Hi! I’m Mika and i do a lot of art, it’s my passion and I want to share it with you!
Main account is @astralwaifu <3
I mostly do anime fanarts. I do not take commissions, bc I have no payment method. However, my asks are always open and I’ll try to do all your suggestions!
Eren fanart that I did and love with all my heart and soul
i love how much anya just acts like a kid her age, she excitedly shows yor each room in the house, she introduces her to anyas stuffed toys, she excited says she can clean her own face “all by herself” the way way little kids gets excited about things they can do. she always says how she “helped” with tasks even tho the reality is that kids often just get in the way when they try to help. she has no filter when out in public and will loudly state that the the painting is nude” i can see her boobies papa” and while she draws about her parents being as assassin and spy because she has the drawing skills of a 5 yearold they dont realize she knows their identities. she eats with her fingers instead of using a fork and spoon. etc
i just love all these little details, its super cute and makes anya feel very fleshed out beyond just being a telepath
Content Summary: What if the car accident never happened? In this alternate universe, Eren Jaeger, the frontman of notorious rock band Empire, gets to come home to you after the wedding proposal he made on stage. You are now married to your childhood best friend, and the mother of his children: Irene and Jace Jaeger.
Chapter Summary: Your husband may be one of the hottest rockstars in the world right now, but when he’s at home, he’s nothing but a doting father that spends too much time braiding his daughter’s hair, cooking his son’s favorite food, and an insatiable lover who needs his morning wood to be taken care of at six in the morning.
Content Warnings: explicit sex (unprotected penetrative sex, cunnilingus, blow job, fingering, hand job, car sex, bath tub sex, food play, face-sitting, etc), pregnancy, crude humor
Word Count: 12k
Poster art by the most talented @rainbuniart (follow her on Twitter
The sound of your alarm feels like a hand pulling you out of your dream, gentle enough not to make your body jolt but growing persistently loud for a groan to escape your mouth. You’re lying on your side, blindly searching for your phone by slipping your hand underneath your pillow. With narrowed eyes, you slide your thumb along the screen.
The tone stops and as you rub your eyes away from sleep, you see your husband lying on his stomach beside you, his long dark brown hair still tied into a messy bun. He was so tired last night that he forgot to take it off, passing out on the bed almost right after your lips met in a sweet kiss. His silver necklace glints underneath the dim glow of your bedroom light, pale compared to the rose gold wedding ring he’s worn around his finger.
A smile finds its way to your face as gratitude wells up inside you. Even if you had the sweetest dream last night, nothing would compare to the amount of joy you feel from being able to wake up next to him every day.
Eren Jaeger is here, alive and breathing in your arms, with his warm lips close enough to kiss.
It’s only six am. The beautiful suburban house you share with your little family won’t be filled with laughter for another hour or two, quiet with only the hummingbirds singing their favorite songs on your balcony. As the sun still sleeps below the horizon, it’s tempting for you to snuggle close to your husband and let his comforting body heat lull you back to your dreamland. But as a mother of two, and a faithful wife who’d promised herself that you would always prepare the best breakfast for your family before your husband has to return to his daily schedule of being the frontman of Empire—one of the hottest rock bands in the continent—you need to get yourself ready.
Eren, the man who you have loved for seventeen years, mumbles something underneath his breath before he nuzzles his face deeper into his pillow, unconsciously seeking warmth. For someone who always claims that it’s too hot to go to bed with a shirt on, he always ends up shivering in the morning. You lean forward, pulling up the blanket to cover him up to his bare shoulders. You caress the side of his face, looking at him with a pair of tender eyes, coated with affection.
He’s now in his early thirties, but he appears not a day older since the first time you both succumbed to your desire, exchanging sinful moans and dirty touches in the darkness of his car five years ago. He seems even younger like this, sleeping with his lips parted, his long eyelashes brushing against his cheeks, serenity painting his face. Seventeen years you’ve known him, five years you’ve learned and praised every inch of his skin, but even so, your eyes are still transfixed on his beauty.
Tucking his strands behind his ear, you plant the softest of kisses on his cheek. I’ll wake him up in an hour, you remind yourself, knowing that he has to return to his studio for another band rehearsal at eight. Shifting away from him, you’re about to climb down your bed when an arm shrouds your waist, pulling you down until you’re lying on your side once again.
“Where are you going?” Your husband mumbles as he settles one hand comfortably on your stomach, his warm breath fanning your nape. His lips almost brush against the bare skin between your shoulder blades, uncovered by your chemise. “Still early,” he slurs.
Your smile reappears. “I’m about to take a shower,” you say, landing your hand above his to pry it away from your body.
He snuggles close, holding you tighter. “No.”
“No?”
You feel him shake his head, weak and idle. “You’re already pretty,” he mumbles drowsily. “Stay.”
“What about breakfast? Who’s going to make pancakes for our kids?”
He groans, burying his face deeper in the crook of your neck. “Let them cook for themselves. Irene can do it.”
“She’s four.”
“About the perfect time for her to step into adulthood.”
Your voice reverberates with mirth. “You’re crazy.”
“She said she wanted to marry Jean. She’s no longer my daughter. Let her fend for herself.”
“Eren, it’s been a month. Move on,” you laugh. He can be so childish sometimes. “Irene didn’t mean that. You know she loves her daddy the most.”
“Still hurts.”
You turn around in his arms, facing him. Eren still has his eyes closed but his eyebrows are stitched in protest, his lips forming a pout. “What are you going to do when she’s old enough to date, Ren?”
“I’m going to kill myself.”
The little, airy giggles that escape you are his favorite thing in the world. “Comfort me,” he says, acting even more spoiled than he already is. “I’m a brokenhearted man. I need affection.”
“Sleep is what you need.” You bestow a small kiss on his temple. “You went to bed so late last night. You still have an hour before you have to go so get as much rest as you can.”
His frown turns deeper as he forces himself to open his eyes. He’s squinting, adjusting to the light. He frames your face with one hand, the furrow on his forehead growing less taut by the second. “I swear,” he sighs, an inert smile sketched upon his face. “You’re becoming more beautiful every day.”
“You’re half-asleep.” You pinch his nose, even when his words still warm your heart like they used to. “And you’re saying that just so we can cuddle.”
“Is it working?”
“No.”
“Why not?” He draws your face closer to his and you expect him to land a kiss on your lips but Eren dips his head down at the last second, choosing to skim his mouth against the vein on the side of your neck instead. You shiver, the sudden heat placed on your cold skin breaks goosebumps everywhere else. “It always worked before,” he whispers, planting another lazy kiss near your ear this time. You surrender to his touch, body moving instinctively to expose more skin for his lips to ravish and his tongue to taste. His hand slides down your face, following the curve of your shoulder, your waist, your hips, until it lands on your thigh, pushing the fabric of your silk nightdress upward.
“Ren…” You breathe out, biting the corner of your lip as you feel him sliding a hand between your legs. You’re forced to swallow back whatever protest you have the second you are pushed down to the bed, your spine pressing flat against the sheets. His mouth is now moving against your collarbones, his body hovering above yours as he presses his hips down and you meet him halfway. You can feel his hardness rubbing against your pelvis, the thin fabric of his briefs and the lace of your lingerie are the only ones separating your skin from making contact. You’re spreading your legs, welcoming him in between as you feel his warm mouth on your breast, tongue swirling around your nipple. “I need to go and prepare… your breakfast…”
He paints an open-mouthed kiss on the inner part of your thigh. “Isn’t this my breakfast right here? Mmm…”
You gasp in pleasure, fingers tangling against the strands of his hair. “Fine, ten minutes…” You arch your back, your nightgown hiked up above your breasts. “I’ll give you ten minutes.”
You can feel his smile growing on your skin, hovering dangerously close to your heat. “You know I only need three minutes to make you cum, Sweetheart.”
Eren hooks his finger around your lingerie, pushing it to the side just enough for him to swipe his tongue over your clit. Looking down at him, you shift your hand to his hair, threading through the strands and pushing them back so you can watch the way his mouth closes around your bud. “I can’t believe I have my husband’s head between my legs at six am again.”
“Well, you said you wanted me to have my breakfast.” His voice is muffled by your skin, tongue darting out obscenely as he spreads your lips wider. “I’m just doing what my wife told me.” He chuckles when you begin to whimper, your thighs closing slightly around his head at the sensation of his tongue plunging inside your entrance. “Aren’t I…” he pauses to clamp his mouth around your clit again, suckling on it until it’s swollen and bruised. “The best husband in the world?”
Fuck, yes, yes, you’re so good. This part always drives you insane and he’s always merciless even when you’ve turned into a whimpering mess, sucking your nub harder until it pushes you closer to the edge. You’re about to reach it, that surge of ecstasy, when your husband suddenly stops, tearing himself away abruptly from you by placing his palms on the bed.
“W-what?” You ask with a jerk. If you weren’t this surprised, you would’ve been utterly disappointed as you were so close to achieving your release.
A shiver runs through his body, hard enough for your eyes to notice. “I need to pee.”
“What—now?”
“Yes, now.” He jumps down from the bed, scurrying to the bathroom. Now that you’ve been married for four years, he doesn’t even bother to close the door. You can hear the sound of him grousing to himself, “Fuck, I hate it when I have to do this when I’m horny. It’s so hard!”
“You mean your dick?”
“No, peeing!”
You rub your hand across your face, exhaling loudly as you glue your eyes to the ceiling. Your face still feels hot, the throbbing between your legs has no other choice but to be ignored. You can’t believe this is the third time this week that your husband leaves you sexually frustrated at six in the morning.
Eren passes out on the bed as soon as he returns to the bedroom, falling face-first on the pillow, his legs dangling on the edge. Now that his morning wood is gone, he barely has any strength to care about anything else. You’re tempted to draw on his cheek with a permanent marker as a form of payback, but decide not to. Give it another half an hour and your daughter will do it for you.
After taking a quick shower, you wrap your bathrobe around your body and you walk out of the room, climbing up the stairs in your slippers. Your children’s bedroom is at the end of the hallway. Trying your best to be quiet, you turn on the doorknob, peeking your head inside to take a glimpse of your babies.
Irene, four years old, is still sleeping on a single bed near the window. Jace, a year younger than his sister, is drooling on the other one, separated from his sibling only by the nightstand that’s settled in between. They’re still sleeping soundly, mouths wide open, bodies sprawled and blankets thrown away. With an amused grin, you fix their positions, pulling up their blankets and kissing each one on their foreheads. They look like twins, two doppelgängers of their father. They have the same hair color, the same eyes, the same sharp nose, even the same passion when it comes to banging their heads to Nirvana every Sunday morning.
“It’s like you made them in your lab or something,” you grumbled one night, watching your husband carry your daughter to his bed after spending two hours singing along to The Wheels On The Bus Rock Version—Eren liked to call it—with him strumming hard on his acoustic guitar and teaching her how to do fan chants. Jace was fast asleep, already drooling before you were even finished with your bedtime story. Unlike your daughter who followed your husband everywhere he went, your three-year-old son loved to stick close to you, holding onto the end of your skirt as he trailed after you from one spot to another. Eren could easily win his heart but you didn’t give your husband the chance to do it. Your children already looked like the spitting image of him. If Jace liked him more than you—similar to Irene—you were sure you were going to lose it.
Eren chuckled at your comment, settling Irene down carefully on the bed. He pulled up her quilt, kissed the top of her head before he did the same to Jace, and turned off the bed lamp. “Night, little rockstars,” he said, a moment before he returned to the door where you were standing with your arms crossed and your pout growing prominent on your lips. Once he closed the bedroom door behind him, Eren wrapped an arm around your shoulders, walking next to you as you both walked down the hallway.
“What are you upset about?” He asked you with a Cheshire cat grin.
“Upset? I’m not upset. You think I’d be upset over the fact that I had to carry them in my body for nine freaking months, throw up my insides three times a day for the first eight weeks, push them out of my vagina, only for them to look nothing like me?” You snorted loudly. “Yeah, right.”
Eren laughed, eyes turning into a pair of beautiful crescents. “You’re adorable.”
“You’re annoying.”
“Well, then,” he scooped you up in his arms, easily carrying you around like you only weighed ten pounds. “Why don’t we make another baby and hope that this one will look like you instead of me?”
You wrapped your arms around his shoulders for support, tightening your hold as he stepped down the stairs. “You say that but I can guarantee that they’ll have green eyes and brown hair again as soon as they pop out of me.”
Eren kicked open the bedroom door with one foot, shutting it close behind him with his back. “Then we’ll make another one,” he snickered, laying you down on the bed before he crawled on top of you. “And another one, and another one until we can finally have a cute baby girl who looks just like you.”
“You’re just in it for the sex.” You rolled your eyes, his key-shaped pendant resting above your clavicles from how close he was. He kissed you once, softer than usual, which left you a bit stunned for a second.
His face was relaxed and unguarded. His eyes were filled with tenderness and the adoration he held for you when he tucked a lock of stray hair behind your ear. “You know, I read about it somewhere before,” he uttered with a sweet smile. The mischief in his voice had disappeared without a trace. “That a baby would resemble the parent who loves their partner the most. It’s a myth, clearly, but if it’s true, then maybe our kids look like me because I love you harder than you love me.”
It was probably just another made-up story he invented to make you blush, but even if you knew it, your heart still jolted at his words, sending a rush of blood to your face but you quickly covered it with a scoff. “What, are you high? Did you accidentally swallow my birth control pills again?”
He pinched your nose. “I’m trying to be romantic.”
When you laughed, he swallowed it all with his kiss. You purred against his lips, loving the way they fit yours perfectly. His taste, even after all these years, you still couldn’t get enough of it. When you let him go, his eyes drooped low, his thumb rubbing over your glistening lips.
“Well, then,” you stopped to take a hold of his wrist, kissing each of his fingertips. “Maybe I should step up my game.”
“Huh?” He was a bit dazed from watching how sensual you looked with your lips closing prettily around his finger.
“I just need to love you harder, right?” You propped yourself on your elbows, your nose nearly brushing against his as he blinked in surprise. You pushed him by the shoulders, causing him to land on the bed with a small huff before you mounted yourself on his hips. You unbuttoned your shirt—his shirt, actually—one by one from top to bottom in a slow, seductive manner. The fabric slipped off your shoulders, pooling around your elbows and leaving you in nothing but the maroon lingerie he loved. But nothing was sexier than the way your eyes were gazing down at him, blazing with lust.
“You better be prepared, Daddy.” Your hand closed around his throat, fingers pressing dangerously against his veins. “I’m gonna love you so hard, you can barely breathe.”
Eren swallowed hard and you could feel the way his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down underneath your palm. “Please be gentle with me.”
“Don’t worry.” Your lips curved up into a smirk, and soon he would feel them against his skin. “I won’t.”
You return to the kitchen, adding coarsely ground coffee to your cafetiere before you pour some boiled water over it. Giving it a good stir, you place the lid to keep the coffee warm and let it brew. As you wait, you hurry back to the bedroom, pushing your curtains to the side, and let the warm sunray seeps through the window. Eren stirs in his bed, burying his face into the pillow to escape the light.
You stroll down to the bathroom, changing your bathrobe to a casual yet beautiful dress that compliments your skin. You aim for a minimal make-up look to make yourself presentable before you have to bid goodbye to your husband. You’re in the middle of doing your eyebrows, closely watching yourself in the mirror when a pair of strong arms circle themselves around your waist.
“Don’t drool on my shirt,” you playfully warn your husband who is snuggling close to you with his eyes still closed. At your words, he yawns, resting his chin on your shoulder. He views your reflection in the mirror with half-lidded eyes, blinking ever so slowly.
“I love watching you do your make-up,” he mumbles as he watches you apply lipstick on your lips, sounding almost like he’s intoxicated with alcohol when you both know that he hasn’t touched it for years—maybe a few glasses of wine during your wedding anniversary, but that’s it.
“Yeah?” You ask him, smiling at him as you lock gazes in the mirror.
He hums in response. “Also when you put on your earrings.”
“Really?” A giggle breaks free from your lips. “I didn’t know that.”
“Yeah. It’s sexy.”
“Sexy?” You look at him funny. “Me, putting on my lip gloss and wearing my earrings? That is sexy to you?”
“Yeah, I mean…” Eren spins you around until you’re facing him, trapping you between his arms with his palms resting on the marbled top of your counter. “It’s just the way you do it, you know? Your lips parted slightly, your head inclined—sometimes you even flip your hair over your shoulder and it’s just—” He interrupts himself with a sigh, his fingers holding your chin. His eyes are glazed with desire as they shift down to your lips. “It turns me on.”
“Everything turns you on,” you simper, casually patting his cheek even when your heart runs a bit faster from the intensity of his gaze.
“I mean it, though,” he adds, his fingers tracing the flow of your hair before he pushes a lock behind your ear. “Those little subtleties you do… I think you’re beautiful.”
Eren loves to tease you, and if he wasn’t half-asleep, perhaps he would’ve tossed you his signature smirk, knowing how fast it would make you turn flustered but right now, there’s only sincerity in his voice. “What’s wrong with you today?” You say, looking up at him from underneath your eyelashes. “You’ve been complimenting me a lot.”
“Nothing’s wrong.” He smiles, still a bit drowsy to showcase its usual brilliance. “I just wanted to love you harder today.”
“Mmm, why’s that?”
His somnolent smile starts to wane, his face turning pensive as he gently takes your hand in his, bringing it closer to his chest. “Are you… happy that you married me?”
At first, you answer him with a confused frown. “Ren, what are you–I am! Of course, I am,” you repeat, cupping his cheek to scrutinize his features, worried whether you’ve done or said something wrong that accidentally wound his heart. “Honey, is there something wrong? Are you okay?”
You might not remember this, but every time you call him honey, he’s reminded of the day you accidentally called him that way a few hours before he arrived home from his tour. It was five years ago when you both had harbored feelings for one another but were not brave enough to profess them out loud. Even if you hadn’t meant it back then, that pet name granted him so much joy that left his heart pounding for hours. The word comes out so naturally from your pretty lips these days, suffusing him with just as much happiness as before, if not more. It’s silly, little things like this that truly make him feel like a husband, one that belongs to you and no one else.
So he lets his lips curve up in the way you love them the most, embracing you close until the tip of his nose grazes your strands, his face buried in the crook of your neck. “Me too,” he sighs in contentment. “I’m the happiest man in the world ever since I married you. You’re making my dreams come true every day.”
Your cheeks sizzle. “I haven’t done anything yet.”
“You’ve done so much more than what I asked you to do.” He closes his eyes, one hand sliding down from the crown of your head to your nape. “You’re the perfect wife, the best mother to our children, the best friend I could share my ugliest laughter and my worst dreams with. You’re everything to me.” He pulls away, gathering your face in his hands. “I just want to make sure that you feel happy, that you feel appreciated, every single day. I can only imagine how tough it is to take care of our kids when I’m not around. I can’t even do that for three hours without you. You’re so selfless and patient. You’re amazing.” He lands a sweet kiss on your forehead. “Thank you for taking care of us.”
It’s natural to feel stunned. Eren has always been blatant with his compliments and he has used every chance he had in the past to shower you with his affection and gratitude but it’s never been like this before. You wonder if it’s because he found you falling asleep on the couch last night. You were trying to finish reading your novel as you waited for your husband to come home but your body, drained and sore from all the chores you did all day, betrayed you before you could greet him home with a kiss. Eren ended up carrying you in his arms and tucking you into bed like how he did to his children. You had fallen so deep in your dreamland that you didn’t stir in your sleep, even when your husband pressed his soft smile against your lips, kissing you good night.
You feel fully and wonderfully alive, knowing just how attentive, kind, and caring Eren is. Reciprocating with a delicate smile that will last for hours in his mind, you reward him with a light peck on his nose. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for us too,” you vocalize, pressing your cheek against his chest as you pull him close again, your heartbeat matches his own. “Stop being so sweet to me, Ren, you’re gonna give me diabetes.”
He chuckles lightly, stroking your hair. “Believe me, honey. I would rather give you something else if you know what I mean.”
You lift your face, giving him a flat stare. “And you’re back to being gross again.”
“Wha–I was talking about giving you my overflowing, everlasting love!”
“No, you weren’t.”
“Yeah, no, I wasn’t.” His bratty giggle turns into a string of high-pitched whines the second you pinch his nose.
“Go brush your teeth and take a shower,” you say. “I’m gonna make you some breakfast.”
“I thought I had my breakfast.”
“No,” you scold him. “You left in the middle of your so-called breakfast to pee, remember?”
“Oh… Yeah…” He grimaces. “Sorry. You didn’t get to cum?”
You release a harsh breath. “Go take a shower.”
“Will you join me?” He still has the audacity to ask. “If you join me, I’ll make it up to you. I’ll eat you out real nice this time, I promise–”
You push him away, can’t help but laugh even when you’re trying your best to act annoyed. “No. I have to be a mom today.”
“You can be my wife first then be a mom.”
“Eren–”
Not listening to you, he lifts you by the waist and throws you over his shoulder. It’s only then that he hears his daughter’s voice calling from the other side of your bedroom. “Daddy,” Irene calls, her voice sounding a bit hoarse as she knocks her tiny fist against the door. She has one hand rubbing her eyes away from sleep, and another one holding Jace’s little pinky. “Daddy, let’s play...”
“Let’s play…” Your son echoes her words, sounding even sleepier.
“See?” you say, your body still hanging halfway over his shoulder. “We’re not in our twenties anymore, Ren. Time to be a dad.”
With a sigh, Eren lets you return to your feet but still keeps you close where your chests are glued to each other. When Irene’s voice rings again, he answers, “In a minute, baby. Daddy’s gonna take a shower real quick, okay?” You both wait for her answer, ears perking up. Your children answer in unison with a small, dejected, “Okay,” and you can see Eren’s heart breaking in his eyes.
“They’re so cute,” he says, jutting out his lower lip. “Can I just play with them now and take a shower later, Mommy?”
“You have a boner, Ren. It’s literally poking against my stomach right now.”
“And whose fault is that?”
Eren, sharing your little giggles, only agrees to take a step inside the shower after you give him a nice slap on his butt. He’s cleaning himself as fast as he can, humming a song as he lathers soap on every inch of his skin.
You’re about to walk away from the bathroom when you realize how the song sounds oddly familiar to your ears. “Are you singing Permission to Dance by BTS?”
You don’t have to take a peek inside the shower box to know he’s blushing madly. “Yes, but it’s only because your daughter keeps singing it! This is all your fault, you know. You and that Korean guy called Moon-Moon–”
“Namjoon.”
“Po-tay-to, po-tah-to.”
You shake your head. There’s absolutely no way you can spend your morning without laughing when you’re with him. “You know what’s gonna make your daughter happy? If you do a cover of that song for her birthday next month. And I don’t mean you singing a Korean song with your guitar. I want you to go all out with the dance routine and everything.”
“Fuck no.”
“Ask Reiner, Jean, and Marco to join. I’ll ask Porco too. Dress yourself up in spandex and catsuits–”
Eren turns off the water, peeking out his head from the shower box just to give you a blank stare. “If you wear that naughty police uniform and arrest me tonight, I might think about it.”
“I have to put my dignity in line for you to make your daughter happy?”
He shrugs. “It’s only fair.”
“You’re disgusting.”
“I’ll even dye my hair pink like Moon-Moon if you promise to ask whether I’ve been a naughty, naughty boy–”
You shut the bathroom door behind you.
***
“Jace, why don’t you eat your broccoli?” You ask your three-year-old son with your eyebrows stitched together in concern.
“Don’t wanna,” he says, pushing the plate away.
“Honey, you have to–”
“Don’t wanna!”
You draw a long sigh, trading glances with your husband who’s sitting on the other side of your dining table, right next to Irene. “I don’t know what else to do,” you say, massaging the side of your temple. “I’ve tried ten different recipes and none of them worked.”
“It’s okay, don’t put yourself down.” Eren stands up from his seat, ruffling his daughter’s hair as he walks to your spot. He places a quick peck on your head, one hand rubbing up and down your arm to give you comfort. “Let me handle this.”
“Please,” you say, switching places with him.
“Hey, little buddy,” Eren greets his son with a boyish grin, sitting on your seat as you take over his spot. “What’s wrong?”
“Don’t wanna,” Jace says before his father even begins.
“Jace, you need to eat your broccoli too,” Eren says, still sounding gentle only a little bit firmer. “It’s good for your body. You want to be strong and healthy, don’t you?” He only seems like a father when he’s like this, acting all mature and charismatic, unlike the juvenile, playful version of him that came out whenever he played together with his kids.
“Come on, let’s try again.” Eren gathers the plate from the table, scooping the vegetable with his plastic spoon. He brings it close to the boy’s mouth but Jace keeps his lips pressed tightly shut, shaking his head. Exhaling heavily through his nose, Eren places the plate down before he claps his hands together. “Okay, kid, let’s talk. Man to man,” he says, spinning his baby’s chair around so that they’re facing each other. They look so adorable–Eren with his mini-me who sports a tiny bun just like him. Jace always wants to look like his father as much as possible, which is why you often buy him clothes that are similar to what your husband wears. “Why don’t you want to eat your broccoli?”
“They look weird,” Jace replies, scrunching up his nose. “They taste weird too.”
“Ren,” you call out, garnering your husband’s attention. You may be the one who scolds your kids more often than him, but when it comes to disciplining your children, you always have a soft spot for them. “It’s okay if he doesn’t want to eat them. He finished his peas and potatoes. That’s already a lot.”
“No, he won’t learn that way,” Eren says, moving away from the dining table. The firmness in his tone causes Jace to sink further into his seat, a bit nervous. His father lands a hand on his head, ruffling his hair. “You sit tight, okay? Daddy’s gonna work some magic.”
“Magic?” Jace’s little round eyes light up almost instantly. “What magic?”
“It’s a secret.” With a wink, Eren grabs his plate and carries it into the kitchen. “Irene, you wanna come and help me out? Daddy could really use some help.”
“Coming, Daddy!” Irene, shoving up the rest of her food inside her mouth, quickly makes her way to the kitchen. Even if he hadn’t said anything, she would’ve still come after him like usual. Smiling to yourself, you keep your younger child company at the dining table.
“Daddy, what are you doing?” Irene asks, watching her father closely with her hands tied behind her back.
“Daddy’s improvising, Sweetheart.” After washing his hands, Eren takes out a cutting board, swipes the rest of the uneaten broccoli off the plate, and chops them up into little pieces. He does it so finely in hopes that Jace won’t notice that it’s the same vegetable he refused to eat a moment ago. Eren, grabbing a nonstick pan, places it over medium-low heat and melts some butter. He snatches a bowl from the counter, cracking open two eggs before he beats them quickly with a fork.
“What are you doing now, Daddy?”
“Daddy’s making an omelet.”
“Can I see?”
“Sure, grab a chair.”
Irene drags a chair, moving it as near as possible to where her father is standing. “Careful, Princess,” Eren reminds her as she climbs, offering his hand to her for support as he lets his eggs sit for a minute on the pan. “Now, stay where you are. Don’t get too close to the stove, okay?”
“Okay!” Irene rests her palms on the counter, her doe eyes gleaming in excitement as she observes him. Her father adds the chopped broccoli along with some mozzarella cheese into the pan when the eggs begin to set. “Daddy, what are those?”
“Broccolis and cheese.” He winks. “But keep it a secret between us, okay? Jace doesn’t have to know.”
“Okay!” She nods, keeping her promise as if she had her life on the line.
With a silicone spatula, Eren folds the omelet in half. “You wanna see some cool trick?” He asks her, which she promptly answers with three eager nods. “Okay, here it goes.” Taking a step back, Eren takes a deep breath. “Please don’t fail me, eggs!” He shouts dramatically before he flips the omelet, shoving the pan forward and upward. It’s tossed into the air, inverts itself, and descends back towards the pan. The second it lands perfectly, both Eren and Irene shout in victory.
Irene has one hand punching the air, her smile nearly splits her face in half. “Daddy, that was so cool! Do it again, do it again!”
“No, thanks,” Eren says, exhaling in relief. “Even just doing it once already felt like I was going to have a heart attack.” But when he sees her pouting, he hastily adds. “Now, now, don’t look at me like that, baby. You know I can’t stand that. I’ll do it again tomorrow, okay?”
“Promise?”
He raises his pinky in the air, his crooked teeth shown behind his grin. “Promise.”
Giggling, she twines his little finger with his. “Okay!”
“What’s with all the shouting?” You ask your husband when he returns to the dining table, one hand carrying the plate, another one holding your daughter close to his side. “Sounded like you guys just won the lottery.”
“Daddy flipped the omelet!” Irene chirps, landing back on her feet. “It was so cool!”
You narrow your eyes playfully at him. “You don’t have to flip it to cook it through, you know.”
“Yeah, I just wanted to show off a little,” Eren answers with a smile. “I thought I would have eggs on my face—literally. Thank God it worked.”
He’s embarrassing and so adorable at the same time. If your children weren’t there, you would’ve probably rewarded him with a kiss.
Your husband takes a seat next to Jace’s baby chair, offering him back the plate. “Take a look, Jace,” he says with a smile. “Magic.”
“Magic…” Jace repeats in awe, catching the delicious smell of eggs mixed with cheese.
“Dig in, buddy.” His father offers him his spoon and the little boy takes it with wonder in his eyes. “Careful, it’s still a little bit hot.”
“Want Mommy to blow on it?” You ask him, and Eren clears his throat, secretly smirking to himself. “What?” You raise your eyebrow at him.
“Nothing,” he grins. “It just sounded like the thing you said to me last night.”
“Oh my God, our kids are literally here.”
“They won’t understand—” You kick his shin underneath the table, forcing him to end his line with a groan.
After letting the food cool down a little, you gesture to your son, permitting him to eat it. Though he’s still awkward, Jace manages to feed himself a spoonful of his food, not knowing that it has broccoli inside of it. He chews quickly on it, eyes widening when the cheese melts on his tongue. “Woooow,” he says and the three of you laugh.
“I put two hours of my life trying to make fancy caramelized broccoli to gain his appetite back and you just had to add some cheese and eggs to get him to eat your dish like a caveman.” You pout at your husband. “That doesn’t seem fair.”
“Sometimes, keeping it simple is better, Sweetheart,” Eren chuckles, scooping a tiny chunk of Jace’s omelet with his spoon and offering it to you. “Say aaah.”
“I’m not a kid, Ren.”
“You’re acting like one now. Aaaah.”
Turning your pout into a playful glower, you let him spoon feed you. “How is it?” he asks, a corner of his mouth twitching up in a smug smile. “It tastes good, right? I made it with love.”
Honestly? It’s a little bit salty. “Well, since you made it with love.” You purse your lips coquettishly. “It tastes great.”
“You know what else can be made with love?”
“Shut. Up.”
“Jace, I want some too!” Irene chimes as she reclaims her fork, jumping down from her seat to take a bite from the same plate. Although she’s a year older, Irene can be a very caring sister if she wants to. Imitating how you behave around your son, she grabs the edge of the bib he’s wearing and lifts it to dab the tomato sauce off his chin. “There. You’re all clean now,” Irene even mimics your words and body gestures. Your heart warms at the sight, enough to paint a smile on your face. Eren, watching you from the side, mirrors your expression, his gaze turning tender at how beautiful and motherly you look when you’re like this.
“I’m so glad I married you,” he says in a subdued tone, speaking more to himself than anyone else.
Not catching his line, you cast him a smile, showing your gratitude. “Thank you.”
Although his smile is sheepish, his little wink is playful. “You’re welcome.”
***
“I hope I can return home before they go to sleep,” Eren says, grabbing his jacket before he heads toward the front door. “We’ve got rehearsals for next week’s show, but it shouldn’t take too long.”
“Okay.” You follow after him, scrutinizing his appearance with your eyebrows furrowed together. “Umm… Are you going to the studio with that hair?”
“Yeah,” he exhibits his widest, proud grin. “Doesn’t it look great? Irene did it for me.”
“Yes, I think I got that.” You can’t help but grimace. Eren is now sporting what seems to be the world’s most horrendous pair of twintails. His hair is messily parted down in the middle, gathered into two completely asymmetrical bundles, and tied up with pink knockers on one side and blue ones on the other one. One bunch is higher than the other, his hair sprouting all over the place. “Ren, I know you love her but you’re a celebrity. You can’t walk out of the house looking like this.”
“But I want to show my hair to Jean,” he whines. “I’m still livid that Irene got to braid his hair before mine–”
“Yes, well, at that time, your hair was still short–”
“Which is exactly why I want to wear my hair like this today!” Give him two more minutes and he’d probably start stomping his feet on the ground, throwing a tantrum just like Irene does whenever you have to shut down your TV and stop her from watching Eren’s live concert documentary–the same one where he proposed to you five years ago. “Babe,” your husband tries to convince you, squeezing your shoulders as he peers deep into your eyes. “This is the reason why I grew out my hair again, okay? Having my hair braided by my kids is the ultimate joy of my life. It hurts like a bitch and it will probably end up with me having no hair by the time I’m forty, but this makes me happy. You can’t take this away from me.”
You send him a look. “You know, I think you’re becoming a lot more dramatic ever since you became a father.”
“I’m not being dramatic, I’m–HEY!” Eren tries to retaliate when you stand on your toes and reach out a hand to snatch away his knockers. He gapes in horror when he feels his strands falling to his shoulder again, eyes bulging out of their sockets at the sight of his pink hair bobbles sitting on your palm. “Baby, what–”
“I’m not going to let my husband walk around the city looking like a clown!” You steal the other ones, tugging a little too hard on his roots but that’s not what pains him the most. His heart is hurting, his body is dying, and true, maybe he does get a little bit too dramatic ever since he became a parent, but he does feel that way.
“I can’t believe this,” he murmurs in shock as he lowers himself enough so you can tie his hair up in his usual bun. “I can’t believe you’re evil enough to do this to me. What have I ever done to you?”
“Oh, shush. She’ll braid your hair again when you get home.” You give him a pat on his shoulder when you’re done. “There. Now you’re handsome again. Have you brought your lunch? Your phone? Your wallet?“
At the strings of questions you threw at him, Eren receives a flashback of the moment when he first felt like you belonged to each other. “Got them all right here, baby.” Eren raises his leather travel bag before he slings it on one shoulder. “You’re such a wife,” he titters, his hand resting against the back of your head as he presses a light kiss on your forehead. “Kinda reminds me of the time when we first got together.”
You smile at the memory of him leaving for his tour a few months after you both started your Friends-with-Benefits relationship. It seems like decades ago, but at the same time, the atmosphere that shrouded you then still sits fresh in the front of your mind. “We weren’t really together at that time,” you argue, even though you agree that everything feels the same. You’re still just as in love, just as crazy for each other as you were back then.
Eren snorts. “Baby, I got my head between your legs four times a week. Yes, we were.”
Your face is caught in flames. You’re about to slap a palm over his mouth when your children suddenly come rushing to your spot. You throw him a glare, silently telling him to watch your mouth, Jaeger, to which he responds flirtatiously by making a kissy face at you.
“Daddy, are you leaving?” Irene says with a pout, looking up at her father. She has one hand holding her drawing, another one gripping Jace’s smaller hand.
Eren squats down on the floor, matching his daughter’s height. “Yes, Sweetheart, but only for a little while.” When her pout grows bigger, he spreads his arms. “Come here. Daddy will make you feel better with a hug.” She immediately leaps toward his chest, knocking some air out of his lungs. Eren falls back on his behind, laughing as he winds his arms around her tiny shoulders.
“Ren,” you stop his laughter. “You forgot the little one.”
His eyes widen, noticing the way Jace is standing awkwardly on his feet with his hands behind his back, hiding his drawing. “Oh my God, I’m the worst,” Eren says, seconds away from slapping himself on the face. “Come here, little man!” The little boy breaks into a smile, jumping into his arms almost exactly like the way his sister did. Eren falls back on the carpeted floor with the biggest grin on his face, two kids resting their heads on his chest, the sound of their laughter echoing through the hallway.
“Now, what about me?” You question, feigning a pout.
“Oh, right, I forgot about the biggest baby here,” Eren teases, playfully rolling his eyes at you. He picks his babies in his arms as he returns to his feet, and you welcome him into your embrace. “Yay, group hug!” Your husband cheers, followed by his kids doing the same thing. Tiny hands are reaching out to gather you close, and you rest your head on Eren’s chest as his daughter kisses him on the cheek. You can feel the happiness that radiates off him, seeping into your soul, and you let it stay within.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy in my life before,” you murmur but Eren catches it. With his eyes drooping in fondness, he pecks the top of your head.
“We’re gonna have this every day,” he promises, his fingers slipping between your strands as you lay your head on his shoulder. “This little family we have, this joy… I won’t let it end.”
Somehow, his words tug on your heartstrings harder than they’re supposed to. It’s similar to when you first realized you were falling for him, and you wonder if you’re falling for him again now. But maybe that’s it, isn’t it? When you’re married to the person who owns your everything—body, mind, and soul—you’re just bound to fall harder every day. Every second that passes by, his smile becomes more beautiful. Every laughter that he emits sounds more like a warm symphony to your ears. And there’s nothing more that you wish for than to repeat this same moment every day for the rest of your life.
But, of course, on the outside, you just answer him with a snort. “That’s so corny but okay.”
When he lets his children return to their feet, they hand him over their papers, ones that were taken from Irene’s sketchbook. “We draw you as Superman, daddy!” she explains. “With a guitar that can shoot laser beams! Pew! Pew!”
“What is it, what is it, let me see.” He takes a moment to process, eyes unblinking as he looks at their drawings. Drawn by two pairs of tiny hands, the drawings are as messy as they can be, black lines colored by red and blue crayons. But if he uses a little bit of his imagination, he could see a picture of himself in a blue suit and a red cape, carrying what seems like the same Fender acoustic guitar that he used to accompany them in singing the alphabet song. He feels his chest tighten with the amount of joy that surges through him, drawing his bottom lip between his teeth to keep his emotion in check.
You lightly bump your shoulder against him, snickering, “Don’t you start crying again.”
“I’m not crying,” he says, blinking back his tears. He crouches down to gather his children again in his arms, nuzzling his face between their heads. “You guys are the cutest, I swear. Daddy’s so proud of you. Thank you for the drawings. I’m gonna brag about them to Jean. He’s soooo gonna cry about this.”
Your husband, it turns out, is a lot more childish than your kids, but at this point, are you really surprised? “That’s great. You’re running late, by the way.”
“Oh, shit—I mean, shoot!” He quickly corrects when he feels your glare boring holes into his head. “Okay, Daddy really needs to go now. You two be nice to Mommy, okay? No running around in the bathroom!”
“Okay!” They both shout at the same time, giving him a salute with their little hands. Jace uses the wrong hand and Eren, with a little chuckle reverberating deep from his chest, pats his hair before he corrects him.
Your husband turns toward you, his hand naturally resting on the curve of your waist, drawing you close to him, lips closing in for a kiss. You clear your throat, nudging your head toward Irene and Jace who are still standing there with their eyes focused on your figures, watching your every movement.
“Umm,” Eren starts awkwardly, making gestures with his hand. “Why don’t you guys go ahead and play in your room?”
Irene inclines her head to the side, even more curious now. “What are you doing, Daddy?”
“Daddy is saying goodbye to Mommy in a way that only adults can do.” Eren makes a shooing gesture with the back of his hand, complete with sound effects. “Shoo, shoo. Run along now.”
“I can’t believe you just treated our kids like a dog.” You pinch the bridge of his nose, making your babies laugh at the sight of their dad flinching and rubbing his nose. Pulling him down by his collar, you kiss him lightly on his cheek. “Just go, Ren, you can kiss me when you get home,” you whisper to him. He pouts in protest, but he mutters, “Fine,” in defeat. Grabbing his hard case with one hand, he makes his way toward the door.
You pick Jace up and hold him in your arms, waving your hand at your husband. “Say goodbye to Daddy.”
“Bye, Daddy,” Jace shyly says. Irene echoes him ten times louder, standing right next to you with one hand gripping at the edge of your skirt and another one swaying back and forth in the air.
Eren keeps his eyes on you, his heart seems unsettled. Exhaling sharply through his nose, he bids his goodbye with another smile, albeit a little bit forced, and walks past the door frame. He has only taken a few steps forward before he pivots on his heels, rushing his way back to you.
“Yeah, I can’t do it,” he says, a split second before he smashes his lips against yours, kissing you as if your son wasn’t watching you up close. It’s hard and fast, leaving you a bit dizzy when he breaks away with a grin. “Bye, honey,” he says and you turn flustered.
“Eren!”
***
When you have two very lively children in your household, it’s only natural for you to experience a heart attack at least three times a day–catching your daughter drawing on the wall with your favorite lipstick, hearing your son crying like the world was ending when he accidentally bumped his head against the table during hide-and-seek, or simply finding your living room looking like a meteor just crashed after you spent hours cleaning every corner to leave it spotless before your husband came home from work.
In Eren’s case, however, it’s ten times worse. His kids don’t just give him heart attacks, they’re forcing his soul to leave his body. Irene, being the cute little menace that she is, likes to hide in his bedroom’s closet, surprising her father by suddenly leaping and tackling him to the ground the second he pushes the door open.
One time, she did it when he was in a hurry. Eren was already half an hour late to his band practice, which meant Levi was going to kill him. He tripped over his feet as he pulled up his jeans, all the while munching a piece of french toast you made for him that morning. His phone was tucked between his ear and his shoulder as he yelled with his mouth full, “Shut up, horseface, I’m already on my way!” which was a lie, obviously. It was chaotic. Even without his daughter’s antics, it was already chaotic.
He was about to finish dressing himself up, taking a sip of his coffee as he searched for his car keys. He only had to retrieve his jacket from the closet and kiss your lips goodbye. He had one hand sliding open his closet door when Irene leaped out with her hands raised high in the air, imitating a dinosaur’s claws. “RAWWWRR!” she shouted, tackling her father by the stomach. Eren, who was too busy concentrating on making up excuses to stop Levi from murdering him to remember his daughter’s naughty prank, choked on his drink and ended up spilling his morning coffee all over his shirt.
The only reason why Levi didn’t wreck him apart that day was because Eren showed him a minute-long video of Irene and Jace saying, “Uncle Levi, please don’t yell at our dad. He is sowwy.” Eren was both evil and genius for doing this as he knew his manager had a soft spot for his kids. Levi was about to let him off with a sigh but when Eren added, “I really am sowwy,” with a disgusting pout, he decided to land a mean jab on his stomach anyway. Fucking brat.
Jace isn’t as demonic as Irene when it comes to pranks. He’s also much more reserved, quiet, and shy. He’s an angel, truly. But just like any other three-year-old, he was too innocent to understand that the CD case his father displayed on the third row of his shelf–reachable if Jace climbed up on a chair–was not meant to be played. So when Eren came out of the bedroom, still shirtless and fresh out of the shower with Irene being carried in one arm, he, almost literally, died at the sight of Jace using his Nirvana’s first album–signed by Dave Grohl himself–as a frisbee.
These things don’t happen every day, thank God, as you were always there to help him before he completely lost his mind. It was only until last weekend when Eren insisted for you and Pieck to dress up and have a nice girl’s day out together that he realized just how hard it was to take care of two toddlers at the same time.
“You’re sure you’re gonna be alright?” you asked him with your eyebrows adjoining in concern, your eyes drifting from your husband to your two children who were playing puzzles in the living room. “You remember where I keep their bottles, right? Don’t forget that you only need three spoonfuls of–”
“Honey, honey, honey, relax,” Eren said, squeezing your shoulders before he kissed you lightly on the cheek. “I got this. You just have to trust me, okay?”
It wasn’t like you didn’t trust your husband with your kids. Eren had always been excellent with them, despite how impatient he got when he was with Jean (but then again, Jean always acts ten times more immature than Irene and Jace combined). But leaving them to their own devices for the first time still made your stomach swirl in anxiety. “Yeah, but–”
“Babe, that whole-ass instruction you wrote me this morning? Got it in my pocket. I’ll just re-read that if I forget.”
You sighed, the heavy load in your chest wasn’t decreasing in the slightest but you decided to say, “Okay,” when someone rang your doorbell.
“Your girlfriend’s here,” Eren smiled, blinding as always. “Go and have fun, I’ll be alright. Plus, Porco and his kids are here too. I’m sure everything will be fine.”
Well, okay, maybe with Porco around, things would be under control, you thought, knowing how Porco was much more accustomed to taking care of his kids since he and Pieck had been working from home ever since their third child was born. He was always so mature, practically your big brother by now who always protected you at all times. If there was anyone in the world you could trust with your children, that would be Porco. And maybe Reiner.
See, Reiner would’ve been such a great babysitter too as he had the level of patience of a nun, but it’s specifically for that reason that you decided not to ask him a favor knowing that your children (by children, you meant Irene) would just bully the hell out of him. The last time Reiner was here, he had to go home wearing one of Eren’s jeans since your daughter kept pulling on his khaki pants and she, not so accidentally, tore the fabric apart. Compared to the blonde male, Eren was smaller in figure, and it was the tightest pair of jeans Reiner had to wear in his life to the point that he felt his testicles were about to fall off. He had to seek a urologist the next day to make sure that his nether region was working fine.
Poor Reiner popped up a new bald spot on his head from how many times Irene was pulling on his hair as she rode on his back, telling him to crawl from one corner of the house to another while performing his best attempt at neighing like a horse. Reiner, the kind-hearted man that he was, complied with her wish and did it wholeheartedly for almost an hour. His only complaint was, “Don’t you think uncle Jean fits this role more than I do?” to which your daughter responded, “Uncle Jean is too handsome to be a horse so he’s my prince. Uncle Reiner looks like a cow but Princesses don’t ride cows, so Uncle Reiner can be my horse!”
The smirk that appeared on Jean’s face was the most hideous thing Eren had ever witnessed and yet, his daughter looked at him all starry-eyed. The guitarist turned to Reiner, sniggering, “Dude, you know why she said you looked like a cow? ‘Cause you have big tits.”
“How does having big tits make me look like a–” Reiner stopped abruptly. “I don’t have big tits!”
“Yeah, you do.” Jean’s mocking laugh turned even louder. He placed his hands over his own chest, squeezing a pair of imaginary breasts. “You’ve got hugeee milkers. Every time you walk down the street, they’re like boing, boing, boing–OUCH, SHIT, THAT HURTS!”
“Stop doing inappropriate things in front of my daughter,” you chastised, tugging harshly on Jean’s ear. "Also, mind your language." You released him only after you witnessed tears forming in his eyes. You could never let your guard down whenever Jean was around, and it was even worse for you because he was always around. Jean was Irene’s favorite person in the world so he often dropped by without giving you a heads-up. He would pop up at such a random time, dramatically reciting his lines as if he was reading a poem the second you opened the door for him. “Princess Irene, your Prince has come to visit you again, my love!” Fortunately for you, being a band member of Empire took a lot of his spare time so you didn’t have to deal with him every day.
“What about daddy?” Eren, who was busy fixing Jace’s little man-bun, joined in with hopeful eyes. “Don’t you think Daddy should be your prince?”
“No!” Irene exclaimed, puffing out her cheeks. “I want Uncle Jean! Daddy can be Pedestrian Number One!”
And as Eren spent the rest of the day staring blankly into space, sniffling and rubbing his tears away secretly behind everyone’s back, Jean changed Eren’s name in his contact list from Shit-Face to Pedestrian #1 and he promised himself that he’d never ever let Eren live this down.
Opening the front door, you welcomed your best friends Pieck and Porco into your home, along with their three adorable children–Kaya, the oldest girl who was the same age as Irene but only a few months younger; Udo, the middle son, born in the same month as Jace; and Zofia, their youngest daughter who just turned two a few weeks ago. As the kids ran down your hallway to join Irene and Jace, Pieck greeted you with a hug, only managing to say a line or two before her hand shot up to cover her mouth, her face quickly turning pale. Seeing her make her way hastily to your guest bathroom, you arched your eyebrow, throwing Porco a questioning look.
“She’s pregnant again,” the man sighed, his eyebags were a clear indication of how much stress he was under.
“Bro, what are you planning to do, make your own soccer team or something?” Eren sneered, always being the one who managed to tick him off. “You keep popping out a new baby every year.”
Porco and Eren had their moments of disagreement in the past, true. Even at one point, they were at each other’s throats especially when you and Eren had your first intense fight on the night you found out the truth about your husband’s relationship with that beautiful model, Mikasa Ackerman. But ever since Eren proposed to you, Porco began to accept him in your little circle of friends. By the time they both became fathers, they started to grow even closer as they journeyed through the joy and hardship of being a parent and a husband that was responsible to support their family. They were fond of each other, but to anyone’s eyes, it would look like they both had sticks up their asses whenever they were in the same room together. Expletives and menacing glares were their shapes of affection when it came to them.
“Shut up, Jaeger,” Porco spat back. “At least my wife and I can be honest with each other about how many kids we’re planning to have. You can’t even tell your wife that you’ve been wanting to have another baby.”
As your heart jolted, you could hear your husband hissing, “Dude!” at the other man. Eren was seconds away from slapping a hand against Porco’s mouth, mortified at the way he just casually let his secret slip out like that.
“What?” Your forehead creased in both surprise and confusion, turning around to face your lover. “You want us to have another one?”
Eren, turning crimson even to the tip of his ears, could only mutter, “Uhh…”
“Three,” Porco said on his behalf, not caring that he was doing it without his permission. “Two twin girls and another boy.”
You gape. “Three?!”
“I’m gonna fucking kill you, Galliard,” Eren growled through gritted teeth, to which Porco responded simply with a roll of his eyes. Wincing, Eren returned his attention to you. “I was just sputtering out random things. Don’t take it seriously.”
“Pussy,” Porco muttered.
It left your heart unsettled. Eren had been teasing about wanting to have another child but you thought that was all it was. Just a harmless joke. You both had a lot of things going on in your life. You were working on finishing your first novel, Eren was busy preparing new songs for Empire’s upcoming album, and both Jace and Irene already took so much of your time that it was almost impossible for you to share a long conversation in bed with your husband before one of you fell asleep due to exhaustion. You just always assumed that two kids were enough, both for you and him. A boy and a girl, that was already perfect, right? But that was a selfish thought. You hadn’t considered what your husband wanted.
I’m the worst. You took your husband by the hand. “Eren, I’m sorry… How come you’ve never told me about this?”
“It’s just…” Eren couldn’t believe he was having this conversation with you in front of Porco who was on the verge of passing out from being sleep-deprived for days. “I didn’t think you’d be ready yet. You always seem so tired and I don’t want to–”
“Ugh, God, I just vomited my whole breakfast,” Pieck groaned, shattering the moment as she returned to your spot, dabbing a handkerchief to her lips. “Sorry for bolting out like that. What did I miss?”
“Nothing, just Eren being a pussy as always,” Porco said, walking closer to his wife. “You okay? You want to lie down?”
“No, I’m feeling much better after I threw up.” She planted a small peck on his cheek. Tossing you a smile, she fixed her coat. “Are we still on? We should go now if we want to catch that movie.”
“Yeah, okay.” You bid your children goodbye with each kiss on their heads before you returned to your husband’s embrace. Kissing him briefly on the lips, you squeezed his arm as you spoke in a subdued tone. “We’ll talk about this later, okay?”
Awkward and embarrassed, he tried to dismiss you with a wave of his hand. “It really is fine even if you don’t, I–”
You rose yourself on your toes, framing both of his cheeks and attaching your lips again, longer this time to make sure that he understood your feelings. You weren’t upset or feel irked by the idea of having another child. You were… excited.
“I want to,” you confirmed with a smile.
“You mean…” He wetted his lip. “You want to talk it out or… You want to have another baby?”
You bit lightly on the corner of your lip, teasing him with a naughty twinkle in your eyes. You leaned in to whisper in his ear, your little smirk grazing his skin. “What do you think?”
“Any day now, lovebirds,” Pieck said, rolling her eyes. “I ain’t missing a second of Bradley Cooper’s cute face on the screen to see you two behaving like horny brats. Keep it up and I swear I’m gonna throw up again and I’ll make sure to do it on you this time, Jaeger.”
“Me too.” Porco nodded. “I’ll stick a finger in my mouth so I can join.”
“Stop bullying my husband,” you lightly nudged Pieck on her side. Throwing one last look at Porco and Eren, you smiled, “Behave, you two. Try not to burn down the house before we get back.”
Porco replied, “Can’t promise you anything,” at the same time Eren answered, “Got it, babe, have fun.”
The second the front door was closed behind you, there was silence. The two men exchanged stares.
“You wanna get high?”
“The kids are here, Galliard.”
“That was a trick question. You passed.”
“I can literally see you sliding back some joints into your pocket but okay.”
Eren really thought he could do this without you. How hard would it be for two grown-up men to take care of five little children? He snorted, amused by the thought that you were so concerned over nothing. But as they walked back into the living room, he realized one thing.
This is hell.
Apparently, Porco and Pieck’s children were devil incarnates. Irene had always been a lively, mischievous kid but she would never go out of line like the way Kaya was stealing a pillow from the master bedroom, slamming it against her sister’s head again and again until all the feathers were flying in the air. Some were stuck on their strands while the rest of them were dispersed all over the couch.
Jace, always the quiet kid, usually minded his own business, doodling on his favorite sketchbook with his little crayons but now, he was drawing on the wall with Udo, their abstract scribbles almost covering an entire space where their height could reach. Now that they’d combined forces, your two adorable little angels had also transformed into demon spawns.
Eren turned pale, seeing the torn papers scattered on the floor. “Is that my–”
“Your comic books, yeah.”
His gaze drifted to the side. “Is that a—”
“A pile of vomit on your couch, yep. Zofia tends to throw up when she gets excited.”
The children ran through the hallway, lightly bumping their shoulders against a small drawer as they headed upstairs to start jumping on Irene and Jace’s beds. A loud crash could be heard, the sound of glass meeting the marbled floor.
Porco spun his head to see the other man. “That’s probably your vase, sorry.”
“Dude, how are you so calm?”
“Oh, this is actually just my hello-I’m-dying-inside face.” Porco yawned. “Can I crash on your couch?”
“Absolutely NOT! Go grab your kids!”
In order to gain the children’s attention, Eren and Porco decided to sacrifice themselves for their entertainment. The kids used their bodies as trampolines for them to jump on. Both men were lying down with their stomachs pressed on the carpeted floor, their cheeks rubbing against the polyester. Irene was trying to balance herself on Eren’s back while Kaya did the same with Porco. If the kids were just walking up and down their spines, they could’ve handled them with no problem. But then they started jumping, and Eren swore he heard his own bones cracking underneath her little feet.
“You feel like dying yet?” Porco asked, his tone was dull as always even when he was suffering just as intensely.
“Yeah, a bit.”
“Still want to have that baby?”
“Shut up. You’re gonna have another one for real in about seven months.”
“Yeah," Porco grimaced. "Jaeger, do me a favor. If you find my dead body lying somewhere, please burn down my computer. I’ve got a lot of questionable porn in there.”
Irene laid herself down on Eren’s back, cuddling him from behind. “Daddy, what’s porn?”
Eren glared at the other male. “How about I burn you and your computer at the same time?”
“I’m sorry.”
Once the kids were bored with their trampolines, it was time for them to get creative. Porco’s face was drawn by a sharpie by Udo and Jace, dark circles painted around his eyes, making him look more like a panda than he already did with his eyebags.
Eren had his hair braided by Kaya and Irene, with them constantly arguing, “We’re going with twintails!” and “No, I want Daddy to have a ponytail this time!” and he was yanked back and forth by the two girls, tears prickling on the corners of his eyes as he could literally feel his follicles dying.
Zofia, the youngest one of all, was in charge of his make-up, and she drew on his face with every fiber of her being. She gave him two red circles on his cheeks, contoured his nose with a black marker, added some cat whiskers, and painted his eyelids with thick, blue crayons. When the kids were finished with the two of them, Porco and Eren gave each other a once-over.
“Well, hello, Kungfu Panda.”
“Hello, tramp.”
“Jesus, Galliard–the kids are here!”
“They don’t know what tramp means.”
“What’s a tramp?” Jace questioned, his head tilted to the side in curiosity. While Eren buried his face in his hands, groaning, Porco flatly answered, “It means a pretty lady.”
“Oh, then, Daddy’s a tramp!” Irene shouted in glee as she pointed a finger at her father’s face. “Daddy’s a tramp! Daddy’s a tramp!” Her constant cheer invited the other kids to join and in the next few seconds, all five kids were jumping on the floor, clapping their hands and singing, “Daddy’s a tramp, daddy’s a tramp!”
The two adults traded stares again. “Happy now, Galliard?”
“What do you want me to do? Explain to your kid that her daddy looks like a whore?”
“Daddy, what’s a whore?”
Eren slammed his head against the table.
Their crazy antics were neverending. It had only been three hours since you’d walked out the front door and it already felt like years to him. Porco had given up a while ago, casually sipping his coffee while occasionally saying, “No, put that down,” whenever one of his kids picked up something new from the shelf but he never stepped a foot away from the couch or did anything to stop them. Eren was constantly running back and forth, shouting, “Irene, put down the jar!” or “Zofia, don’t eat that–that’s–I don’t even know what that is, just don’t!” and “Oh my God, where’s Jace, I can’t find him–Jace! JACEEEEEE!”
But of course, they ran out of battery eventually. After four hours of running, laughing, screaming, pooping, peeing, and throwing up, the five brats finally felt enervated, rubbing their eyes sleepily with their tiny hands with Jace curling his fingers against the side of Eren’s jeans. “Daddy, I’m sleepy.”
“Okay, buddy. Daddy’s gonna make you some milk, okay?”
While Eren prepares five different bottles for each child, Porco moves the coffee table to the side, grabs a thick duvet from the closet, and spreads it out in the middle of the living room. Irene and Kaya helped out by bringing as many pillows as possible while Udo, Jace, and Zofia waited on the side with their plushies in one hand and their little blankets in the other.
They laid down on the duvet, one kid after another with Eren guarding on the far left and Porco sleeping on the opposite end. Porco, with his eyes barely open, tried to tell them a bedtime story but his brain decided to stop working in the middle of the show –too drowsy to think straight–and his words stopped making sense. “So, Cinderella went to the party in her new beautiful gown,” he slurred, “She met the prince and they danced and danced and danced all night long... And then he said… hey, do you want to go and grab some beer… and she said… No, it tastes like donkey’s piss…”
“The hell?” Eren, who had been listening intently, furrowed his eyebrows. He propped himself on his elbow, catching the other man snoring with his mouth opened wide. “Yo, Galliard! Wake up!”
Porco snapped back to reality, his snore ended in a choked gasp. “Sorry.” His hazel eyes were unfocused as he blinked. “Where was I?”
“Prince Charming was about to buy her some beers.”
“What? Why?”
“Dude, I don’t know, it’s your story.”
Thankfully, Irene, who had already lost interest, decided to ask the most important question of all. "Daddy, where do babies come from?"
It was the question that Eren had been dreading the most. “Uhh…” Damn, he wished you were there to answer her. You always knew what to do in this situation. Should I make up stories? Babies being delivered by storks and all that shit?
“Yes, Papa,” Udo chimed in, snuggling close to Porco. “Where do babies come from?”
Porco and Eren exchanged words in silence, both thinking, what the fuck should we answer them. Eren tried to divert their attention away from the topic by saying, “Hey, why don’t we read another story? I can tell you about The Lion King and–”
“Did you chop mama’s head off, put a baby inside her and sew her head back on?” Kaya asked her father and Porco, wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible so he could finally get his sleep, let out the heaviest sigh and said, “No, Kaya. Also, that’s highly disturbing. Okay, kids, listen up. So, there’s this thing called penis–”
“LOVE!” Eren quickly shouted, garnering everyone’s attention. “When a man loves a woman, like Mommy and Daddy do, we turn our love into a baby and we put it in Mommy’s belly, where the baby is growing bigger and bigger.”
“How do the babies get out then?” Irene, always so critical, questions even further.
Fuck me. “W-well, mommy will push them out of her, uhh… her…”
“Cunt.”
“Vagina,” Eren corrected immediately, throwing a pillow at the other man’s face hard enough for him to start contemplating ten different ways to murder Eren in his sleep.
“Literally the same thing,” Porco commented. “Now, go to sleep, kiddos. I’ll make you guys some lasagna when you’re awake.”
“Yay, lasagna!” Irene and Kaya clap their hands together, completely distracted. The kids then shush each other with their index fingers plastered against their mouths, whispering, “Let’s sleep so we can hurry up and eat!” They cuddle close to each other, tugging on their blankets and sharing giggles as they pull their fabrics over their heads.
Eren sends Porco a blank stare. “Couldn’t say that like an hour ago?”
“Just be thankful I’m here to ease your pain, Jaeger.”
The children took an hour-long nap. Porco slept like the dead, snoring loud enough for people in fucking China to hear but fortunately, the kids were too tired to notice. Eren couldn’t catch a wink of sleep, but he was also too tired to clean the house so he decided to just lie down next to Irene, snuggling close and stroking her hair as he hummed her favorite lullaby. His thoughts, as always, drifted back to you, wondering how you felt when you realized that he had been wanting to raise another child. You didn’t seem like you opposed the idea. If anything, you looked like you were excited about it. A smile graced his lips, his heart pounding fast enough for his mouth to shout for joy.
When the kids were awake, Porco, as promised, cooked them lasagna as Eren tried his best to bathe five children at once. Stripping himself down to his briefs, he filled the tub with warm water. Due to some miracle, the children were much more obedient this time around, five little bodies hurdled together inside his large, triangular bathtub while Eren took turns in lathering shampoo on their hairs. His son, Jace, tried to do the same with his face. His tiny hands were covered with soap as he tried to rub the sharpie stains away from his father's cheeks. “Scrub, scrub, scrub,” Jace said, smiling at him. "Daddy's all clean now."
Eren felt his heart melt as they nuzzled the tip of their noses together, sharing bubbles and giggles. "Yeah, Daddy's all clean now."
Irene and Kaya, the older ones, decided to become his assistants that evening. They helped their little brothers and sister put on their pajamas, even went as far as combing their locks. Eren tied her daughter’s hair in a cute ponytail and did the same to Kaya and Zofia right after. Now that they were all cleaned and fresh, they went back to the dining room to see Porco setting up plates on the table. Wiping his hands clean on his apron, the blonde-haired man announced, “Come here, dwarfs! Dinner’s ready!”
“Yaaay, lasagna!” The children ran as fast as they could, climbing up to their seats. Porco served their foods on five colorful silicone plates, and they cheered in unison as they grabbed their forks.
Eren, who just realized how stupid it was to bathe them before they ate their dinner, prayed with his dear life that they wouldn’t spill any stain on their pajamas. He gave two napkins for each kid, one placed on their lap, one tucked into the collar of their shirt. “Be careful with your food, okay?” he reminded them, acting more like a mother than a father.
He helped Jace sit on his baby’s chair while Porco embraced his youngest daughter in his arms and let her settle on his lap. As the children began to eat, Eren watched every bit of their movements with cautious eyes, taking a sharp gasp every time Irene scooped up her food just a little bit too passionately.
“God, I am stressing out so much right now,” Eren said, spoon-feeding his youngest son.
“Dude, chill,” Porco said. “So what if they get food on their clothes? I’ll help out.”
“You’ll help me bathe them again?
“No, but I’ll pray for you.” He slid down a ceramic plate filled with sizzling hot lasagna toward his direction. “Here. Hurry up and dig in.”
A mouthwatering smell of cheese, garlic, and briny sauce fills the air, leaving the other man in awe. The layers of red sauce and cheeses, perfectly dispersed over the fine ground beef that was cut to perfection by Porco’s precise hands, made his stomach growl.
Eren, reminding himself not to be too dramatic over a dish made by an asshole, gripped his fork and his knife in his hands. The steam came straight out when he cut a piece off, and the farther he dug, the more meat, cheese, and tomatoes he got. Everything melted perfectly inside his mouth, his taste buds dancing in rejoice at the flavor.
“How is it?” Porco asked, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smug smirk. "Tastes good, right?"
Good? It tastes like I just had an orgasm in my mouth, oh my God. “Could’ve been worse,” Eren replied with a nonchalant shrug. “Hope this won’t give me a stomachache.”
“Hope it gives you explosive diarrhea.”
Once dinner time was over, the kids were about to return to their chaotic sides once again but Porco rolled up his sleeves and said, “Time to bring out the big guns.”
The big guns turned out to be Eren and Porco lying down on the same duvet they took a nap on, pretending to be asleep while their kids settled on the floor with their stomachs pressed against the fabric, circling the two men with their crayons ready in their hands and their drawing papers settled between their propped elbows.
“I can’t believe this actually works,” Eren said in a whisper. He was skeptical when he heard Porco challenging the kids to draw him and Eren's sleeping postures on their sketchbook papers but the kids actually did it without further ado, pouring all their brainpower into their drawings. “You being lazy and depressed actually did us a favor.”
Porco snorted. “You’re so bad at giving compliments.”
“Who said I was giving you a compliment?”
“It’s written all over your face, doofus. Just like when you took a bite of my lasagna earlier. I could tell you were about to cry from how good it was.”
“I–I was not!” Eren’s face caught in flames. “Well, what about you then? I could see how relieved you were when you saw the kids looking all cleaned up in their pajamas.” His cheeky, pompous grin resurfaced on his lips. “You wanted to thank me, didn’t you? Maybe you even admired how good I am at taking care of your kids.”
Porco rolled his eyes but he decided to be honest. “Actually, yeah. I was a bit impressed. Didn’t think a rockstar like you who always had an assistant to deal with your shit could actually take care of other people.” Porco locked his gaze to the ceiling, his golden eyes turning vacant as his insecurities swallowed him from the inside. “And here I am, a father of three, unemployed and spending his time doing nothing but looking like a fucking zombie every day.”
Eren tossed his face to the side, observing the other man’s expression. The sudden change in his attitude baffled him a bit and it was the first time Porco ever showed a sign of his insecurities toward other people. “Hey, don’t be too harsh on yourself, man,” Eren said, both of them still speaking in whispers. “You’re not unemployed. You’re choosing to build your own company and manage your own store.”
“Well, it hasn’t paid much.”
“It would take time. Be patient. I honestly think you’re brave for doing that. Wish I could quit the band and stay home with my family too.” Eren could still witness the disappointment Porco felt toward himself. He wasn’t sure why he wanted to try so hard to convince the other man that he had been a great father figure to his family–maybe because Eren had his weak moments in the past too where he let his insecurities get the best of him–but he said, “Listen, Galliard, I’m only going to say this once ‘cause it physically hurts me to admit this, but…” He drew a deep breath. “I look up to you, dude. I think you’re a very compassionate person. You’re kind, you act like an asshole but you protect your loved ones better than they can protect themselves. And no offense, I adore your family, I truly do, but if I had a wife like Pieck and children like yours, I would jump off the bridge and die. Seeing how you’re still standing here today, loving them as much as you can, working your ass off every day to make sure you have food on your table, that’s amazing.”
His words might not be able to erase the permanent scowl on Porco’s face but they were more than enough to sketch a blush on his cheeks. “You… You’re not so bad yourself,” Porco sheepishly said. “I think you’re the most passionate, talented person I’ve ever met. I don’t think I’ve ever told you this, but I’ve been playing your album for, like, three weeks in a row now.”
“Shit, really?”
“Yeah. I love everything you wrote, especially the older ones. Out of The Black, Little Monster and Come On Over were so good. Your new songs suit people’s tastes better, but I’ve always preferred your old ones. They sounded more like you.”
Eren’s lips parted in awe, his words echoing through his mind, suffused him with joy. “Wow, that’s…” He cleared his throat, abashed and awkward. “No one except my wife has ever told me that. Thanks, I guess… It really means a lot to me.”
“Sure.”
When words are reduced to nothingness, silence blared loudly in their ears and both men started to realize one thing:
That was so fucking gay!
“I think you should, umm…” Porco said, gesturing to the few inches of the gap that separated their shoulders.
“Shit, yeah, get away from me.” Both men moved away at the same time, expanding the spaces between them before they fixated their eyes on the ceilings, glaring with their cheeks burning brightly.
You and Pieck returned to your suburban home with three huge shopping bags filled with your children’s new pajamas and toys, sharing small conversations with joy written on your faces. The second you push open the front door, however, that smile falters without a trace.
The house was an absolute mess. Your clothes were scattered all over the floor–the aftermath of Irene, Kaya, and Zofia’s dress-up games. Your kitchen had flour coating the marbled tiles, a bunch of plastic cups toppled over on the counter with orange juice being spilled all over the place. Eren’s comic books were ripped apart (but thank God, your K-Pop merchandise remained untouched). The walls in your living room were covered with drawings of stick men and unproportional apple trees, and you weren’t sure if you could clean them all up.
You lost your grip, your shopping bags landing on the floor with a dull thud as your eyes widened in horror. “What the hell happened here?” The further you went inside your house, you found your husband and Porco–the two adult males who were supposed to be responsible for all this mess–snoring in the middle of your living room. They weren’t just sleeping either. They were snuggling. You assumed at some point in his sleep, Eren unknowingly wrapped his arms around the other man, most likely mistaking him for you. He cuddled him from behind and Porco, who was drowning too deep in his slumber, just felt comfortable being shrouded with his warmth (to be fair, Eren does give the best cuddle in the world).
You and Pieck spun your heads around at the same time, looking at each other. “Maybe next time we can just drop the kids at a daycare.”
“Yeah. Agreed.”
“Mommy, you’re home!” Irene waved at you, grinning with a marker in her hand. She, just like the rest of the kids, had abandoned her sketchbook and focused on drawing directly on her father’s face instead. “Look, Mommy! We’re gonna make Daddy the prettiest tramp!”
“Jace, we did it!” Udo followed right after. “Papa looks like a whore!”
There was a moment of silence before Pieck turned to you. “Those whores have some explaining to do.”
“Yeah.”
***
Eren after Irene braided his hair:
Also, Eren and Porco when they woke up:
Massive thanks to Sandra for beta-reading this for me ❤️ I love you. so much, bestie!
