#sashablouse

[i-am-pixxie]

Mash up of some of the AoT redraw sketches I've done over the years💚

[broodingboysimp]

Chapter 1 - Gloss Over Bruises

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4

You weren’t supposed to be here. Not in this house, not on this coast, and definitely not under Eren Jaeger’s eyes.

Eren Jaeger x female!reader

Summary: After a sudden move into your estranged father’s newly acquired beachside home, you’re thrust into a world of champagne-soaked parties, whispered secrets, and a friend group that feels too close for comfort. You’re carrying a past you’re desperate to keep buried and wearing a smile you’re still learning how to fake. Then there’s Eren. Sharp-tongued, unreadable, and dangerously magnetic. He sees too much, says too little, and makes you question everything you thought you wanted. What starts as curiosity spirals into something darker, tangled in loyalty, longing, and the kind of silence that cuts deep. In a world of polished smiles and fraying edges, not everything soft survives. Salt always finds its way into silk.

Warnings: angst, underage drinking, abuse, grief/loss, violence, smut, 18+

Author’s Note: omg hey it’s been literally 3+ years since I published a fic… my bad… Anyways, the sudden return of fratboy!Eren on my feed had me dying for some angst. Summer setting obviously to usher in the season! I’m gonna include 5 songs at the beginning of each chapter that set the tone/vibe for that chapter. I like to listen to music while reading so maybe some of you will enjoy that. This fic is going to be super angsty and highkey intense so be forewarned. Hope you all enjoy <3 Maybe I’ll actually finish this fic for once…

Song Suggestions:

Coastline - Hollow Coves

I’m on My Way - Vance Westlake

Highschool Lover - Cayucas

Sea, Swallow Me - Cocteau Twins & Harold Budd

Motion Sickness - Phoebe Bridgers

The house felt too big. Too empty. Even with the ocean breeze flowing through the wide-open windows, it lacked the warmth that should’ve filled it—something that could make it feel like home. But it wasn’t home. Not to you. Not yet, anyway.

It was your mother’s inheritance that had bought this place, something she would’ve hated. A grand beach house. You had grown up well off, but your mother never flaunted it. She made sure bills were paid, your house was well kept, and that she had put enough away to cover your college tuition. She would’ve hated the large, marble encompassed windows that showed a view of the pool, desk, and beach access. It was gaudy, loud. And now, it was just a reminder of all the things lost—your mother, your life before everything changed. Your father had been thrilled when he bought it, having begged your mom for years to make the investment. You? You couldn’t help but feel like a stranger in it. A stranger to the house, to your life, to your family. You wished your college dorms were open year round, but with spring semester coming to an end you found yourself with nowhere to go but home. Well, here. 

You stepped outside, the salty air almost suffocating in its richness, but you couldn’t ignore it. It was the kind of air you could taste, thick with the ocean’s salt. You followed the stone path down toward the beach, the sand soft underfoot as you walked closer to the shoreline.

There was a group of people ahead, spread across the beach, laughing and enjoying the warm afternoon. From a distance, you could make out the shapes of girls lounging, their bodies stretched out on towels, their laughter punctuating the rhythmic sound of the waves. They wore bright colors, sipping drinks, their carefree energy contagious even from far away. You could tell they had not a care in the world, and you envied that feeling.

A few guys were tossing a football between them, and you couldn’t help but watch them for a moment. There was something easy about the way they moved. They were athletic, confident, happy. One of them had blonde hair, his body lean but toned, making quick, graceful movements to catch the ball. Another had darker hair, shorter, with a kind of reserved energy to him, eyes scanning the horizon as if deep in thought. A third had a smile that could charm anyone, his laughter filling the space around him as he joked with the others.

But as your eyes moved past the others, they landed on him.

He was tall, his tan skin almost glowing in the sun, muscles defined and sculpted. There was something about the way he moved, fluid and effortless, but also like he carried some kind of weight. His dark hair caught the light as he threw the football, and his eyes, when they met yours for a split second, were intense, as if he could see right through you.

You quickly looked away, trying not to make it obvious that he’d caught your attention. You had no reason to focus on him, or anyone for that matter. You didn’t belong here, not really. But the pull, that subtle feeling, wouldn’t fade as you walked along the edge of the beach.

You were just about to turn back toward the house when something came flying through the air. A football slammed into the sand inches from your foot, sending up a puff that hit your ankles. You jumped back instinctively, caught off guard.

“Oh, shit,” came a voice, low and a little amused.

You looked up, and there he was. The same guy who’d caught your attention from afar, jogging toward you with an easy stride. His hair was messy from the wind, sun catching on the sharp lines of his jaw. He didn’t look sorry in the slightest.

“My bad,” he said, picking up the football. His voice was smooth, a little rough around the edges. “Didn’t mean to almost take your head off.”

You gave him a wry look, brushing sand off your legs. “No worries. I’ll consider it a beachside welcome.”

That made him smile, just a little. He twirled the football in his hands. “You new around here?”

You gestured vaguely behind you. “Yeah. Just moved in. That house up there.”

He paused, like he registered something in that sentence. The way you said it. His smile faltered just for a second, his jaw tightening subtly before he masked it with a shrug.

“Huh. Nice place.”

You weren’t sure if he meant it or not.

“I’m Eren, by the way,” he added, holding the football loosely at his hip.

“(Y/N),” you offered confidently in return.

For a second, it was just the two of you, the sound of waves crashing behind you and the smell of salt in the air.

But then the rest of them started approaching. The same group from earlier. The guys and girls now circling around, curious and easygoing. Someone with long blonde hair gave you a bright, almost dazzling smile. Another girl with jet-black hair looked you over carefully, saying nothing at first.

“Who’s this?” one of the guys asked, a grin tugging at his lips. He was tall and undeniably attractive, with sharp cheekbones, confident posture, and warm brown eyes that flicked over you with curiosity.

“She just moved in,” Eren explained simply, gesturing to the previously vacant house. He tossed the football to one of them without looking away from you. “With her dad.”

Again, that strange edge to his voice when he said that. No one else seemed to notice, but you did.

“Oh my God, we’ve been watching that house all summer wondering if anyone was moving in!” said one of the girls. She had brown hair and sun-kissed skin, already eyeing you like she’d claimed you as a new best friend. “I’m Sasha, by the way. You have to come to the bonfire tonight. It’s kind of a big deal. It’s Eren’s ‘first night of summer’ thing. Total tradition.”

Your mouth opened slightly, the sudden attention making your heart race. They were all looking at you now. Friendly, sure, but curious. Like you were some exotic animal that had wandered onto their turf. You tried to smile, but your voice came out soft.

“Oh, um… I don’t want to intrude…”

Sasha waved you off with a dramatic eye roll. “Intrude? Please. We practically live for new faces.”

The tall boy throws an arm casually around Sasha, his grin returning. “Yeah, don’t make us beg. It’s just a bonfire. Drinks, music, sand. You’ll regret it if you don’t come.”

You hesitated, glancing between the expectant faces and the sky behind them turning gold with sunset. Your legs still felt like jelly.

“Okay,” you said finally. “Sure. Sounds… fun.”

Sasha clapped her hands. “Yesss! We never get new people. Especially girls. It’s usually just us,” she gestured between herself, the black-haired girl, and another blonde, “surviving testosterone hell.”

The group laughed, the mood light, but Eren was still watching you. Not in a creepy way—more like he could sense the tiny flicker of panic you were trying to hide behind your cool, collected mask.

“No pressure,” he said softly, barely loud enough for even you to hear. His eyes were steady on yours. “If you don’t wanna come, no big deal.”

You held his gaze for a moment. There was something calming in it.

“No, I want to,” you said. And for the first time all day, it was true.

By this point, the girls were already talking about what they should wear, who brings the best drinks, and how you had to try roasted marshmallows their way. As they pulled you into their orbit, chattering around you, you glanced back at Eren.

He wasn’t smiling this time. Just watching you with a strange softness in his eyes, like he already saw something in you that no one else did.

And even though your world still felt like it had been ripped out from under you… for the first time in a long time, you weren’t completely alone.

—

The bonfire was massive.

You could see it from the moment you stepped onto the beach. Orange flames licking up into the night sky, casting shadows across the sand, music thumping from a speaker someone had rigged up nearby. It wasn’t just the friend group anymore. There were dozens of people now, some sitting on faded blankets, others dancing barefoot, red cups in hand. The smell of salt and smoke filled the air, blending with the distant laughter and the sound of waves in the distance.

“Now this is how you do summer,” Sasha said beside you, pressing a drink into your hand. Her grin was infectious.

You sipped something sweet and deceptively strong, letting it burn a little on the way down. You had taken a while to pick your outfit for tonight, wanting to make a good impression. You decided on a cropped tank and a flowing skirt that caught the breeze just right. Judging by the amount of eyes on you, it had the intended effect.

You stuck close to Sasha at first, who introduced you to Connie, the two of them effortlessly dragging you into their orbit of jokes and gossip. The blonde boy from earlier introduced himself as Armin, warm and welcoming, his presence more calming than chaotic. The three of them made you feel less like a stranger here already.

People asked questions, of course. About where you were from, how you ended up here. You gave vague answers. Half-truths. Most people didn’t notice. You’d gotten good at that, keeping things on the surface.

Someone did notice, though.

“Pretty and mysterious,” the tall boy from earlier said with a lopsided grin, leaning a little too close. He smelled faintly of liquor. “Gotta say, that’s a dangerous combo.”

You didn’t flinch, just tilted your head with a smirk. “Dangerous usually means stay away, you know. Or do you make a habit of ignoring warning signs?”

He raised a curious eyebrow, not expecting your confidence.

“Also,” you added coolly, “if you’re going to flirt with me, you could at least tell me your name.”

The boy blinked, then let out a short laugh. “Touché.” He offered his hand, still smiling but with a new glint of respect. “Jean. Jean Kirstein.”

You took his hand, offering a wicked smile in return. You didn’t mind his attention. In fact, you kind of liked it. The way his eyes lingered, the way the other guys watched you when you walked by. It gave you something to hold onto. Control. Power. Confidence.

Still, none of it mattered as much as the fact that he hadn’t come over to you yet.

Eren sat near the fire, his elbows resting on his knees, head tilted slightly as he listened to Reiner and Bertholdt argue about something stupid. His silhouette glowed in the firelight. Jaw sharp, hair a little damp from an earlier swim. He hadn’t even taken off his shirt until just before the sun dipped below the horizon, but when he did, the ripple it caused was undeniable. He was fit, lean, and sun-kissed, and every girl within a 5 mile radius noticed. 

But he hadn’t noticed you, hadn’t even glanced in your direction. Not really. 

Except he had.

You caught him a few times. When Jean got a little too close. When you laughed too hard at something Armin said. His eyes would flicker toward you for just a second before darting away, pretending he hadn’t been watching. But you saw it. Felt it.

And still, he said nothing.

You were surrounded by people, the night buzzing with music and movement and heat. But your attention was always slightly off-center, pulled toward him like a magnet. Even from across the firelight, you could feel the weight of his gaze every time it landed on you.

And god, you wished he would just say something. Anything. Because all the boys at the bonfire could flirt with you, praise you, want you, and they did.

But it didn’t feel like enough. You didn’t feel satisfied. 

Not if Eren kept watching you from across the fire like he already knew you were going to ruin him.

Eventually, the night began to blur. The fire burned lower, the crowd thinned, and the cool breeze rolling off the ocean began to cut through the warmth of the alcohol in your veins. You weren’t drunk, not really. But you felt loose, a little foggy. And tired. God, so tired. You hadn’t realized how much the travel had worn you down until the adrenaline faded and the weight of the day returned. New house, new town, new faces.

Too many eyes. Too many questions.

You found Sasha on a blanket, cross-legged with a half-empty drink in one hand and her phone in the other. She looked up when you approached.

“You heading out?” she asked, already pouting like she might convince you to stay longer. You nodded. “Yeah. I’m beat. Still recovering from the move.”

“Totally fair.” She stood and wrapped you in a quick hug that felt surprisingly sincere. “You better come out again though. No disappearing.”

You smiled. “I’ll try.”

“Not good enough.” Sasha shoved her phone into your hand. “Put your number in. I’m making sure I can harass you directly now.”

You laughed, obliging. She grinned as you handed it back, and with a playful wave, you turned to go.

You didn’t say goodbye to anyone else, didn’t want to make a big deal out of leaving, not that anyone else would even care. But you glanced toward the fire as you passed, just a glance, and you caught him looking again.

Eren.

Still seated near the flames, still quiet. But this time, he didn’t look away. Not right away. 

You held the stare for a breath longer than was polite, then offered the faintest nod before breaking it off.

You didn’t know him. Not yet. And he certainly didn’t know you. But something about him pulled at you. Curious. Intrigued. Like you were standing at the edge of something you didn’t understand yet.

No words were exchanged. No real moment to cling to. But still, something?

And that was enough to carry you up the beach and back toward the house you still didn’t think of as home.

[krylletea]

Photoshoot with Sasha and Jean

[nyralunaexe]

Day 105 - 🥔

#anime #manga #art #artists #snk #aot #attackontitan #shingekinokyojin #sasha #sashablouse #sashabraus

[cosplayerslegends]

https://www.instagram.com/p/C89VIlFo-_U/?igsh=dW85dmN6ZWcyZ2k=

Mikasa Ackerman

cosplay by @kelltchup

Anime Shingeki no Kyojin

#shingekinokyojin #snk #attackontitan #aot #leviackerman #erenjaeger #mikasaackerman #arminarlert #eren #erenyeager #erwinsmith #mikasa #levi #attackontitanedit #reinerbraun #hanjizoe #shingekinokyojinedit #ackerman #annieleonhardt #hangezoe #armin #eremika #進撃の巨人 #sashabraus #conniespringer #attackontitanseason4 #aotedit #historiareiss #sashablouse #cosplaymignon

[aotfanmerch]

Same sound different bit ⬇️

[tamaragarloart]

AruSasha 🐇🐿️ 【 𝕊𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐤𝐢 𝐧𝐨 𝕂𝐲𝐨𝐣𝐢𝐧 】

some doodles before going to sleep

[niniton]

[mrsackermanbrat]

Chapter 1: TO THE DARKNESS THAT AWAITED

It all happened so fast.

One second she stood on her chair at the table, bouncing slightly as she eagerly looked at the dessert in front of her.

It was lunch and they just had to do tradition before digging in.

Her older brothers, Alec and Bran, twins that they are each held the cake up to her as they told her to make a wish.

Taunting her lightheartedly as they took turns attempting to blow the candle atop her cake.

She giggled as she swatted them away. She was trying to concentrate. She closed her eyes as she blew the candle.

They had spent a good amount of time making it that very morning. Bustling around in the kitchen long before sunrise.

Bran, the younger twin had helped her peel the peaches, her favorite. It had been incredibly hard to find in the markets. They had spent the whole of yesterday trying to find a few.

While Alec, the older twin, prepped the other ingredients. Weighing sugar and cracking eggs as if life was at stake.

Flour had dusted every imaginable part of the kitchen and their happy banter echoed through the halls. Faces glowing in the soft morning light.

Agnes watched her children with a smile even as they made a mess. Wishing they could stay in that moment forever.

As the smoke rose from the extinguished wick, their laughter were replaced by screams. Smiles replaced by looks of terror.

The loud bang as the door was kicked open startled them all. They were faced with rifles raised at them.

Soldiers under the Military Police Regiment stormed their home. Rounding them up one by one.

Her brothers quickly moved to shield her but were soon brought to their knees. The cake a forgotten heap at the table.

Deep inside she was scared by the sudden intrusion. Although, what was happening did not surprise her somehow.

She was insightful and quick to pick up on things for a child her age. Her parents always took pride in the fact that she is wise beyond her years.

For over a few months now, she and her brothers watched worriedly as their father came home, looking older day by day.

The stress taking a toll on him. But what could they possibly do?

At night they struggled to make sense of the hushed whispers that emerged from their parents bedroom. They knew something was about to happen.

Her birthday, was the first time in a long while that joy and calmness filled the atmosphere in their humble home once more.

A welcome excuse to abandon the troubles that weighed them.

An MP came from behind her, picking her up just as she watched her panicked mother try to reach for her. Missing her just by a second.

She warily looked up at the soldier and to her 8-year old mind, he appeared to be smiling kindly. But she saw the hint of sympathy in his eyes accompanied by pity.

“Don’t worry. I won’t hurt you.” He whispered reassuringly making her relax a little.

The soldier knew what fate awaited the family.

He believed the kids should have been spared from this circumstance.

But much like the people inside the Walls, they have nowhere else to go when the nobles turn on them.

She could hear her mother crying, her pleas an endless chant from her lips as her father was dragged from his chair at the head of the table.

She was brought to their living room to join the rest of her family. Stood between her brothers, forced to watch helplessly as the soldiers turned their house upside down.

Papers flew in the air, drawers pulled from their compartments, pillows on the sofa torn, curtains ripped, cabinets toppled, and plates were shattered.

She turned her head just in time to see the soldier that carried her approach the bookshelf by the corner near her room.

Small legs broke into a run, hugging the soldier by his knees as she pleaded. Not those books.

“Please, sir. Don’t destroy them. Please.”

The soldier sighed, gently moving her aside before toppling the shelf.

Tears fell from her eyes as she watched the place she called home be reduced to nothing but broken chaos.

As the soldiers finished, a order was heard for them to be brought outside. The MP easily lifted her again.

Her mother tried to take her from the MP but another grabbed her by the elbow dragging her out their door after her father and brothers.

“Mama...” she had whispered. Small hands reaching out as the MP gently shushed her.

Once outside, he set her to her feet beside Bran. She saw Alec nudge Bran from the corner of her eye before nodding his head towards her.

As she faced the crowd that had gathered before them, she grew uneasy. A man, who she assumed was the MP Commander, stood before them.

He untied a scroll and began loudly.

“Hereby stands nobleman Marius Fords, declared guilty as charged of Treason Against Humanity. The severity of said charges are punishable by death.”

She heard her mother hold back a sob, clinging to her father as she shook. Fresh tears welled in her own eyes as she processed the words.

She felt Bran reach for her hand, squeezing lightly. “Everything will be alright, Claire.���

Bran felt helpless as his sister tugged at his hand. Eyes identical to his, silently communicating the fear she felt.

How much comfort could he offer when he felt the same way? He sensed Alec stiffen but his face remained devoid of emotion.

What was to happen to them if their father was executed?

“Furthermore, he is also found guilty of Abuse of Power and Money Laundering.” Gasps rose from the crowd, murmurs buzzed as people started to gossip.

The Fords family have always been highly regarded. Painted as an image of the perfect family, revered by many due to their generosity and joyful nature.

Perhaps as revered as the King.

But these kind of allegations, proven or not, could turn friends and acquaintances into foe. No matter how kindly they had treated those around them.

The people’s anger could be felt as they began to close in. Curious eyes turned sharp and hostile as they listened.

The MP Commander nodded an order to the soldiers standing guard around the family.

In perfect synchronization, they pounded their rifles to the ground before aiming them towards the crowd effectively silencing them.

“However by mercy of the good King Fritz, he is to be stripped off his title and rid of his riches. More over, he with his wife, Agnes, and children, Alec Matthew, Bran Marcus, and Claire Agatha Fords are to be banished into the Underground City. Effective as of this day, 8th of April in the year 831. Signed, His Majesty, King Fritz.”

Little Claire trembled in fear as she heard the word “Underground”. It’s not that she’s a noble snob but everyone knew just how dangerous the place is.

Her brothers had always told her stories about it. How screams were a constant and how one can never tell night and day. She had always been scared of the dark.

She tugged at Bran’s hand again, tears now unstoppable as she felt panic rise within her. She was restless.

But she saw that her brothers had paled as well. Unable to tend to her for they needed comfort themselves.

She knew now that the stories were indeed reality. And that’s where they’re supposed to go now.

Alec and Bran felt like they could might as well take a titan any day over being in the Underground. They heard that everyday down there was a fight for survival.

Blood a constant sight and crime at an all time high.

Agnes fell on her knees sobbing in disbelief. How could this happen? She thought of her children living a life in that place.

She shuddered at the thought of the dark and damp hell within the Walls.

Marius heaved as he ran towards the MP Commander before going down on his knees. He was certain his heart was going to burst out of his chest.

“Spare the children! Please! They are innocent. Just take me please.” He begged knowing that lives depended on it.

The Commander remained stoic. Eyes trained straight ahead. Ears deaf to the pleas of the desperate man.

Deep down, his heart clenched. He knew this family. He knew the truth. But there wasn’t anything he could do as well without risking himself.

Soon an MP came to bind their wrists in shackles. Linking them before shoving Marius forward while they trailed behind him.

A single drop smeared Claire’s cheek. She raised her head and more followed. It was raining. Was the sky crying for them?

Her brothers always told her rain happens because they skies wept. She believed them.

She was roughly taken back to the present when she heard Alec hiss in pain. Shackled wrists reaching up to shield his head from something.

Then Claire noticed her parents do the same. They were being stoned as the MP herded them. She felt one particularly sharp rock strike her.

Wincing in pain she reached up to her right cheek, feeling moisture on her fingers. The sight of red liquid a more pronounced confirmation of the cut.

Hot fat tears continuously rolled down her face as she kept herself busy looking down and crouching to make herself smaller to be a harder target.

The thunder of the livid mob almost overpowering the angry pitter-patter of the rain.

Little Claire refused to look up. Refused to meet the unfriendly stares of people they once knew or helped in someway.

They were abandoned. Ousted.

She felt cold as her dress got soaked. Her special birthday dress her mother had sewn for her. Bright red just like she wanted turning dark from the water.

Words such as thieves, liars, pigs and traitors were shouted at them. She wondered if they were true.

In her heart, she felt hurt. She didn’t understand what was going on. Why were people saying bad words and hurting them?

“But I’m not bad.” She sadly thought, her lips jutting out in a petulant pout.

She never quarreled with her playmates or ever hurt a fly.

Marius Fords was a generous noble, holding countless charities to help feed many alongside his wife who provided free medical aid.

Their family has always politely greeted people as they handed out bread to old and young alike. Easily gracing everyone they met with kind smiles.

Claire can’t recall a moment her father hesitated to offer assistance to anyone in need or ever hear anyone have anything bad to say about them.

The Fords were always a go-to for people in need. Never ones to turn away or dismiss.

Always approachable for they themselves lived a simple life. Making people think they are one with them despite their status in society.

Even at her young age, Claire knew her family was loved by many.

At least before today.

Why were they being punished?

Marius gravely kept his head down. Keeping silent as he endured the groans of his wife and sons muffled by the rain and the shouts as they endured the stoning. Claire whimpered and sniffled.

Had he been alone, he would have proudly held his head up. An innocent humbly accepting his fate no matter how grim.

But he wasn’t alone.

Blood trickled down his eyebrow, a particularly deep cut obscuring his vision. His felt his wife stumble as she momentarily lost her balance, tugging the chains that connected them.

Alec rushed to help, ulitimately pulling Bran and Claire forward as well until they all crashed together on their mother.

Agnes tearfully reached for their children. Weeping for every cut and scratch that littered their skin. Teeth chattering from the drop in temperature.

His heart broke at the sight of his battered family just as thunder boomed.

Denying the comfort of meeting their gazes, he bent down to try and help. He brought them here and for that he would be eternally sorry.

He could stand his pain with every contact but it wounded him beyond physical for his family to be involved in this.

Soldiers harshly pulled his sons to their feet as the girls were treated a little gentler.

He watched as a soldier stuck close to his daughter effectively shielding her from anymore harm. An arm extending across her small shoulders.

He gave the young man a grateful smile just as he was shoved to move forward.

Despite being innocent he had no choice but to accept their unjust fate. It was better than being executed.

Alive, they could strive for something better once more.

But what hurt the most was that they were still in their neighborhood.

Risking a quick glance around, he noticed those they considered close family friends were nowhere in sight.

People who should have been there to defend them or simply send them off. Instead, he was met with dirty judgmental looks.

Their house was only few blocks away from the entrance of the Underground but they were taking the long way round.

Being paraded in whole city of Mitras, an act to demoralize them and humiliate them for all of the Walls to see.

Coming into the center of Mitras, passing by all too familiar corners, the family sadly thought back to better days.

The shop Alec and Bran frequented with their father, equipments for hunting. A favorite pastime between the men.

The shop owner closed its doors as the family came in sight.

The library Claire practically grew up in as well. Her mother mostly left her to the elderly woman that kept the place on weekends.

Little Claire fondly called her “Nana”. She’d always receive a kiss or some sweets in return.

She had read every storybook when she was younger. The day she had put the last book down she came to watch Nana crotchet.

She had wanted to learn. Ever so curious and eager. By the time her mother came to fetch her, she proudly presented the pouch she made.

Recently she had moved on to history and medicine. She knew what she wanted to be in the future.

A skilled and compassionate doctor just like her mother.

Today, Nana watched from the balcony of the second floor, her heart breaking for the mother and child she had come to treat family.

Agnes had looked up thoughtfully back at her. Nodding as Nana waved goodbye.

Then there was the candy shop the siblings went to when one was having a bad day. Claire’s first time there was when she scraped her knee.

Her brothers had praised her. She was never one to bawl and shriek under pain. She’d tear up silently, stubbornly sniffling or whimpering lowly.

Bran and Alec’s first time on the other hand was a different story. It was when they pitifully got rejected by the girls they liked when they were 4.

The boys had bawled from heartbreak, Marius and Agnes hadn’t known how to handle the crybabies seriously. It was just ridiculous and amusing.

So in they went, then it became tradition.

Today the middle-aged woman that always catered to them stood by the street in front of the shop. Waiting with three bags, treats for the children.

She tried to break through the soldiers acting as barricade between the family and the mob. Catching the one that stood protecting Claire by the sleeve, she handed the bags with pleading eyes.

Alec and Bran had thrown her a grateful smile. Thankful she was there to uplift them just like she always did on bad days. Even if it was the last time.

The walk was long. Eventful nonetheless. The family knew they were close, every step they took reluctantly, feet heavy and hearts dreadful.

But time seemed to be playing a cruel trick on them. Because soon enough they found themselves by the entrance to the Underground.

The sun had just set, enveloping the streets into a moonless night. Lamps dimly lit the city but from where they stood, they could see the roof of their house.

The soldiers unchained them. They offered resistance as they were pushed down the dark stairwell.

This was it.

They just had to arrive on the most dangerous time inside the Underground.

Only two guards accompanied them as they descended. Every step felt like the air was closing in on them.

All little Claire could think of was the extinguished candle wick this morning as they succumbed to the darkness that awaited them.

< *Prologue* | Chapter 2 >

[stridkv]

Eldian girls🌼

[kyojinking]

[broodingboysimp]

Chapter 4 - Don't Waste the Champagne

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4

You weren’t supposed to be here. Not in this house, not on this coast, and definitely not under Eren Jaeger’s eyes.

Eren Jaeger x female!reader

Summary: After a sudden move into your estranged father’s newly acquired beachside home, you’re thrust into a world of champagne-soaked parties, whispered secrets, and a friend group that feels too close for comfort. You’re carrying a past you’re desperate to keep buried and wearing a smile you’re still learning how to fake. Then there’s Eren. Sharp-tongued, unreadable, and dangerously magnetic. He sees too much, says too little, and makes you question everything you thought you wanted. What starts as curiosity spirals into something darker, tangled in loyalty, longing, and the kind of silence that cuts deep. In a world of polished smiles and fraying edges, not everything soft survives. Salt always finds its way into silk.

Warnings: angst, underage drinking, abuse, grief/loss, violence, smut, 18+

Author’s Note: lowkey don't know why these posts are getting absolutely no views but it's fine because I'm having so much fun writing them. It'll just always be here for me to read :)

Song Suggestions:

Young, Dumb, & Broke - Khalid

Miami - Will Smith

West Coast - Lana Del Rey

bad idea, right? - Olivia Rodrigo 

Electric - Alina Baraz ft. Khalid

The sun shimmered over the water as you and the group wandered downtown. The town was the kind of place that smelled like sunscreen, sea salt, and old money. Yachts bobbing in the harbor, flowers spilling over whitewashed fences, boutique shops lining the walkable streets like something out of a vacation catalog.

You wore a silk sundress.Thin straps, cut just right to catch the light when you moved. You didn’t wear it for anyone, but you weren’t blind to the way heads turned as you passed. 

Drinks started early. A frozen cocktail at a pier bar. A couple of beers at a dockside shack. The group split after brunch, girls and guys peeling off in opposite directions with promises to meet again later. You wandered the boutique district with Sasha, Historia, and Mikasa, weaving through shops where everything smelled like jasmine and marked-up leather. You pretended not to flinch at the price tags.

At one storefront, Sasha grabbed your arm, eyes lit up. “Ooh, this one looks fancy. Maybe they’ll have something white and summery. You’re gonna need a dress for my party.”

You followed them inside through racks of linen and silk. You touched a few dresses, one with tiny pearl buttons, one with a structured bodice that looked like it belonged on the runway, but couldn’t bring yourself to try anything on.

You didn’t belong in a place like this.

Sasha noticed you hesitating, “You’d kill in white. I’m not kidding.”

You gave her a smile. “Maybe.”

Eventually, the four of you ended up in the dressing room hallway. The boutique was quiet, the music soft and ambient as you slipped into a stall by yourself. You didn’t realize Mikasa and Historia had taken the one right next to you until you heard your name.

“She’s so fake,” Mikasa said, her voice low but clipped. “Don’t act like you don’t see it.”

There was a pause. Then Historia: “I think she’s just trying to fit in. She hasn’t done anything wrong.”

Mikasa gave a dry laugh. “She’s messing with all of them. Jean, Eren, even Connie. She knows exactly what she’s doing.”

You stayed completely still, your pulse fluttering.

“She’s not like us,” Mikasa continued. “She shows up in her little sundresses and plays innocent, but she’s not. She doesn’t care who she hurts. And Eren—Eren’s too stubborn to see it.”

Historia’s voice was soft, apologetic. “Maybe she’s just lonely. You don’t have to like her, but you don’t know what she’s been through.”

“I don’t need to,” Mikasa snapped. “Girls like her always leave a mess.”

You swallowed hard, blinking up at the ceiling light. Your chest felt tight, like the air was getting thinner.

A few seconds later, they left the stall, giggling about something unrelated as if none of it had happened. You waited a beat longer before stepping out.

In the mirror, you fixed your smile.

By the time you found Sasha again, she was holding up a white halter dress to her shoulders. “What do you think? Too much?”

You nodded absently. “It’s perfect.”

You exited the boutique with the others, the sun still high but beginning its descent toward late afternoon. Sasha had bought the white halter dress, giddy about it the whole walk down the street. Historia carried a little bag with gold heels she didn’t need, and Mikasa trailed behind, sunglasses on.

Just as the group paused outside a gelato shop, Sasha’s phone buzzed. She checked the screen and lit up. “Connie,” she announced, then answered on speaker.

“Yo,” his voice crackled over the line, “we’re heading to that cocktail place by the art gallery. The one with the gold lights and the freaky-expensive glasses.”

“You mean the one Jean tried to steal a glass from last summer?”

“That’s the one,” he confirmed. “Get your asses over here. We’re already ordering rounds.”

Sasha laughed. “We’ll be there in ten.”

As she hung up, she looked at the three of you. “Guess that’s our cue.”

Historia looped her arm through yours. “Come on,” she said gently. “You’ll like this place.”

—

You found yourself wedged between Connie and Eren at the table. Eren’s knee brushed yours every time he shifted, and his elbow was an inch from yours as he nursed a smoky-looking drink. The two of you exchanged no words, seemingly talking to everyone at the table but each other. But no one else seemed to notice. The group was loud and reckless, the kind of loud that only comes with being young and wealthy and tipsy in a place that lets you be all three without consequence.

Someone ordered shots. Then someone else ordered more. The conversation drifted toward crude jokes, teasing jabs, the kind of chaos that comes from years of shared summers. You admired the group dynamic, feeling your heart ache at times when an inside joke was referenced that you would never be a part of. 

At some point, someone pulled you all onto the dance floor. The music was nostalgic, synth-heavy and loud, and it loosened every part of you. You danced with Sasha, with Connie, even with Jean, who spun you once before pretending to dip you dramatically. Everyone was laughing. You felt light.

Jean twirled you once more, hand at your waist, his grin wide and teasing. “You’re surprisingly graceful,” he said, mock-serious. “Didn’t take you for a dancer.”

You laughed, breathless, just about to respond, when another hand cut between you.

Eren.

He didn’t touch you. He didn’t even look at you. He simply stepped between you and Jean like it was the most natural thing in the world, like he hadn’t just disrupted the rhythm. The music kept going, but the moment stuttered.

Jean’s expression soured. “What the hell was that?”

Eren didn’t flinch. “Relax.”

“Oh, I’m relaxed,” Jean bit out. “You just have a way of ruining shit. It’s kind of your specialty.”

Eren cocked his head, unmoved. “Maybe I’m just tired of watching you slobber all over someone who clearly isn’t into it.”

That landed hard. Jean stiffened. His jaw clenched.

Then came the hit below the belt. “God. No wonder you act like this. Your mommy probably spent her whole life cleaning up after your messes.”

The music kept pulsing behind you, oblivious to the shift in the air. You felt the tension ripple through the group like a spark waiting to catch.

Eren didn’t say anything right away.

Just blinked. Slowly.

“Say something like that again, Jean. See what happens.” His words were cold, sending a shiver down your spine. 

Before Jean could retort, Eren turned and headed for the door, making sure to grab a half-empty bottle of champagne off of a nearby table on his way out.

You moved to follow, but Armin stepped in your way.

“Eren’ll be fine,” he said. “He gets like this sometimes. He just needs some air.”

But your gut twisted. He was drunk, and clearly intended on drinking more.

So you slipped away and followed.

The night had turned cool, a breeze brushing against your arms as you stepped into the streetlight glow. You spotted him stumbling down the sidewalk, not watching where he was going, too close to the edge of the road. A car honked somewhere in the distance. 

He took a messy swig from the bottle. Champagne dripped sloppily down his chin and onto his black linen button up, the sleeves of which he had rolled up to his elbows. His hand, adorned with thick silver rings that matched the chain he always wore, gripped the neck of the bottle desperately. Strands of his hair had started to slip from the updo he always insisted on wearing. 

Even drunk, stumbling and reckless, he looked like he’d been torn from the pages of some heartbreak story. You hated how handsome he still was.

You were snapped out of your daze when he took a step off the sidewalk, now walking unsteady along the side of the road.

“Eren!” you called, running after him. “Eren, wait.”

He turned, unsteady, jaw tight. “Go back inside.”

You stopped a few feet away. “Jean didn’t mean it.”

“I don’t care what Jean meant.” His voice was sharp. “Why are you following me?”

“Because you’re drunk and walking into traffic.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine.”

“Why does it matter to you?” he snapped, slurring slightly. “You don’t even know me.”

He smirked at that, mocking your words from the night before. You pressed on.

“Doesn’t mean I want to watch you get hit by a car.”

He huffed a bitter laugh and turned away, swaying as he walked. You took a step forward and reached for his arm.

“Come on, Eren, just—”

But he stepped back, instinctive and fast. A car whooshed past just inches from where he’d been. The headlights flared, the sound of the horn rang in your ears, the rush of air hit your face. The moment went by so fast but moved in slow motion at the same time.

Your breath caught.

So did his.

For a second, it was dead quiet.

And then he started laughing. Full, breathless, hysterical laughter that didn’t sound right. It echoed off the buildings like it belonged to someone else entirely.

“You’re insane,” you said, heart pounding.

He grinned at you, wild and reckless. “And you’re worse. Chasing after me like that.”

You opened your mouth to respond, angry at his indifference towards almost getting killed, but stopped.

Because he’d stepped closer.

There was something in his eyes. Not the usual indifference. Not the smug glint. Something hungrier. His gaze dropped, and for a fraction of a second, you were sure he looked at your lips.

Your heart slammed against your ribs.

He leaned in slow, like the moment might break.

And then—

“Yo! Eren! (Y/N)! Uber’s in two minutes!” Connie’s voice rang out down the block, followed by Sasha’s laugh and Jean yelling something incoherent.

You stepped back like you’d been caught doing something you weren’t supposed to. Eren’s face didn’t change, but something in his eyes shifted. 

You turned toward the group, smiling like your pulse wasn’t still racing.

“Coming!” you called, falling in step with them.

You avoided Eren the whole drive back. He didn’t try to speak to you, sitting as far as he could from you in the back seat. But when you glanced at him once under a passing streetlight, you thought, maybe, you saw regret in his eyes.

Or maybe you imagined it.

Either way, you didn’t sleep that night.

[krylletea]

I had to make a video about them <3 My two fav characters

[nyralunaexe]

Day 104 - Got started on the sketch!

#anime #manga #art #artists #snk #aot #attackontitan #shingekinokyojin #sasha #sashablouse #sashabraus

[witches4sale]

my encouragement that keeps me going in my studies...

SHE IS VERY GORGEOUS TO ME I SWEAR!!!

[tangledemise]

idk what happened to the quality,, but here’s some quick draws of marco,, after starting to watch snk all over again teeheehee,,