#it was the first things i daydreamed about when thinking about their cottage core AU

[kaekiro]

The Two of Us

Pairing: Eren/Mikasa II Rating: T II Words: 2334 II [AO3] Warnings: Manga Spoilers for ch138 and mentions of sex A/N: Snippets of the life Eren and Mikasa could've had. Eren's POV. 

He had long forgotten what peace was, what it felt like to be free of burden, and what it meant to be normal. But he rediscovers it in the songs birds sing early in the morning, the scent of pines just east of their home, and in her quiet but discernible breaths when she falls asleep at his side. He’s never seen her rest so much or known her to be the sleepy kind, but having led the life they did before finding this place, he thinks that she deserves the sleep more than anyone. The warmth of her body at his side is reassuring in its own way, and for once he doesn’t feel guilty for deciding to spend the day resting alongside her, because now they simply could. 

They quickly established a routine once they had settled, taking turns with chores and cooking and small tasks in between. Bit by bit and day by day, the familiarity of it all puts him at ease, but it’s the changes between them that truly give him a sense of peace. It’s the softness of her hands and voice that makes him feel incredibly safe, and he relishes in how she relaxes when he reaches for and draws her near. 

He learns and memorizes little things about Mikasa, her small habits and talents in sewing and embroidery, and how well she could carry a tune. She had been slightly embarrassed and shy the first time he had asked if she could sing for him, and he wondered if she was even aware of her own talent. During that time, they had decided to have lunch in a clearing she had found some time ago while hunting, one that was decorated with foliage and the greenest grass he had ever seen. Rays of sunlight seeped through and between the leaves of the tree they sat beneath, and he had reached a hand up to study how the light spotted his skin in an array of shapes. She took that hand in hers, and he looked up at her from where he lay against the trunk. Wordlessly, she coaxed him to rest his head upon her lap, closing his eyes as she ran her fingers through his hair. He could have never imagined being like this, unable to believe how different his life is compared to mere months ago. But he starts to become restless when the thought reminds him of everything they left behind, the pending consequences behind it. 

“Sing for me,” he heard himself ask quickly, focusing all his attention on the light blush that colored her face. “Please.”

“You… you want me to sing? But… why?” 

“I…” he began, tightening his grip on her hand when he failed to explain without going back on their promise to not bring up such things. But maybe it showed on his face because her expression shifted into a soft one, and she thumbed a short lock of hair away from his forehead in understanding. 

“What would you like me to sing?” 

“Anything,” he murmured, resting their joined hands on his chest, “anything you want.” 

She nods, and he closes his eyes again, the beautiful melody of her voice lulling him to sleep. 

---- 

They both wonder if they’ll ever be able to fully remedy the nightmares that plague them. He feels awful every time his yells or sudden movements scare her awake, and she apologizes when he wakes to find her crying. Perhaps there is nothing that will fully prevent such things from happening, but it brings them closer together anyway. The cabin had two rooms across from one another and, afraid to cross some unknown boundary, he originally slept separately from her. But soon enough, they found themselves walking across the hall in the middle of every other night when one of them had a nightmare. Sleeping next to one another from then on became normal, almost a necessity, and she didn’t question him the first night he went into her room unprompted just to lay beside her. Instead, she turned to wrap her arms around him and he fixed himself so that her head was tucked beneath his chin. His heart beats a fast but content rhythm at how natural it was to be like this, and though it scared him a bit, he sensed deep down that it was because he was somehow falling even more in love with Mikasa. 

Over time, the furniture in his room collects dust.

----

Sometimes, they argue. The reasons range from small mistakes that come off as careless to things that have either of them venomously questioning whether they made the right decision in running away together. Though it very rarely happens, the latter argument cuts so far deep, effectively silencing and reducing them to stare at each other in a mix of hurt and anger. The argument never progresses farther than that though, and instead ends with her closing their bedroom door behind her and him engaging in work to distract himself. But when their emotions wind down, they seek one another out, and they work to resolve the issue no matter how long it takes. He knows that the hurtful things said were out of anger, but it does little to assuage that constant fear that deep down, a part of her regrets their decision. 

“Do you ever wonder what would’ve happened if we stayed back there?” he asks her one night as he lays next to her, looking at the book at her lap and then up at her.

The question visibly startles her, and she stares at him with more concern than he expects. She promptly closes the book. “What?” 

“It’s just that… sometimes I worry if…” 

“If what, Eren?” 

“If you are really okay. Being here with me. I’ve made a lot of mistakes… and I still don’t fully understand why you choose me.” 

It’s silent for a moment as his words hang in the air, but then she twists her body towards him, taking his face in her hands. “Eren, listen to me. I choose you… because you’re you. I meant what I said that day, that hasn’t and won’t change.” 

His eyes begin to sting as they look over her thoughtfully, and she implores him to believe her by kissing his forehead and lips and encasing his body with hers, whispering the only three words that could put his fears to rest. 

----

He accidentally stumbles upon her as she dresses for the day, his eyes widening at the unexpected sight of her clad only in a skirt and bra, her blouse in one of her hands. He quickly turns away while apologizing profusely, feeling his face burn hotly as he drags a hand down the length of it in shame. There are sounds of clothes rustling, and then her footsteps as she crosses the room to stand in front of him. Her own face is tinged, but she offers a sweet smile when he finally manages to look at her. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” 

She walks out of the room then, leaving him to stand there, confused and unsure of what to make of her words. He swallows around the dryness in his throat, forcibly distracting himself with thoughts of other matters. 

Though after the incident, he senses another change between them. Without realizing it, the few reservations they still had despite being together had disappeared, and they became comfortable with one another in ways they hadn’t before. More often than not, they get ready for the day and for sleep alongside each other instead of separately, and their affections are no longer prompted solely for consolation but within the little moments of their life. Sometimes she kisses him upon thanking him, and he takes her hand in his when they travel somewhere together. And sometimes, they crave more than chaste kisses and innocent touches.

The night had been like any other. She had just finished changing into her nightgown as he entered the room, feeling too lazy to get ready for bed just yet. He sat at the edge of the bed and fell back, unsure why he was more tired than usual. She moved to sit and plop right beside him, voicing the bit of concern she had. In turn, he insisted that it was nothing, but as he spoke, something caught in his throat that sent him into a coughing fit. He had to put his hand up and wave her off so that she’d know it was nothing serious, but she gets up and returns with a glass of water to help him anyway. He sits up and downs the entire thing in a few gulps, feeling instant relief. 

“Thank you,” he says quietly, tugging on her hand and looking pointedly at her mouth. She leans over and kisses him, humming against his lips. She pulls back slightly, and they gaze at one another until she kisses him again, again, and again. 

Mikasa uses his shoulders to balance herself, and he lightly runs his palms over her forearms. His eyes open in somewhat of a daze when she suddenly stops, and he gives her a questioning expression when she suddenly looks somewhat nervous and contemplative. Before he can ask if she’s okay, she kisses him fiercely and slips her fingers beneath the collar of his shirt. It takes him by surprise but he hardly thinks much of it as he returns her kisses with equal fervor, his hands moving from her forearms to the small of her back. It when she pulls back and she shifts to straddle his lap and press her body completely against his that he begins to pick up on what’s happening, and the room starts getting too warm because he is acutely aware of how her nightgown has ridden up on her thighs, how the heat of the newly exposed skin is easily felt through his own clothing. His wide eyes convey questions and concerns, and she answers by taking his hands and kissing his knuckles, guiding his fingers to the edge of her gown. 

“Mikasa—” he whispers somewhat urgently, stilling their movements and she pauses, averting her eyes as she leans back. 

“Sorry. I… didn't ask if this was okay.” He shakes his head immediately, keeping her from moving away. 

“That’s not what I meant,” he says more firmly, curling his fingers around her wrists. 

“It’s…” a sigh escapes him in a heavy, nervous breath. “What if I hurt you?” 

Her mouth hangs open a bit, but then closes with a small but reassuring smile. 

“I trust you, Eren,” she answers before kissing his cheekbone, her lips very close to his ear when she adds “only you.” 

Her words and silent affirmations send a jolt through his heart and bones, and within moments they are nothing but a tangle of limbs as their mouths mesh and gasp for air between kisses. She helps him remove the thin cotton of her gown and undo the buttons of his shirt, and he leans back against the bed to feel the pleasant weight of her above him. They take their time in mapping out the expanse of bare skin, kissing nearly every scar and birthmark, and though their touches and movements are clumsy, it is nothing less than perfect because it’s with her. 

In the morning, he finds her neck and chest dotted with light purple marks. It’s the ticklish sensation of his fingers smoothing over the marks that wake her up, and he feels relief when she says that they don’t hurt. He apologizes anyway and she shakes her head, moving her body to fill the space between them before falling back asleep. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt more content.

---- 

He tries so very hard to mask the effects this curse has on him, carrying an extra handkerchief in his pocket to quickly wipe away his nosebleeds, or alter his breathing to stifle his harsh breath after carrying something. But he should’ve known that not even this could slip past her. His days are dwindling, and she watches over him intently and holds him even tighter. If they had been younger, he probably would’ve snapped at her for it, assuming she thought him to be weak. But that was never the case. He knows she’s scared of what’s coming, and it devastates him. The last thing he wants is for this, for them to come to an end. He became so angry and frustrated because the closer he was to dying, the more he wanted to live. He carried guilt for having ended up this way, but it was her who told him that none of it was his fault, that life had dealt them a tragic and unfair hand. 

“Hey…” she murmurs one night as they sit in front of a fire, looking up at the glittered expanse of sky. He moves a bit in her arms, letting her know that he was listening. 

“Do you think we’ll get to meet again? In heaven? Or maybe in another life?” 

The question stings. She sounds so tired but hopeful, and he does not want to lie and say yes when in reality, he had no clue. He tells her exactly that, and she only hums in response. 

“Well… if there is… I’ll find you. And maybe we’ll have better luck then.” 

The fire crackles, sending a cloud of embers into the sky. 

“Not if I don’t find you first,” he answers after a few moments, his attempt at lightening the mood successful when she huffs in amusement. He pulls away from her, prompting her to meet his eyes. 

“Mikasa… no matter what happens, we will always be together. Afterlife or not, I’ll be with you, and you’ll be with me.” 

Tears pool in her eyes and cascade down her face, her voice choked as she says, “promise?” 

He wipes away her tears, and though his own throat tightens, he smiles. 

“Promise.” 

[neapolitanadonna]

cottagecore has taken over my life. can i request a scenario where human au England is living in this little cottage in the flower fields and he sees this strange girl in the fields all the time? He just kinda watches her and admires her and stuff and cute soft cottage core things ack I'll leave the creativity to you THANK YOU!!!

Oh you KNOW my cottagecore ass had fun with this one. I genuinely felt soft writing this so I hope everyone feels soft too. I love getting the opportunity to make imperialists look soft, its by far my favorite hobby of this quarantine. 

Also this is a bit long, so remember to click keep reading!!

Arthur was a hardworking man in the government who, despite practically signing his life away to it, hated the government. His London flat, aggressive cabbies, black coffee at 5 in the morning, three piece suit everyday life was something that got him far in life, it was a shame that most days, he couldn’t care less about it. 

After his grandmother passed, she left him her small brick cottage in Painswick. At first he thought of selling it, not that he needed the extra money, it would just be a shame to leave empty real estate. He didn’t think he would ever spend his days in the little place, but in a time where he tried to manifest nothing but peace, the universe brought him to the cottage. 

He spends his weekends there. It isn’t big government buildings and the bustling streets of London, but to him, it’s perfect. If he wasn’t tethered to the responsibilities of being an adult, he would pack up everything he had and move to the cottage. He considered it often, he had nothing left in London for him, anyway. He lived alone in London and in Painswick, but Painswick felt less lonely. 

His grandmother's cottage was relatively secluded, far enough from the little village to be truly alone, but close enough if he needed to walk to get anything. However, oddly enough, even if there were no other residences near him, one particular creature always showed up in his backyard. 

He wasn’t a fan of judging a woman by her physical traits, but he remembers the first time he laid eyes on her perfectly. It was cinematic, and if it was a film, he would watch it again and again. She wore a baby blue dress with a flower print that fell just above her knees. Her hair was pulled back into braids with two little bows the same color as her dress. He couldn’t quite see the color of her eyes from his window, but they held some sort of power in them even from afar. As she gently walked through the flower fields, she tucked the wildflowers she picked into the weaves of her braids, filling them with Bluebells, Columbine, Daisies, and Cornflowers. She didn’t trip over plants or roots that peeked through the dirt. She seemed to thank the earth each time she picked a flower. As he watched her card through the flowers, spin in the field, then sit under the Crab apple tree up upon the hill, he figured he must’ve been hallucinating. It had been a long week of work, he had gone through so many rough emotions that it was possible she was an angel and he was on the verge of death. 

Until she showed up again. 

Her visits to his field were almost scheduled, but sporadic all at the same time. She would come, sometimes pick flowers, others leave them alone, but dance among them either way. She would sometimes bring little baskets of peaches and bread for herself, other times she came with nothing but herself. She once got close enough to a deer that it let her pet its head, the same thing happened another time with a rabbit. His grandmother used to tell him stories and lore about Painswick, how faeries disguised themselves as humans to lure them in. He couldn’t help but wonder if his grandmother wasn’t just telling old tales. There was no way this girl was human. 

She seemed devoid of any human flaw. She couldn’t have been any older than 20, but even though Arthur was 23, his position aged him five years. She always seemed so happy, so carefree, like nothing in the world could have made her upset. If anyone else came through his property to take his flowers, he would be sure to lecture them, but she was his only exception. 

It was a Saturday morning when Arthur woke up feeling less on edge than usual. He was so used to having a migraine that waking up without one felt like a giant weight off his shoulders. The light filtered through the old blinds just perfectly, hitting the old paintings of flowers on the wall. It occurred to him that he did more staring out his window into the fields than he did outside. Maybe today would be the perfect day for him to spend a day out there, no stress, no work, and definitely no migraine. 

The sun was still rising as he walked out into the fields. He never noticed it before, but bumble bees danced around every honeysuckle and corn flower. He supposed they would be hard to notice from far away. 

He set down his little blanket at the base of the crab apple tree. It made him feel a certain sense of anxiety knowing that this is where the ethereal girl usually spent her time, that he was sitting in her spot despite it being his property. He looked out on the fields, the sun rising behind them, and began to realize why the girl loved it here so much. 

He spent a good while like this, staring off into the fields, down at his cottage, the trees and wood that extended beyond the fields. He only stopped daydreaming when he heard humming. 

He recognized it as Donovan’s “Sunny Goodge Street” before he processed who the humming could have possibly come from. When his brain finally did process, yes, it had to be none other than the voice of the girl, he felt his heart leap into his throat. She must’ve been coming up from behind, and his best option was to sit absolutely still from the other side of the tree hoping she would walk the other way around and avoid him completely. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk to her, but he couldn’t quite admit that he was afraid. She had all the odds of the universe on her side, she might’ve been mother nature herself, and who was he compared to that? Unfortunately, his desires came to a fault. Her humming stopped, and her footsteps got louder. A soft, faint giggle could be heard from behind the tree. 

“Hello?” Arthur’s heart leaped to his throat again. Such a sweet voice she had, too. In retrospect, he should've moved, stood up to greet her and introduce himself, but he was frozen. He spent all week talking and negotiating with big government hot shots, yet he couldn’t face a silly girl who spent her days in the flower fields. 

“Are you hiding from me?” She giggled again, and then she was next to him, standing above him. He couldn’t help but exhale deeply the moment he saw her. His cheeks were for sure red, such an embarrassing thing for a grown man, he thought. She wore the same blue dress she wore the day he first saw her, her hair let loose and gently curled around her shoulders, instead. 

“Are you the funny man who lives down in the cottage there?” She asked, taking an uninvited seat in front of him on his blanket. She smelled like honey, roses, and the morning. She was even more beautiful up close than she was from his bedroom window. 

“Lots of questions you have for me. I should be the one asking who you are. This is my property” Arthur replied. The moment he said it, he felt a pang of guilt. He had a hard time talking to somebody without being defensive anymore. The girl didn’t seem to care. 

“I’m really sorry.” She smiled, almost solemnly. “I’m __. There was this sweet old lady, Mrs. Kirkland, who lived here quite a bit ago. She was a regular at my nans flower shop in town, she used to invite me over quite a bit to have tea. Before she passed, she told me I could still visit the fields whenever I wanted. It never occurred to me that somebody else would be living here after she…” 

“Oh, don’t worry, __.”  Was all Arthur could muster up saying. The way her name spilled off his tongue sent a shot of adrenaline up his spine. __. So very fitting. 

He found it strange from the start that his grandmother left him her cottage, of all things. Maybe, somehow, this was her funny little way of playing matchmaker for him. The blush rose back to his cheeks. 

“I’m Mrs. Kirklands grandson, Arthur. I’m sorry for making accusations.” 

“It’s alright.” She smiled. “I’m sure if I saw some strange girl on my property I would be curious, too.” 

“How did you know I lived here?” Arthur asked, meeting her bright __ eyes. 

“It just feels less lonely when you’re here.” She smiled. “That, and I heard you drop your mug one morning. Your reaction wasn’t all that discreet.”

She giggled, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. 

“Oh, for fucks sake, you mean to tell me you saw that?” 

“I promise I’m not a stalker,” her smile seemingly permanent on her face. “Just observant, is all.” 

“I wasn’t accusing you of being one.” 

“Oh, but I can tell you’ve thought about it.” 

Arthur wanted to tell her he didn’t think any malice of her. He wanted to tell her that even if she was stalking him, it was the best intrusion of his privacy he’s ever had. He wanted to grab her little hand that rested upon her knee, but he knew he couldn’t. He’s never felt so intimidated by another person in his life. 

Arthur said nothing to her in response, and instead for a moment, __ studied him, then stood up. 

“Don’t leave.” He said, suddenly. It wasn’t even his intention, it came out of him on instinct. She looked back down on him and smiled, and shook her head. 

“I wasn’t planning on it, darling.” She giggled. “I’ll be right back.” 

Arthur watched her as she tumbled down the hill to the fields, the tall grasses and flowers welcoming her like she was a part of them. He finally had the opportunity to sigh, and run a hand through his hair. He couldn’t stop thinking about how his grandmother probably set this whole thing up for him, she was always a clever woman. 

__ came back a few minutes later with hands full of flowers. She sat back down in front of him, and carefully broke the stems of the flowers to make them shorter. He wanted to question her process, but instead just watched her. He finally made a noise when his breath hitched as she moved to push some of his hair out of his face. 

“You have the most beautiful green eyes I’ve ever seen.” __ marveled, her own eyes gentle as they looked into his. 

“I- Thank you.” Arthur held back a stammer. She brushed his hair from his face again, then gently placed a daisy behind his ear. 

“Perfect.” She giggled, pushing his hair away from the other side of his face to make room for another daisy. 

“You’re ridiculous, woman.” He shook his head, but couldn’t hold back a smile. “Who on god's earth are you?” 

She shook her head, and shrugged. 

“I’m just trying to enjoy the life I was given. No use in living unless you spend every day the way you want.” 

“Do you work?” 

“At my nans flower shop, yes. It’s not as much about money as it is enjoying my time with my nan.” She shook her head. “Besides basic bills and the likes, everything I need I make myself.” 

“Do you drive?” 

“A bike. I never felt the need for a car.” 

“Do you have a cellphone?” 

“Of course, I like to live naturally, that doesn’t mean I’m a barbarian.” 

“I was just wondering.” Arthur chuckled, making the bold move of pushing her hair out of her face. Her eyes fluttered shut and a small smile spread across her face. He grabbed a cornflower and tucked it behind her ear. He felt breath against his arm, there was something so intimate about her breathing. It had barely started to occur to him that this was the girl he’s admired from afar for months. 

“Perfect.” He teased, eliciting a giggle from her. His hand still touched against the softness of her cheek, lingering there, but she didn’t seem to mind. She gently reached for his hand, lowering it from her face, and instead threading her fingers in between his. The softness of her skin, the warmth of her smile, the sweet little chime in her voice, everything about her overwhelmed him. 

God, he wished he could thank his grandmother for this.