Hello! I’m duyee, I’m 19 years old and I’m from Mexico, right now living on the U.S. so I can speak either Spanish or English (although I’m kinda bad with my English lol). I’m an artist and also I decided to start writing some fics as well about my interests, basically I’m a new writer!
I enjoy my time either drawing, writing or playing some video games as well. My interests are AOT (Attack On Titan), RE (Resident Evil), Final Fantasy, and more.
I would post here stuff about either my interests, about my writing (as suggestions, questions, ideas and small paragraphs of some fics.)
I ask minors to not read or follow my content since some of my fics or drawings could contain sensitive topics or being rated as +18 only.
“Everything you need to know about the: Arranged Marriage AU”
Or —
Here it is! The arranged marriage AU, also known as the “Eren fumbled a baddie” AU, also known as the single dumbest Eren in all of the ✨ROVERSE✨.
First, it is useful to clarify the social tone of this story!!!
Although it is set in the Regency period, the society depicted here resembles the world found in Jane Austen’s novels far more than the highly dramatised version popularised by Bridgerton.
Jane Austen’s Regency is comparatively restrained and grounded in everyday social realities. Her stories tend to focus less on titled aristocrats and more on the landed gentry (families who possessed land, income, and local influence but did not necessarily hold noble titles). Bridgerton, by contrast, presents a far more theatrical vision of Regency society. Its narrative centres on the titled aristocracy and places heavy emphasis on spectacle: The Season, the marriage mart, lavish balls, scandal, and heightened drama.
So, if you have followed this blog for some time, you may have noticed hints of another Regency project. This one, Bed of Roses, leans much more toward the tone of Bridgerton. In that story, Eren is a marquess and Mikasa a young lady entering the marriage mart with the clear objective of securing a titled husband. That setting naturally invites glittering ballrooms, fashionable soirées, elaborate social rituals, and the kind of dramatic entanglements that often become delightfully ridiculous.
This arranged marriag AU, now titled This Calamitous Love, moves in a different direction. While This Calamitous Love will still contain its share of drama, its world is not meant to be as dazzling or socially extravagant as Bed of Roses. Rather than focusing on the glittering circles of titled aristocrats and London’s marriage market (here represented by Mitras), the story centres on the rhythms of country life and the landed gentry. The social sphere is smaller, the concerns more domestic, and the setting grounded in estates, neighbouring families, and the everyday interactions of people whose lives unfold largely in the countryside instead of grand ballrooms.
Because of that, the concept of the gentry becomes important. After the peerage or nobility (dukes, marquesses, earls, viscounts, and barons) came the gentry.
In this fic, the Ackerman and Yeager families are members of the landed gentry: they own property, collect rents from their land, and enjoy a comfortable social position, but they (Eren and Mikasa and their parents) don’t possess noble titles. Except perhaps for their grandparents and their older uncles, because both Eren and Mikasa are children of second and third sons, meaning no noble titles for them. Characters such as Mr. Darcy in Pride and Prejudice or Mr. Knightley in Emma are good examples: wealthy landowners of considerable status within their communities, yet not members of the peerage.
And that said, here we go!
Eren and Mikasa come from neighbouring families who live in Shiganshina on properties very close to each other. Their houses are separated only by a small river and a bridge.
Their grandmothers are close friends who always wanted to unite their families. Eren’s grandmother is a viscountess and Mikasa’s grandmother is a baroness. Both women had about three children, but those children married outside the families, so the union never happened.
The viscountess’s third son has a son (Eren) at the same time the baroness’s third son has a daughter (Mikasa). The grandmothers immediately decide to arrange a marriage between the two newborns.
They declare that Eren and Mikasa will marry when they turn eighteen and arrange the betrothal through the children’s parents, who are visibly uncomfortable with the idea but not fully opposed.
Eren and Mikasa grow up together. They are educated together and spend much of their time playing and visiting each other’s homes across the bridge.
They share a close friend, Armin, the grandson of the village church’s vicar. The three of them become very close.
Around the age of twelve, Eren and Mikasa finally understand what marriage means. Eren reacts badly to the idea and says cruel things to Mikasa, including that he would never marry a boring, lice-ridden girl like her.
Mikasa is deeply hurt and stops speaking to Eren. Eren also stops speaking to her, and the distance between them grows.
When they are sixteen, Eren decides—against his grandmother’s wishes—that he wants to join the army. His grandfather, the old viscount, gives him the money to buy a commission.
((A commission is the official appointment as an army officer, granting ranks such as Ensign, Lieutenant, Captain, Major, or Colonel. Buying a commission meant paying money to obtain a rank in a regiment.))
((The system existed so that only men of money or social standing would become officers. Men without money could join as privates and might rise to corporal or sergeant but almost never became officers because those ranks usually required purchasing a commission.))
Eren buys a commission and enters the army as an Ensign. Over the years he rises through the ranks and becomes a captain at the age of twenty-three.
During his years in the military, Mikasa writes letters to him, but Eren never replies. He deliberately ignores them, and eventually Mikasa stops writing.
The next time he receives a letter from her, she informs him that his grandmother is ill and has asked him to come home because there is something important she wishes to tell him. Eren ignores the letter.
Later he receives another letter from his father informing him that the viscountess has died.
Eren returns to Shiganshina, only to discover that his grandmother has already been buried. Her last wish was that Eren should be happy, so she and Mikasa’s grandmother had broken the engagement before her death.
He also learns that Mikasa’s grandmother died a year earlier. The baroness left Mikasa a considerable inheritance, enough to support her for a season with the assistance of Baron Ackerman (now Levi).
Eren celebrates the fact that he no longer has to marry. When he attempts to speak to Mikasa again, however, she treats him with complete indifference.
Eren asks Armin (who is now the village vicar) why Mikasa treats him so coldly. Armin tells him plainly that Mikasa is resentful because Eren never answered her letters.
Eren argues that Mikasa should be happy now that she is free to marry someone she truly loves. Armin reacts sharply and tells him something along the lines of, “And how exactly do you know she doesn’t love you, you jackass?”
Meanwhile, Mikasa begins preparing for her season and attends neighbourhood dances and social gatherings, where she quickly attracts attention.
Eren also attends these dances, since his grandmother had not wanted the household to remain in mourning forever.
At these dances, teas, and gatherings, Eren begins to see Mikasa differently. He notices how beautiful she is, how intelligent she is, how she refuses to be controlled by men, and how capable she seems at everything she does. Slowly, he realises he is falling in love with her.
The realisation makes him miserable. He grows jealous when other men show interest in her.
Armin mocks him for it and says he has no chance of winning Mikasa back. Eren, stubborn as ever, takes that as a challenge and decides he will win her back.
When the season begins, Mikasa travels to Mitras. Eren follows and attends several of the same social events.
During this time, a particular man begins to show strong interest in Mikasa.
One evening at a gentlemen’s club, Eren overhears that man boasting that he intends to marry Mikasa no matter what because he needs her money. He even suggests that if necessary he will ruin her reputation to force the match.
Instead of confronting the man directly, Eren goes straight to Mikasa and warns her about what he heard.
Mikasa rejects the warning and sends him away, telling him he has no right to involve himself in her affairs. She reminds him that he never cared about her before, so he should not pretend to care now.
Eren does not know what to do, but he remains nearby and continues trying to protect her even though she openly rejects him.
Later, Mikasa begins to express doubts about marrying the other man, which prompts the man to put his plan into action.
His method of ruining her reputation is uncertain. One possibility is that he sneaks into her room at night so that people will discover them together. Another possibility is that he arranges a kidnapping.
If it is the kidnapping, Eren rescues her, but the man spreads rumours afterward, damaging Mikasa’s reputation anyway.
Mortified by the scandal, Mikasa decides to return to Shiganshina.
Unfortunately, the rumours spread even there. Because of this, Mikasa asks her father to find her a husband quickly so that the gossip will stop.
Privately, Mikasa’s father approaches Eren. Although Eren behaved badly in the past, he was the one who saved Mikasa, and her father cannot think of a better man to marry her.
Eren sees this as his chance both to save Mikasa and to win her back, so he agrees to marry her.
However, Mikasa remains cold and indifferent. She makes it clear that their marriage was arranged once before, and that is exactly what it is now, nothing more.
How will Eren win Mikasa back? I don’t know, friends, haha!
Hey everyone! Welcome to my drabble masterlist. I’m really glad you’re here. Before you start exploring, there are a few things I want to clear up so you know what to expect:
Work in Progress: This masterlist is very much a living document. Over the years, I have lost a noticeable number of drabbles due to… less-than-stellar tagging on my part, and with the amount of content I have now, things can get a little chaotic. I will be updating, reorganising, and modifying this list as I go.
Drabbles & Purpose: These drabbles come from a mix of places—random ideas that pop into my head, moments I want to explore, or concepts tied to fics I have already published. I have separated the drabbles connected to published works so they can act as an expanded universe of sorts alongside those stories.
Tumblr as a Testing Ground: You may also find drabbles here that hint at or experiment with future fics. Tumblr, for me, works a bit like a screening test: a place to play with ideas and see how they feel. Anything posted here should not be considered final or canonical for future works.
Canon Lives on AO3: As I always say, the official canon for user deaddolphins exists on AO3. What ends up there is the fully thought-out, definitive version of any story.
Thank you so much for reading, supporting, and sticking around. I hope you enjoy exploring the drabbles, and as always, I am grateful to have you here.
Happy reading!
──✦ Winter Morning: A The Promised Princess drabble
──✦ After the birth: A The Promised Princess drabble
──✦ Lord Eren caressing his wife's face while she falls asleep: A The Promised Princess drabble
──✦ Lord Eren & Princess Mikasa's bath: A The Promised Princess drabble
──✦ Lord Eren & Princess Mikasa goes on a picnic date (early TPP pilot drabble*)
──✦ Actor Eren & Idol Mikasa smut (early CHB pilot drabble*)
──✦ Slytherin prince Eren & Lioness Mikasa: an Amortentia drabble
──✦ Dilf metalhead Eren: A metalhead Eren drabble
──✦ Mikasa and Eren phone sex: A metalhead Eren drabble
* By “pilot drabble,” I mean the fic concept already existed as we know it now, but it was still in its early stages. Because of that, character personalities may differ from what appears in the final AO3 version.
──✦ Bratty Heiress Mikasa & Daddy's right Hand Eren
──✦ One-night stand with Dr jaeger — accidental pregnancy
──✦ Ruin The Friendship — planned pregnancy
──✦ I’ll be the cure — a cabin eremika vignette
──✦ Santa Baby — a 2025 christmas drabble
──✦ Illicit Affairs — a cheating au
──✦ Sugar Baby AU 1 — a sugar daddy eren au
──✦ Sugar Baby AU 2 (smut) — a sugar daddy eren au
──✦ Sugar Baby AU 3 (smut) — a sugar daddy eren au
──✦ Sugar Baby AU 4 (baby hearbeats) — a sugar daddy eren au
──✦ Sugar Baby AU: 2022 Father's Day Special — a sugar daddy eren au
──✦ Mafia predator boss — a mafia eren au
──✦ Mafia predator boss Eren f*cks Mikasa in pub toilet — a mafia eren au
──✦ Mafia predator boss Eren gun sex — a mafia eren au
──✦ Professor Mikasa — a delinquent student eren au
──✦ Rent a Mikasa 1 — a little girlfriend mikasa au
──✦ Rent a Mikasa 2 — a little girlfriend mikasa au
──✦ Rent a Mikasa 3 — a little girlfriend mikasa au
──✦ Eremika partners in crime — a mafia-ish au
──✦ Nosferatu — a vampire eren au
──✦ Delinquent Eren f*cking Catholic Mikasa in the car — a catholic mikasa au
──✦ Mikasa and Eren just had a long night (fluff) — anon request
──✦ Eren making Mikasa beg for his d*ck — anon request
Hi! I have been meaning to make this post for a while, but life kept getting in the way and time slipped by before I realised it. So, here it is at last!! This is the masterlist of what I like to call “everything you need to know about the X AU.” Since I have uploaded quite a few of them already, I wanted to gather them all in one place and organise them so they are easier to find. And, yes, before you start exploring, there are a few things I’d like to share with you:
Not the Final Version of ANY Outline: These posts exist as guides for upcoming fics that will later be published on AO3. They contain my first ideas, concepts, and the general essence of each AU, but they are NOT the final or definitive version of the story. Things can and will change as the writing process develops.
AO3 Is the Canon: While these guides are meant to share my ideas and build excitement, the final version of every AU will always be the one posted on AO3. If something differs between these posts and the fic itself, the AO3 version is the one to trust.
Purpose of These Posts: This masterlist is meant to create hype, give you a glimpse into my creative process, and share the foundations of each AU with you. It is not a complete outline, nor a promise that every detail mentioned here will appear exactly as written in the final fic.
Flexibility and Evolution: Writing is a fluid process. Characters, plots, and dynamics may shift, deepen, or change entirely between these initial concepts and the finished story. That evolution is intentional and part of how each AU comes to life.
Thank you so much for your interest and support. I love sharing these early ideas with you, and I hope you enjoy watching them grow into their final form on AO3!
──✦ “Everything you need to know about the: Knight Mikasa or King Eren” Or — Castles Crumbling
──✦ “Everything you need to know about Marquess Eren & Miss Mikasa” Or — Bed of Roses
──✦ “Everything you need to know about the: Mr General Eren & Princess of Hizuru Mikasa” Or — Green Meadows
──✦ “Everything you need to know about the: outlaw Eren” Or — Sweet Prairie
──✦ “Everything you need to know about the: doctor Eren & mountain girl Mikasa” Or — Little Forest
guuuuuuys, the “coming soon” section for my fics is back and alive on my pinned post!! (press keep reading!) i know this helped a lot to get a clearer view of what is coming next in terms of wip updates and one shots (or longshots), so yes, it is officially back!!!!
and yeah, just to clarify, this is not an order of updates or posting ♥️
—Or supermodel Mikasa decides she wants a baby, and her best friend Eren is more than willing to be involved.
Sooooooo yes, this is the AU where Eremika are supermodels and Mikasa, at thirty-three, casually decides she wants a baby. Naturally, her best friend, who is the same age and has been orbiting her personal space for over a decade, immediately decides he is willing to help her with that plan.
Because they are FRIENDS. And friends help each other with everything. Emotional support, career crises, closets, and apparently reproduction?? Or maybe this is not a friendship at all and we are all just politely lying to ourselves. LOL.
Enjoy!!!
WC: 2.9k
Rate: G but be careful with the last part.
Milan, the capital of fashion and glamour, was finally taking a long, well-deserved exhale.
After a week that could only be described as professionally chaotic and personally offensive to sleep schedules everywhere, it was safe to say that the 2024 Fall/Winter Fashion Week had officially come to an end. The lights dimmed, the shows packed up, and the models scattered back into their private lives like nothing extraordinary had happened (which was a lie everyone politely agreed to tell themselves).
Milan, however, was not fooled. The city still smelt like perfume, espresso, cold stone, and unchecked ambition. And more dangerously, it carried the unmistakable scent of change on the wind. Or at least, that was what Mikasa Ackerman, supermodel and three-time consecutive Model of the Year, thought she felt.
With her commitments for Gucci and Prada finally behind her, there was little left to do in the glittering heart of Lombardy except pack her bags and catch a jet home. A prospect she was, of course, very much looking forward to. Still, fashion week traditions were not so easily escaped. Before leaving, there remained one final obligation, inevitable as ever but not less expected: dinner with one of her closest friends.
So there she was, dressed head to toe in a black Yves Saint Laurent suit, red high heels, and oversized Chanel sunglasses. Waiting, no, anticipating, the arrival of her best friend. A model like her, only relegated to the men’s side of the industry. Eren Jaeger. Or idiot, or stupid, depending on her mood. (Motherfucker and cunt on days when he truly pushed her to the brink of homicide, but that’s for later.)
According to the media, he had been triumphantly acclaimed on the Giorgio Armani runways this season. The praise was well earned, and if Mikasa were honest, painfully overdue. In her opinion, Eren should have been receiving that kind of attention years ago. Yet it had taken nearly a decade in the industry, and only last season, for his name to finally start circulating with the weight it always should have carried.
However, that was not what had her nervous about Eren. Nervous was not usually an emotion he inspired in her. Mild concern and occasional secondhand embarrassment, yes (most of the time). Nervous no. Never. For goodness’ sake, Eren had been her best friend since she was fifteen, which meant more than half of their lives, an alarming statistic she tried not to unpack too deeply because it made everything feel suspiciously serious. They had survived puberty, fame, bad haircuts, awful relationships, and a lot of occasions of Eren thinking he was right when he absolutely was not.
No, the problem was the proposal she was planning to make to him.
That was the real menace.
That was the real nerves.
So as Mikasa waited for his always delayed best friend, she replayed everything in her head. Every word. Every possible reaction. Every disastrous alternate ending where he laughed, misunderstood, or said something deeply Eren-coded like “are you sick?” She went over absolutely everything, because if there was one thing Mikasa Ackerman did not do casually, it was emotional risk.
She checked her phone for the fifth time since sitting down at the restaurant and sighed. Eren’s chronic disrespect for punctuality was still irritating after all these years, a personal flaw that had somehow survived puberty, fame, and adulthood. Still, she let it go. She always did. At this point, it was less forgiveness and more a lifestyle choice.
And then, just as she was about to text him a sharp ‘where the hell are you?’, the waitress stepped in and the idiot himself emerged from behind her.
Mikasa’s frown disappeared instantly. Not because Eren had finally shown up, late as usual, but because the absolute menace was wearing the exact same outfit as her. Same colour palette. Same silhouette. Same lethal elegance. The only difference was that hers was YSL and his was Armani and, infuriatingly, it fit him perfectly. A perfect match for his brown hair, which reached his shoulders and which, that day, he wore loose, framing his perfectly square face like he had accidentally styled himself into a magazine spread.
“Cariño,” he said, his voice smooth and sweet, paired with a smile he knew very well how to use. “Were you waiting for me?”
Mikasa could not help rolling her eyes. “I’m always waiting for you.”
His smile only softened, turning warmer, more affectionate, as if her exasperation were part of the charm.
“Because you love me, of course,” he replied, leaning down to kiss her cheek. It lingered just long enough to be noticed, just brief enough to remain technically innocent. Paparazzi, if there was one over there, would have a field day with it. They always did.
She did not pull away. Instead, her hand came up automatically to adjust the collar of his jacket, fingers brushing the fabric, smoothing a wrinkle that did not exist. Muscle memory, really. Years of proximity, of knowing where to touch without thinking.
“You did this on purpose,” she accused, tilting her head back to look at him properly.
Eren grinned. “What, match you? Please. Great minds think alike.”
“You surely saw me earlier.” She chuckled. “Or asked my manager for a picture.”
“I absolutely did not,” he lied badly, sliding into the chair across from her. “I simply woke up this morning and thought, what if I coordinated aesthetically with the most beautiful woman in Milan tonight?”
Mikasa snorted. “You are impossible.”
“And yet,” he said lightly, eyes flicking over her with something dangerously close to reverence, “here we are.”
Eren slid into the seat beside her and the waitress took their orders without blinking. This was clearly not her first encounter with people who looked expensive and slightly unwell.
As usual, Eren went straight for a martini, loyal to his brand if nothing else. Mikasa, meanwhile, ordered a cappuccino, which was shocking enough to qualify as a personality shift.
Naturally, Eren noticed.
“You are not getting your usual Negroni?” He lifted his eyebrow, with the seriousness of a man who had just spotted a glitch in reality.
Mikasa paused, thinking about what to say, anything that doesn’t lead to the proposal. “I don’t feel like drinking alcohol today, you know?”
He stared at her for half a second, then shrugged, filing it away under a ‘suspicious but not my problem’. He leaned back into the booth and, as always, got too close. Close enough to be familiar. Close enough to be annoying. Close enough that Mikasa had to remind herself why she had agreed to this dinner in the first place and why backing out now would be cowardice, not strategy.
“They are going to love this,” he murmured over her ear. “We just need a kiss—” he leaned in to press his lips against her cheek, casual and criminally confident “—and tomorrow the magazines will be very excitedly announcing that we are having sex again!”
Instead of embarrassment, Mikasa laughed, the sound slipping out easily. “You love when that happens, don’t you?”
Eren nodded, pulling off his Gucci sunglasses with his free hand and then looked at her with his deep green eyes. “I love having sex rumours with you, mi amor bonito.” He kissed her cheek again. “I’m deeply committed to the narrative that we are madly in love and refusing to admit it.”
She huffed. “We are not madly in love.”
“No,” he agreed easily. “Just aggressively codependent best friends with poor boundaries.”
She laughed in agreement. She was right and he was right. They were not in love. Probably never had been. They were friends.
Friends who hugged. Friends who touched. Friends who kissed, occasionally on the lips, but only if the vibe was right and the universe seemed chill about it. Friends who spent more time at each other’s apartments than their own, to the point where landlords could reasonably assume cohabitation. Friends who would make out when they were too drunk or climb into the jacuzzi naked with glasses of sparkling champagne, hugging each other in ways that were, frankly, suspicious.
But nothing more than that.
Just friends.
Very committed. Very tactile. Very questionably defined friends.
Friends who, for ten years in the industry, had inspired the most bizarre and persistent rumour mill in the country. Some swore they were in a secret relationship. Others were convinced they were secretly married. A more pragmatic group assumed they were simply having sex and calling it a day. All perfectly reasonable theories, honestly.
And maybe their behaviour did not help. They were always draped over each other, borrowing clothes like personal space was a myth, appearing in public looking suspiciously coordinated for two people who definitely did not plan anything.
But the truth was far less scandalous and far more inconvenient.
It was normal for them. Completely normal. Just one of those things that made sense within the specific ecosystem of their friendship and absolutely nowhere else.
Which was precisely why Mikasa felt the nerves creep back in right before the food and drinks arrived. She did not usually get shy. That was not her brand. Mikasa Ackerman was decisive, controlled, and famously unreadable. She walked into rooms like she owned the air inside them. But this was different. This was not a contract or a career move. This was a want. A deeply personal, terrifying want.
This was the kind of thing that could probably, possibly, catastrophically … ruin the friendship.
Noticing her sudden stillness, because Eren always did notice, he spoke. “You are very quiet.” His knee nudged hers under the table, grounding in the way only long habits could be. “Something’s wrong, bonita?”
Mikasa’s mouth twitched. She stared at the surface of her cappuccino, watching the foam slowly collapse into itself. She inhaled, deep and measured, then exhaled just as carefully, as if controlling her breath might keep the rest of her from unravelling.
It was now or never.
“I was thinking…” her voice trailed off and she needed to mentally push herself one more time. “I have plans.”
Eren blinked once and then smiled. “That sounds dangerous.”
Mikasa huffed. “Be serious.”
“I’m always serious when it’s about you. Especially when you make that face.”
She frowned. “What face?”
“The one where you are about to say something important and you hate that you care about my reaction.”
She rolled her eyes, an old habit installed by Eren himself. “I really have plans.”
His expression softened. “I am listening, mi amor.”
“For my future,” she added, unnecessarily.
“Very clear and attentive, mi vida.”
Mikasa paused, not for effect but because she was gathering her strength. And then, she spilled the beans. “I want to be a mom, Eren.”
The words sat between them, heavy and fragile all at once.
Eren froze mid-sip, glass hovering near his mouth, and stared at her after blinking three full times.
“Mamacita?” he said at last, tone unmistakably clueless.
She ignored his tone entirely and kept going, because backing out now would have been emotional cowardice. “I have been thinking about it all year, honestly. And, well…” She hesitated, huffed softly, then committed. “I think it is time for me. I really want a baby, Eren. I want something that is mine. Not just another phase. Not another trend that expires after three seasons and a press cycle.”
With trembling fingers, she fussed with the handle of her cappuccino cup, suddenly very invested in ceramic physics. “So, well, you are literally the only person I have say all of this and…” She glanced at Eren.
He was still staring at her. Wide-eyed. Unblinking. Like his brain had blue-screened.
Her frown deepened. “What?” she asked, a little sharper than intended.
Eren finally blinked, then shook his head as if remembering he was supposed to participate in this conversation. “A mom? You? I’m not surprised, honestly.”
“Is that a bad thing?” she asked, wary.
He shook his head immediately. “God, no. Not at all. In fact—” He reached for her hand under the table, thumb brushing over her knuckles in a way that was far too familiar to be innocent. “—I think you would be a perfect mom.”
“You think so?”
“I know so?”
Mikasa smiled.
“But wait,” Eren said, panic finally deciding to clock in. “H-how are you going to do it?” His expression shifted into something almost grim, like he had just realised he had skipped an entire chapter of the story—her story. “Are you with someone? Like, with someone I don’t know about? Why did you not tell me?”
The questions tumbled out one after another, each one louder than the last, all of them screaming, ‘there is information missing here and I don’t like it, Mikasa.’
Eren kept going, because once Eren entered ramble mode, there was no emergency brake. “I thought we agreed that if one of us was with someone, we would tell each other so we would not get into trouble and—”
“I’m not with anyone, Eren,” she cut in immediately, stepping in before he could build an entire conspiracy board in his head. “I’m all alone and single as you.”
Understanding finally dawned on him and he nodded, like a man who had just caught up to the conversation several minutes late. “So how are you going to do it, huh? Uh, wait. Are you planning on going out partying and just getting pregnant or something?”
“Jesus Christ, no,” she shot back. “I am not that irresponsible.”
“Okay, okay,” he said quickly. “Then adoption? That is a nice gesture.”
“Hm, no. That is actually my plan B. Actually, I froze eggs a couple of years ago, and everything, and…”
She stopped.
Because that was it. That was the exact point where she was supposed to unveil her whole, carefully considered, deeply unhinged plan.
Mikasa looked at Eren, lips parting slightly as she took his hands in hers, committing fully to the moment because there was no graceful exit left.
“I was thinking about a donor,” she said carefully. “You know. Someone who could give me his… swimmers.”
She winced immediately after saying it.
Not because the word itself was scandalous, but because Eren Jaeger’s face did something profoundly unhelpful.
He stared at her.
Then he blinked.
Then he leaned back in his chair, hands still caught in hers, as if distance might suddenly restore oxygen to his brain.
“Swimmers,” he repeated mockingly.
“Yes,” she said, mortified now, cheeks warming despite her best efforts. “I’m aware it’s not the most elegant phrasing. I panicked.”
“Mikasa,” he said slowly, carefully, like he was navigating a minefield while blindfolded. “Are you asking me if I know a guy for the task?”
She frowned. “No.”
“Because I know guys,” Eren continued, nodding as if this were useful information. “Some of them are tall. Some of them are genetically impressive. Some of them are idiots, but still, the genes are there.”
“No,” she repeated, firmer now.
“Because if you want a catalogue, I could probably assemble a short list. We could rate them. Very democratic.”
She squeezed his hands, hard.
“Eren.”
He stopped.
“I’m asking you,” she said quietly. “If you would be the donor.”
The words hung there, unadorned, impossible to misunderstand.
For once, Eren had nothing ready.
His mouth opened, then closed. His brow furrowed. He looked down at their joined hands like he had only just realised they were there, like the contact suddenly carried weight it never had before.
“Oh,” he said.
Then, softer, “Oh.”
The restaurant faded completely now. The clatter of plates, the murmur of conversation, the world shrinking to the space between them and the years stacked invisibly behind it.
“You want me.” His voice was slow, not accusatory. Something between curious and careful. “To help you have a baby.”
“Yes.”
“Like… my swimmers?”
“Yes.”
Eren leaned back fully now, exhaling through his nose, eyes lifting to the ceiling as if negotiating with a higher power that had clearly been drinking on the job.
“Carajo, Mikasa,” he muttered.
Mikasa’s shoulders tensed. “Is that a no?”
“No. No, it is not a no,” he said, letting out a disbelieving chuckle. “You have asked me for many things, bebé. Money. Hugs. Foot massages. Kisses. Emotional support at wildly inconvenient hours. But my DNA?” He laughed harder now. “Fuck, Mikasa.”
Which was not the rejection she had feared and was somehow far more dangerous.
“But,” he continued, lifting a finger, expression shifting. Focused now. Intent. “It is also not a yes in the way you are imagining.”
She frowned. “Eren…”
He leaned forward again, elbows on the table, lowering his voice instinctively despite the privacy of the moment.
“I’m going to give you a baby, Mikasa. But I’m not, under any circumstances, cumming in a glass. For god’s sake, no.” The way he said it should have prepared her for what came next, yet somehow Mikasa still did not brace herself in time. “I’m going to give you a baby, and we are going to make that baby the traditional way.”
“Eren…” This time her voice came out sharper, more urgent, the verbal equivalent of reaching for the emergency brake.
He did not hear her, though. Or he did and chose chaos.
“We are going to make a baby in bed, Mikasa,” he said, infuriatingly calm for a sentence that rewrote reality. “You and me, naked. My skin on your skin. I will take my time with you, taste you, make you come under me, and then I will cum inside you and put a baby on your belly.” His gaze did not waver. “That is what I’m offering. Take it or leave it.”
ok anon, I'm actually nervous because this au is so dear to me. i love it with the same intensity that i fear to write it lol i hope i can finally get my shit together and start to put the scattered pieces I've thrown of this au together. this happens after they go to a festival and eren is encouraged by a friend to experiment and have fun with girls. mikasa sees them and gets furious. she confronts him and they go to somewhere private to "talk" and she tells him that if he can kiss another girl, she can do the same with some random guy.
Fragment of Chapter 2: "17"
"You know I can't kiss you"
"Why?!" She yells. "Because we're 'family'?"
"YES" He yells back. "Yes, Mikasa, because we're supposed to be fucking family! At everyone's eyes here, you're my sister! And I should be taking care of you like my sister because that's what my parents told me to do, not kiss you!"
She wants to cry, she wants to throw a fit. she's hurt, enraged. He let some other girl kiss him, he let another girl touch his face with her unfamiliar hands, trying to erase Mikasa's touch off his skin. She's furious and she wants him to feel the same.
"Then I guess that leaves us at the starting point." She declares. "I'm going out there and I'll find a guy who'd like to kiss me, and you know it won't be so hard to find one. So get off my way, Eren."
She makes it two steps away from him before he grabs her forearm and drags her back inside. Their bodies collide with the force of his manhandling, her own body docile and weightless at the smallest touch of his hands, so it's easy for him to take her face into his big hands and kiss her.
She's paralyzed for two seconds, but her own urges demand her to do something before a third second passes, she leans into him and presses her lips into his as best as she can. Because she's never kissed anyone before him, and she hopes that her lips are warm enough to burn away the feeling of that stranger girl's mouth on his.
When she starts to feel lightheaded by her own incapability to breath correctly and the tight hold his arm's force on her torso, he breaks the kiss. And it feels like being underwater for too long and coming out to the surface. She breathes again.
"This is what you want? What you were desperately wanting? What you're risking everything for?" He bites through his teeth, their faces are so close that they're practically breathing each other's air.
"Yes." She responds immediately, no trace of doubt or remorse in her voice.
And he kisses her again, violently, intense and unforgiving. Demanding, taking, not giving her some kind mercy for her lack of experience.
"Kiss me back properly." He groans into her mouth.
"I don't know how to." She whines, and she's never sounded more pathetic than now, he's probably laughing at her in his head. But instead, he grabs a chunk of her hair in one of his fists and inclines her head lower so he can have a total access to her mouth. And she lets him do whatever he wants with her.
"Then learn." He growls in a way that makes him sound like a wounded animal and she can't help but let a gasp out of her lips, not able to say anything else because he's attacking her mouth again.
She tries for a few seconds to match his rhythm, to hold on to what he's trying to take away from her. But is useless, more so because she will gladly let him take anything he needs from her. Her breath, her mouth, her blood. Anything. The best thing she can do, she figures out, is to give in. To let him take, to let herself give.
And that's what seems to do it for him, because now that she's a malleable dough in his hands, he moans against her lips and she thinks it's a good sign.
"Do you like it?" He dares to ask and now his voice sounds like velvet.
"Yes, I like it so much." She admits. "It feels... good. Very good." She sighs, hot air filling her head, her skin is tickling and she feels so warm inside. Something's happening to her body, the heat is concentrating, transforming into something she's never felt before. She wants to touch him, to be touched by him. More, because he's been touching her, she realizes now. His hands squeeze her waist and she feels him doubting to touch something else, to go further down. She won't have it, she doesn't need his doubt. She needs his touch, for him to make the suffocating heat to go away or else she'll combust.
"Do you like it? Does it feel better with me than with her?" She sighs against his hot mouth, and her insolent question earns her a groan. His beautiful green eyes open to scan every corner of her face, and the hot pool in her core grows wetter. His eyes are so intense and they're looking at her with so much intent right now. He doesn't look like just a boy when he's so close to her in this position, he looks more like a man, like something foreign to her. Something's consuming him, it must be the same thing that's consuming her too.
"It feels better than anything I've never experienced before."
"Good." She smiles and takes his face into her hands, bringing their mouths closer for another kiss.
They don't go back to the center of Shiganshina, where the whole town is buzzing with the ongoing celebration of the festival. That afternoon spend it in each other's arms, kissing and touching places they shouldn't be touching in each other's bodies. But is painful to think of stopping now that they've begun.
This is for the anon who asked for a short writing with Eren taking care of Mikasa. It might not be exactly what you had in mind, but it was a good writing exercise for me, and I hope you enjoy it!
Rated: G
WC: 1.3k
In ten years together, Eren could not recall a single time Mikasa had truly been sick.
He had heard her sneeze, watched her endure the headaches that had followed her since childhood, and listened with awkward sympathy to those feminine aches and pains he did not fully understand. But real illness, the kind that left a person weak and feverish and confined to bed, was almost unheard of for Mikasa.
She was always strong, always sturdy, the perfect soldier, as the superiors had never tired of saying. Even crushed by the hand of a titan, with three ribs broken and breath stolen from her lungs, she had recovered with astonishing speed. No one questioned the superhuman epithet she had earned back in basic training.
That was why the sight of her shivering beneath three layers of blankets unsettled him more than any battlefield ever had.
“I’m fine, Eren,” she said, her voice so weak it barely rose above a whisper. “Don’t worry.”
Eren rolled his eyes, tired rather than amused. Mikasa always did this when something hurt. She brushed it aside and endured it in silence. And he, stupid boy that he had been, used to follow her lead. Yes, it’s not that bad, he would tell himself.
But as he grew older, as the feelings between them became impossible to ignore, he learned to notice when something was wrong with her. Now, one look at her was enough. Her face, pale as morning frost, made his stomach turn, and he was not going to pretend otherwise.
“Don’t start with that,” he said. “You are sick. Very sick. You need to rest.”
“I don’t need to rest. I need to get out of bed and get to work,” Mikasa said, throwing back the blankets and planting a foot on the floor. “There is still a lot to do to get the cabin ready, is there not?”
Well. That much was true.
It had been about two weeks since they started renovating the cabin, after nearly a month spent escaping the army. Much of it was already finished, but important things were still missing. A garden, where they would grow their food. An animal pen, for the livestock they planned to keep.
Mikasa was the obvious choice for the garden. She always was the better choice between the two of them for almost everything. But that did not mean she would be working out in the cold. Not when the freezing temperatures were likely what had made her sick in the first place.
No. Eren was determined. Mikasa would rest today.
“Stay in bed, Mikasa,” he insisted. “The garden can wait.”
“Eren, really—”
“Mikasa.” His voice deepened as he reached the bed. “Stay in bed. I mean it.”
Effortlessly, he guided her back beneath the blankets and tucked them around her, sealing her in with a care that brooked no argument.
“I hate this,” she muttered.
“I know,” he said quietly.
That was the worst part. Not the cold, not the weakness, not even the way her body betrayed her. It was the helplessness. Mikasa had always trusted her strength. To lose it, even for a day, left her unmoored.
Eren reached out before he could overthink it and pressed the back of his hand to her forehead. Too warm. Not burning, but enough to make his chest tighten.
“Damn it, you are burning,” he said in a more elevated voice. “It must be a fever.”
She made a sound somewhere between a sigh and a protest. “You worry too much, Eren.”
“Someone has to. You never do.”
That earned him the faintest curve of her mouth. Yet that faint smile faded as quickly as it appeared, leaving behind the familiar line of tension between her brows. Mikasa shifted under the blankets, clearly uncomfortable, clearly unwilling to admit it.
Eren straightened. “Stay there.”
“I wasn’t moving.”
“You were thinking about it.”
She did not deny it.
Eren turned toward the small table by the wall, already half cluttered with tools and scraps of wood. He pushed them aside, set a kettle over the fire, and crouched to feed it another piece of wood. His movements were clumsy and a little too quick, betraying the worry he was trying not to show.
Behind him, Mikasa watched in silence. “You do not need to stop everything,” she said after a moment.
“Yes, I do.”
“Eren—”
“You’re sick, Mikasa,” he said, without turning around. “That’s how this works.”
She huffed softly. “You sound very sure for someone who has never been sick a day in the past ten years.”
“That’s not true.”
“When was the last time?”
He paused as he could not remember. The power of the Attack Titan meant he could not get sick, waste away, or weaken in the ways ordinary bodies did. Mikasa, for all her strength and her remarkable blood, was still more human than he was.
“See?” Mikasa pointed out, breaking through his thoughts. “You don’t get sick.”
Eren huffed and shook his head. “That’s not the point,” he responded, vaguely.
The kettle began to heat, steam whispering into the air. Eren found a cup, chipped at the rim, and poured water over a handful of dried herbs he vaguely remembered Hange recommending once in an excursion. He stirred it with the handle of a spoon, scowling at it as if daring it to work.
When he brought it to her, she eyed it suspiciously.
“What is that?”
“Tea.”
Mikasa arched an eyebrow. “That is not tea.”
“It is close enough.” Eren arched an eyebrow back. Oh, this girl was being so stubborn. “You will drink, though”
She accepted it, hands trembling just slightly as she wrapped her fingers around the cup. She took a careful sip, then another, slower one.
“It tastes strange,” she said.
“Good,” he replied. “Means it’s working.”
Mikasa glanced up at him. “You made that up.”
“Obviously.” Eren was all smiles.
Despite herself, she drank the rest.
Eren set the cup aside and pulled a chair closer to the bed, sitting only when he realised he had been standing there uselessly again. He leaned forward, forearms braced on his knees, eyes never leaving her face.
“You should sleep,” he said.
“But I just woke up.”
“And you’re already exhausted.”
Mikasa closed her eyes, then opened them again. “You’re staring.”
“I’m checking.”
“For what?"
“For… everything.”
That earned him a look, softer than before. “I’m not going anywhere, Eren. I’m here with you.”
“I know,” he said. Then, after a beat, “I just want to be sure.”
Her breathing slowed as the warmth settled in. The tension in her shoulders eased, inch by inch. Mikasa shifted, then stopped, clearly frustrated by her own weakness.
Eren noticed immediately. “What.”
“The blankets are too heavy.”
He leaned forward and adjusted them without thinking, lifting just enough to give her space. His hand lingered at her shoulder a second too long before he pulled it back.
“Better,” she murmured.
Mikasa went quiet after that. Eren thought she had fallen asleep until she spoke again, voice low and rough.
“You look uncomfortable in that chair,” she said.
“I’m fine.”
She did not argue about that. Instead, she lifted the edge of the blanket, just enough to make the gesture unmistakable.
“Come here,” she said quietly. “You can sleep. Just… here.”
Eren froze. “Mikasa, you’re sick.”
“I know.”
“And you need space.”
“I need warmth,” she corrected. “And you’re already here.”
Her hand found his wrist again, gentler this time. He hesitated for exactly one second longer than necessary.
Then he stood, careful not to jostle the bed, slipped out of his boots, and lay down beside her, stiff at first, unsure where to put himself. Mikasa shifted closer without hesitation, resting her forehead against his shoulder.
Mikasa sighed, long and deep, like something had finally settled.
“Better,” she murmured.
Eren stared at the ceiling for a moment, then slowly relaxed, one arm coming up to rest awkwardly at her back.
“Don’t get used to this,” he muttered.
She made a quiet sound that might have been a laugh. Her fingers curled into his shirt.
Based on Frankenstein, aka Creature Eren and Cabin Mikasa
☾︎ The story takes place five years after humanity's victory against the Titans who were outside the walls. The Survery Corps were aided by Titan shifters, more commonly known as "Giant-Humans" from experiments conducted using cerebrospinal fluid injected into the neck. It was a groundbreaking success. Legend has it that the "Attack Titan", the strongest and most death-defying giant, was the one who killed the last titan, which earned him this reputed name, but not without sacrifice.
☾︎ As this battle disastrously resulted in hundreds of soldiers dying in combat, some were even unrecognizable or strangely disappeared on the battlefield, causing grief and anger among many families and widows. Forwhy, the first few months after the end of the war were mainly controlled by rather...confidential affair. Scientists and those in high places insisted to hide these injections and experimentation as much as possible, on grounds of, the reality is much less heroic and thought out with a moral and humanitarian conscience; many experiments failed or ended in disaster, resulting in many disappearances who supposedly "fell on the battlefield" despite being promised and secuded by the title of "hero" or "guardian" to serve their country for the rest of their lives.
☾︎ And so, during those five years, everything related to cerebrospinal fluid, operations, and tests was burned and reduced to ashes in order to tell a more "chivalrous" tale and silence those who knew too much, accusing them of madness and post-traumatic symptoms.
☾︎ But there is one exception. Eren Kruger, an extremely renowned and talented scientist during the Last War who greatly assisted in successful research and experiments, never wanted to stop his research, precisely when there were apparently testimonies from rare survivors of giant-humans recounting a vague memory of "The Path", a deserted place in the night, with in the middle of this infinity of sand, a gigantic tree of light, controlling life, but also death, being the very heart of this sign connecting the soul and the afterlife. A sempiternal memory for their owners, but also a danger from others, that are now dismissed as hallucinations, seeking to censor the survivors by threats.
☾︎ And since then, Eren Kruger has been obsessively, pathologically driven by the appetency of being the first living being able to control death. Except that no one now wants to be intrinsically linked to the morbid past of the experiments. And so rumors spread, and Kruger is lastly described as a madman. He disappears into the shadows and for interminable months and dragging years, he secretly creates his own plans and researches alone in his basement, knowing that time is running out, having been diagnosed from an incurable disease. He desperately wants to succeed at all costs before he dies, but the hourglass of time keeps running, showing him no mercy or any divinely guided-help.
☾︎ And, after years of relentless efforts in coughing up blood and sweat...He succeeded. Caused by the cerebrospinal fluid through the injection that had to be more than precise; under the neck and spinal cord, without fully affecting the cerebral cortex, infusing the exact dose so as not to turn into a giant, and it worked out. For just a second, or perhaps hundreds of years, he was so blissful to have completed and succeeded that he wasn't even affected by the repercussions of time, but rather by what he had managed to achieve: The sand from The Path, the substance that allowed him to control Death, to defy fate, holding in the palm of his debilitated hand the secrets of immortality and eternal life. He laughed hysterically in front of this gigantic tree, mocking him. He won. He's a God.
☾︎ After that, he knew what he had to do : Create the perfect vessel that would confront Death. So, in the most delirious and senseless madness, he took the bodies of some diseased soldiers, even those of a few Giant-humans that he had stored in his basement for his test at the beginning of the post-war period, and extracted each of their limbs, organs, bones, to make one body. All that remained was to inject the liquid, but this time with the sand inside, and what had to happen horrendously happened:
☾︎ There was a dazzling flash, like a tree striking the body, where each root connected the blood vessels and nerves, circulating the blood, Kruger wasn't witnessing the gift of life in its most beautiful and rare form; it was a scene of unadulterated horror, where every sound of bone was heard as it tore apart raucously, blood spurted everywhere, covering the room. This wasn't life coming into the world no, it was the manifestation of Death in its most deformed and horrific form. Then, in the most agonizing and complete silence,
The Creature awoke.
☾︎ Not as tall as a titan, but over 2 meters tall, with limbs repugnantly sewn together everywhere that began to slowly move, blood-filled eyes that opened.
Green. Such were their colors.
☾︎ Contemplating his work, in admiration and terror, Eren Kruger was so possessed in the apotheosis of his masterpiece that his body finally gave out and he fell to the ground, his heart slowing with each beat, until the last one, lying pathetically, sprawled on the cold ground in front of his creation, reaching out his hand to him, completely standing now, facing him, as he uttered his last words, barely audible:
"It's me...I created you, that demon...now free... Let the world remember that it was me, me...Eren Kruger...Eren..."
And the room fell in silence.
☾︎ For the new-born creature, after opening his eyes, contemplating this human lying on the ground reaching out to him, he hadn't heard everything that this stranger said nor understanding his language or the reason why he was there, didn't even know who he is. But, he had heard a breath, a noise, a sound, coming from the mouth of this man that he oddly want to keep it with him, as if it were addressed to him..? Being the only thing that connects him to who he is, the only thing that keeps him moving forward.
In the dead man's last breath he heard :
"Eren."
Eren : Introducing his character
☾︎ A creature born in the morbid basement from the hands of the mad scientist, Eren Kruger. A failed but miraculous experiment, created from cerebrospinal fluid and sand that comes from "The Path"; a transcendental place only giant-humans could witness during their transformation. Seeing his creator die before his eyes, he is completely terrified, distraught, alone, not knowing who he is or where he is, not even being able to "communicate" with the man who decided to create him.
☾︎ Unable to control his breathing, torturous thoughts, or his hardwired and impulsive inhumane strength, he decides to go out and desperately ask for help, even though he cannot speak, but is only tragically greeted by the screams and shouts of fear from the villagers, who shoot him multiple times with shotguns and even try to burn him in Kruger's house, calling him a monster. Utterly scared and downhearted by this anger and hatred from humans, he decides to run away and realizes in the same time that he cannot die. He will never be able to die. Curse to live forever in endless pain and torment.
☾︎ What follows is a long period outdoors, living in the forests, under waterfalls, discreetly watching humans from afar, living in agony, incomprehension, a multitude of emotions that constantly weigh him down, sadness, humiliation, anger, and rage but also rare moments of beauty when he discovers for himself the beauty of nature, distant conversations between people laughing and singing. Wishing he could live this with someone...
☾︎ ...Until one night at dusk, he arrives at this strange cabin isolated from the rest of the world...
Mikasa Ackerman : Introducing her character
☾︎ Mikasa, 22 years old, live in a cabin in the mountains far away from any big towns with her parents inside Wall Maria since she was a child. Growing up within the walls, she has never seen Titans in her life, initially believing them to be nothing more than a scary legend. After receiving letter's of humanity's victory five years ago, her parents, after a long discussion, decided to move to the central city of Mitras, wanting to live with civilization after the victory, celebrating this freedom to explore the world and discover other places and people.
☾︎ Mikasa, now eighteen, decided to stay here. Her place is with peaceful nature, animals, and mountains. She never aspire to travel, as the unknown scared her too much and the immensity of the world overwhelmed her. Even though curiosity is tempting. And since more than four years now, Mikasa has been taking care of daily tasks in her cabin. But she's not completely alone. Her parents come to visit her several times a month, worried that she is lonely and wanting her to find someone, but Mikasa is fine on her own, nothing ever happened before, so she felt safe. And she has her neighbors, close enough to where she lives ; Armin and his grandfather.
☾︎ Until, one evening, as she was preparing her fireplace with the wood she had gathered during the day, she heard a strange noise coming from outside at dusk...
This started as me rambling about an AU where Mikasa has a fling with Eren Jaeger. Somehow, that turned into this. I am not entirely sure what to call it, but I hope you enjoy it anyway.
For clarity: Mikasa does know Eren’s name, she just does not know he is a doctor. The whole thing begins with her being alone at a bar, liking him on sight, and deciding that flirting with a handsome stranger is a perfectly reasonable life choice. One thing leads to another, poor decisions are made, and yes, they end up having sex in the bathroom. Zero regrets. Mikasa here is just an office worker. Nothing dramatic, nothing world-ending, just vibes and questionable judgment.
If you like this, I can absolutely write more. I could even add a flashback so you can see the one-night stand in all its chaotic glory.
Enjoy!!!!
Rating: G
Word count: 1.7k
Mikasa was ninety percent sure hospitals were designed by people who hated joy.
There was really no law stating the place had to be so white and aggressively clean, was there? The place looked less like a clinic and more like a shrine to bleach. And as if the blinding brightness were not enough, the air was saturated with alcohol and disinfectant, a scent so aggressive it made her nose itch while she sat on the examination table, marinating in guilt.
Food poisoning. Yes. Food poisoning. That was the story, and she was sticking to it. Her hands rested neatly in her lap, clenched so tightly her knuckles had turned a respectable shade of corpse-white. Something she had eaten had betrayed her, clearly. Something spoilt. Something treacherous. That was why she had been forced to abandon work and end up in ER, all because she had thrown up a doughnut she had stolen from Sasha at nine a.m. A crime, really, but one that surely did not deserve this much disinfectant.
But her carefully rehearsed little tale fell apart the moment she started listing her other symptoms at triage. Dizziness. Fainting. Crying over a completely unremarkable cat commercial. And, most damning of all, the small detail that she had missed her period for two months in a row.
That confession earned her a clipboard and a look that suggested food poisoning had officially been taken out back and shot. And now she was here, marooned on the examination table, waiting for the damn doctor, who was apparently unaware that other people had jobs, schedules, and lives they would very much like to return to.
The waiting, she decided, was a form of punishment. A social experiment, perhaps. See how long you could leave a person alone with their thoughts before they started confessing crimes to the sink? Mikasa stared at the stainless-steel basin mounted to the wall, its surface so polished she could see her own reflection in it.
She was midway through convincing herself that this had all been a gross misunderstanding when the curtain twitched.
A nurse stepped in, brisk and cheerful in the way of someone who had already had this conversation twenty times today and would have it twenty more times before clocking out. She checked Mikasa’s wristband, confirmed her name, and scribbled something on her clipboard with mechanical efficiency.
“All right,” the nurse said. “Dr Jaeger will be with you shortly. He is just finishing up with another patient.”
Mikasa nodded, because nodding was easier than thinking. The nurse smiled, asked if she needed anything, and then disappeared again, the curtain sliding shut behind her with a soft, fabric sigh. Alone, she let herself exhale slowly, until… Laughter floated through the curtain.
It was low and warm. Unmistakably male. And unmistakably unmistakable (if such a thing made any sense). Almost, almost as if she had heard it before…
Mikasa frowned as the laughter echoed in her head, quickly followed by unhelpful flashes of that night of drinking. A mojito, then a caipirinha, then a man far too attractive to be left unsupervised at a bar. And she, of course, flirting with him without a shred of dignity, aided generously by alcohol and the simple fact that she had been just as lonely as he was.
Oh.
Her stomach dropped so abruptly she felt it in her knees.
No.
Absolutely not.
Her body reacted before her brain had time to stage a defence. She slid off the table, shoes scuffing quietly against the floor as she took a cautious step towards the curtain. If she left now, she could still salvage this. She could claim she felt better. She could fake a phone call. She could simply walk very fast in the opposite direction and never speak of this again.
But the curtain opened abruptly before she could even breathe.
“Miss Ackerman?”
She froze mid-step, caught in the act like a child with their hand in a cookie jar.
“Give me a second, and I will start examining you,” he said, his gaze absorbed in the clipboard in his hands.
“Alright,” she replied weakly, and as the doctor went off to wash his hands, she took the opportunity to scan him.
Green scrubs. Stethoscope. Brown chocolate hair pulled back in the same careless way she distinctly remembered tugging loose two months ago pressed against a bar bathroom wall that had smelt faintly of cheap soap and regret.
Oh, it was definitely him.
The realisation landed with the weight of a dropped tray, loud and catastrophic. Mikasa straightened a fraction, her pulse ticking unpleasantly fast in her ears as she watched him scrub his hands at the sink, sleeves pushed up, and movements practised and automatic. He looked absurdly at ease for someone who had just wandered into the most unfortunate coincidence of her whole adult life.
She told herself, briefly and desperately, that maybe he would not recognise her. Maybe she had imagined the familiarity—that bar bathrooms were all the same and that men with chocolate-brown hair and broad shoulders were not exactly rare.
But then the water stopped running, and while drying his hands, he turned around.
“Alright, miss Ackerman, tell me what’s—”
He blinked.
Recognition crossed his face in slow motion, confusion giving way to something alarmed. For half a second he simply stared at her, as if she were a mirage the hospital lights had conjured to punish him personally.
“Oh,” he said.
“Hi,” she said, hands clasped neatly in front of her, as if good posture might help.
He blinked. Then blinked again, mouth falling open in a way that suggested his brain had briefly left the building. “Uh, hi,” he stammered, and that was all Mikasa needed to confirm that yes, unfortunately, this man did remember her. “I… I did not expect to find you here.”
Mikasa could not ignore the odd note in his voice. “Yeah, well, I did not expect to find you here either,” she said, fumbling slightly, “you know, considering Shiganshina has, what, two hundred hospitals or something…”
“Two hundred and sixteen,” he said absently, then seemed to realise that was not the point she was making. He cleared his throat and straightened, professionalism attempting to reassert itself with varying degrees of success. “One of which I apparently work at.”
“Of course you do,” Mikasa muttered.
There was an awkward pause in which neither of them seemed quite sure what to do with their hands. His hovered uselessly near the clipboard. Hers remained clasped in front of her, fingers laced together so tightly they ached.
“I am Dr Jaeger,” he said at last, as if reciting something memorised under duress. “And I will be examining you today.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Lucky me.”
Something like a laugh escaped him, quick and startled, before he caught it and coughed into his fist. “Right. Yes. Okay. We can do this. Professionally.”
“Sure,” she said. “Professionally.” (How professional they could be after having him inside her one time, she couldn’t say).
He gestured vaguely toward the examination table. “You can sit. Or, uh. Stay standing. Whatever you prefer.”
She sat, because standing made her feel like she might faint or say something she would regret, possibly both. He glanced down at her chart again, eyes scanning the notes with exaggerated focus, as though the paper might offer him guidance on how to survive this encounter with his dignity intact.
“So,” he began, voice settling into a calmer, more even register, “what brings you into the ER today?”
Mikasa hesitated, then sighed. “I feel wrong.”
He frowned slightly. “Wrong how?”
“Off. Unwell. Like my body has decided to freelance without consulting me.”
He nodded, the pen moving as she listed the symptoms. Fatigue. Nausea in waves. Dizziness. Fainting. Crying over things that had no business being emotional events. When she mentioned her missed periods, his pen slowed.
“How late?” he asked.
“Two months.”
The silence that followed was brief but heavy.
“There is a possibility you might be pregnant,” he said carefully, choosing each word like it might explode if handled incorrectly.
She laughed. It came out sharp and disbelieving. “No.”
“No?”
“No,” she repeated, more firmly, as if volume might make it true. “I am just stressed, Doctor. I work a lot.”
Dr Jaeger looked at her the way one might look at a person who had just suggested the moon was following them home. “Uh, well, yes, stress can cause these symptoms in a woman’s body; I do not deny that. But, ah, uhm… anyway, I have to ask—” he cleared his throat, buying himself a second of courage “—have you been sexually active of late?”
Mikasa nearly laughed outright because, judging by his face, even he already knew the answer. So she spared them both the drama and said, very dryly, “Yes.”
“Alright.” The wretched man wrote something onto his clipboard with the air of someone confirming what the universe had been loudly hinting at and then looked up at her again. “So,” he said, professional to the point of pain, “when was the last time you had sex?”
“Two months ago,” Mikasa said right away, because at this point there was no reason to protect anyone’s feelings, least of all her own.
The effect was immediate and deeply satisfying in the most miserable way. Dr Jaeger’s handwriting stopped. Not slowed, not hesitated. Stopped. He stared at the clipboard as if it had personally betrayed him, then lifted his gaze back to her with an expression that suggested his medical training had not, in fact, prepared him for this specific brand of irony.
“And,” he said slowly, carefully, as if easing his way across thin ice, “was that… recent partner a regular one?”
She finally glanced at him then. His expression was very neutral. Too neutral. The sort of neutrality that suggested a man bracing himself for impact.
“No, it was a one-time thing. And honestly, all he told me was that his name was Eren. At no point did he mention being a doctor.”
Dr Eren Jaeger inhaled. Exhaled. He adjusted his glasses even though they did not need adjusting. “For the record. I do not normally disclose my profession in bars.”
“Of course not,” Mikasa said. “That would be irresponsible.”
Another pause as he rubbed his hand over his face.
“I am going to step out for a moment,” he said, still holding the clipboard like a lifeline. “To, ah. Order a blood test.”
“Great,” she replied. “I love surprises.”
Dr Jaeger sighed loudly, then slipping back into his carefully practiced professional tone, he added, “And just to clarify, regardless of any previous… social interactions between us, Miss Ackerman, I am still your doctor. If the pregnancy is confirmed, I will be the one monitoring it from now on.”
When he left, Mikasa was left staring after him in complete, eloquent speechlessness.
WAIT I GOT AN IDEA AND I NEED TO WRITE THIS SOMEWHERE!!!!
why is my brain suddenly sprinting into a modern au where mikasa wants SO BAD to be a mother that she very calmly asks her longtime friend eren to be her sperm donor lol, and this man looks her dead in the eye and goes “i will make you a mommy, mikasa, but we’re doing it the traditional way” OMFG
to make it even worse (better), they’re both celebs in their thirties (let’s say they are super models, both of them) like famous-famous. and, and they’ve known each other for YEARS in the industry, survived premieres, interviews, scandals, late-night sets. they even had a fling at some point, but it never fully clicked, so they laughed it off and stayed friends, like any mature person (lol xd)
EXCEPT now mikasa wants a baby and eren is absolutely not letting her reduce him to a donor spreadsheet entry. suddenly he’s like: excuse me??? im not doing it at cup???? you want a child??? so BAD??? WELL i’m giving you that child but in the traditional WAY!!!
so now it’s all unresolved tension, old feelings resurfacing, eren being stubborn as hell, mikasa being practical but secretly soft, and both of them pretending this is a totally reasonable conversation while everyone else would be losing their minds.
my brain just dropped it in my lap and ran away laughing 😭
I need to expand this because this will not let me go with my day 😭😭
sooooo i was thinking what if eren and mikasa are both top supermodels. like actual industry royalty. started walking runways at 20, grew up together backstage, and became the BEST of friends. inseparable. iconic duo. they maybe had a little fling at some point but it never went far because neither of them wanted to risk the friendship 😭
except here’s the problem: even when they have partners, they still look at each other on the red carpet. always laughing too hard, hugging for too long, standing way too close while their partners are just… there. eren’s instagram? basically a mikasa fanpage. mikasa’s instagram? tagging eren in everything like it’s her job.
they’ve done magazines together. editorials. campaigns. photoshoots that were INSANE. like naked, artistic, scandalous, beautiful. the kind that breaks the internet and has everyone going “oh they’re DEFINITELY together now.” but no. every interview it’s “we’re just friends.”
friends who go to post-show dinners that look suspiciously romantic. friends who get caught by the paps holding hands. friends who lean into each other like gravity is optional. friends who feel way too comfortable, way too intimate, way too familiar. the public is constantly convinced this is the moment they finally admit it. and every time they don’t. they laugh it off. best friends. totally platonic. sure.
very paul mescal / daisy edgar-jones coded where everyone is like “they are fucking” and they’re like “no no we’re just friends” while acting like THAT, lmao. 😭✨
btw, by the time mikasa wants a baby, they are both 32 and they havent partners, so dont worry with that 🙂↕️
here it is paul mescal and daisy edgar jones, the best of friends 😭🤣
