bombard him on his way in.”

You had no idea what time it was, but nighttime had arrived, and Levi hadn’t called. 

It was odd, to say the least.

“I hope Levi’s alright,” you mumbled. 

Folding your arms on the table, you rested your head on them as if to hide and avoid being seen.

“I’m sure he’s just busy. He said he’d call if something happens, so I’d say him not calling is a good thing.” Annie closed the blinds and sat back down. Reaching out, she touched your hand. “How are you feeling?”

‘I feel like Eren’s going to die and Levi’s next. Then Connie will pick us all off one by one because no one is taking me seriously when I say everyone should leave California. But I also don’t give a damn. I just want to die so I can see Armin again,’ you thought. 

“Fine,” you lied. “Just worried.”

Suddenly, the tablet — which Annie had brought into the kitchen, not wanting to be far away from it — dinged, alerting everyone of detected motion around Levi’s front door.

Someone was right outside.

The distant, invasive shouts coming from the reporters and paparazzi camping out on the street had increased in volume, along with the flickering lights, which shone through the blinds.

“Must be Levi,” Reiner grabbed the tablet off of the kitchen island to double-check, but as he did so, the person outside knocked on the door. 

Levi wouldn’t need to knock. 

He had a key.

“Who is it?” Furrowing your brows, you watched the man frown in confusion.

“It’s, uh . . . Jean,” Reiner faltered worriedly. “He looks terrible.”

Opening the front door yourself was an idiotic idea, one that resulted in blinding lights and overwhelming shouts of your name. You grabbed Jean’s wrist. He winced in pain.

Letting go wasn’t an option. With cameras both snapping pictures and recording live for the entire world to see, releasing Jean’s wrist would lead to speculation and rumors. 

Why did Y/N let go of his wrist so suddenly? Did Jean yank himself away from her? Were they secretly hooking up and she had forgotten that people were watching them, so Jean pulled himself away? Is wrist-grabbing a secret code? Why is Jean at Levi’s house to begin with? Are all of Y/N’s ex-partners in on something? Did they . . .

You had no choice but to pull Jean inside and shut the front door behind him.

If there was any doubt that you might have been inside Levi’s house before, well, you gave the world confirmation just now. 

Looking up at the tall man, you had opened your mouth to speak — to ask him what he was doing here. Where he had been. Why he flinched when you grabbed ahold of his wrist. But at the sight of him, your jaw simply hung open in pure horror. 

Eren’s sudden disappearance upon hearing about your hospital stay had abruptly ended the Eldian Devils tour, but Jean Kirstein hadn’t been by his side during the last few shows before then. Every promo picture and trending Twitter video showed Eren on stage rocking all by himself under the guise that Jean was “sick” and unable to perform. In reality, Connie’s Silent Men just weren’t careful during their routine beatings and had given him injuries that no amount of makeup could fix, so they kept him out of the spotlight. 

However, Jean’s whereabouts were unknown even after Eren ended the tour, and no one truly cared.

No one knew that they should have cared.

Slowly, your trembling hand covered your mouth. It was a subconscious act. A result of shock.

“Jean,” Reiner called out, stepping into the foyer. “What the hell happened to you? Where’ve you been?”

Jean could hear the man speaking, but his bloodshot eyes only stared into your sad ones, not bothering to look away. 

But your eyes did. 

You scanned his entire body — every bruise, every scar.

Much like Eren was when he visited you in the hospital, Jean was thinner too. Hollow cheeks right underneath his dark undereye circles. His long-sleeved, dark blue shirt was loose around his upper body. His black jeans were baggier. While certain visible parts of his pale body were black and blue with old bruises or bright red from fresh scars, it was nothing compared to his hands.

Jean cherished his hands more than anything. 

He cherished them more than any other body part. More than his fans. More than money. 

Anyone could say what they wanted about him, that he was a homewrecker, attention seeker, living in Eren’s shadow — it didn’t matter. As long as he was acknowledged as a musician.

Playing instruments and making music was what made Jean Kirstein Jean Kirstein. He needed to stroke the keys of his piano, write lyrics, or layer chords just as much as he needed to eat and breathe. Connie knew that. 

He knew that making music meant everything to his former best friend.

“Connie hurt you, didn’t he?” You cupped Jean’s injured, bandaged-wrapped hands with your own, eyeing his scratched fingers that were formerly twisted. Someone must have given him medical attention.

“Not directly,” Jean coughed dryly. He hadn’t spoken in a long time. “His men did. Per fucking usual.”

“What happened?” Your eyes ran across his ruined skin. “Tell me everything.”

You, Annie, and Jean were all sitting at the breakfast nook while Reiner continued to make his soup over the stove, ensuring that there was enough for Jean to have some as well, and Levi, once he returned.

Jean eyed the cup of water sitting on the table in front of him. The droplets of condensation slipped off of the cool glass and pooled around the circular bottom, spilling over onto the coaster. 

He wanted to drink the refreshing water you kindly made him, but with the state his hands were in, he was certain he’d drop it. And he didn’t want to ask for a straw. He didn’t want to ask anyone for anything.

No one had ever given a damn about him before, especially you. Not that he could have blamed you.

Jean spoke of the inhumane treatment that Connie had put him and Eren through during their last-minute tour. As he described the abuse — a look of anger, sadness, and disappointment on your face in the form of a clenched jaw, furrowed brows, and glassy eyes — it had confirmed one thing: you had no idea what was happening to him and Eren. And he was relieved. 

“I was living in his house . . . I married him . . . and I didn’t know that he was still treating you guys that way. I should’ve known. I don’t why I just assumed he’d stop.” Your hands started to tremble. “I’m so sorry, Jean.”

“What happened after you couldn’t perform anymore?” Annie asked plainly. “Where’d you go?”

“I was being punished,” Jean smiled sadly in disbelief. “Those assholes blew my pupil, so I couldn’t go on stage or be seen in public, and the company had lost a lot of money trying to make up for my absence — refunding people who bought meet-and-greet passes to see me — but it wasn’t my fault. But they locked me in the recording studio anyway and fucked up my hands so I . . . couldn’t play anything. Kept me locked in there for weeks until now.” 

You shuddered. 

“Jesus,” Reiner exhaustedly rubbed his eyes with his hand. His grip on the stirring spoon tightened. “That’s sick, Jean. I’m so sorry. We had no idea.” “How’d you get out? Did they let you go? Have you seen Connie today?”

Jean shook his head, answering your last question first. 

“I haven’t seen him. Uh . . . Levi found me. I guess he was the only one who noticed I was missing.” Jean’s eyes glistened with sadness. Being forgotten hurt more than his festering wounds.

“Anyway, he got me out of there, fixed up my hands, stuck me in a car with a driver, and told me to come here. He told me what happened too. I’m sorry for your loss, Y/N. Armin was a good person, far as I know. He deserved to live a long life.” 

Your eyes darted down to your lap. Your throat was dry — a lump had formed in it that was practically painful and felt as if it strained your neck. It wouldn’t go away. Right now, you needed the glass of water sitting on the table just as much as Jean did.

“Levi said he was going to the airport to get Carla, then to the hospital,” Annie blinked, her face emotionless as she spoke plainly. “You’re saying he also stopped at CS Records, got past Connie’s security, and freed you? That doesn’t seem right.”

“I agree.” Reiner pulled down several bowls from the cabinet across from the stove. His tone, however, wasn’t exactly accusatory but filled with curiosity. “How’d he know where to find you in the first place?”

“I don’t know,” Jean shrugged. “But think about it, big guy. Levi and Connie used to be pretty close. There was a time when CS Records was nothing more than the band, Connie, and Levi all working from a cheap rented-out studio. In a way, Connie owes a lot of his success to Levi, I guess.”

“So Levi pretty much knows how Connie thinks,” Annie said.

“Yeah. Got that right.”

Hot baked potato soup was poured into four white, glass bowls. Reiner served everyone. When he made his way over to Jean, the bowl clinked gently as he sat it down on the table in front of the injured man. Discreetly, he put a straw in Jean’s drink and moved the glass cup closer toward him.

Jean looked at him with his light-brown eyes, casting a grateful glance as a silent thank you.

Reiner gave him a nod. 

Jean watched as the blonde-haired man whispered something into your ear, and then motioned for Annie to grab her soup and follow him out of the kitchen.

Furrowing his eyebrows, Jean watched you move from one side of the breakfast nook and scoot around the booth until you were sitting right beside him.

“What are you doing?”

“Helping you eat,” you grabbed his spoon, scooping up a bit of soup with a tiny potato chuck in it.

‘Oh, I get it,’ Jean thought. ‘Annie and Reiner must’ve left so I wouldn’t feel so embarrassed about being spoon-fed like a baby. This fucking sucks.’

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” you said caringly as if reading his thoughts. “We all need a little extra help sometimes.”

When you raised the spoon to his mouth, Jean hesitated. 

“Come on,” your encouraging words were followed by you darting the spoon toward his lips a bit more. 

Finally, he took a bite.

“I understand how you feel,” You said, lowering the spoon back into the bowl of soup. “Levi had to help me bathe. Scrubbed me down because I couldn’t do it myself. Like I said, sometimes people just need a little more help.”

A tiny wave of relief washed over Jean. Your words helped.

Silently, you fed Jean another bite, then several more.

“Your own soup is gonna get cold,” Jean nodded in the direction of your steaming, awaiting bowl across the table. 

“There’s a microwave here,” you said bluntly. 

“Alright, smartass,” with a teasing tone, Jean smiled a bit. 

“Excuse me?” You said with both shock and playfulness. “Alright, fine. Since you wanna call me that . . .”

Your words trailed off into a curious silence that piqued Jean’s interest. Scooping up another spoonful of soup, you guided it towards Jean’s mouth. This time around, you decided to coo and sing at him.

“Here comes the airplane, open wide! You can do it!” 

“Y/N, I swear on my mother that I will bite your hand. I can’t fight you right now, but I’ll chew the hell out of your finger.”

Suddenly, you laughed. 

It was that big, beautiful laugh that no one had heard in what felt like a lifetime — the wholehearted chuckle that your nauseating media-training classes had driven out of you. 

The version of yourself that used to experience such joy had died a long time ago — suffocated to death by the pressure and weight of fame, torturous love, and neverending misery. 

To hear it again was a blessing. 

You didn’t know if your soul allowed for such boisterous laughter anymore. 

And for Jean, witnessing such a sight made him feel like he was falling in love all over again. 

The corners of his mouth twitched. He was heartbroken and joyous at the same time. He wanted to cry and laugh. 

The sound of your laughter had attracted Reiner, who stood in the archway of the kitchen, grinning. He was happy to hear your laugh again as well, even if his heart did sting a bit from jealousy.

After all, he wasn’t the one who caused it. 

“Sounds like someone’s cheered up a bit,” Reiner said softly. 

“Tell . . . tell Reiner what you said,” you huffed out, attempting to control your laughter as you gently tapped Jean’s arm. By now, your cheeks were hurting. It was a beautiful feeling.

“I think you’re the only person who would find that funny, Y/N.” Jean grinned, rolling his eyes playfully. Memories of you — the old you — laughing at the smallest, most insignificant things flashed in Jean’s mind. 

Witnessing the look of disgust and sadness on Eren’s face when he accidentally dipped his chicken finger in cocktail sauce instead of ketchup and ate it made you nearly do a spit-take with your water one day during your brief time touring with Eldian Devils long ago. 

Coming across a mediocre meme online had you clenching your stomach and finding the nearest person to show. 

You were just that sort of person. Or, at least, you used to be.

If human beings had true individual purposes and Jean’s was to make music, then yours was to laugh.

“Y/N, can we talk for a sec?”

Reiner’s sudden serious tone snapped Jean out of his pleasant thoughts. 

The last few huffs of laughter died out, your smile faded away, and you nodded. 

Scooting out of the booth, you followed Reiner — grabbing your soup and bringing it along with you.

From what you knew about Levi, he wouldn’t be too pleased with you eating such an easily spillable meal on his couch, but Reiner didn’t want to chat with you in the formal dining room. It would have been too odd, he figured.

“I know now isn’t the right time, but maybe when things are . . . better,” Reiner paused, “I was hoping we could go out for dinner and talk about everything.”

“By everything, do you mean us?” You sat the bowl of soup down on the coffee table. You had lost your appetite again. “It might not be the conversation you’re hoping for, Reiner.” “I know. I just want to know what happened. How did you go from loving me to marrying Connie? Did he really get in your head that much, or did you really love him?” 

Reiner’s words carried a harsher, heavier tone than he had intended. And when he was met with silence as a response, your eyes fixated on the unlit fireplace, Reiner sighed softly.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have brought any of this up right now. It’s selfish.”

“It’s fine.” Turning to look at him, you tried your best to smile as a way of easing the tension. “I mean it, it’s fine. You deserve an answer.”

“You don’t have to give it to me right now, though. I can wait.”

Reiner was always that type of person — the kind-hearted lover. The savior of some sort. He was even the perfect ex, oddly enough. 

“I do love you, Reiner,” you said softly, yet sternly. “Just like I told Eren; I love all of you. I thought I didn’t. Tried to convince myself that I kinda hated all of you, but I realized that wasn’t true.”

“What made you realize that?”

Your eyes flickered down to your shoes. A smile of regret flashed across your exhausted face. “When I successfully pushed everyone away and forced myself into a loveless marriage. When I almost died. When I lost my . . . kid. I wanted someone to be there — You, Levi, Eren, Jean . . . Armin — I just needed all of you. But I can’t have all of you.”  

“I think . . .” Reiner paused, his eyes squinting a bit as he thought about his words carefully before uttering them. “I think that, even so, you loved Armin the most. We were all fools to think otherwise. I saw the way you touched him . . . hugged him the longest the night you told all of us to leave you alone. . . kinda pieced it together then. He was your soulmate.”

Soulmate.

What a horrific word.

The boy you had grown up with, the dandelion-plucking, hardworking, beautiful blonde-haired baker from New York — the one with the scarred hands and a sweet smile, who smelt of cinnamon and enjoyed reading. 

He was the other half of your soul, it would seem.

He was the human part.

And he was gone.

He appeared in your imagination bittersweetly. Standing in the high grass underneath a darkening evening sky was Armin, seven years old with a big head and even bigger blue eyes, holding his tiny hands out so the nearby fireflies would land on his skin.

The second grader wasn’t interested in catching them in a jar to keep as a pet like you were. 

Then, Armin was a teenager, grabbing your wrist and taking you to the breathtaking rooftop of an isolated building to look at the stars, rambling on and on about his dreams, which were rather grand for a poor person.

Lastly, Armin was an adult. He rolled cinnamon rolls. He flipped burgers. He poured concrete. He kissed you. He loved you. He married you. And he waited for you to come back to him.

And he was gone.

Your one true love was dead.

It took Reiner’s large hands gripping your shoulders to snap you out of your overwhelming memories, and only then did you realize that tears were pouring from your eyes, your breathing unsteady as heartbroken sobs fell from between your lips. During such a moment, you weren’t in control of your own body.

Armin was. 

The thoughts of him were wreaking havoc.

The burning feeling in your chest — you couldn’t take in enough air. Couldn’t catch your breath. 

You thought about his look of fear when the bullet from Connie’s gun pierced him.

Annie appeared at your side suddenly, kneeling next to your leg. Her warm hands held onto your trembling ones. She was speaking, but you couldn’t hear what she said. 

You thought about the blood pouring out of Armin’s body.

Screaming sobs made Jean’s ears ring as he rushed into the living room. Drool fell from the corners of your mouth.

You thought about how scared and lonely Armin must have felt, dying on that operating table as a result of your mistakes. 

You killed him! First, you killed his soul by breaking his heart, and then, your chaos involving Connie led to his death. It was all your fault. You might as well should have been the one holding the gun, firing it. 

‘It’s all my fault, all my fault, all my fault,’ you thought. ‘Armin’s gone. Never coming back.’

Tears blurred your vision. 

“What the fuck did you do, Reiner?” Jean shouted above your sobs. “She was fucking laughing a minute ago, and now she’s-”

“I didn’t do anything,” Reiner argued back, but his words were riddled with guilt. “We were just talking and she started crying. What do we do, Annie?”

“How should I know?” Annie frowned, trying to steady your violently shaky hands. She felt just as guilty as Reiner. She was supposed to know. 

One of the front double doors suddenly opened and slammed shut. Jean whipped his head around, startled, and walked into the foyer to see a pissed-off Levi Ackerman.

“What the hell’s going on?”

Jean could barely hear him over the sound of your cries, but he knew that the man was asking the most obvious question. Without waiting for an answer, Levi furrowed his dark brows, gritting his teeth as he swore, the corners of his mouth pulled down into a frown.

He took off his jacket and tossed his keys somewhere. 

Three people whom he trusted to look after you had failed. You were on the verge of a mental breakdown, and here they were, staring at him like a deer caught in headlights when he stepped into his living room. 

“Move,” he ordered Reiner, who pointlessly rubbed soothing circles onto your back.

As much as Reiner wished he could be the one to comfort you, to soothe your sobs and cries, he defeatedly rose from the couch and let Levi take his place.

Levi put one of his legs behind you, stretching it out over the couch cushions. With his entire body facing your side, he reached up, grabbed your shoulder, and slowly, cautiously, pulled you toward his chest. Once your cheek hit his heart, he started to ease back, laying down on the sofa with your body in between his legs and your head on his chest.

Annie grabbed your legs and put them up on the sofa.

Levi’s hands soothingly rubbed your shoulder. “I know,” he whispered. “I know. I got you.”

He didn’t bother with shushing you or telling you that everything would be okay — pointless and meaning acts that provided little comfort. 

He couldn’t promise that everything would be alright.

But he knew that you were hurting. 

And he wasn’t going to let you go through it alone.

“I got you.”

—

It was between midnight and one A.M. when Levi’s eyes lazily fluttered, the click of his lids opening his sharp eyes to reveal a blurry, white, high ceiling amongst the darkness. 

His muscles were sore. As he tried to shift around, he felt the weight of something preventing him from moving.

It was you, fast asleep on top of him. 

He was still on the living room couch, still dressed in his day clothes. 

‘I must’ve fallen asleep too,’ he thought.

Last he could remember, you were starting to calm down, and Reiner tossed a blanket over you. 

Then, the three useless caregivers went home. 

Reiner invited Jean to crash at his place, seeing as the musician could barely use his hands, and Reiner had his own security in light of Connie’s chaos as of late.

A small sigh fell from Levi’s chapped lips, his throat as dry as the desserts he once visited during his time in the military.

He was dehydrated thanks to all the running around he did yesterday, forgetting to drink a sip of water, and yet, he had to pee badly enough to have had a toilet appear in his dream.  His bladder ached from fullness, but he didn’t want to disturb you. 

Levi glanced down at your head pressed against his stomach, more so the outline of it due to the darkness, the moonlight peeking through the drawn curtains of his big living room windows as his only source of light, and he smiled softly. While watching you, he studied your rhythmic breathing — the easy rise and fall of your shoulders.

However, as all good things must come to an end, Levi’s phone started to ring. 

Your eyes fluttered open, a sleepy frown gracing your face. The absence of your warmth as you sat up made Levi frown as well.

Just like that, Levi had pointlessly risked receiving damage to his bladder, because whoever his midnight caller was had disturbed you anyway.

That’s when it hit him.

If someone was calling him at such an ungodly hour, it couldn’t have been good news.

His stomach dropped at the realization, his phone ringing, screaming to be answered, and meanwhile, you were staring at him with wide, worried eyes that held both exhaustion and dreadful anticipation. 

“Maybe it’s nothing,” Levi spoke with an unusual hoarseness, his voice low and raspy from both waking up and unquenched thirst.

He grabbed his phone out of his pocket. His stomach dropped when he saw the caller ID. It was Carla.

“Who is it?” You asked.

Levi didn’t answer. He didn’t let his internal worry be reflected upon his face, either. With an expression as blank as a new sheet of paper, he tapped his screen and answered the call.

“Hello?” He gave a small cough.

You could hear Carla speaking, but you couldn’t make out the muffled words coming from Levi’s phone, which he pressed against his ear with a firm hand. His hands weren’t trembling like yours. 

Despite the quietness, it was impossible to hear Eren’s mother talk to Levi thanks to the thumbing of your heart, which echoed in your ears. 

Levi’s face suddenly paled in color.

“We’re on our way.” He hung up the phone.

“You need to get dressed, Y/N.” He rubbed the lower half of his face with his hand.

“Why?” A tear rolled down your cheek. Your question hadn’t yet been answered, but your soul knew. “What’s wrong?”

Levi’s eyes wouldn’t meet yours. He had no idea how to process what Carla just told him. 

The woman who spoke to him moments ago with a croaking voice and devastating news had told him that the boy he had known for years — the aggressive kid with a kind heart, the one whose family adopted his cousin, the boy who cried on his shoulder when Marco died and Connie went to prison, the person who gave him an insanely fancy mop for his birthday and would always unintentionally mimic him when they were younger, simply wanting to be like him — he was dying.

The doctors estimated that he only had two more hours to live.

“We need to go see Eren.”

The implication was obvious, just as obvious as the fact that Levi was holding back his tears.

Right now, you wanted to find the gun you knew Levi kept somewhere, stick the barrel into your mouth, and meet Eren in the afterlife — greet him once he arrived.

By now, you were out of tears. 

All worn out and dried up inside from mourning one love, and your body could no longer process how to grieve another. 

Numbness ran through your veins. Settled underneath your cold skin. Buried itself into your aching bones. 

The tiny part of your brain that could still function right now presented a horrific, intrusive thought, that perhaps you simply didn’t cry for Eren because you planned on meeting him in Heaven or Hell or another life or wherever your souls went after death soon enough. 

And you’d see Armin too.

All three of you, free from pain.

Maybe you would see your mother again, or meet Eren’s old friend, Marco.

Suddenly, a heartbroken smile appeared across your face.

It was brief, but Levi saw it, and it shook him to his core.

Getting off of the couch, you went into the guest room and got dressed. Your dragging footsteps echoed down the dark hallway.

—

“Y/N! Please give us an autograph, please!”

“Y/N! Y/N! Turn this way!”

“Y/N, is it true that you are the reason Eren Yeager is in the hospital right now? Did you have a hand in the shooting?”

“Y/N, what are your thoughts on being called Carrie White? Is it true you’re going to star in Hander Tapper’s new horror film inspired by your photos? Y/N, please answer!”

Fans and paparazzi alike crowded the brightly lit hallways of the hospital. Pests, they were. Security guards and local police officers held them back like bug exterminators, letting you and Levi squeeze through into the blocked-off, spacious sage green and brown waiting room where a teary-eyed Carla Yeager sobbed into her hands.

She was sitting in a wheelchair, her husband, Grisha, gripping the handlebars as tears rolled down his cheeks. 

“She fainted,” Grisha croaked out. 

Levi approached them first. 

Crouching down, he hugged the unconsolable woman, rubbing her back gently. 

You went for Grisha, hugging him with a face as blank as a blind man, deprived of any and all emotion. 

Only then did you realize that there were other people in the waiting room. 

You recognized some of them as distant relatives of Eren’s family that you had once met. Aunts. Cousins. Even the dear uncle he was named after. He sat in a chair tucked away in the corner, tear-soaked face hidden behind his hands as he thought about the times he carried his nephew on his back and spun him around.

Jean was there too, fixated on his phone. He pressed a button, put his device against his ear, and mumbled into it. From where you stood, you could only make out a few words.

“Mikasa . . . emergency . . . Eren . . . call me back . . .”

“Go see him,” Grisha sniffled, pulling away from the hug.

Levi appeared at your side. Grisha’s sad eyes darted in his direction. 

“H-He shot my baby boy . . .” blinking rapidly, tears streamed down Grisha’s red-stained cheeks even harder, soaking the collar of his white ironed shirt. “That’s my baby boy.”

Suddenly, a freckle-faced woman with big, black, curly hair walked over and wrapped her arm around Grisha.

Her frown lines were rather deep, the crinkles by her eyes much more detailed than they should have been, for her youthful, light brown eyes had shown that she was younger than she appeared to be.

Misery had aged her.

Call it a gut feeling, write it off as a lucky guess, but somehow, you knew that you were staring at Marco’s mother.

Levi’s calloused fingertips graced your wrist as he wrapped his hand around it. 

“Come on,” he said softly.

Two slow footsteps in the direction of the nearest nurse were interrupted by the miserable woman’s voice. 

“Wait,” Marco’s mother called out. 

Leaving Grisha’s side, she approached you and Levi.

“Seeing Eren in such a state will be traumatic,” she warned, her voice raspy. “Sometimes we think seeing someone before or after they pass is the best choice, but consider that this will be the last time you see him alive, and determine whether or not you want that image in your head. Please think about it.”

She spoke from experience. The trembling weary in her voice was a telltale sign. 

“We have to say goodbye,” you spoke plainly. 

“He has a tube down his throat, wires connected to him, machines hooked to almost every part of his body . . . I beg you to think about this.”

“I understand,” you replied with as much compassion as you could muster, but Eren could pass away at any minute. This conversation was a waste of precious time. “I want to see him anyway.”

The woman nodded sadly.

After all, you had seen Eren get shot. Witness the blood pour out of him. Saw him fight to stay alive. 

You had already witnessed Eren in a state that would traumatize you forever.

After approaching the awaiting nurse, you and Levi were escorted down the twisty hallways. This part of the hospital was rather different. 

The white walls were decorated with stained glass of angels, pinned-up flyers containing advertisements regarding churches and grief counselors, and other religious symbols of the afterlife.

It was as if the hospital was declaring Eren to be deceased while his heart was still beating.

Levi held your hand.

Only then, feeling his grasp, had you realized that you were trembling again. 

But at least you weren’t alone.

The nurse slowed her footsteps as she guided you both to a doorless room. The dark-skinned woman smiled sympathetically and walked away.

Marco’s mother spoke with honesty. 

Eren was strung up like a puppet. It was a struggle to walk to his bedside, cords and wires decorating the floor and proposing a tripping hazard to anyone who wasn’t careful, but the nurses tending to the beeping machines walked over them with expertise. 

However, the miserable woman didn’t detail that the hardest part about seeing Eren like that wasn’t the tube down his throat. It wasn’t the wires hooked to his body and the machines, or the constant beeping that you didn’t know the meaning behind and were too afraid to ask.

It was the look on his face.

His eyes weren’t open of course. His skin was pale. Dark circles settled under his eyes. Cheeks were hollow, as he was skinnier than he ever should have been.

Truth be told, he was casket-ready. Physically, at least.

His face told a different story.

Maybe it was your imagination. Maybe it was the natural state of his face. You wouldn’t know.

But his eyebrows were furrowed, as if he was stuck in between anger and fear — pissed off at the fact that he was dying and couldn’t do anything about it, or, perhaps, terrified of what would await him after death.

‘He’s a fighter,’ you thought.

If only one could live if their will was strong enough. If only the universe worked that way.

Leaning down, you pressed your soft lips against his forehead. 

If he was awake, he would have smiled. Affection from you had always reduced the rowdy rockstar into a shy, blushing mess.

Pulling away from Eren, you noticed little droplets on his face. 

You were crying; your tears fell from your eyes and splattered onto his skin.

Gently, with a trembling hand, you wiped it off. 

“Sorry,” you whispered to him.

You turned around to face Levi, but he was staring down at his hand, which held Eren’s, positioned carefully so as to not touch his pulse oximeter.

“I’m sorry, Eren,” Levi mumbled weakly. “I failed you.”

You took a careful step back. It was obvious that Levi had the courage to say goodbye first. 

He took your former spot, leaning down to speak to the dying man, uncertain whether or not he could hear him. It didn’t matter. 

He said what needed to be spoken.

“I was supposed to protect you from all this.” A tear rolled down Levi’s cheek. He placed his hand on Eren’s head. “You needed me to be there for you, and I wasn’t. I’m sorry. I hope you can forgive me for it. You’re too damn young to-” 

Levi couldn’t continue. 

He pressed the back of his hand against his mouth. 

Without casting a glance your way, Levi stroked his thumb over Eren’s forehead and left the room.

It was your turn to speak. The lump forming in your dry throat made it nearly impossible, every word requiring effort and great strain, but you had to do it. 

You had to say goodbye, a bittersweet opportunity you didn’t get with Armin.

You stood by Eren’s bedside, the machines beeping as the nurses walked from one side of the room to the other, and you leaned down.

“Eren, it’s Y/N. I don’t know if you can hear me, but I’m here,” weakly, you sniffled. “Uh . . . everyone’s in the waiting room. You’re not alone, okay? So don’t be scared. We’re here. If I know one thing about you, it’s that you’re fighting like hell to stay alive, aren’t you? No one knows how to fight like you do. You even fought for me once, and I’ll always be grateful for that. Thank you for loving me. And I love you too, okay? So don’t ever doubt it. I’m still hoping that you’ll wake up, but . . . if anyone deserves to rest, it’s you. And . . . maybe I’ll see you soon, Eren.”

Once again, you kissed Eren’s forehead. 

When you left the room heavy with the aura of death, you didn’t return to the waiting room with the others.

Instead, you walked down a bright white hallway with a big medical cart in the middle of it, but deprived of fans and paparazzi, and stepped through the automatic see-through doors, exiting the hospital and walking into the darkness.

It wasn’t odd to see a person walking down the streets of Los Angeles wearing a hood. None of the late-night drivers knew that Hollywood’s biggest heartbreaker was the one teetering dangerously close to the road, walking along the curbs of the busy streets.

It took about two hours of walking through the city to reach your destination. Even among the honking cars, screeching tires, rumbling engines, and booming radios, you could still hear your phone ringing in your pocket. 

You pulled it out after a while.

Eleven missed calls from Levi.

Eight missed calls from Jean.

Darting your eyes down to the bottom of your notification screen, you had a handful of text messages from both of them, but you didn’t bother to read them.

Everyone was either looking for you or trying to tell you that Eren had died.

You put your phone back into your pocket.

Darting across a spacious road that wasn’t busy, orange streetlights as your source of light due to the absence of any headlights from nonexistent cars nearby, you cut through the abundance of trees — this particular foresty area was drastically different compared to the rest of the bustling city.

There, grass and leaves crunched under your feet as you made your way over to the faded green bridge, covered in vines, towering over a body of water.

It was a hidden location that Mikasa had often spoken of, quite different compared to the rest of L.A., but of course, the adventurous woman adored it. She’d often take you here for a quick lunch as a way to free you from the hustle and bustle of the suffocating city, if only for a meal’s worth of time. 

Truth be told, coming here wasn’t your intention. Your soul led you here; your body was along for the ride.

Or the walk, rather.

Approaching the middle of the isolated, raggedy bridge, you sat on the ledge and swung your feet across. 

‘What now?’ you thought. 

The cold water below flowed slowly. Your hands gripped the edge of the ledge. Your mind was split in half — part of you wanted to hang on for dear life, while the other half wanted you to push yourself off. 

It sounded so freeing. Death did. 

Maybe you’d see your mother and father again. Maybe you’d see Armin and Eren. Maybe . . .

Once again, your phone started to ring. 

Why you hadn’t muted it, you couldn’t be certain. 

And why you decided to pull it out now, you wouldn’t ever know. 

Maybe it was to get confirmation regarding Eren’s fate. Maybe a small part of you wanted Levi to talk you out of it. Perhaps, it was so if you did decide to make that body of water below you your official place of death, you would at least be able to die knowing you had spoken to Levi one last time. 

Why that mattered to you, you had no idea.

“Hello?” You said. 

You braced yourself for the heartbreaking news by looking at the water, thinking about how badly it would hurt to come in contact with it, but you were ready.

“Are you okay? Where the hell are you?” Levi rushed out over the phone.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m fine.” 

It seemed as if your decision was made: to not haunt Levi by making him aware of your impending demise. 

“Where are you, Y/N?” Levi insisted yet again. Even with an unsteady connection due to your shady location, you could hear the worry in his voice.

“Did you call me because he . . .” 

You couldn’t finish your question. You could only think about the water.

“No, I called you because I can’t fucking find you,” Levi replied. After a beat of silence, Levi continued to speak. “His condition has improved slightly. He’s still holding on. Must’ve been you.”

Miracles — what a stupid fucking concept. A cookie-cutter, mechanically human response to a pleasant aftermath of devastation.

One, specifically, you did not believe in. 

One person’s miracle was another person’s tragedy, more often. People would call it a miracle when someone survived a deadly car crash, even though they caused it, and the person they hit going 90 miles per hour was dead.

Your fans often claim that your music, your utter existence, somehow saved their life. That you were a miracle. But here you were, sitting on the ledge of a raggedy green bridge.

But . . . maybe, just maybe . . .

“Y/N, please tell me where you are.” 

Levi — with his serious, and yet increasingly worried tone — snapped you out of your thoughts.

“I’m fine, I swear-”

“Then why won’t you tell me where you are? Why wouldn’t you answer your phone?”

“I just wanted to be alone,” you lied — well, not entirely. It was the truth, as you did desire solitude. “I’m sorry.”

Right now, you figured that he and everyone else should have been worried about Eren. Not you. 

But . . . maybe, just maybe . . .

“Are you safe?”

The concern and utter fear in Levi’s voice had revealed one thing to you: he cared about you more than he had ever expressed with words.

Perhaps that was obvious. It should have been.

He tried to save you from Connie.

He banded together with your other lovers, but his intent was never clear. Was he trying to win your heart, or did he simply want you to be free?

He fucked you during that one drunken night. You carried his baby until you lost it. He took care of you like someone would care for a loved one.

But he never said he loved you.

What was Levi Ackerman fighting for?

But . . . maybe, just maybe . . .

The way he said those three words — not I love you, those were unspoken — but the way he asked if you were safe. He said it with love.

And, for now, that was enough.

“Not really,” you admitted. You could hear his breath stagger over the phone. “Can you come get me?”

“Send me your location. I’m on my way.”

The phone call ended. 

Not wanting Levi to know your exact whereabouts, you made your way to a nearby diner as quickly as you could before sending him the address.

Sitting on the curb waiting for him to arrive was rather odd. You were hungry. The smell of fresh coffee and buttery pancakes flooding from the 24-hour eatery made your stomach rumble. Desperately, you wanted to yank that door open and order three servings of whatever the old man behind the counter was cooking.

With your head down, and hood up, you looked and felt like a homeless person, not the glamorous celebrity who was currently on the television inside of the partially empty diner.

It was an entertainment news station displaying footage of you and Levi arriving at the hospital. Even though it was around four A.M., those nosy headline-seeking reporters wouldn’t give it a rest. 

But, then again, a famous rockstar was dying.

What happened between you, Connie, Eren, and Armin was the biggest news in the world right now. 

But, even with your face plastered on the television while you sat outside of the little restaurant, you realized that you were both. 

A homeless person and a glamorous, rich celebrity.

You’d have to purchase a home once again after selling your last one — assuming you still wanted to live. 

Levi’s familiar black vehicle pulled up in front of the diner much more quickly than you had expected.

You got into his car, and thankfully, he didn’t bombard you with thousands of questions.

Instead, you looked over at him as he started to pull off, and asked, “Is he still alive?”

“Yeah,” Levi replied, his eyes on the road. “The next twenty-four hours are crucial. He could go either way. But there’s still a chance he could pull through.”

“What changed?” You fidgeted with the string of your hoodie dangling across your chest, looking out the window. “How did he go from having only two hours to live to possibly being able to pull through?”

Levi didn’t respond immediately. It took him a moment.

“I don’t know, but I’m not optimistic.”

“What?” You whipped your head in his direction and looked at his side profile — his jawline sharp as he clenched and unclenched it. 

“Sometimes, a person’s condition improves before they die. It’s fucked up. It gives you false hope that the person will make it. It happens all the time.”

“I take it you’ve seen it happen to someone, hm?” 

Your accusation made Levi grip the steering wheel a bit tighter. 

“My mom. Cancer,” he answered dryly. “Anyway, I just wouldn’t be surprised if that’s what’s happening now, but who the hell knows? Those damn doctors surely act like they don’t.”

You didn’t respond. 

Neither you nor Levi said anything else during the drive back to his place.

The sky was an inspiring canvas painted with soft orange and blue colors as the sun started to rise. With a yawn, Levi arrived at his home, grimacing at the sight of a few lurking reporters and paparazzi still camping out around his place. 

There weren’t as many as before — several of them flocked to the hospital upon discovering Eren’s worsening condition and you and Levi’s presence there. 

“Wish I could run over these bastards,” Levi mumbled. “I wouldn’t mind going to prison for that. I’ll smile in my mugshot. I don’t care.”

A soft laugh escaped you. 

Levi’s heart skipped a beat at the sound of it. 

—

The rest of that day was a challenging blur. 

Trying to eat. Trying to sleep. Left to wonder. Left to wait.

Not knowing if Eren would live or die.

Not knowing if you would live or die.

Eventually, one day led to another, and that day led to the next. And the next.

You’d eat breakfast — something quick. Something easy. Usually, eggs or oatmeal prepared by Levi. Then, you’d visit Eren at the hospital. Say a few words.

At one point, a young nurse asked you to take a picture with her. It was fine, though. You were used to holding back tears and faking a smile.

Even though Eren had survived beyond what the doctors had twice predicted, he was still in a coma. He still wasn’t out of the woods.

After visiting Eren, the rest of your day would typically amount to trying to divorce a missing person, arranging Armin’s funeral with Levi, and being involved in the ongoing investigation into what happened that night with Connie. 

He was still nowhere to be found.

But he was working — using his money to work in favors from a distance.

You might have revealed to the public that he was behind the shooting, sure, but the billionaire used his power to once again influence the justice system.

And just like that, the finest investigators in L.A. had millions of dollars, and there wasn’t any surveillance camera footage of his car on the road that night. 

When you watched the police department hop on live television and indirectly detail how Connie Springer couldn’t have been involved, you had expected all of it to fall back on you.

“He’s going to put the blame on me, isn’t he?” You asked Levi with a face full of tears.

“I won’t let that happen.” 

Levi’s words were comforting, but did they truly have meaning? Was he planning on influencing the justice system with millions of dollars as well? After all, he hadn’t achieved billionaire status like Connie had. Plus — he was unemployed from the very job that made him wealthy. Just how much money did he have in that savings account of his? Did it have anything to do with investing? Did he have other, secret ways of making money?

—

Going out in public was dangerous if Connie wasn’t behind bars, but you’ll be damned if let fear force you into missing Armin’s funeral.

It was a quaint ceremony — it had to be that way, not only because Armin wouldn’t want anything drastic, but because it was the only way to remain hidden from paparazzi and reporters who wouldn’t mind crashing a heartbreaking ceremony for a few pictures.

The majority of the people who showed up amounted to coworkers. It made sense. He was always working, and in a twisted way, his fellow waiters, construction men, and other peers from his previous jobs were his family.

There was nothing — nothing — quite like seeing them lower Armin’s casket into the ground.

It was a sight that took the strength out of your legs, frying your brain until simple functions like walking were a challenge.

It should have been Connie in there. That’s what you thought. That’s what you wished.

Especially when you decided to open the pile of letters collecting dust on your nightstand a few days later.

“How the fuck can he do this to me? How the fuck is this possible?” Tossing down a stack of paper on the desk in Levi’s dark home office — where he sat behind it, typing away on his computer before you stormed in — you continued to both shout and cry.

You were so sick of crying. Tired of tears. 

With brows furrowed in confusion, Levi picked up the letters that were previously folded three ways, indicating that they came in envelopes that had arrived in the mail.  

It made sense.

The entire world knew that your current residence was with Levi. 

Including him.

Unable to sit in any of the black chairs in front of his desk due to your horrific anxiety, you slowly paced back and forth as he read the letters from the bank and collection agencies. 

In short, you were broke, just as poor as you once were when you arrived in Los Angeles as a former baker from New York who had to split sandwiches to survive. 

Connie naturally owned everything that belonged to his artists. Blame the shitty contracts.

But, in your case, you married the bastard. He had his hand in everything tied to your finances. Tied to you. 

And he took it all away.

“Y/N-”

“It’s my fault.” You cut Levi off. Abruptly, you stopped pacing. “I know, okay? I don’t . . . don’t need to hear you say it. I didn’t protect my finances from Connie when we got married, I just . . .”

“You just thought you were the one who had him trapped, not the other way around.” Levi put down the letters. His face was unreadable. “We need to find out if these letters are even real.”

“It’s real,” you said with a sniffle. “I called every fucking number they listed. It’s real.”

“We should’ve seen this coming,” Levi paused. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk. 

For someone who always claimed to only want wealthy people associated with his name, Connie certainly didn’t mind leaving his enemies to rot in poverty.  

A deep, shaky breath escaped from between your lips. Slowly, you sat down in one of Levi’s chairs as you said, “It’s my karma, right? For marrying him for wealth . . . tricking him with a baby that wasn’t his . . .”

“Does he know?”

Levi’s eyes darted away from yours. Aside from when he cared for you that night after Armin and Eren were shot and you confessed a truth he already knew, neither one of you talked about the fact that you once carried his baby. 

“Uh,” you sniffled once again, shifting in your seat. “I don’t know if he knows the baby wasn’t his. If he knew it was yours, he might-”

Levi interrupted you, but not with words. 

It was with a dry, yet soft, laugh.

“Shoot me like he did Eren and Armin. That’s what you were going to say, right?” Levi paused. “He’d never.” 

You opened your mouth to speak. You flickered your eyes across the room, feeling rather puzzled as you started to piece things together.

“Levi?” You spoke with caution, preparing to ask a question you weren’t entirely sure you wanted the answer to. “Why hasn’t Connie come after you yet?”

Levi didn’t answer.

You spoke again.

“Aside from being fired and getting a letter threatening your friend, Connie has left you alone. Tell me why.” You bit your lower lip. “Jean and Eren were basically tortured. I was imprisoned. Reiner’s family could have burned to death. Even Armin was beaten, and yet . . . you sent Erwin to rescue me. You stormed Connie’s house with everyone else. You embarrassed him by getting caught sleeping with me, making his company look bad or whatever the hell it is he was always saying. You pissed him off more than anyone else, but you . . . you and your cousin, Mikasa, were always just fine. You still have your nice house even without your overpaid job. There isn’t a scratch on you. You haven’t been locked away. Your loved ones are fine. Tell me why.”

“What are you trying to say? What exactly are you accusing me of, Y/N?”

Suddenly, you pulled out your brand-new phone, the one Levi had purchased for you. 

Your old phone was still with Connie. 

Unlocking your new phone and tossing it on his desk, Levi darted his eyes down at it, then back up at you.

“I always thought it was kinda funny how my stalker took photos of us from right outside your house. But, surely you didn’t have anything to do with it, because why would you get yourself in trouble, right? Unless you knew nothing bad would happen to you. And you knew it would make you look more innocent.” You nodded down at the phone. “Open it. Read my recent messages.”

Levi hesitated, but then, he picked up your phone and scrolled through the recent thread of messages and photos from an unknown number.

The texts were all similar in nature. Different variations of someone claiming they were watching you while snapping pictures of you in public.

“What the hell does this have to do with me?” Levi’s frown deepened. “You think I’m somehow behind you getting stalked? Or do you think I’ve been working with Connie this entire time? Which is it?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s both. Maybe you’re behind everything along with him.”

Levi’s glossy eyes glistened with hurt. 

“I promise you that I’m not working with Connie. I’m not the one stalking you, either.”

“Then why hasn’t he come after you?” By now, your hands were trembling again. And although it was cold in Levi’s office, that wasn’t the reason why. Once again, you sniffled. “Why won’t you answer me?”

Amid Levi’s silence, you got up from the chair. “Okay, that’s it. I’m fucking leaving.”

You didn’t have any place to go, truly. Instead of money, you had to rely on hope, that maybe Reiner, Jean, or Annie would let you stay with them for a little while. 

Assuming you could trust anyone right now.

“Wait,” Levi called out defeatedly. “Don’t leave.”

Slowly, you sat back down.

“I’m not stalking you, and I don’t know who is. I’m not working with Connie either.” Levi’s voice softened. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not guilty of some things. I’ve been with CS Records as a manager since the beginning. I saw everything he did become successful. I knew how he treated people. I knew what kind of monster he was, but I didn’t do anything about it. He made me one of the richest managers in Hollywood, so I kept my mouth shut. I let good people get hurt. I told myself I couldn’t do anything about it because he could kill me and make it look like an accident, but that was just an excuse. I didn’t start pissing him off until you came around, and I just wanted to protect you.”

“That’s why you were apologizing to Eren when you were saying your goodbyes. He’s one of the people you let get hurt.” You glared at Levi. “Still doesn’t explain why Connie leaves you alone.”

“He leaves me alone because I have evidence. I’ve been collecting it since the day he made Eren and Jean sign their first contract.” Levi made unwavering eye contact with you. It sent a chill up your spine. “He doesn’t know where it is, doesn’t know what it is, so he can’t destroy it. But he knows I have it.”

“Seriously? That doesn’t make any fucking sense! How the hell does he know you have evidence but doesn’t know what it is?”

“I alone am a piece of evidence, because I’m a witness to almost everything he’s done.” Levi got up from his seat. He walked around his desk and leaned back against it, and he looked down at you.

“Listen. All you need to know is that Connie doesn’t touch me because he knows I could ruin his life. He knew I’d be fine if he fired me. I’m smart with my money. Anything else would be crossing a line with me, and he knows that.”

“Then why haven’t you come forward with all this evidence you’ve been collecting?”

“Because I don’t know if it’ll be enough.” Levi paused. “I give it to the police, then what? He’ll just pay to get it tossed out.”

“If that’s the fucking case, then I don’t get why he doesn’t come after you anyway if he knows he’ll get away with it. Wouldn’t killing you solve that problem?” Your glaring only intensified. Levi, however, remained calm.

“Probably, but I also have the guts to kill him,” Levi replied. 

After all, Connie wasn’t the best shooter. Two out of three of his recent victims had survived. If he tried to murder Levi to get rid of any evidence and the skilled man lived, then the retaliation would have been horrific. 

You raised your eyebrows in shock. Then, your face fell into a blank expression. You chuckled a bit.

“I’m telling the truth,” Levi spoke with sternness, and yet, his voice was soft as well.

“I don’t care,” shaking your head, you could see Levi’s heart break a bit. It was reflected within his intense, sad gaze. “If what you’re saying is true, then you’re still the bastard who stood by and did nothing while Connie abused his artists with contracts and all of his fear tactics. And you let me join that fucked up label as well, and you didn’t say a damn word. Collecting evidence — for what? So you could continue to sit back and do nothing? You’re telling me he won’t touch you because you’re apparently so goddamn dangerous that he’s afraid you’ll kill him, but yet, you don’t have the power to throw his ass in jail? I don’t care if he dies. I don’t care if he goes to prison. But something has to happen to him. You have to do something — you could have done something. What will it take for you to even try? Was-Was Erwin getting shot not enough? Was him torturing people not enough? What about Armin getting murdered? Remember him? The guy who had you as his emergency contact because he trusted you? Or what about Eren? The son of the people who adopted your cousin? Will you finally do something once I die? Is that what it’ll fucking take?”

Once again, you rose from your seat, but this time, Levi didn’t try to stop you.

“I get it. You’re not as rich as him. You can’t influence people to the degree that he can. You give the evidence to the police, he gets rid of it, and then there’s no point. But you should have tried. You should have tried years ago. Hell, even two months ago would’ve made a difference,” you started to make your way towards his front door. He followed closely behind. “You were always fucking lying . . . saying you couldn’t do anything because of his gun or his Silent Men or whatever . . . there was always an excuse. And, let me guess, taking me in and caring for me was your way of apologizing? Was fucking me supposed to make it all better too?”

“Are you serious?” Levi followed you into the foyer. The anger in his voice — an anger you hadn’t ever known to come from him — it made you stop walking and turn around to look him in the eye. But despite his harsh tone, his gaze was filled with nothing but hurt. The amount of pain — you hadn’t recognized that either. “You tried to use our baby . . . my baby . . . as a way for you to get revenge on Connie, and I didn’t say a word. It’s hilarious how you’re pissed with me for not taking down the same bastard you married. You were more than willing to let him continue to be a piece of shit if it benefited you, and I didn’t say a word. You’re no better than I am.” You’re eyes shifted away from Levi, but he continued to speak. “Maybe I should’ve done something a long time ago, but if you can recall, every single one of us stormed Connie’s house, ready to put a bullet in his head, and you told all of us to fuck off. You yelled at us for trying to handle him. Now you’re yelling at me for not handling him. I don’t think I’ll ever understand what you want when it comes to anything.”

“You should have done something long before I got involved with him or with you. You should have done something years before you even met me.” Your voice was softer now. Levi couldn’t tell if your shaky words were laced with guilt or with quiet hatred.

Thanks to the darkness of the foyer and you standing in the dark shadows, whereas he stood in the moonlight spilling in through the nearby windows, he could barely see your face. 

Regret and guilt bubbled up inside of him until his insides felt rotten. It wasn’t a matter of who was right and who was wrong, nothing was that simple when everyone had regrets that kept them up at night, tossing and turning in bed, but Levi knew one thing: he didn’t want to lose you.

“Let’s just sit down and talk about this,” he said. He hated the way he sounded, but he hated the idea of you leaving even more.

“Nope, there’s nothing else to talk about,” you stared at Levi with dark eyes he couldn’t recognize. “All of those media training classes you and Connie put me through told me it was improper to voice my opinions like this. Remember?”

When your hand touched the door handle, Levi’s hand grabbed your wrist. 

“What? Are you gonna imprison me too? I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Your jab hit Levi like someone slapped him across his face. As a former member of the military, and as someone who had quite a rough childhood, he was good, old friends with pain.

But nothing had hurt quite like your words.

The ache in his heart had spread to every limp. It was an unfathomable pain he could feel down to his fingertips.

There was an unpleasant prickle of hot tears threatening to fall. His waterline brimmed with them. He wasn’t the type of person to cry easily, but that changed when it came to you.

Everything changed when it came to you.

“It’s late at night. You have nowhere to go and no money to get anywhere. If you want to leave, I won’t . . . I won’t stop you. But you should call someone and ask them to pick you up. If you try to walk, all of the goons with cameras outside will just follow you down the street.”

You didn’t let go of the door handle. Levi continued to speak. “We could also sit down and talk it all through. I made mistakes. I’m human, and a shitty one, but I’m sorry. Me helping you out wasn’t to ease my guilt. I did all of that because I care about you and you know it. I’m sorry, Y/N.”

Only a few seconds had passed, but to Levi, it felt as if you were both frozen in time for an eternity, plus an extra minute. 

Your hand released the door handle, and Levi let go of your wrist. Suddenly, you turned around and started to walk away, your shoes lightly stomping against the floor. You walked past Levi as if he was invisible.

“I’m calling someone to come get me,” you shouted, making your way back to Levi’s office to retrieve your phone. “Once I’m done, you can have that phone back. And never speak to me again, got it? As far as I’m concerned, you’re just as bad as Connie.”

—

One hour later, Reiner arrived to pick you up from Levi’s house. And, of course, cameras flashed continuously as you made your way to his passenger seat and slammed the door closed. 

You hated to use Reiner this way — even if he didn’t mind it. 

It wasn’t fair to him.

But you had no other option. 

You didn’t know Annie well enough to burden her with this. Jean was too busy with his own recovery. Luckily, Jean was back at his own place, being looked after by hired help. 

Being around Reiner had instantly overwhelmed you with comfort. His aura alone was soothing. The way he looked at you with soft, concerned eyes had created the delusion that, perhaps, everything would be okay someday.

Reiner was silent for the first few minutes. Then, as he made a right turn, he asked that haunting question: “What happened?”

“Connie took all of my money. Made me realize that Levi hasn’t suffered as much as everyone else. When I asked him about it, he told me that Connie doesn’t bother him because Connie knows that Levi isn’t afraid to kill him and has evidence that can put him in prison. He said he hasn’t turned it in to the police because he figures Connie will just pay to get rid of it, which makes sense, but . . .”

“But what?” Reiner darted his eyes in your direction, then back at the road ahead. 

“Levi was in the position to do something about Connie. Even if turning in evidence failed, he still sat back and let everyone join CS Records. Fear is a powerful thing, and if Connie is really afraid of Levi and everything he could do, then Levi could have used that fear to get Connie to do anything — turn himself in, stop being a shitty person, anything. But he did nothing. He’s still doing nothing.”

Reiner knew you. He knew that right now, a lot of your anger wasn’t truly directed at Levi. The poor man was just being used as a punching bag, a way for you to avoid being angry with yourself for not protecting your finances from Connie. It was a way to not take in your new reality: you were poor and homeless yet again.

After all, one could blame Levi for not acting out against Connie’s behavior for whatever reason. 

But you were just as guilty.

Fear was a powerful tool, but so was love. 

If you weren’t blinded by his billionaire status, then, perhaps, you too could have done something about Connie. After all, you knew what kind of man you married.

But you didn’t do anything. 

Everyone else was guilty as well.

No one tried to stop Connie when they had the chance, beyond trying to free you from his grasp. Blame the contracts. Blame the fear of homelessness or death. Those were all valid excuses, but they were excuses, nevertheless. 

And now Armin was dead.

Maybe Levi should have been the one to go toe-to-toe with Connie. After all, if Connie was scared of him, then he had the biggest chance of surviving the chaos that would have ensued by trying to toss him in prison. Reiner couldn’t say. But he felt as if your anger was misplaced.

He wouldn’t admit it, though.

The last thing he wanted was for you to jump out of his car.

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” Reiner said gently, the nickname not holding any romantic implications, but rather, just a result of his southern nature.

“It’s not alright,” with a sniffle, you folded your arms across your chest. “He’s gonna get away with murdering Armin too. He’s gonna get away with everything.”

—

Reiner set you up in his homey guest room. Promised that you could stay as long as you wanted. But he wasn’t a fool. 

Your heart had moved on from him. 

It belonged to that dead baker in the ground.

Even so, he would be there for you no matter what.

Two weeks later, it was raining. Rarely had such weather occurred in L.A., but for the last few years, it rained more often. 

Your days consisted of sitting on the bay window bench in the beautiful, charming living room, sipping on warm beverages.

One day, you walked into the kitchen, smiled at Reiner, and said, “Your cappuccinos are amazing.”

Since then, a steaming hot cup of cappuccino was always waiting for you on the kitchen counter.

This morning wasn’t any different. You were greeted with your favorite hot drink as of late, and after getting dressed, you both headed to the hospital to visit Eren.

He was still hanging on. Still in a coma. Still teetering between life and death.

On this rainy day, you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d see Levi as well. You hadn’t spoken since the day you yelled at him. The pained look on his face haunted you more than you would have liked to admit, it reappeared in your scattered mind whenever you tried to fall asleep at night. After spending those sleepless evenings lost in thought over what conspired between you both, you realized that you were out of line. 

Reiner didn’t want to admit it, but you could see the way his eyes shifted whenever you ranted about Levi during dinner. He chewed on his chicken alfredo and didn’t say a word, but it was obvious that he thought the same thing.

Everyone had done some things wrong. Everyone had done some things right.

Levi had reasons to be angry with you, such as trying to use his baby to trick another man into marrying you for greed and revenge. Even so, he never snapped at you. He didn’t speak to you the way you spoke to him.

But it didn’t matter anymore. You were poor. The world had started to forget about Armin’s murder. Eren’s condition hadn’t changed, so he was no longer appearing in headlines. Everyone had started to paint Connie Springer as innocent, and for the people who hadn’t, they didn’t care. Several billionaires have killed a person or two. Who cared about some random waiter?

In short, the world found other things to obsess over. 

It was tragic and peaceful at the same time. 

Arriving at the hospital, only a few paparazzi lurked outside of the entrance. Fans were still present as they screamed for you and Reiner.

And, both luckily and unfortunately, you didn’t see Levi in the waiting room.

“Hi honey,” Carla greeted you softly, wrapping her arms around you. 

“It’s good to see you,” with a gentle smile, you pulled away from her, and like you had done a thousand times, you asked, “How is he?”

“There are some positive signs,” Carla clenched the piece of tissue in her hand. “Why don’t you go see him?”

The positive signs that Carla had mentioned seemed nonexistent. When you walked into Eren’s room, nothing about the rockstar had changed. But there weren’t any nurses in his room right now. There wasn’t the thick aura of death. The machines hooked to his body didn’t sound so scary.

But he was still there, pale and thin, eyebrows furrowed with a tube down his throat and wires attached to his body. 

This time, you pulled up a chair to sit by Eren’s side. By now, you had gotten more comfortable with talking to him. 

“Hi, Eren. It’s Y/N,” you greeted. Gently, you pulled up on the collar of his hospital gown, straightening it out more. You stroked his forehead with your thumb, and let your fingers run through his hair. 

You didn’t see it, but a finger on Eren’s left hand twitched.

“Hair’s still amazing, don’t you worry. Your mom’s been combing it every day,” you said softly. “I’ve been drinking cappuccinos lately. It’s just one little thing I have to look forward to, you know what I mean? It makes me think about all the things waiting for you when you wake up. All the things you have left to look forward to. I know life has been shitty, but . . . your family’s still here. I’m still here. We aren’t going anywhere. You’re going to wake up, heal, and live a long life, okay? You’re going to be so happy, healthy, and free. We’ll all make sure of it. I’m going to sit here with you for a while — is that okay?”

You ran your thumb across Eren’s eyebrow. Even like this, he was still so beautiful.

Perhaps, the entire world would have been more eager to throw Connie in prison if he had ruined Eren’s face.

Leaning out of your seat a bit, you planted a kiss on Eren’s forehead. 

“I love you, Eren.”

Eren’s finger twitched again.

Thirty minutes had passed. During that time, you sat with Eren, talked to him, and even read him a few pieces of dialogue from a play you were writing in your spare time. It was nothing more than a few printed-out sheets of paper inside of a flimsy folder.

As you scanned over the written stage directions, you flipped the page, mumbling about details you needed to change in certain scenes.

You didn’t notice that Eren had slightly opened his eyes until his body jerked and the nearby machines started beeping.

“What the hell?” Your eyes widened. A nurse grabbed your shoulders, ushering you out of the room as another one grabbed your chair.

Unfamiliar medical terms were exchanged, but from the hallway, you watched as Eren’s body continued to jerk. It must have been the tube down his throat, as they seemed to work quickly to remove it.

More doctors and nurses rushed into his room. More machines continued to beep. 

Holding your folder against your chest, your arms started to shake.

Tears started to fall like clockwork, but this time, they were from utter happiness, as Eren was starting to wake up.

—

The following week was a blur — a beautiful, confusing blur.

“As an actor,” Reiner paused, holding your hand comfortingly as you both sat in the waiting room. “I’ve seen my fair share of storylines involving comas. Television usually gets it wrong, huh?”

“Yeah,” you replied with a polite whisper. “Either way, I’m happy. I can’t wait to see him . . . see him and have him actually respond to me.”

You knew exactly what Reiner was referring to. In movies and shows, patients often awakened from comas and were immediately responsive. You recalled seeing Reiner partake in having to play the heartbroken spouse on the other end of that sappy storyline once.

But, in reality, it took Eren a while to come around. Recovery wasn’t easy.

He had to get the hang of walking again, and other basic skills. Therapy, for both his mental and physical state, consumed his entire hospital stay.

For the first few days, he was utterly confused, and needed time to piece together what had happened to him. According to Carla, he remembered getting shot by Connie.

He remembered everything after a while.

The doctor didn’t want anyone aside from Eren’s parents visiting him during the start of his recovery. 

But now, you could see him.

He was in a different room this time. It was a proper one with a door, free from the symbolic afterlife advertisements and the aura of death.

This was a room that belonged to someone who was expected to live.

You knocked gently, then opened the door.

And there he was.

Only a week had passed, and yet, he looked better. Some color had returned to his soft skin. He looked as healthy as a person who had been shot and survived being in a coma for weeks could look.

What made you smile tearfully was that when you saw him this time, he was looking back at you.

Those piercing, gorgeous emerald eyes locked with yours. 

And he smiled beautifully.

“Eren,” his name slipped from between your lips.

You rushed over to where he sat in his wheelchair — he was undoubtedly sick of laying down, but not well enough to constantly move around just yet — and you leaned down and hugged him.

“I’m so sorry,” your hands were lost in his hair. You felt him weakly hug you back.

“I’m so glad you’re alive, oh my god, Eren. I thought you were gonna die.”

Pulling away from Eren, you couldn’t help but cup his face and kiss his forehead. Truly, you didn’t want to overwhelm him, but you just had to kiss his cheeks as well. And his nose. 

He might have been a badass rockstar, but your kisses made him blush.

After showering his face with affection, you sat down on the side of his bed. He was holding on to a big refillable water bottle. His portable I.V. pole was next to his wheelchair. He had yellow socks on his feet. The furthest corner of his enormous hospital room was filled with get-well gifts, cards, flowers, and balloons, including your own presents that you had dropped off earlier in the week, even though you couldn’t give it to him directly at the time. On the television, the action-comedy film Rush Hour was playing. He must have been watching it before you came in.

All of those little details you had noticed made you grin, simply because it meant one thing: Eren Yeager was alive.

“How are you feeling?” You asked, noticing that he hadn’t yet said anything to you. “Are you okay?”

“I’m . . . o-kay.”

The sudden heartache you felt sent waves of pain through your chest and down to your fingertips. 

He sounded unrecognizable.

It made sense.

He hadn’t spoken in weeks. His throat was also swollen from having a tube wedged down it for so long.

“Good. I’m glad,” you gave him a sad, soft smile. 

Eren’s eyes scanned over you. A look of worry flashed across his face. You seemed different, but that was understandable. 

He had heard about everything that was going on. 

Connie’s disappearance. Jean’s punishment. Your fight with Levi. Staying with Reiner. Your lack of funds. Armin’s death. 

His mother held him while he cried a few nights ago after learning that he had survived, but not his best friend. “I know, baby,” his mom whispered repeatedly, holding her son in his hospital bed as sobbed, wishing he could somehow trade his life for Armin’s.

And he couldn’t imagine how you felt.

Although it hurt to speak, he had to ask.

“You . . . o-okay?”

“Don’t worry about me,” you gave a wave of your hand. “I’ll be fine.” 

Eren could see the sadness in your eyes, and not just from everything you were going through, but because you had walked in here with the hopes of listening to Eren run his mouth, only to discover that he could barely speak.

So, instead, he reached out, grabbed your hand, and ran his thumb across your knuckles.

Grabbing his hand, you suddenly raised it to your lips and kissed the spot below where his fingers were missing.

Seeing you make such a loving gesture both warmed Eren’s heart and snapped it into pieces. 

He looked at you with the softest, most loving eyes. 

If only he hadn’t let go of you way back then. If only he didn’t toss his ring and let Connie intimidate him into divorcing you.

If only.

Eren pulled his hand away from you. He stroked your cheek with his thumb. He tapped your nose with his pinky finger. Ruffled your hair a bit. Touched you in any way he could to communicate when speaking wasn’t the best option. It was his way of reminding you that this visit wasn’t the same as the previous ones. He might not have been talkative, but unlike when he was in his coma, he could look at you. Hear you. See you. Touch you.

Soon enough, you laughed. What a lovely sound — it always was.

“I heard you tried to throw a cup at your doctor once you found out he told us you only had two hours to live,” with a playful smirk, you jabbed at his cheek a bit with your finger. 

Eren nodded proudly.

‘That asshole scared everyone I loved,’ Eren thought.

Suddenly, your smile faded. Eren’s grin quickly diminished as well, and he looked at you with great concern.

“Sorry, I’m just thinking . . . I’m worried.” With a pause you carefully considered whether or not you should express your haunting thought. But it had to be something Eren was worried about as well.

“What if Connie comes back and finishes the job?”

Eren’s face of concern changed into anger at the mention of Connie’s name. Eyebrows furrowed, jaw clenched — hearing the name of the bastard who shot him and killed his friend had flipped a switch within him.

But, truthfully, even if Eren could talk normally right now, he still would have met your question with silence.

What would he do, exactly?

As many times as Eren thought he had to courage to take the man’s life, he secretly accepted that he wasn’t that cold-hearted. He couldn’t kill someone, especially an old friend he had grown up with. Someone he would have died for.

Sometimes, he still saw that funny, idiotic teenager who liked to mix all of his food together during lunch and cherished his friend group. Never could he fully accept that the Connie he once knew was gone forever, replaced by a monster who only cared about money and power.

A monster who tried to kill him.

The corners of Eren’s mouth fell into a frown. He looked down at the white floor beneath him. 

“I guess that’s something we should worry about later, huh? Your recovery comes first. He won’t touch you while you’re in here.” Your smile was comforting, but it wasn’t convincing.

After all, this could have been the easiest way to kill Eren.

Connie could hire someone, get them to pretend to be a nurse, enter his room, and shove a pillow over his face until he suffocated.

No one would question his death if he died at the hospital. Especially when the doctors were certain he’d die a long time ago.

“Hey, I have an idea,” you said. “Why don’t we head down to the cafeteria? They have ice cream down there.”

Instantly, Eren grabbed the pole to his transportable I.V. on wheels, indicating that he was ready to go. 

You got up, grabbed the handles of his wheelchair, and started to push him out of his room.

“I don’t even know if I’m allowed to do this, but I’m gonna do it anyway.”

Reaching back with the hand that wasn’t holding on to the rolling I.V. pole, he touched your hand as a way of saying thanks.

Making your way down to the cafeteria was an easy journey for the most part. By now, the nurses and doctors who worked in the hospital had gotten used to seeing you, Eren, and other celebrities roaming the halls. 

But the group of fans gathered outside of the entrance lost their minds when they saw that familiar head of brown hair. 

Their muffled screams were startling. Some of them started to cry. They banged on the seethrough doors, either trying to get inside or catch Eren’s attention, you couldn’t be certain. As you rolled him by, he gave his fans a casual wave. 

That only made them scream even louder. 

Silence arrived once you pushed Eren out of their view and rolled him down a hallway decorated with modern, colorful contemporary art, contrasting against the white walls and floors pleasantly  — rather nice for such a depressing place.

“Wanna play U.N.O later? I have the cards in my purse.” 

Eren could hear the casual excitement in your voice. Of course, you brought U.N.O cards. You loved that game, even if you tried to create your own rules.

At the sight of Eren’s nod, you said, “Great! It’ll be fun. I won’t change the rules this time-”

Suddenly, your footsteps came to a halt.

At the end of the hallway, Levi appeared.

Eren waved at him. Levi smiled, but it quickly diminished when his eyes darted up to you.

The man who was typically sharply dressed looked rather disheveled. Black hair was messy, longer than it typically was, and the dark circles under his eyes made it clear he hadn’t been getting enough sleep. He wore a grey long-sleeved hood and a pair of jeans. His phone was in his right hand, and he tapped it with his thumb, ending a phone call, more than likely. In his left hand, he carried a thermal bag. It must have been food for Eren’s parents.

Turning his head around in his wheelchair, Eren looked back at you, then faced forward to look at Levi.

Oh, how awkward it was. 

A wave of heat ran through your body. Pure shame and utter embarrassment. But turning around would have made it worse. So, you pushed Eren right past Levi as you mumbled, “Excuse me.”

—

The rest of the day was spent in Eren’s company. Eating ice cream, playing U.N.O, and watching the rest of Rush Hour made you forget your own troubles for just a few hours.

The rockstar didn’t want to admit it because he didn’t want you to leave, but he was exhausted. You could tell based on his tired eyes and sleepy grin.

So, you let him rest, telling him goodbye and kissing his forehead gently after helping him back into his bed.

Returning to the waiting room, you overheard Carla and Grisha discussing having two bodyguards standing outside of Eren’s door for his safety. After hugging them goodbye, you went down to one of the more private exits of the hospital and stood outside underneath the carport-like shade. You hadn’t called Reiner just yet. He was a busy man, one who still had a career to worry about, and he had clocked in for a sixteen-hour shift on yet another film set after making sure you were able to visit Eren. 

But he promised that he’d send a driver out to pick you up and take you back to his house once you were ready to leave. All you had to do was send a text message.

However, a lump of guilt formed in your throat, preventing you from doing so. 

Reiner never made you feel like a bother. He welcomed you back into his home — back into his life with open arms, even as a friend.

Although you could see the glisten of hurt behind his kindhearted gaze because your heart no longer belonged to him, he never did anything for you because he expected some kind of love or favor in return.

But your lack of independence was starting to get to you.

Never — not once in your entire life — had you truly been independent. 

Maybe for about a year at most, but aside from that, someone had always cared for you, whether it was with diamonds and fine dining or pennies and sandwiches.

So, you didn’t text Reiner. You put your phone back into your purse, unsure of what to do.

That’s when you noticed Levi walking out of the door. Once again, he was ending a phone call. 

Who exactly was he always on the phone with?

This time around, encountering Levi was far more awkward. It was just the two of you, standing outside, alone in the dark, listening to the gentle raindrops splatter onto the ground. 

Levi started to turn around and head back inside, but the sound of your voice made his footsteps halt.

“Wait,” you said. “Don’t leave.”

Levi didn’t move.

“I’m sorry, Levi. I was out of line the other day.”

He turned to face you. Staring at his unreadable expression, you wished that, just once, you knew what he was thinking. 

“That’s your apology?” Levi’s sudden frown was a mix of both sadness and anger. “After everything you accused me of . . . everything you said to me . . . that’s the best you can do?”

Your shameful gaze dropped down to your feet, briefly staring at the concrete ground before looking back up into his eyes.

“I was upset. I was going through a lot and I wanted someone to blame. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that, especially after everything you’ve done for me when you didn’t have to lift a finger. For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re a bad person. I of all people know how difficult it is to break free from someone like Connie . . . to pick wanting money over doing the right thing . . . and . . . I’m just sorry.”

The rain started to pour harder. It filled the silence until, after a moment, Levi started to speak.

“I forgive you. You weren’t entirely wrong, either. I should have done more, and I should have done it years ago. I was never the kind of person who’d let people get hurt as long as it benefitted me, and how I became this way, I don’t know. I’m sorry too.”

“I understand,” you said. The smile that appeared across your face had erased any remaining aggravation that Levi might have felt in his heart. “Believe me, I get it. I don’t know much about your past, but I know you know what poverty feels like, right? I mean, most people don’t understand how far someone will go to avoid being homeless and starved. That’s where me and you are kinda similar, you know? Along with that, you said you had been collecting evidence since the beginning, right? You might not have done anything with it yet, but . . . in my opinion, it means that you didn’t just stand by and do nothing.”

Connie wasn’t always as cruel as he was now — a simple, yet important fact that was often overlooked by his latest actions. Once upon a time, he was just a ruthless entrepreneur with life-altering contracts. Still a shitty human being, but it was better than who he was now — a murderer. Imprisoner. Torturer.

That came once you got involved with his life and label. 

And that was when Levi, and everyone else, hit their limit. 

Your words made it difficult for Levi to make eye contact with you. He wasn’t shy by nature, nor someone who was easily made to feel anxious or nervous — an effect he had on others — but hearing you say those words, especially after your argument, was touching. 

But nothing could ease his guilt. It was a burden he’d live with forever, something he wasn’t certain he could learn to forgive himself for even after a lifetime of therapy. 

Not until Connie was behind bars or six feet under, at least.

“Y/N, did you really think I took care of you to ease my guilt?”

With a light shrug, you mumbled, “I’d be lying if I said I knew why you did anything, Levi.”

“Really?” Levi smiled sadly. His voice was soft as he spoke. “Are you being serious? I let you sleep in my house. I bought all of your favorite snacks in bulk. The only time I’ve ever tried to fight against Connie was for you. Everything I’ve done . . . you mean to tell me you don’t realize that I love you?”

There it was. That beautiful confession. One that made you want to smile and cry at the same time. 

“Finally. I love you too.” With glassy eyes and a soft grin, you breathlessly said, “Well, it took you so long to say it first, no wonder I didn’t piece it together. I guess I’m not as smart as I thought I was.”

“You’re a fucking idiot.” Suddenly, as that last word rolled off of his tongue, Levi stepped forward, cupped your cheeks, and pressed his lips against yours.

He didn’t care who might have been watching. He didn’t care if you were an infamous heartbreaker. He moved his lips against yours passionately without any regret. And — god, he could feel your lips wanting to spread into a smile as you kissed him back. 

It was the kind of kiss that made him mourn what could have been. 

He thought about you both losing your baby more than he let on.

And he thought about what his life might have been like if Connie never imprisoned you. If the seed of revenge was never planted within you.

Would you have told him the truth? Would the two of you have had a family, perhaps? Some sort of happy ending? Was it too late to try again?

When Levi pulled away from the kiss, it was only because he needed to breathe. Damn the human body for needing oxygen during such a sweet, cherishable moment. 

As badly as Levi wanted to take you home and toss you across his bed, he couldn’t. 

Not yet.

The last thing he wanted your relationship to amount to was friends with benefits.

You both almost had a child, and yet, he hadn’t even taken you out on a proper date.

Levi’s eyes darted down at his black shoes. He couldn’t see it, but the sight of his cheeks becoming a faint shade of pink and his flickering eyes made you smile even harder than before. Underneath his intimidating and cold personality, he was rather adorable.

“Are you busy tonight?” Levi questioned. He subtly cleared his throat, attempting to play off his sudden awkwardness. “If not, we should go somewhere.”

“On a date?” “Yes. On a date.”

—

Levi was a classy man. Call him old-fashioned, but he preferred the ways of greeting his date with flowers, wearing dresses and suits, fine dining at gourmet restaurants, and being the perfect gentleman. 

But tonight would have to go differently.

After all, you were both giving each other the silent treatment several minutes ago. Now, you were sitting in his car, getting ready to have a late dinner with him.

Half of him had wished that he asked you out tomorrow night instead, giving him time to prepare, but, truth be told, there was something charming about being this spontaneous. 

As he drove down the streets of Los Angeles, struggling to concentrate on the road because he wanted to keep staring at your cute grin — which made him smile too — he wasn’t sure where to take you tonight.

It wasn’t easy. After all, you were both dressed appropriately to visit someone in the hospital, not to go dining at a five-star restaurant amongst other celebrities and rich citizens. 

But, if you went to cheaper, less impressive dining places where your outfits would have been fine, you both would certainly be bombarded by paparazzi and fans who weren’t used to seeing celebrities walk into such common eateries. 

Even so, he was certain you would have preferred to eat at one of the more sophisticated restaurants in town. Levi had opened his mouth to suggest you both go somewhere for a quick wardrobe change so he could properly treat you to a classic steak and lobster dinner, a meal you had rambled about often in the past, but before he could speak, you sat up, staring out of the passenger seat window. 

“Oh, wait, wait, Levi, let’s eat there!”

It was a diner. A tiny, twenty-four-hour restaurant that undoubtedly served bottomless coffee, greasy food, and had an interior that hadn’t been remodeled since the 1970’s. 

It was the same place Levi picked you up from a while ago.

Pulling into the parking lot, Levi could see that the family-owned diner was being run by a chubby old man wiping down a table, who looked like he didn’t have a mean bone in his body. Despite living in the heart of all things film and music-related, the man didn’t seem like someone who would recognize you and Levi. Or, if he did, he wouldn’t care. All he cared about was serving his customers delicious food and making sure their bellies were full, no matter who they were.

From what Levi could tell, only one or two customers were in the diner. A younger girl who looked like a runaway, and another old man who was looking forward to completing a crossword puzzle in the morning. 

“I know it’s not . . .” you paused, thinking of the appropriate word. “I know it’s not fancy, but I don’t know. I saw this place the other day, and I really wanted to go inside. The food smelled really good.”

“Then let’s go inside, hm?” Levi smiled softly. He had never smiled so much in one day before.

Excitedly, you swung your passenger door open, and Levi had to grab your arm. “Wait, slow down,” he was rather amused at your impatience. 

“What? What’s wrong?” You frowned. 

Levi opened his center console and pulled out a hat. He tugged it on your head before pulling his own gray hood up. 

Everyone could still see your faces, but maybe the hats and hoods would help against any strollers who might pass by the diner, glance through the window, and see your familiar head shape.

—

Just as Levi had predicted, the old man treated you both like human beings.

The other old man in the diner hadn’t even glanced over to see who entered, as Jeopardy! was playing on the television hanging on the wall, and it held his attention like a moth drawn to a flame. 

However, the young runaway — a brunette teenage girl with the tips of her hair dyed bright purple — didn’t recognize Levi, but she knew who you were. After all, she owned a physical copy of the latest album created by Eldian Devils and a Jean Kirstein t-shirt — a black top with a white line drawing of his lazily cupped hands. His fans adored his hands as much as he did.

Two days ago, she watched your movie, A Game of Darkness, through Netflix on her cell phone as she waited at the bus stop.

But she didn’t bother you. She didn’t freak out.

Instead, she smiled kindly, removed her hand from the pocket of her jean jacket, and waved.

When you waved back, her smile brightened, and she went right back to eating her stack of pancakes.

The Classic. That’s what you had ordered; a burger and fries combo complete with a milkshake you shared with Levi.

Levi had ordered a sandwich with tater tots, but that didn’t stop him from stealing a french fry off of your plate.

Playfully, you swatted at his hand.

“Excuse you,” you said with a grin. “I bet if I took a bite of your sandwich, you’d start scoffing at me.”

“You can take a bite, I don’t care. The problem is that you’d unhinge your jaw and take the biggest bite possible,” grabbing two tater tots off of his plate, he put them on yours. “There. Now we’re even.” 

“One fry equals two tater tots?” You questioned. 

“Yeah, ‘cause they’re smaller.” 

“But they’re wider.” 

“Fine then,” with a small grin, Levi stole another one of your fries. 

You giggled a bit — a sound that would forever make Levi fall in love with you just a bit more. It seemed as if being in the diner had made you forget all your troubles, even just for a little while.

With your hand placed over the circular bottom of the vanilla milkshake in an old-fashioned glass, served with whipped cream and a cherry on top, you slowly slid it across the table to Levi’s side after taking a sip. 

“I’m giving you permission to steal another french fry from me, but you have to dip it in the milkshake.” 

“What for?” 

Dipping your own fry into the creamy dessert, you said, “I had a feeling you never tried it before.” 

“Got that right. I don’t look at a french fry and think, hey, this could really use some frozen sweet milk,” Levi's teasing tone made you tap his leg with your foot underneath the table, kicking him jokingly. 

“Maybe you’d be less grumpy now if you had tried it growing up.” Nodding in the direction of the milkshake, you bit into your own ice cream covered french fry. “Try it.”

Hesitantly, he grabbed another fry — pausing to put two more of his tater tots on your plate — and he dipped the fried potato into the milkshake, careful not to make any of the white, cold mixture spill out of the glass cup.

He took a bite. He raised his eyebrows in pleasant surprise for a second, then, he tried to play it off by looking away, avoiding the sight of your amused smirk.

“You like it! I can tell,” you beamed. 

“No, you can’t.”

“Yes, I can!”

Your lighthearted bickering session continued throughout your little date. After debating over the french fry and milkshake combination, you had challenged Levi to see who could tie a knot with the stem of the cherry from your milkshake using their tongue — the ultimate test of a good kisser.

It was endearing to see you this way. 

Watching you cover your mouth with your hand to hold back your loud but enduring laughter so as to not bother the other guests. Listening to you ramble on and on about different topics, such as why french fries should have been considered gourmet food, and at one point, you even told him about your play. He could see the passion in your eyes — the shy nature of sharing something that meant so much to you. Neither the topic of music nor acting had ever made your eyes sparkle like they were now.

And he was honored that you felt comfortable enough to tell him about your real passion: writing.

At one point, hours later, you and Levi had both sat in the diner for so long, that the owner had gone home and his daughter took over for her shift. The other guests had left too, and according to Levi’s watch, it was around midnight.

But neither you nor Levi had grown bored of being in each other’s presence for long. 

Not only had you shared your passions with Levi, but he started to open up as well. 

You asked him about his childhood.

He gave you as much detail as he could, even if he struggled to maintain eye contact as he did so.

He told the story of his beginnings as a boy without a father and a mother who was a sex worker. He touched on the topics of being raised and abandoned by his uncle, joining the military to combat poverty, and then helping out the boy whose parents adopted his cousin form a proper band, and assisting that boy’s friend with the launch of his record label.

When he brought up Hange and Erwin, his two best friends, he smiled.

Once you and Levi eventually left the diner after getting lost in time, he dropped you off at Reiner’s house.

It was drastically different from his own — not necessarily in terms of size, as the place was huge, making it obvious that the man wanted to have a lot of kids someday or intended for his relatives to stay over often — but his home looked like someone plucked a mansion out of the suburbs somewhere in the south and put it in the middle of Los Angeles.

The memory of seeing Reiner star in one of those house-building shows on HGTV several years ago suddenly appeared in Levi’s mind. He remembered skipping through the commercials about it. 

But it all made sense. Reiner probably had his home built specifically for him and his Tennessee-like, big family-seeking needs.

There were so many things he wanted to say before you got out of his car, shut the passenger door, and walked through Reiner’s front door. 

He wanted to tell you that you could live with him again if you wanted. He wanted to ask you out again and plan your next date immediately. He wanted . . . everything with you. 

But for now, he didn’t say a word.

—

— NEARLY TWO WEEKS LATER —

For the most part, your days consisted of the same routine.

Reiner would drop you off at the hospital to visit Eren. Levi would pick you up some nights, and you’d spend time together, going on brief walks in areas deemed as safe from prying eyes and pointed guns, and occasionally, you’d both stop by that lovely diner. 

You both made it a goal to try everything on the menu at least once. The old man beamed adorably whenever the bell above the door would ring, and he’d see you both walk in. You and Levi reminded him of his youthful days when he too was in love with someone. 

After your evenings out, Levi would drop you off at Reiner’s house, leaving the blonde-haired man conflicted, as he was happy to see you smiling again, but heartbroken that he wasn’t the cause of it. 

There was no greater misery than being roommates with someone you were once married to.

On an ordinary Thursday afternoon, you found yourself in Eren’s hospital room once again. His recovery was quite extraordinary. He could function like a regular person. Within the next few days, he would finally be allowed to go home. 

“Erennn,” you called out with a bit of a whine, shoes clicking against the mopped floor as you rushed over to his big window and pulled the curtains open, letting the pretty afternoon sun cast its colorful orange and yellow rays into his room. “You have the nicest view in the entire hospital. You should open your curtains more often. Just look at the sky.”

“Someone’s in a good mood,” Eren said curiously, his sharp eyes watching you as he sat in his chair. He moved the acoustic guitar from his lap and leaned it against the wall. Trying to play it only reminded him of what he lost — two of his fingers and a friend. 

“Is it ‘cause of Levi?”

Growing up, Eren had always been told several facts about his face — that it was perfect. Beautiful, according to science. Even now, the golden sunlight shined upon his gorgeous face, and it made him look like a god had spent an incredible amount of time crafting him. But, he had also been told that he was quite expressive as well, unable to hide even the slightest displeasure.

Everyone could always tell when he was pissed off, irritated, happy, or upset.

During those moments when he wasn’t glaring at someone with utter hatred, he, oddly enough, had a love stare as well. 

Where most people had blank or neutral expressions while interacting with others, Eren tended to stare at the ones he cared for like he was madly in love with them — he couldn’t help it.

It drove his fans crazy too. The way he’d look at every fan as if they were his soulmate, and they would blush and giggle.

And when he looked at you, well, his eyes would soften then too. But there was no mistaking that the love glistening within his gaze was real.

That’s how he was looking at you now. With that love stare.

But there was something else flickering in his eyes as well.

Jealousy and pain.

“How’d you hear about that?” You questioned, walking over to sit on his hospital bed — a bed he absolutely despised because laying down was his least favorite thing to do in such a creepy place.

“Reiner told me.” Eren shrugged. “I don’t think he meant to, but I couldn’t speak well, so he was running his mouth to try to fill the silence. You know how many people do that? They start rambling when it gets too quiet. I know so many secrets now, like my aunt Beth — you remember her, right? — well, she believed in Santa Claus until she was fourteen. Oh, and my mom never made homemade marinara sauce growing up. It was store-bought. She lied. But anyway, yeah. Reiner told me.”

“Oh,” with a gentle smile, you said, “Well, it’s not like I was trying to keep it a secret. I just didn’t know if there was anything to tell. Me and Levi aren’t . . . we don’t have any sort of title. With me still trying to get a divorce, and everything going on . . . I just don’t want to worry too much about romance right now, you know what I mean? All I know is that I like our little dates. It’s a good distraction from . . . everything else.”

Feeling his heart shatter into pieces was almost as painful as getting shot in the chest.

“He’s fucking lucky,” Eren mumbled, frowning a bit. “I’m happy you’re happy, it’s nice to see you smile, but I’m not giving up on you just yet.” 

With a little laugh, you shook your head.

“Eren, you’re worried about the wrong thing. Now isn’t the time for you to be jealous, okay?”

Eren turned his head away from you. Truthfully, the sight of his jealousy-driven antics made your heart skip a beat — the very heart that Eren would always have a place in, even if he didn’t own it.

“Eren,” you called out once again, leaning to the right until your elbow was pressed against the mattress. “Can you look at me please?”

He didn’t mean to act like a child. Truly, he didn’t. He hated himself for it. Armin had just died. You were in the middle of trying to divorce a monster. You were dealing with financial troubles and a lack of privacy from the rest of the world.

The last thing he wanted was to make you feel guilty over being around someone who made you forget your troubles, even for a couple of hours every night, especially when he was genuinely happy for you.

But he couldn’t help it.

He had his fair share of past relationships, hookups, and regrets. At one point, Hollywood could have given him the infamous heartbreaker title, just as they did you. 

But everything changed when he fell in love with you. No longer was he that rebellious rockstar who fucked supermodels and didn’t give a damn about anyone but himself. 

He was now the kind of person who found himself blushing when you stared into his eyes. The kind of person who’d both kill and die for you. The kind of person who would do anything you wanted.

And he ruined it by both letting you go and pushing you away.

“I wish I never let that assrat force me into divorcing you,” Eren glared at the floor. “I wanted us to go to therapy — did you know that?”

“Yeah. I did. Connie made you leave me.” 

You recalled the memory of you, long ago, begging Eren to stay with you after you cheated on him with Jean.  

What a time.

“Why won’t you look at me?” You tried again. “Please don’t be jealous.”

After your plea didn’t work, you took matters into your own hands. You leaned off of the bed, grabbed the arms of his wheelchair, and rolled him over toward you. Still, he tried to avoid your gaze, but it was rather difficult with you being so close. 

“Eren, if you don’t look at me, I swear on my mom that I’ll . . .” you paused, pursing your lips. “Okay, I can’t think of anything, so can you just look at me?”

He couldn’t hide his laughter, nor did he want to. 

But, finally, his eyes made contact with yours.

“About time,” you smiled. 

“Why did me not looking at you bother you so much? I don’t get it.”

“Because I thought you were going to die, so . . . I guess I like to look at you as much as I can now. I couldn’t see your eyes for weeks, remember? And losing you would ruin me in ways I can’t even say.”

Your mind drifted back to that night at the bridge.

“Y/N,” Eren ran his hand over his face. For a second, you thought he knew about your dark day, and your heart skipped a beat once again, this time in utter panic.

“You can’t say shit like that to me,” Eren groaned. “How can you tell me not to be jealous and then say-”

“Hey, hey, hey,” interrupting him, you reached forward, grabbing his jaw gently, and rather playfully. “We’re not gonna talk about any of that right now, okay? There are more important things to focus on. For example, you could be getting discharged in a few days, which is a really big deal for a lot of reasons, and your safety is the top priority. You’re gonna have to put up with plenty of bodyguards for now, but it won’t be so bad. I’ll be around to help you out. So will your family, of course.”

“Fine,” Eren mumbled, but then, he suddenly grinned — as best as he could with your fingers pressing into his cheeks, at least. “What do you wanna do today, then? I can kick your ass at U.N.O, we can watch a movie-”

“Kick my ass?” You moved his head back and forth before releasing your grip on his jaw. “Since when?”

“Since before you started cheating. You shuffle the deck in a way that gives you all the draw fours, and I think you hide all the skip cards under your leg,” Eren was grinning even brighter than before. 

“Hush before I shuffle you.”

“What the hell does that even mean?” Eren called out, laughing softly as you rose from your spot on the hospital bed to grab the deck of U.N.O cards from your purse. 

“It means I’ll give you an extended hospital stay.”

For a while, you and Eren proceeded to play cards and bicker until it was time for you to leave.

Tonight, you and Levi didn’t have any plans, but you had grown rather concerned when you checked your phone and saw that he hadn’t messaged you yet.

—

One day later, you and Levi found yourselves standing outside of the private hospital exit once again after visiting Eren and the Yeager family. 

Levi had prepared baked chicken and a green bean casserole for them, as poor Carla didn’t have the time or the energy to cook nowadays.

As you waited for Reiner to arrive, you smiled at Levi, and he grinned back, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

He spoke before you could question it.

“There’s something I need to talk to you about.” With much intensity, Levi stared into your eyes. “Not here, though.”

Reiner’s expensive, dark green pick-up truck came into view, his car slowing to a complete stop.

When you didn’t hop in immediately, Reiner rolled down the passenger seat window.

“Hey Levi,” he greeted. He looked at him, then at you. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, um,” you stepped closer toward the rolled-down window. “Do you mind if Levi comes back to your place with us? He said he needs to talk. It’s really important.”

“Of course, I don’t mind,” Reiner smiled softly. 

Although, in his heart, he wanted to be your one and only, part of him was relieved to see that you and Levi had worked through your situation, only because if something had happened to himself at the hands of Connie, you’d have someone else to depend on.

—

It wasn’t long before the three of you were in Reiner’s living room. For extra privacy, Reiner asked his bodyguards to stand outside for a while.

Levi sat down in a chair across from the couch, which is where Reiner lounged, while you sprawled out on the bay window bench — your favorite spot in the entire world right now.

“What’s going on?” You asked Levi. “You’re worrying me.”

“I put a lot of thought into what you said, Y/N.” Levi shifted around in his seat. “The police don't care what you and Eren have to say, not when Connie’s making them rich. Every day, the situation dies down more and more, and soon enough, Connie won’t just get away with murder, but with everything he’s done to everyone. And he’ll keep doing it.”

“You’re right,” you mumbled. “He’s completely lost it, too. I’m worried he’ll come back and try to kill Eren again, or . . . any of us. That maybe he’ll change his mind about leaving me alive. We’re all living in fear.”

“What are you suggesting?” Reiner asked Levi, leaning forward until his arms were resting on his around his knees.

“We need to draw Connie out. I have a plan.” 

“What is it?” 

Levi looked over at you as you spoke. He looked you in the eye with that unreadable expression you’ve grown to both love and hate. Casually, he said, “We need to get married.”

♡ — 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠!

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[darkglories]

Ballad of sister sue

y/n & dark prince eren 🖤