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Because we love eren and he loves Bambi 100% , Best scene
@jaegersmoon <333
rival band vocalists eren and mikasa are secretly dating 🎸✨
Chapter 3: Vacant Home
⟡ Chapter 3 of PR Only
⟡ wc: 2695
The limo slows to a stop up in front of Sasha’s house. You don’t bother looking at Eren while ashing out the cigarette, before opening the door and walking onto the sidewalk. You’re already sweating again from the sun beating down on your skin, and you don’t even think about giving him his sunglasses back.
You slam the door shut without a word to him, and you don’t even text Sasha that you’re already here. Your muscles feel tight when you walk, fingers twitching around your phone as you step onto her porch, hiding under the shade with sweat on your forehead.
The sidewalk feels too quiet without the hum of the limo behind you. Mina would’ve said something stupid right now. Probably something like, “You looked like a washed-up Lana Del Rey” or “you would get yourself into this mess.”
You stare down at your phone, thumb hovering over her name in your contacts, even though no one else has had that number for years. You just need to say something to her, even if it’s not out loud. Even if it’s just a voicemail she’ll never hear. It’s to her, and that’s what matters.
You slip down onto Sasha’s porch steps, the wood already hot on the backs of your thighs. Your fingers move like muscle memory while opening your contacts and tapping Mina’s name. It rings three times. Then that same automated voicemail picks up, the one that never changes.
There’s a short pause followed by a beep, but it still takes you a few moments before your voice catches up.
“Hey, Mina.” You mumble, phone on speaker because no one’s around to listen. “You’re gonna hate me for this, but please don’t be mad.”
You giggle to yourself, as if Mina’s already preparing to hear the worst. Her disappointed face flashes in your mind, even though it’s a memory fading with each passing year.
“I went to a party last night. One of those stupid ones that Sasha always drags me to. Except… I didn’t mean to talk to him.” You pause, take a deep breath. “Eren, I mean. His name’s Eren. He’s like the lead singer of this band and got cancelled. He just kinda showed up and told me he was gonna keep me.”
Pressing your trembling lips together, you try to even out your breathing. Crying isn’t something that you want to deal with right now.
“I mean, it’s not like I have anywhere else to go,” you sigh.
“But anyway, he wants me to be his PR stunt. He took me to brunch today, but everyone hates me. His managers, the rest of his band. And I’m too high to act normal.” You shake your head while running your fingers through your hair. “Everyone thinks I’m his girlfriend? Or a groupie? I’m supposed to look pretty next to him and like… make everyone think he can fall in love with me?”
The sun’s too fucking hot and it’s melting into your skin. The air is hot even in the shade. Your pupils are blown, your mouth is dry, and your jaw won’t stop twitching. Dizziness sinks into your head, shallow breaths coming from your parted lips.
“I don’t know. He should’ve picked a model or another celebrity.” Your voice lowers when you laugh, “I know you’d be disappointed. But he’s so hot it would make up for it. He’s your type.”
Your thumb rubs along the edge of your phone, staring at her contact name and the picture of you two at fifteen. A selfie you took of each other at the first party you snuck out to. It’s kinda blurry, her eyeliner is smudged, and you’re both trying too hard to act older than you were.
“I miss you.”
You hang up before you can say anything else, before your voice breaks and you end up crying on Sasha’s porch.
The door creaks open behind you, but you don’t turn around. “I knew I heard your voice,” Sasha says, looking down at you with a smile.
“Can I have some water?” you ask, voice dry.
It takes you a moment to stand up. The door opens wider and Sasha steps aside without another word. You don’t look at her when you glance and head straight for the couch like usual.
Now you’re curled up in the corner of the cushion, sweaty legs tucked in with your knees against your chest. Eren’s sunglasses are pushing up on your head. The cold glass of water in your hand leaves condensation on your palm, and the ice clinks every time you shift. You take a few large gulps without breathing, the ice hitting your teeth as the chill drags down into you. The room smells like coconut and weed.
Sasha sounds tired while asking, “what happened?”
You look away from Sasha and at the light peering into the living room window. Your breathing is still heavy from the little high you have left.
“Open up TikTok and scroll for a few minutes,” you press your lips together. “You’ll see.”
Sasha tilts her head and decides that listening to your request is easier than questioning it.
TikTok opens and it doesn’t take long before clips of you and Eren show up. It’s you stumbling out of the breakfast place with Eren’s hand on your lower back. His sunglasses are sitting crooked on your nose and you can barely hold yourself up. The sound playing in the background is one of his songs.
Sasha opens the comments and scrolls through them. None of them are nice and she refuses to say them outloud. But she keeps scrolling anyway because someone recorded him approaching you at the party, high out of your fucking mind and sucking on a lollipop.
Another clip is a different angle of Eren coming up to you at the party, but this time it’s when he leaned down to lick the lollipop you offered. He looks way too hot, but you look fucking insane. The comments include people making fun of you for being high, and calling him unserious for “dating” a nobody.
You glance down at your lap, rolling the cold glass in your fingers. Sasha locks her phone and sets it on the coffee table.
“So…” you mumble, eyes flicking back up to her, “why didn’t you ever introduce me to the band if you and Connie have been friends forever?”
Sasha lets out a short laugh. “Because every time I tried, you were so fucking high and I didn’t trust you to not say anything insane.”
“Like what?” You ask, raising a brow.
“Like the first time we met and became friends, after we did ketamine in the bathroom, you spent the whole night lying in my arms and talking about the universe.” She laughs to herself, “you kept asking if we were stars together before coming on Earth. And that it was fate for us to meet.”
“But it was Connie’s party,” you deadpan.
She laughs, “yeah, but I wasn’t going to introduce you like that.”
You try to hide your grin behind your glass. “And you didn’t want to tell me later?” “Later, you barely remembered me. We both crashed at the house and when you woke up, you ran over to me and said you felt some sort of cosmic connection with me. And that I must be your twin flame.”
“I know, I know. You’ve told me before,” you groan, leaning your head back into the cushion. “Some fake hippie shit.”
“And you never seemed to care about who owned the houses or played at shows. You kinda were in your own world most of the time,” she adds.
“Okay, but there was this one DJ who was so hot–”
“Yeah, and you swore he was your soulmate.” “Well, he was so…” you pause while looking away, “hot.”
She rolls her eyes and glances at your shaky hands. “Are you still coming down?”
You nod frantically and take a sip of your water. “Haven’t started yet, but I’ll—”
A sharp knock rattles the door before you can say anything else. It’s heavy and impatient, causing both of you to flinch.
Sasha sighs, pushing herself off the couch, then mutters “Who the hell?” She quietly walks toward the door. The knock comes slower this time, deliberate enough to make your breathing falter.
When she pulls open the door, light spills into the room, framing a silhouette in the doorway. With broad shoulders and distressed hair. You can’t see his face, but you don’t need to. You know exactly who it is.
“She’s still here, right?” Eren’s voice is low. He pauses for a moment before saying, “I need her.”
Your chest tightens while setting your cup on the coffee table. Your feet are already dragging yourself to the door before your brain can catch up. Sasha glances back at you, but doesn’t say anything.
He lifts his hand, dangling a small black bag on his fingers with a few keychains clinking together.
“I found your purse,” he says simply, but the words make your pulse jump.
You never even mentioned that you lost your purse last night. He must’ve noticed and went looking for it at the hotel, even though you were too tired to care. You knew it was gone. You knew your makeup, your ID, and everything else was left somewhere between the green room and the hotel. You just didn’t care enough to go looking.
But he did.
Warmth spreads beneath your ribs, unable to take your eyes off his face as he smiles. With unsteady hands, you reach for your purse before you’re even in front of him, taking it quickly from his grip and pretending you’re calm against the quickening beat of your heart.
Because he remembered something that you forgot about. Something that he shouldn’t have cared about at all.
“Thanks,” you mumble, a small smile forming on your lips as you slide the strap onto your shoulder.
He leans against the doorframe, letting the heat from outside drift into the cool house. He’s still in the same outfit from earlier, except now his hair’s tied up into a messy bun. There’s a faint sheen of sweat on his forehead, and his shirt clings to his skin in places, the fabric just starting to stick.
“So…” he starts, focusing his eyes on you. “I want you to come back to my place.”
Sasha doesn’t get the chance to interject before Eren continues. “People need to see you coming into my home. The press will eat that shit up. It would make everyone think we’re actually dating.”
Sasha interjects, “But we haven’t even had lunch yet—”
“I’ll feed her again. I need her.”
The way he says it sounds too personal.
You nod briefly, half smiling at Sasha and mumbling a quiet “thanks” that you can barely gather enough energy for. Sasha just continues to stare at you, tilting her head, unable to form a coherent sentence.
Because you look fucking ridiculous right now.
His hand closes around yours, catching the faint twitch of your fingers beneath his grip from the molly left in your veins. Sasha mumbles something, but you can barely hear it once he pulls you outside, the heat burning your skin as he walks you toward his car.
He’s walking a few steps in front of you, hand sweaty against yours as you trail behind him. The door closes gently behind you, but your body is too dehydrated and weak to do anything about leaving.
“I’ll drive,” he says, less intimidating than before. “Makes it look better if you’re seen in the car with me.”
The sunlight bouncing off a glossy hood blinds you for a second. You squint, then slide Eren’s sunglasses back down from where they’ve been pushed up on your head, settling them over your eyes. It takes a moment before you realize what you’re looking at. A bright red Corvette parked against the curb.
Your lips part before you can stop yourself. “Of course you’d drive that,” you murmur, rolling your eyes. You cross your arms over your chest, heels clicking against the sidewalk.
He doesn’t answer right away, just smirks as you approach the car. In one motion, he reaches for the passenger door and pulls it open. The leather interior is dark, the faint scent of weed and cologne slipping out into the afternoon air.
“Get in,” he says, not looking at you while holding it open.
You hesitate before sliding into the seat, and he shuts it almost immediately after you settle in. The car is still slightly cool from when he left it a few minutes ago.
It’s comfortable, but you feel out of place. It’s too nice for someone like you. Someone who doesn’t have much to her name, except the reputation you didn’t mean to build. The kind of car that people stare at as it passes by. But for a second, you hate how good this feels.
You keep your purse on your thighs, fingers tapping softly against the fabric. By the time you look up, he’s already getting in the driver’s side of the car.
“Where do you live?” You ask under your breath as he turns on the car, the air immediately blowing against your skin.
His phone automatically connects to Bluetooth and some punk song faintly plays from the speakers. He glances over, watching your hands jitter in your lap from the lack of food in your stomach.
He taps the pedal and the car gets obnoxiously loud. Loud enough to rattle your chest, enough for Sasha’s neighbors to be distraught. The seat vibrates underneath you, rolling through your thighs in a way you don’t want to think about.
He licks his lips, gaze fixed ahead. “West Hollywood.”
“You make that much money?” You blurt out before thinking.
He shrugs as he merges onto the freeway. “We’re signed to a major label. They kind of control our image. They think it’s what the fans expect. Like, a rockstar living in a penthouse.”
“A penthouse?” You ask, a little too loud.
He bites back a laugh. “Yeah. Just really for PR parties and clean interviews. They signed the lease, told me I had to live there, and I’ve been there since. Didn’t really have a choice.”
The car falls silent as you take in his words, looking at him out of the corner of your eye. He doesn’t follow up right away, like maybe he accidentally said too much information. You almost feel bad for him.
You stare out the window, watching the other cars pass by. “Does the rest of the band live with you?”
He shakes his head, knuckles turning white as he tightens his grip on the wheel. “No.”
Before you can say anything, he continues with a low voice. “Jean lives in a high rise in Century City. It’s seen more naked girls than a strip club.”
You hum while nibbling on your bottom lip. You don’t have anything nice to say, like isn’t Jean with Mikasa? But it’s not really your business. His voice is steady and it feels oddly intimate. Like he’s telling you band secrets that he’s never told anyone else.
“Connie lives in Studio City. Some luxury apartment that he poorly decorated,” he says with a low chuckle, shaking his head like he wants to be disappointed. “Reiner has a house in Beachwood Canyon. Y’know, in Hollywood Hills, but less flashy, more modest than the rest of us.”
The car hums beneath you as he switches lanes, sunlight reflecting on passing traffic. His other hand taps against the gear shift, debating on whether he wants to keep going.
He continues anyway, “Armin lives in Pasadena. He likes a quiet residential area with trees and shit. Still close enough for practice, but far enough to avoid paparazzi.“
There’s nothing but the road noise for a moment as he drums his fingers against the wheel. His eyes stay on the freeway, but he’s somewhere else entirely.
He breathes out, almost too quietly to hear, “Mine’s the only one that doesn’t feel like a home.”
tags: @timotheeishot676 @faerie-soirxx
♡ chapter list ♡
Are Twin Flames Supposed to Fall In Love?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Eren x female reader
Angst to fluff ( reader and Eren are twin flame besties ) or were
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
" You've been ignoring Eren," Mikasa spoke with a punch to her bag.
You shot Mikasa a quick glance as you kicked the brown bag hard. Your gaze narrowing more on your stiff opponent as the image of your green eyed best friend appeared in your mind.
" I'll take your silence as a yes," Mikasa spoke, more like a statement than question. " why?"
" I dont want to talk about it," you dismissed with another hard kick to the punching bag.
Mikasa pulled herself out from her stance. Her eyes pinned on you. " Well we're going to. What happened between you two the night before the retake?"
Kick,
" Drop it Mika," you hissed.
Kick,
" I thought you told me it was mutual—"
" Drop it."
It was silent in the gym room. Your breaths laboured as you stared at your best friend. There was nothing you hated more than arguing with Mikasa—any of your friends really, but especially Mikasa. It left this twisting feeling inside of you that reminded you of the day you lost your home. You had bitterly argued with your older sister, leaving the house on a bad note to meet with your friends, and the next time you saw her, she was crushed under your home. Along with your mother, and soon your father.
You could feel Mikasa's eyes observing you. Seeing the tension in your shoulders, the sadness in your eyes, and the exhaustion in your face.
" Talk to me, Y/N." she quietly spoke. " I care about the both of you."
You huffed. Running a hand over the sweaty hair that has managed to slip back onto your forehead. " There's nothing to talk about."
Mikasa took a step towards you. " Eren's hurt. That's everything to talk about."
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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🐶🤓🧐☺️ Acerola cherry🎶
#えれわん
#エレン
💔 Eren Yeager — “The Heart of War”
Fanart inspired by Attack on Titan
Description This piece is a fanart of Eren Yeager from Attack on Titan. I wanted to capture the moment that reflects both his rage and his pain — the inner conflict of a character who carries the weight of destruction and freedom.
The shattered, stone-like heart symbolizes what remains of his humanity, while the faint red glow beneath represents life, emotion, and guilt still burning within. Lighting and composition were designed to focus on his gaze and the contrast between cold control and violent emotion.
Concept & Process
Theme: Conflict / Pain / Transformation
Mood: Dark, intense, emotional
Focus: Symbolism of power and loss
Some anime don't just tell stories... They change us.
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