Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/9623054.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage, Major_Character
      Death
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Shingeki_no_Kyojin_|_Attack_on_Titan
  Relationship:
      Levi/Eren_Yeager, Levi_&_Eren_Yeager
  Character:
      Levi_(Shingeki_no_Kyojin), Kuchel_Ackerman, Kenny_Ackerman, Eren_Yeager,
      Armin_Arlert, Mikasa_Ackerman, Jean_Kirstein, Carla_Yeager, Grisha_Yeager
  Additional Tags:
      Yandere_Levi_(Shingeki_no_Kyojin), Yandere, Eren_Yeager_-_Freeform, Levi
      Ackerman_-_Freeform, this_is_gonna_be_a_ride, Implied/Referenced_Suicide,
      Murder, Child_Abuse, Animal_Abuse, Alternate_Universe_-_Modern_Setting,
      ereri, riren_-_Freeform, rivaere_-_Freeform, Crossdressing_Eren_Yeager,
      Crossdressing, High_School, Implied/Referenced_Homophobia, Past_Jean
      Kirstein/Eren_Yeager, Slow_Build, don't_worry_m8, eren_is_an_innocent
      lamb, levi_is_literally_suffering_from_at_least_a_trillion_mental
      disorders, Post-Traumatic_Stress_Disorder_-_PTSD, Physical_Abuse, Porn
      with_a_lot_of_Mystery, I_will_brain_fuck_you, Gently, slowly, Levi_and
      Jean_fighting_over_Eren, Spoiler:_Levi_Wins, Stalking, Peeping, Levi
      likes_watching_eren_get_naked, Obsessive_Levi_(Shingeki_no_Kyojin),
      Overprotective_Levi_(Shingeki_no_Kyojin), Demisexual_Levi_(Shingeki_no
      Kyojin), We_need_jesus, Borderline_Personality_Disorder, Depression, Levi
      has_intrusive_thoughts, Violence, Light_Masochism, Eren_is_starting_to
      get_impatient, horny_bastard, Levi_smooth_talks_a_lot, Levi's_mom_is
      crazy_as_fuck, eren's_mom_is_literally_an_angel, Eren_in_a_crop_top, Eren
      Is_a_Little_Shit, Shameless_Smut, Rope_Bondage, Anal_Sex, Car_Sex, Rough
      Sex, Lookie_i_did_porn, are_you_proud_of_me, you_better_fuckin_be,
      Implied_Childhood_Sexual_Abuse, Feminine_Eren, Boys_in_Skirts, eren_wears
      panties, little_freak, Light_Sadism, Armin_dies
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-02-08 Updated: 2017-12-05 Chapters: 16/? Words: 34368
****** Green Eyes ******
by SaltyWriter
Summary
     Levi Ackerman, sufferer of extreme abuse, and witness of multiple
     cases of murder and rape, has been secluded from most of humanity
     since his mother's death. Only after receiving an interesting
     proposal does he finally get the chance to be anywhere above ground.
     The proposal is one that he'd assumed he could do, but he was very,
     very wrong. Already with a deteriorating mental state, Levi
     experiences extreme moods, which only get progressively worse the
     longer he's around a single person.
     With a weak mental stability, Levi attempts to maintain proximity
     with his prey. It's only a matter of time, and plan B isn't his
     favorite path to follow.
     [Name is a placeholder]
Notes
     Haha kill me
     Hallu, I'm throwing this here. This will be Hella bloody in later
     chapters, and I'm contemplating a rape/non-con theme for later. The
     first chapter is very short, and I'm sorry! T^T Forgive me.
     ANYWays, I have no idea how long this could be. It may be forty
     chapters or just five, god fucking knows. Hopefully this won't become
     one of my many fucked fanfics I've written in the past that are
     either never finished or a shitstorm of plot twists haha
     I promise next chapters will be much longer, and instead of
     flashbacks there will be MUCH interaction. ^^
     I will also put warnings before each chapter, so if you're worried
     about triggers, please be warned. There are many in this series, as I
     currently have it planned.
      
     ((THE TITLE IS A PLACEHOLDER.))
***** Learning to Love Him *****
When I was little, my mother used to tell me stories.
I loved them. Every night, after nine, when the sun was down and we had all
finished eating, I would hop off the chair and tug on my mother’s dress, and
she’d happily follow me to my room. I’d flop on my bed, blue sheets cradling my
small body. Her fingers would dance over the spines of the books she kept in my
room, and finally she would pause with a thoughtful smile. When that smile
came, I knew she had a good idea of what story to tell me.
The stories were mild, and there was never gore, or blood – mostly fairies,
butterflies, pots of gold – the works, for a precious four year old. I enjoyed
every last one of them, and never hesitated to ask for her to tell it to me
again the next night. My mother was a storyteller, and stories were my favorite
things. Dad came home drunk; the dogs were vicious and hungry things that beat
against the fence because of my father’s abuse, a never ending snarling that
came from the back yard, which was overgrown and dull.
I enjoyed those brief escapes my mother read to me, the freedom that came with
them – I could live someone else's life, if only for a moment, and understand
them. It was a nice feeling.
But I think the most memorable story my mother told was of a girl.
Her name, I wasn’t told. I knew nothing about this girl, unlike the other
stories my mother told me. They always had a little personality, a little
sprinkle of description for the heroine. This girl was no heroine.
My mother was suffering, when I was 10. My father’s abuse had shifted onto her,
and her mind was a wreck from hospital drugs. She had been admitted into many
mental facilities, and each had given her a new pill for her mind-numbing
cocktail to down each night. She didn’t think that much, and the bruises on her
face didn’t need much explaining. I knew, even at such a young age, that she
likely had bruises everywhere else, too.
Anyway, this girl I spoke of.
She was in love.
Of course, normal people fall in love eventually right? Well, that’s not
counting the few that don’t wish to find love, or can’t feel it like others
can. But the average human finds someone – one day. Even if that person hits
you or spits at you, you and that person may be in love.
This girl found love in very little. She didn’t love the flowers, or the color
pink, or the skies, or even stories. She simply did not feel it – of course,
not like other people. She felt intense bursts of it, and she never knew who or
what it was for until it was over. I only later would know that this was
obsession. An evil kind.
She didn’t like boys, nor did she like girls. She didn’t like anyone – and that
made her feel wrong about herself, because one by one, her friends loved
others. Even if it pleased her to see her friends later get their heart broken,
returning them to their single status right beside her. She didn’t want to be
alone, no matter how little heart she had.
It didn’t last long, this emotionless period, because one day, she found her
soul mate.
He wasn’t much older than she was, and had a kind, soft smile that stole hearts
and ended wars, moved mountains and saved lives. That may be an over
exaggeration, but the girl felt all of these at once, like a blast of pure luck
and joy.
And in that moment, she fell deeply, desperately in love with this boy. She
would grovel at his feet if he asked for it, would bleed for him, would make
othersbleed for him. It was all a part of this love she felt, and she was
blessed by it.
The boy did not love her like she did for him, and she knew this. She still
smiled, and held her bleeding tongue, for she would bite it every time he was
near, terrified to say the wrong thing. She needed him.
In a fleeting moment, the boy befriended this girl. There was love, but it was
not what she wanted from him. She wanted his undivided attention, his never
ceasing gaze on her. Not long after, that gaze she wanted so badly fell to
another. This… abomination, as the girl decided to call her, was not special.
Her eyes were dull and boring, her hair long and always tangled at the base of
her spine. She wasn’t slender and tall, like the girl was, but instead short
and still possessed little of her baby fat. The outrage came.
The girl learned a new emotion, and this one was more powerful than love could
ever be. It seared her bones, touched her ribs and tore at them, grasped her
head and pressed inward, making her mind pop.
The girl broke.
At this moment, I sat on my bed, eyes wide, staring up at my mother. She was
pale and sickly, eyes dazed as she seemed to be remembering something old and
painful.
That night, after the girl learned that the boy had fallen for an abomination,
she traveled on foot to her home. The parents were gutted, one by one.
She stood in the blood of the abomination’s birth parents, that white skirt she
knew the boy liked stained ruby. When the abomination came home, she was killed
as well. However, she was not killed as quickly as the parents were.
Fingers snapped, bones jutted from pale white flesh, and small gurgled chokes
soon became the girl’s favorite thing. It gave her power. She never had power
over her emotions, and even if she willed them onto her face, they never felt
as genuine as if she was with the boy she had fallen desperately in love with.
I remember crying as my mother finished, setting her frail fingers in her lap.
“What happened to the boy?”
“He married the girl,”
I tilt my head. I didn’t understand the beauty of marriage, then, for I had
watched what it had done to my mother over time. I assumed it was simply a
bond, nothing more. Marriage was nothing concerning emotions or eternal
affection for me at the time.
Mother stood, then, and kissed my forehead. Her fingers were cold as she
brushed my hair back, and the paper-thin smile she made had my spine tingling.
I watched my mother leave, that night. Eight years ago.
I never saw her alive again.
 
 
Report 174: On ███ █ ██, in the beautiful and peaceful town of ██████, the
first serial killing in ██ years has occurred. Police have connected the
criminal to be in close relation with the previous serial murderer, ███ ██████.
There appears to be 7 victims, each with their ███ removed. Each victim has
been determined to have a single thing in common – they all have bright, green
eyes. We’ll keep you updated – Mike, back to you.
***** Meeting Him *****
Chapter Summary
     I make my first move. He always goes to the girl's bathroom at third
     block on each Monday morning. There, I will meet him. I will
     forcefully welcome myself into that beautiful life.
Chapter Notes
     Wooahhh chapter two
     Levi is a hardcore predator. Like, Eren - run boy run
     I've decided to write each chapter summary like an entry in Levi's
     plans. Each chapter title will be Levi's title of each moment.
     ENjoYY
I woke up to a siren, this morning. It wasn’t the usual, high pitched whine
that sounded more like a heart monitor proclaiming to the world, haha, look,
this bitch dead.No, it was the, it’s five in the morning and some idiot tripped
on something and cracked their skull open so my sorry ambulance ass had to come
save him.Those are the worst. They’re loud as hell, and I didn’t really ever
understand why. Should I care so much that some dumbfuck can’t take a step
without falling face-first in their kitchen? No. Exactly.
But, the only thing that matters is this stupid siren woke me up. Usually, I
have another two hours before I get up, but once I’m up I don’t go back to
sleep. I don’t understand how it works, but it’s pretty special – my sleep
schedule, that is. I get up two hours before I’m meant to go to school and
begin dressing. I don’t eat anything, like usual, and catch my mom outside,
already elbows-deep in the dishes. I walk by the kitchen door, but pause and
reverse, looking past the doorpost, confusion evident all over my face. She
usually isn’t up so early.
“Mom?” Her shoulders stiffen, and she gives me a fleeting glance over one. She
hums gleefully, pale hands scrubbing over frail glass and porcelain. “You’re up
early… aren’t you?”
Her lips bunch to the side, her hips swaying, as if she’s delighted in some odd
way. She isn’t usually so happy and upbeat, but I can assume it has something
to do with me. Otherwise she wouldn’t be up early cleaning and preparing to
cook. I look over the pancake mix, and a fleeting smile passes my face. She’s
making pancakes. Definitely has to do with me – although, I’m not sure what
about me yet.
“Ah! Eren, have you forgotten again?” I cock my head faintly when she sets the
plate back in the water, letting off steam, and tosses the towel across the
faucet. “It’s your birthday!”
I cringe inwardly. Fuck. How many times have I forgotten my birthday? This must
be – what – the third time in a row? Ever since I turned thirteen, I haven’t
been in touch in the slightest. I forget small things and exude a sort of dead-
like aura. I used to be very upbeat and interesting, now I’m too serious for
other freshmen to deal with. I totally get it. I wouldn’t want to be around me
either, to be honest. Mother wipes her hands off on her apron, and nearly
bounces over to me. I - still a mess and not yet able to brush my teeth or
straighten my hair – nearly shake her off, but her hands are sure and it makes
me happy to know it isn’t one of those idle shoulder touches to make sure I’m
listening to her.
“My boy will be 16 today!”
16 is probably going to suck. Isn’t that the age teenagers truly become…
teenagers? Like, full blown brats? I snort. My mother’s eyebrows draw together,
obviously a little worried about my brief reaction. She was likely hoping for a
broad smile and a proclamation that I’ll be the best teenage boy on the planet.
She’s wrong.
I give a sheepish smile, realizing I just snorted at my mother’s enthusiasm.
She has every right to be enthused. She raised me, didn’t she?
“That’s great, mom.”
“Wait… why are you up so early?” Her brows twitch, still drawn. I break out a
small groan.
“Stupid ambulance,”
With that, the worry only gets worse. She pulls away, standing up straight, and
presses her hand to her chin, examining me closely. Her gaze starts at my
shoes, and stops on my eyes.
“You’d be a great ambulance, Eren.”
Dammit, it’s day one and she’s already trying to fit me into some sort of
profession. I don’t want to make her sad, so I smile half-heartedly, and to end
it quickly I brush by her, dipping my hand in the wooden bowl graced with
bright red apples. I collect one, leaning against the counter.
“But that isodd,”
I raise a brow this time with my mother’s words. She isn’t perturbed by much. I
bite into the apple.
“There was a lot of them,” I say, nodding faintly. The apple is sweet, and
maybe it’s just my mother’s passion making everything better than it really is.
Things aren’t usually that good. “Think it was some sort of rally? Some sort of
fight?”
She crosses an arm over her stomach, thoughtfully stroking her braid.
“Actually, no! I heard some a little this morning on the news about some sort
of huge serial killing downtown,”
I almost drop the apple.
What? Serial killer? That’s pretty rare. It’s a little terrifying, knowing it
isn’t that far from us. What’s the possibility of there being another, even
closer, and eventually here? Mother could be involved. Mikasa, too.
“That’s stupid,” I state a little absently. She silently agrees with a nod,
returning to what she was doing previously. I take time peeling skin off my
apple, suddenly curious about this whole ordeal. Why was there a serial killer
so close by? Who was involved? Why?
Specifically, why? What motives were there?
“So, what does my adult son want to eat tonight?” I roll my eyes. I guess, if
anything, I’d want nothing at all. I’m not usually hungry when I get home. I go
straight to my room, pop in my ear buds and scribble for a good few hours, then
pass out pretty early.
But I’ll humor her. “How about… tacos?”
“Tacos!” she wails. Obviously she wants to cook something advanced. Mother
doesn’t settle. “Something better, Eren. Put thought into it!”
I sigh. “Fine. Lobster.”
This time she gasps. “I’m not rich!”
I give up at last, and roll my eyes. A grin stretches itself over her face.
“Surprise me, mom,”
“How about spaghetti and human meatballs?”
I choke on a piece of apple, and she has to coax me to breathe.
 
 
 
 
Of course the conversation between myself and my mother is quite pure, but when
I get to school I’m automatically feeling the burn of a horrific day. Armin and
Mikasa both ambush me at my locker and wish my happy Birthday a good twenty
times before finally deciding that’s enough. Mikasa found the little gift I
wanted, even if I tried to make it the hardest thing to find ever so she
wouldn’t actually buy it for me. She takes my hand, mid-reach to slap my locker
shut, and plops a small blue charm in my hand. It’s simple wings, white and
blue. The charm comes from one of my favorite bands, and it’s limited edition.
Again, I nearly choke.
She smiles that sly little smile.
Classes are dull, like always, and I absolutely hate each one. I sit through
them, though, drifting in and out of listening. Occasionally it’ll feel like
I’m underwater, and suddenly there’ll be one little attention-getter, like
someone bumping their foot against the back of my chair or someone sneezing
really loud.
By third block hits, I’m tired and can’t really bother with class, so I excuse
myself. Of course, it’s only momentarily, and it involves going to the bathroom
to reapply makeup.
I usually go to the girl’s room to do my makeup, but there’s a few in there,
giggling away and tapping away on their oversized iPhones. I usually don’t go
in the boy’s to do my makeup, but it’s empty from what I see. There are no
feet, thankfully. I’d prefer alone and uncomfortable to surrounded and
uncomfortable. I lean over the counter, a finger pressed hard against my
cheekbone, keeping my lashline bared.
I’ve slid the tip of the pencil over the last strip just as I feel another
presence, like air brushing against my legs. I snap straight up, nearly
dropping the pencil.
My eyes meet steel grey in the mirror.
“You wear makeup?”
I nearly stab him with the damn pencil when he questions me. I take a small
step to the side, albeit hesitantly, wondering if he’s simply here to wash his
hands. I don’t know him, but he looks mildly familiar. Our school is large, and
based off of the maturity he exudes I’d say he’s a senior. When he takes the
invitation to stand beside me, I feel a small prickle travel up my spine.
He’s very different. He smells like roses and smoke, wears pure black. His
jacket sleeve brushes against my forearm, causing me to stiffen only more.
“I do.” I whisper, at last. He tilts his head a little to me. I watch a smirk
appear beneath the thin veil of black that falls before his face.
“Why?”
“I feel better wearing it,”
“But you’re a boy.”
I have an intense urge to smack him with those words. Makeup doesn’t have a
gender, idiot. He seems to slowly come to terms, though, and the smirk becomes
a genuinely understanding incline at the edge of his lips.
I don’t know this boy. I don’t know who he is, what grade he’s in, whether he’s
even enrolled here or not. I feel like I’ve seen him before, so I say nothing.
His presence is oddly uncomfortable, though, and leaves me nearly shaking in my
shoes. He doesn’t wash his hands, but leans against the wall just beside the
sink. My fingers are beginning to tremble, muddled from that one form beside
me.
Decidedly, he’s quite handsome. I’d say an edgy type, and the thick, neat line
of his eyeliner simply making his gaze more and more powerful than before. I
would shove him away, but the type of prickly I’m feeling comes with the
fluttering you feel around boys you like.
“Eren…” I snap my face up to him, eyeliner fully done and eyes now fully framed
by thick lashes.
My name. How does he know my name?
“I did not mean to offend you. I’d say you look stunning,”
An annoyed flush rises to my face. How could he criticize me for wearing makeup
and then claim it’s attractive? I feel the urge rise, but this time it’s to
stomp his stupid foot. It’s been right beside mine for the whole time. He isn’t
even in full uniform – instead, he’s wearing stupid military boots. I don’t
know how he requested black instead of white. He stands out, and a lot. My
skirt is light, frost blue – the dress shirt I wear overtop bigger than it
should be. I hate my body, so I stick to large shirts.
“You don’t know me,” I say at last, terse.
“I’d love to, though.”
What is wrong with him?
“Well, you’re at a bad start, asswi-“
He cuts me off rather quickly, but in a smooth, almost enticing tone. “Then why
don’t you let me introduce myself?”
At last, I let the hatred leave me, if only a moment. At least he wasn’t
criticizing me even after I flared my rainbow feathers. The look he has on his
face is almost sure, and it’s different to see. Maybe I’m a little interested.
He has a nice face, and a warm, vibrating voice, that makes my core tremble a
little. I drop my mascara in the makeup bag, and turn to him at last.
“Fine.”
I’m rather surprised when his first move is to take my hand. My fingers nearly
jolt in terror, yank away – but I can’t find it in me to do it, not when I’m
intrigued. His lips touch my knuckle. The iron flash of his eyes, gazing up at
me just before he pulls away – his lips are soft and delicate against my skin,
making even more of those stupid sparks pulse along my limbs.
“I’m Levi.” His voice makes my throat close in on itself, trying to search for
words in my blank head. He smirks.
“Eren.”
“I know that.”
“You must know a lot then, huh?” I raise a brow at him, amused. I can humor
him, too, just like I have my mother for so many years.
“You have no idea.”
I grab my makeup bag, brushing off his little agreement, and reach to tug my
skirt down more over my thighs. I’m not the type to be so very outward, but he
seemed to enjoy it, if only a little. I’m not usually this flirty. Is this even
considered flirting?
“I have to go back to class,” I say, regretting that I have to leave when he
obviously has nothing better to do than stalk bathrooms for gay boys.
“I’ll see you later then, yes?” Again, with his voice. He may be a transfer
student, because at the very end of his words, I hear a lilt that only comes
with French accents. More red brightens my cheeks.
“Of course.”
Leaving his side sucks, as I’m already so attached, just from his looks and the
kiss on my knuckle, like some sort of damn prince. I don’t want that odd,
fierce warmth to be gone so quickly.
But there’s something in his gaze. It’s so blank, and yet so personal. It’s
hard to place, like watching people fall apart, like watching skies crack and
oceans drain. Nothing in my life is ever right, anyways, so it won’t matter if
he’s messed up too. The door snaps shut behind me, and I’m alone in the
hallway, wondering if I ever will see him, as he said.
For once, I don’t think I want to be alone.
 
 
Diary Entry - suspected murder. Previous diary entries expunged due to
incomprehensible material.
Date: ▓/▓/▓▓
 
***** Eren and his abominations *****
Chapter Summary
     Sorry this one is a day late! D: 3 FOrgiv emE senpAIS
The moment the door closed, I felt my control shatter. It was Armageddon within
my head – my world felt like glass, and the outward force shredded everything.
I felt alone, and the terror that swarmed inside my like wasps stung whatever
was left from the blast.
Eren has taught me terror.
How close was I to losing him? How quickly would he have passed me off and
eventually want nothing to do with me? The longer I spoke with him, the more I
fidgeted, the more I pulled at my sleeves, the more my nails dug into my own
palms. Every time his mouth opened I feared it would be the moment he told me
he hated me, or was disgusted by me.
I couldn’t let him despise me. I swore that if he ever claimed he did, I’d
result to plan B. I did notwant to result to plan B.
Sadly, it would have been much nicer than his hatred directed towards me.
One by one, I collected the shattered pieces Eren had made, and had to
reinforce them myself, with a new mentality.
I would approach him as a friend – later, I would find a way to make him love
me. If that way must be by force, then so be it. I have a basement – and I
could easily make enough money to feed, clothe, and bathe him on my own.
Eventually, I realize it’s far too long to be away from class, especially just
to use the bathroom, and finally wash my face once, just to wake myself up.
It’ll be hard, finding a way to make Eren love me without destroying what
mental stability he has, but I will figure him out.
 
 
 
When I get home, mother is there to greet me, and once again the birthday
excitement is biting me square in the ass. If I could just tell her off on it,
I would, but it’d hurt her feelings more than it’d hurt to let my parents
obsess over me for one day. I’m sure there are worse things they could be
interested in – for example, the serial killer, or taxes. Everyone hates taxes.
I push the door closed behind me with the heel of my shoe, hiking my bag more
over my shoulder. Mother’s head pokes out from the kitchen door, and her usual
motherly smile is plastered on her face like hot glue. “Welcome home, Eren!”
I wave a little absently, still feeling the burn of lips against the back of my
hand. I don’t understand how he could do that – is it possible to wash them
off? Are they imprinted into my fucking skin?
Maybe I don’t want to wash it off.
“Hey, mom.”
I don’t realize my dad is here until he lifts a halfhearted hand over the back
of his chair. He’s always fairly uninterested, my dad, but I learned over time
it isn’t really his relationship with me, but more his personality. He’s cold
to my mother as well, but he loves her to death. I wouldn’t say my dad is
ignoring me, he’s just busy a lot, and when he rests he doesn’t get very long.
So he tries to milk it.
But he’s a dork too. He tries to spend time with me, but he sucks – very bad –
at it.
“Hey, kiddo,”
I hate that name. I set my bag on the couch. He grimaces when he realizes I’m
wearing the female school uniform, but manages to twist it into a really
painful grin. He doesn’t agree with how I dress, but after an hour of my mother
squealing at him for not being ‘accepting’, he learned his lesson. He doesn’t
criticize me very much, nor does my mother. In fact, mom is usually quite open
to anything I do. She wholeheartedly flung herself at the chance to go to a
women’s store to buy a dress for dance, and even drove me to one or two of my
cheerleading classes.
“You look wonderful, Eren,” he grinds out. I swear he grinds everything out. I
snort, rolling my eyes.
“You’re mad that I’m not wearing a baseball cap instead, huh?” He tried to get
me into baseball when I was little, and I was one of the best on the team for a
long time – but I lost interest. It didn’t have to do with gender identity,
because baseball is for all genders, but I began to find interest in new
things. Like soccer, and cheerleading, and dance.
To say the least, I’m impartially involved, but not easily recognized. I’m the
background character, if anything.
“No, no, no. I just wish you wouldn’t wear them so short,”
I spin a little awkwardly to pick at the back of the skirt, shoving it more
down my legs.
“It’s just a little above the knee, dad.”
“Still.”
This time I roll my eyes. My mother sticks out of the kitchen again, and glares
hard at my dad. He automatically shuts up, but smirks a little at her. My
family is what I’d describe as healthy. I love them, and they love me. Rarely
are there fights.
I should be very thankful. But yet, I can’t find it in me.
“Eren, can you come here for a second?” I lift my head from staring down at my
skirt, and mindlessly follow my mother’s voice as she disappears into the
kitchen again. I’m still trying to determine how dad considers my skirt to be
too short. I consider his opinion, whether I like it or not. When I’m in the
kitchen, mother steps back from the oven, baring a cake for me to see between
her mitted hands. “Is it good?”
I nod a little. It’s vanilla, my favorite, but completely un-iced. My mother is
very neat, and it looks nearly professional.
She should open a shop, but I don’t think dad will support her entirely. We’re
financially stable and all, but it’s a pain to have both of them working at
once. I’m used to mom being home, so I’m kind of glad she doesn’t work. Of
course, I get other families with working mothers, but there’s really no need,
and she likes being home to keep things under control.
“It looks great,” I say. She sets it on the counter, and does the odd swaying
thing again with her hips, like a small little dance. I lean against the
counter again, just like I did this morning. “Mom… is there… some sort of
French family that moved in town recently?”
She jerks her head up, and after a moment of thought, gives a faint nod.
“The Ackerman man and his son?”
My breath catches. Is his last name Ackerman? I wish I knew. I should have
asked, but it would have been odd.
“Yeah. What about them?” I prod, somewhat tentative.
She touches her chin, ignoring the cake for a split moment. But it doesn’t
last, because she finally begins to work on it again. I watch her put it
together, icing and stacking one by one. The icing is a bright green, like my
eyes.
“Well, I know they’re a very reclusive few. I talked to Kenny, but he didn’t
have much time. He didn’t seem to want to talk either.” Kenny? I’m assuming
that’s Levi’s dad. Mother likes to know everything around town, and tends to
welcome new neighbors. Our town has a long, bad history, and she knows a lot
about it. I don’t know much, aside from a select few famous serial killers who
started out here.
It’s kind of terrifying, knowing that we’re one of the most known towns. Mostly
known for the insanity.
“What about his… son?”
“No, he has a nephew. I don’t know what happened to the boy’s parents and all,
but Kenny seems to take care of him well.”
“So Kenny is Levi’s uncle?”
Her lips bunch to the side, and she raises a brow at me.
“Interested, aren’t you?”
I feel a blush rise to my cheeks, and I awkwardly look away. I’m not
necessarily interested, I just want to know. It seems odd that a French family
just showed up out of nowhere. Was he from France, or has he lived in America
his entire life?
“No. So what was the house like?” She returns to the cake, once again, and is
already smoothing the outside with the vivid green icing.
“Oh, it was okay. It was some old lady’s house before. It was rather dark, I’m
guessing Kenny’s trying to save some money on the power bill and all. He just
had natural light. And everything was extremely clean. I swore I could see my
reflection on the couch, even.” She chuckled to herself. “Again, the place
seems really well taken care of. I think Kenny bleached everything – smart
move, that old lady was a mess.”
Huh. Bleach. Isn’t that dangerous?It seems a litter overboard, if anything. I
think I got as much out of mother as I could.
“Eren, why are you wondering so much over this boy?” Mother asks, making
another smooth stroke of her knife, flattening the icing. The question hits me
like bricks, and I’m stunned for a moment, trying to figure out why. Why do I
want to know about him? He kissed my hand and told me I’m pretty, and suddenly
I’m asking the whole town who he is?
Why can’t I just ask him tomorrow? Perhaps I’ll see him – maybe I won’t. It’d
be odd if I didn’t see him again.
I shrug, though, as noncommittal as possible. I don’t even really know for
sure, either. I don’t usually like people, unless they’re my friends.
“I don’t know. He’s new – I just want to get to know some about him. I saw him
at school today, and he was really… friendly,” The word "friendly" comes out
awkward. My face becomes darker, now a light red.
A loving smile, like the icing on the cake, breaks on her face again. She
doesn’t even need to direct it at me for my heart to warm.
“Just wear condoms, and I don’t mind.”
“Mom!”
 
 
Once eight hits, mother has already hand cooked a damn five-course meal. Mikasa
and Armin show up after long, thanks to my mother’s request – and Armin is
throwing the idea of going to Jean’s place when it’s all said and done at home.
Of course I wouldn’t mind going, but there’s also the fact that I don’t like
Jean in the slightest. Mostly because he jokes about how I dress.
Of course we used to be best friends – but over the years, he changed, and
sometimes change is bad. I don’t say anything though, and just nod. Armin is
the one who is most impressed by my mother’s cooking. She’s pretty amazing when
it comes to cooking exotic German dishes, and when she tries to teach me how to
cook anything I nearly burn the house down each time.
To say the least, it’s awkward having to sit between Mikasa and my dad sharing
a silent eye-battle from across the table. Mikasa never really liked my dad,
and it has a lot to do with the fact that I told her he’s bad at being verbally
kind.
She’s very protective.
At last, all is done, and I follow Mikasa and Armin outside. I like Mika’s car
– it’s sleek and black, and having a rich family means she gets a lot of what
she wants. I don’t envy her, but I wish I could have her badass car.
The drive is short, because Jean doesn’t live too far away. I used to walk to
his house when we were in baseball, and he’d walk me to practice. I had a crush
on him for a short time in fourth grade, but I got over it pretty quickly. He’s
Christian. He doesn’t agree with my lifestyle, which is part of the reason why
we drifted apart. The first day I wore a skirt, I felt like I was as I should
be – but then he had to tug on it and say, ‘What the Hell are you thinking?’
It hurt, but again, the pain never really lasts too long.
His house is big and almost as nice as Mika’s house. I used to sit on that
porch with him and play board games just for him to kick my ass. I’ve never
been very smart. I brush off the ache, and guide myself along the familiar
path. Jean has changed a lot, from what I heard. He has a hard core crush on
poor Mika, who still holds a grudge on him over how he treated me.
The house is pretty lit up – lights flickering just beyond the curtains, an
obnoxious bump of bass beneath my feet with each step. I almost want to turn
around and leave with the sick feeling that rises in my gut, but I push it
down. I can have fun for one night – mom trusts me to be a good kid.
Armin pushes open the door, smiling at Mikasa, who’d said something about a
horse being too loud. Light spills out, a mirage of green, blue, purple,
yellow. It nearly blinds me.
I’m really going to regret this, aren’t I?
 
 
[Brief excerpt from serial murderer's diary]
 
in·san·i·ty
inˈsanədē/
noun
noun: insanity
   1. the state of being seriously mentally ill; madness.
      "he suffered from bouts of insanity"
        
***** Disgusting Fucking Horse *****
Chapter Notes
     Sorry for a late update, tell me if there are any errors!! 3
     *Levi Intensifies*
See the end of the chapter for more notes
The world around me becomes nothing more than brief flashes, illuminated all
shades of the rainbow, like a mirage of light and flesh. My breath is taken
away, lungs shaken with vibrating bass – bodies slam against me, nearly
toppling me into others, but a pale hand steadies me. Mika breaks into a laugh,
nearly unheard beneath the music. I can’t even see her face in the lights, and
if I do, it’s small and nearly a million miles away from me. I don’t want to
let go, but in moments the sea of bodies have sucked me in.
Where the fuck am I, again? It’s just a jumble of color and empty faces. I try
to shove people away, but I don’t get very far – it’s nearly impossible to
clear my mind from the sound, the wildof the party that’s revolving around me,
a whirlpool of personalities and people.
Mikasa is long gone – there’s nothing but sweat and hot breaths, caressing me
from every side. In places like this, the world around you feels like a mouth,
swallowing you whole and pressing you in. I can’t tell which way is up, which
is down, or if there is even supposed to be any sort of direction to the
madness.
What’s the point of direction, anyways? Who organizes such a beautiful chaos?
But, I can’t live without peace.
It’s nearly impossible to escape the writhing crowd, but I manage after a few
hundred muttered apologies. When I break from the body of the party, it’s into
what I can assume is the greatroom.
It’s as I remember it, but beer bottles are everywhere. Glass crunches beneath
my flats, but I can’t even hear it – just feel it, like I do the ambiences. My
throat clenches, trying to navigate, figure out what I’m watching. I’m a mess,
and it’s only been what, five minutes? I promise myself I won’t drink, but it
seems everyone else here doesn’t have that kind of mindset. It’s the atmosphere
making me so drunk.
It seems this is the calm in the storm, the eye in the center. I can make out a
few bodies, a couple curled on the couch – am I sure they’re not just entwined?
Their movements are erratic and frantic. There’s a group of boys leaning
against the counter of an open concept kitchen. I watch one of them dig a
needle into their flesh, hear one of them burst into absurd laughing.
I’m not in my element. Armin goes to these kids of parties? Does he know what
this is?
He’s probably here for Annie – fuck.
I want to collapse here, just let the music inhale me like air, and let myself
do the same to it. It makes my throat rattle; my guts feel like there’s no
gravity inside me. I can’t see straight.
In the midst of all this insanity, a hand passes in front of my eyes. I don’t
realize I’ve actually sunk to the floor until I have to tilt my head up to see
that face connected to that shoulder, that shoulder connected to that arm – and
the hand. For a moment, I assumed that hand was just a figment of my
imagination.
That face.
On instinct, I touch the greenish fingers that pass in front of my face. He
yanks me up, and not very gently either. I’m dragged away from the scene, until
the bass is merely faint groans beyond the walls. I vaguely remember lifting my
legs to hop up stairs, taking two at a time. I feel my shoulder hit a corner
once, but don't entirely process it.
I’ve been in this hallway before – it’s on the second floor, right before
Jean’s bedroom.
“You living, Eren?” The hand slices through my vision again, and I jerk away,
eyes fluttering helplessly.
I’m confused, but it fades when the world around me realigns to what I’d always
seen it as. Jean looks as he usually does, but older. It’s hard to explain. My
throat closes again.
“The fuck you want, horsie?” I half-choke.
He snorts, like the damn horse he is.
“You looked like you were being molested by air, so I assumed I’d save you.
What’s wrong with you?” I want to break his hand when he flicks the side of my
head, but instead I take a good three steps back. My vision is still in a
blurry place, tilting and twisting just before I blink. I watch a small frown
pull at his lips, but for some reason it doesn’t register right.
“Sorry, the music’s a little loud, isn’t it?”
“Nah, you’re just not used to having so much activity in one place.”
“You’re fucking right I’m not,”
The frown reverts to his usual smirk. I’ve always hated that smug face, but at
one point I sincerely loved him for it.
“So what do you want?”
“Armin brought you here, right?” I watch him lean against the hallway wall,
directly beside his door. I’m surprised there’s no one else up here – aren’t
parties usually pretty virus-like? You’d think it’d infect every room. But the
only evidence of a party is the sounds from beneath my feet.
I nod, idiotically. I shouldn’t have, because I’m a little dizzy again.
“Good. He did his job for once,”
I tilt my head faintly, and again with the dizzy thing. The confusion is
already making everything a little fuzzy.
“Job? Armin doesn’t have a job?” Wow, that sounded pathetic. He crosses his
arms over his chest, but doesn’t seem to think over what I asked. I wonder if I
ever really even said it. Slowly but surely, the mud in my brain is
dissipating, leaving nothing but clarity. My legs are still weak, likely
permanently affected by the vibrations in the great room. I truly hope they
stop feeling like they’re magnets soon.
“That’s not important.”
I sort of understand that.
“I’m gay.”
Okay, that I don’t understand. I nearly burst into laughing, still delirious
from the party I was only involved in for five minutes. Gay? I was pretty sure
he was straight. I mean, when I told him, he left me. When I told him I had
feelings for him, and legitimately cared about him in a romantic way, he
outright told me he never wanted to see me again.
I guess people change?
But doesn’t he have a girlfriend or something?
“So? I don’t give a fuck,” Lie.
“You’re gay, right?”
This time, I cross my arms, trying to protect myself. At least, emotionally.
“No, Jean, I’m not gay. I’m simply queer.”
“Who gives a shit, you’d fuck a dude, right?”
Well, that was crude. I quietly look away. Yeah, I would – but not unless I
knew them. And liked them that way. I’m not a slut.
“Jean, shut up,”
I nearly kick him square in the nuts when he unfolds his arms and steps closer
to me. Suddenly his hands are on my shoulders, and my legs are like lead
beneath me. I’m sure he would never be able to have children if I kicked him
now.
“Eren—“
His eyes shift just beyond me, and a look flashes in his eyes. I swallow any
words, and my knees go solid once more. His expression becomes slack, like
anything that was there before was suddenly wiped away. He steps back.
“Yeah, yeah. I get it. I’ll see you around,” I don’t understand why he wants to
talk to me at all – I was only recently beginning to accept that he didn’t want
anything to do with me. I withhold stomping on his foot when he brushes by me,
but instead stand still, drifting somewhere between what the fuck and fine,
whatever.
At last, I let the world come back to me again. I keep falling into other
places. I’m wondering if it has to do with Levi.
I breathe in, inhaling the sweet scent of what I can guess is the cologne from
Jean’s bedroom. He doesn’t really spritz it, more like he fucking pours it on
himself.
I have the urge to go in there, probably find some playboy magazines and erase
the whole “I’m gay” confession from my head. But who am I to say he’s not?
Maybe the whole Mikasa thing was just a fake to make him seem straight?
He’s pretty close to that Marco guy. But why should I care?
When I come back to reality, I finally turn to leave. But I stop in my tracks,
dead and center, when I realize just exactly what Jean was looking at.
My legs are back to lead. Well, fuck.
“So, horse is a fag, too?”
I almost throw a vase at him, but restrain myself. Fag? What kind of fucking
language is that? I hate that word.
“You’re an asshole,” I state, like it’s the plainest thing on the planet. He
sneers, but doesn’t do anything more, he tilts his head slightly, and the
shadowy black of his hair slips over his forehead.
“Thanks for stating the fucking obvious, babe,”
“Don’t call me babe.”
“Don’t call me an asshole,”
“Don’t call Jean a fag,”
He inhales, as if he’s going to say more, but instead he gives me a smug smirk,
just like Jean’s.
“Fine, you got me, babe,”
God fucking dammit, why can’t I throw the vase at him?
Again, with the whole “stepping back” thing. I nearly trip over my flats when
he uncrosses his arms, shifting his foot down from the wall. He moves close to
me in three swift strides, resembling a panther with each step.
“You sound like a teenager,” I mumble. I haven’t known him for longer than a
day, but he seems too close. I feel like he knows everything about me, and
it’s… unsettling. But in a good way.
“What do you think I am?”
“An old man. You smell like an old man,” I retort. Sadly, he doesn’t – he still
smells like roses and smoke, that intoxicating blend he leaves everywhere.
“You smell like shit, Jaeger,”
“How do you know my last name?” I raise a brow at him, completely ignoring his
shit comment.
“Magic.”
I can’t help but scoff. He thinks he’s fucking smooth, but really he’s just an
asswipe. I finally lift a hand to press it to his chest, making a move to push
him away. But instead, no strength comes to my arm. It just sits there, my
fingers splayed over his shirt, pitch black beneath my fingertips. I feel his
heart.
“You’re a bad magician, Levi.” Goddammit, that fucking grin. I suck in a
breath, and hold it there.
“What kind of magic do you like?” For a long moment, his eyes are trapped with
mine. One by one, I watch the cracks branch throughout that mask. I know he has
one.
“I don’t believe in magic.”
Pretty neutral. The intensity vanishes, and my hand drops from his chest as he
finally leans back. I don’t realize how muddled I am until I’m becoming aware
again. My eyes drop from his eyes, to his lips, down his throat. He has a
really nice throat. Okay, that’s a disturbing thought. What am I gonna do, rip
his vocal chords out?
Maybe it’s the dip, the soft valleys of his collarbones, the way he swallows.
It makes my heart pound. I clench my fists.
“You’re odd,” I whisper, lifting my eyes to his.
“Odd is good, yes?”
“Odd is odd, Levi.” I snort, a little awkward.
I feel wrong, being alone with him. There’s something predatory about him.
Maybe it’s the way he’s so dark, the way he looks at me. It’s like his gaze is
picking me apart, slurping on my bones, tasting my flesh.
I question if cannibalism is also a fetish.
“I-I… need to leave,” I breathe. I’m becoming aware of how terrifying this
whole situation is. We’re in a hallway, a very finely decorated hallway, in my
ex-best friend’s house, during a drug party. Before I can step away, he grabs
my wrist, keeping me in place. I try to yank away, but his lips brush my ear,
and I become ice.
“Stay away from that Jean kid.”
Is he telling me what to do?
“He’s not right for you,”
I tremble in his grasp. One by one, his fingers pry from my wrist, and he’s
gone. I watch him leave.
Not right for me? Who the hell said I wanted to be with Jean? Definitely not
me, hopefully not Mikasa.
Besides, he wants Marco. Marco is a wonderful boy – he was on the baseball team
with Jean and I, and Marco would definitely take care of him. Like I would
have, maybe even better.
But why the fuck does Levi give a flying fuck about whom I choose to like? Or
rather, whom I accidentally like.
I collect the fragments of my sanity, and after a lot of consideration, I leave
the hallway. Hopefully Armin and Mikasa are okay.
Hopefully I will be too.
 
 
 
 
 
I watch Eren the entire party. I’d been tempted to take him then and there – my
plans were to wait a very, very long time before I actually hide him away. I’m
sick of seeing other people look at him, I want him to myself.
The best way to do that is to isolate him.
Truthfully, if I could kill every last person that had touched him before me, I
would. Not sexually, of course – Eren is a virgin, I’m sure of it. But simply
touched him, made any sort of contact with him. It disgusts me, and makes my
skin itch to know he had other people near him. I’m the only one who can touch
him.
He doesn’t do any sort of drugs like the other people do, or drink a single
drop of alcohol. I’m proud of him. One day, if my plans are in tact, he will be
forced to take medicine. Or not forcefully, it depends on how he handles being
taken in.
Although then, I wouldn’t have to medicate him.
When he finally leaves, it’s with Mikasa and that blonde coconut. I would kill
that Ackerman bitch first. She’s related to me, but rather distantly. But the
way she seems so possessive of him, clingy if you will. It makes me want to gut
her slowly.
But that’s for another time. For now, I’ll watch. And dream. And fantasize.
 
 
[Date rape drugs can also cause seizures and even death. The most common date
rape drugs -- also called "club drugs" -- are flunitrazepam (Rohypnol), also
called roofies; gamma hydroxybutyric acid (GHB), also called liquid ecstasy;
and ketamine, also called Special K. These drugs may come as pills, liquids, or
powders.]
Chapter End Notes
     Eren has Sensory Processing Disorder, for anyone interested c: I'm
     not good with describing it,,, so if anyone,,,, like wants to help
     me,,,,, totally cool with it,,,,,,
***** I cant see *****
Chapter Notes
     This is where it starts getting confusing;;;;
     I've had someone ask me if there'll be smut in later chapters, and
     yes, there will be. Likely within the next five chapters.
     It's fairly slow build T___T i need to get Levi's story in place.
     Kenny and Kuchel are brother and sister. After Kuchel died, Kenny
     adopted Levi. How Mika knows about Kenny, you shall learn later <33
Truly, what happened the night before was more of a pain in the ass than a
blessing. Of course, I had all types of feelings for Jean before he… disowned
me, if you will, but that was before I knew him for what he was. We’d been
close friends as younger kids, but after I started wearing skirts and he
started hanging out with a certain group of assholes, I knew he was long gone.
It’s painstaking to assume he’d learned his lesson, or at the very least, come
to understand how I felt. I hit an awkward point when I was only 7, already
longing to wear what the other girls wore, wanting to paint my nails and pin my
hair back, to be one of those pleasant girls who fluttered her eyelashes and
had half the school at her feet.
I’d considered, at some point, that I, myself, was Transgender. But I don’t
feel that way – I like what’s between my legs, and I certainly don’t feel wrong
about it. I just wish it wasn’t considered so odd for wearing what I do.
I’d dreamed that Jean would accept this idea, but I was wrong. I already knew
he was very religious, and his parents were rather homophobic. I remember going
with him to church one day with his family, and hating it automatically. My
parents and I aren’t necessarily very religious ourselves, but my mother does
prey occasionally. My father is a man of science, which I adore about him. It’s
the one thing I agree with about him.
There was a lot of hatred in that church. I know there are nicer churches out
there, more accepting ones, but this one wiped any faith I had away.
It’s no surprise that Jean smiled through out the entire thing, and afterward
pointed out very obvious things. It was clear to me he was hoping the service
would change how I acted, or at the very least how I dressed.
He was very wrong. At that point, we drifted. I didn’t like him, and he didn’t
like me. That much was clear, and eventually he let me know. I was at a point
where I wondered if we were even friends – we didn’t talk to each other, and we
definitely didn’t smile. I knew we wouldn’t talk to each other anymore for good
after he pulled on my skirt and said those few words that would change my view
on him entirely.
I still care for Jean. As a friend, of course – and I know he had never had any
sort of feelings for me.
I shouldn’t let all of this worry me.
The run in with Levi was something much nicer to think about on the ride home.
I’ve done very little research on him as a whole, but I want to know as much as
I can. There’s something odd, and yet so enticing about him. It makes me crave,
and for what, I don’t know. He’s the definition of attractive, what with the
sharp features and that fucking voice. God, that voice could tame beasts.
I wonder how he feels about me; he doesn’t seem to dislike me. He appears
mostly when I’m alone, which worries me to an extent. It feels like he’s some
sort of guardian angel. Truth be told, I needed one – and bad.
Before I can worry anymore over the night’s events, I’m dropped off rather
unceremoniously. There’s no extended farewell, or Mikasa’s usual good night. If
she’s not there, she always texts it. This is not one of those nights. Briefly,
I ponder if she forgot, or if it was purposeful.
Just as I reach the last step to the door, there’s a soft tweeting from the
band of my skirt. I jolt a little, and twist around for a moment, trying to
figure out where the sound came from. It takes me being frustrated before I
realize it’s my phone.
I’m so fucking muddled. I don’t understand why.
 
 
The screen is bright as fuck, nearly blinding me, so I turn it down, squinting
hard down at the phone. A small furry ball brushes against the base of my
middle finger, hanging from the top of the case. I’ve had it for nearly four
years – it’s been on every single phone I’ve flown through. I’m very clumsy,
and the screen is already cracked on this one.
I don’t text many people, nor do I give out my number, so my brows furrow with
the new message. Instead of a contact name, it’s a set of numbers. A phone
number.
██-██-███: Meet me after school. Boy’s locker room.
The first thing that hops into my mind is Levi. The only problem with that is
he doesn’t have my number. It could be Jean… but why the Hell would he want to
see me? Sure, he just came out to me about being gay, but does it matter that
much to him that I know?
I breathe a harsh sigh.
I guess there’s really only one way to find out, right?
 
 
 
;;Mikasa;;
 
After we dropped Eren off, I snapped on Armin. I love him to death, but I
swearhis plans can be far too risky.
“What the fuck were you thinking?!” I ground out, pulling over before I can
break something. My nails are digging hard into the leather wheel, trying my
absolute best not to just rip it off and toss it out the window. Armin winces
lightly, but makes a nervous laugh regardless. “That… that fucking monster-“
“Mikasa, we needed to get closer to him. Sometimes the only way to understand
the hunter is to face him,” I hate that brain of his. Sometimes he goes too
fucking far.
I twist in the seat, grabbing Armin by the strings of his hoodie.
“What if Rivaille killed him? What would I do with you?”
“Mikasa-“
“Armin, you know I can’t live without Eren. Bringing Eren closer to the hunter
is like begging to have him killed!” I let go of him with finality, sinking
into the seat and gripping handfuls of my hair, soothing the little beast that
even I have.
Eren is too young and too good to die. Especially by Rivaille.
Of course, I could always assume Rivaille has changed – but that’d be a stupid
hope. What with everything Kenny has taught him, Rivaille is far away from
being mentally stable. Riv is almost as good as a bomb, and those triggers
Kenny embedded in him are all it takes to make him explode.
“Listen, I wouldn’t have let Levi hurt him.”
“His name is Rivaille,” I snarl. I hate that the bastard changed his name. He
deserves to suffer with what his psychopath of a mother gave him as a name.
“And it doesn’t matter if you would have let him. He’d find a way.”
“Mikasa-“ I let out a deep breath, and shake away the fury. Armin takes a step
back too, figuratively, and I let him.
Maybe Armin is right. Not with letting Eren get so damn close, but we needed a
lure. Rivaille would not have come unless Eren was there. Riv thinks Armin is
his ally, his eyes on the inside. Only he’s wrong – Armin is on my side, the
good side, and the information he gives to Rivaille is only brief and important
to be given.
I’m glad Rivaille can’t see through Armin. He seems like an innocent kid, but
he’s not stupid. Innocence and stupid do not go hand in hand.
At long last, I start up the car again, and pull out of the grass. Armin lets
out a long, relieved sigh. I flicker my eyes to the right, giving him a short
glance as he tilts his head back against the seat.
“You’re right. We needed to see how he operated.”
In more than one way. Eren had missed a great deal of it – it seems Riv has a
meter of some sort, the amount of time he can deal with conversation and
interaction without snapping. It appears to be fairly short. Armin had managed
to follow him, and got to watch a good thirty seconds of what seemed to be
frantic attempts at calming himself down. Needless to say, Jean will have to
buy a new grill. It was too bright a red, anyways.
Riv isn’t used to being able to talk to others. He isn’t used to social
interaction in the slightest – and what little he did have as a child was
violent and likely traumatizing. It didn’t help that he got put with Kenny.
“If we didn’t see, we wouldn’t know,” Armin says. For a moment, I see the look
on Armin’s face after he came back inside, his outline illuminated by those
flashing lights. There was nothing that needed to be said after that. I knew
Riv hadn’t changed.
“We need to stop him.” Armin breathes.
 
 
 
2_Years_Earlier
 
I can’t see. I can’t see. I can’t see.
It’s a steady mantra inside my head, a broken repeat. No matter how hard I try
to delete the words from my brain, they keep going – if I blink, it feels like
my sockets are on fire – blood drips onto my hands, planted on the concrete
between my legs.
I can’t see – am I dead?
I can’t see.
In moments like these, most people would be frantically clawing for that
chance, any chance at all, to escape here. But what’s the point? I’m 16 now. I
can live with it, it’s all I know now.
Although, at some point I’d wondered what was happening outside of here. It’s
painful to question what’s happening now, because I don’t know anything else.
If I understood and felt love and happiness, then maybe this situation would be
entirely different. Maybe I would have jumped for that fucking chance.
But for now, all I can comprehend is a set sound, a time, old voices, and the
occasional punishment. For what, I never really know. Every day, at two
specific times, Kenny comes downstairs and leaves food. I can comprehend small
things, like tastes and the faint shadows that bunch into a corner, patiently
waiting for my eyes to close, or the footsteps above. Occasionally I’ll hear
Kenny’s next victim. Those are always the most interesting to listen to.
He’s not a good man.
I’d spent the entire afternoon and evening trying to fix the mess on my face,
but I haven’t managed – I’d simply scratched a knife mark, and it began
bleeding once again. Blood is in my eyes, and I can still taste the remnants of
it. It’s disgusting, but it’s one of those few things I can grasp. It’s a part
of the foundation that holds up my life. Another piece in the puzzle.
I barely register the sound of the door opening, and a light flickering
overhead – it makes a soft buzzing noise, and a pop, then resumes silence. I
lift my face, but the light is Hell on my eyes – I shuffle back deeper into the
cage, and hit more metal.
“Have a good day, Rivaille?”
The same voice – Kenny.
I burry my face in my hands, trembling. I don’t fear him, but it’s too much.
I’d prefer remaining in one place, not knowing anymore than a usual routine. He
isn’t supposed to say that – he’s supposed to just leave the food, call me some
name, and walk away. The light isn’t supposed to come on. I’m not supposed to
be able to see his boots. But there they are, scuffed and barely holding on.
Just like me. We’re alike, his boots and I – he walks all over me too.
“What, can’t speak?”
“Fuck you, Kenny,” I rasp.
I haven’t looked up until he crouches in front of the cage, hand gripping a
bar. He’s as ugly as I remember.
“What? You pissed? It’ll heal later,”
Heal? Who gives a shit if my scars will heal? They weren’t deep, thankfully.
They won’t be there for too long – just surface scratches, but it’ll still
fucking burn for a while. And blood – in my eyes. It annoys me.
It’s the fact that he carved it into my fucking face. I didn’t eat. I wasn’t
hungry. He hadn’t punished me in a long time, and if he did it was due to my
stupid mouth. This time, it wasn’t as bad as some of the other things he’d done
to me. It isn’t nice to have ‘faggot’ engraved into your forehead, though.
“That’s not important. I have a job for you, kid.”
Job. I haven’t had one of those in a very, very long time. Maybe the last one
was… when I was 13? It’s not fun stitching up a girl. She was terrified, but I
let it be. Her wounds were wide open, and Kenny doesn’t bother with that kind
of thing – he gave me the chance to, if I wanted to. It’s not like I had
anything better to do, and besides, I was a kid. I didn’t have anything but my
morals. Now I have nothing.
I don’t speak, or respond. Kenny tilts his head, the shadow shifting over the
concrete floor.
“There’s a boy… he’s related to you. Very distantly. He’s… thirteen, at the
time,” I shift awkwardly in the cage as Kenny sits up a moment, abandoning the
bar. He pats his pockets, and finally finds his phone.
After a few taps, he levels it at the cage’s entrance. Hesitantly, I uncurl
from my spot.
I’ve never seen him before. The boy is equitably attractive. It should be a
disgusting thought, considering he can’t be any older than 10 in the picture. I
swallow.
“So what?” I choke. It’s hard making words. I haven’t seen many faces. It may
explain why it’s so entrancing.
A young, tanned boy’s face is tilted upward, eyes pinched closed, nose
scrunched. He appears to be pouting, and it’s ridiculous, almost comical. In an
adorable way, obviously. I want to reach out, but I find no will. Besides,
Kenny would beat me if I got blood on his phone.
“I want you to find him, and kill him.”
My breath catches instantly. I can’t kill him – I don’t care if he’s older now,
I can’t kill him. I’ve murdered before, but this – this is purity. I’m sure of
it.
“No.”
“I’ll let you go.”
It hits me square in the gut. I feel my bones rattle with the impact, the mere
idea that I can leave. It’s far, far too much.
“Find him. Kill him.”
“You’re a fucking monster,” I snarl. He chuckles, and pulls away to switch to
another picture. This time, it appears to be an older picture. He’s not
necessarily petite, but a fair size. He’s in a large sweater, bright green,
draping far past the acceptable limits. It exposes nearly the entirety of his
shoulders, and the skirt beneath it is too short.
He’s beautiful. Not in a lustful way, but the awkward little tilt of his head,
the precious smile – it makes all sorts of emotions well up.
When was the last time I felt passionate about something? Never. I’ve never
been sincerely interested in anything, and this is startling as it is.
His eyes.
I can see everything in those two beautiful pools of emerald. Stars, galaxies,
entire universes. Perhaps other dimensions, maybe one where I’m happy.
It’s there, in those eyes, that I find my first emotion.
Love.
There’s no other word for the kind of warmth I feel.
“You can do it?”
“I can.”
I won’t.
“We’re moving in a few months. I’ll enroll you in that school on your senior
year. You’ll be a French transfer student. Get close to him, and kill him.”
“I will.”
I won’t.
I can’t see. I can’t see. I can’t see anything but him.
***** Following Him *****
Chapter Notes
     I may add another chapter to Raining on my Parade;;;;
     so yall smut needers bout to get soma dat good sheit
      
     [in other news, I'm a little more dead inside than last update, and
     if anyone wants to beta this pls send halp. my_tumblr]
The next morning could easily be described as Hell. Well, every morning is a
new kind of Hell – that’s why normal people sleep them off. I wake up later
than I usually do, and end up having to throw random things on. In other words,
the uniform, but with messy hair and messy makeup. I don’t even really bother
to look in the mirror save for two minutes to actually get it on, but I don’t
examine anything in the slightest. For all I know I’ve smudged orange all over
my face and I could be the next president.
The school is a mess, too; everyone looks like zombies. Well, not necessarily
everyone – a few actually had the mind to go and not get high as a fucking
kite, and some weren’t even invited. I’m kind of proud of those kids. If I was
their parents I would either be signing them up for dating apps already,
because even I know they probably won’t get too far in that department.
I’m just being an ass, like always.
First block is Family Dynamics. I learn that it’s not okay for boys to wear
dresses, and raising your hand to be bridesmaid is a dumb idea. Especially if
you have a dick.
Well, then.
Second block, I sleep the entire time – what? It’s just Algebra. I can live
without Algebra, especially if I’m pretty sure I don’t want to do anything with
my life anyways. I’ll probably just hurl myself off a metaphorical (or literal)
cliff by the time I’m twenty.
But that’s no one’s concern.
Third block is the time it hits me that I still have to go to the boy’s locker
room. I could already be late, considering the fucker never gave me a time, but
thankfully there’s an unspoken rule that meetings between students happen
during third block. This rule is mostly due to the fact that it’s the only
block we have free time, and the only time the boy’s locker isn’t locked up,
which is slightly ironic, personally.
I leave my book bag in my fourth block class for good measure, and tell the
teacher I may be slightly late. She’s a cool lady, and most of the time her
answer is a small little nod. She’s always ankle deep in paper work, partially
the reason why we rarely do anything interesting in her class aside from –
guess – paperwork.
I wouldn’t be surprised if she wouldn’t care I disappeared from the face of the
planet. She’d probably still be quite concerned over other more important
things, like the weather.
The trek across the football field is ass, because it’s damn near Spring and
it’s starting to get a little warm. I hate that here; it’s always so fucking
hot, someone might as well melt me already to get it over with.
When I reach the boy’s locker room, I’ve already developed at least fifty
decent scenarios in my head. It could be a serial killer, or Jean (least
acceptable), or Levi. From those scenarios, many other things could happen. I
could die, I could get beat to pulp, I could have my throat ripped out.
This is why I don’t have friends.
I push the door open, and peek inside. The boy’s locker room is usually pretty
dark if it’s before gym classes or field, but it’s not in this cases. The
lights are on full blast, and it smells faintly of sweet smoke. It fills my
lungs, almost like my mom’s cooking. It makes me want to come in more, and if I
remember correctly, some predators are quite wonderful with luring the prey in
with aromas.
Apparently I’m wrong – and there is no predator, from what I see. Pushing the
door open more is a pain, but there doesn’t appear to be anything keeping it
closed. There’s a good chance I’m just a weakling.
“Hello?” I call out, pushing the door closed with my butt. I don’t hear any
response.
Maybe I should just go back to lunch. Someone could have easily gotten my
number from a friend of mine and tried to prank me. I’m not exactly popular,
not with girls or boys, because I’m so damn quiet and weird.
I wait a moment, peering around the lockers and in the shower. Why the Hell am
I looking around? If they aren’t in plain sight, they don’t have good
intentions – and bad intentions suggest I should probably leave. I breath a
harsh sigh through my nose, nostrils flaring.
Well, that’s shit.
I whirl on my heel, preparing to leave, but I smack directly into a firm chest.
How many people am I going to run into? What kind of trickery is this? Hands
shoot out to steady me before I can either punch someone or fall over, and
based off of the feather light weight I feel in my gut it would’ve been the
second.
“Woah, woah, woah,” Jean says, breath fluttering against my cheek. Is he
laughing at me? Asshole. I could’ve died.
I promptly shove him away, peering up at him with mild distaste.
“Woah what? You fucking jumped out at me!”
“Actually, no. I just got here.”
I roll my eyes, dissatisfied with his “excuse”. I don’t trust Jean or anything
he has to say to me. Developing a love-hate relationship from a simple crush is
very intense, to be honest. This is just proof. Used to, I would’ve fallen over
and died blushing, but now all I can feel is a indistinct burst of hatred every
once in a while.
“So you’re the random texter?”
“Yeah, Armin gave me your number last night.”
Armin. That little blond rat! I sneer up at the older male, and finally decide
I had no point in coming. A small part of me hoped it’d be Levi.
What do I want from Levi, anyways?
I attempt to leave, but Jean grabs my forearm. An even larger part of me wants
to smash his nose in and bash his brains, but I use the blunt edge of my will
power to scrape that out the crevasses of my brain.
“Come on, Eren,” he begs, tugging me a little towards him.
“What do you even want?” I snap. I try to wrench my forearm from him again, but
I’m about as feeble as a newborn deer, so instead I make a fool of myself. He
sneers at me, the same look I’d given him before. The urge to hurt him just
gets worse.
I swear I’m being mentally trained to become a serial killer.
Slowly, a serious veil settles over his face.
“Levi.”
I roll my eyes. He wants to talk about his competition? Levi could kick his
ass, I’m nearly sure of it. Sure, Jean’s an athlete, but Levi has a dangerous
flare. I’d bet millions that Levi has planned murders.
“He’s none of your business, horse,” he cringes with the use of horse. He has a
long face, and everyone sort of knows where to jab him. You’d think he’d get
used to it, but there’s no sort of defense. Maybe it’s just me saying it.
“Levi isn’t good for you.”
So what? It’s not like I’m hunting for Levi. If anything, it feels like he’s
hunting for me. It isn’t really up to him who or what I want. It would’ve been
different if he hadn’t abandoned me when I needed him most.
“Your proof? You don’t know him, or me anymore. Maybe a few years ago you did,
but I’ve changed.”
“So have I, Eren.”
My stomach collapses inwards when he says my name. He knows better. I don’t
want him ever saying it again – it’s become to personal, especially from him. I
force my arm against his grip, and he takes a shaky step back.
“I don’t care!” I snarl.
“Listen. He’s not safe-“ This time, I participate in that urge I’d been getting
the whole five minutes I’ve been here, him before me. I rip my arm free, and
jam the flat of my palm into his stomach. He stumbles a little, breath
sputtering.
Thank God. I don’t want his fucking breath on me, and he was being too much.
I stand straight, nearly rocking on my heels, trying not to succumb to the
newest urge I have – to beg for forgiveness. I’m a mess of emotions.
“He’s going to hurt you,” Jean rasps, a last cry for me to hear him out.
“How?” I push him, this time not physically. I think smacking him gave him the
idea that I don’t want him too close. He rubs his stomach, wincing.
“Bet you bruised me, you snarky fuck-“
“How?”I demand.
At last, he breaks.
“He isn’t normal. Armin and Mikasa agree with me – they’re both freaked by
him.”
“I haven’t known Levi for more than three days, how the fuck do they know
anything about Levi?”
It’s a good question, for once. Have they been watching Levi since before then?
What’s so important about him that everyone has to step in on it, even this
horse? Jean has never really cared about me, and now that he’s stepping in
again I know either Armin is paying him to care or Jean is truly concerned.
Jean stops with the question. He appears to not know how to answer, which is a
surprise in itself. He usually knows exactly what to say, but apparently now is
not that time.
He draws in a thick breath, his brows drawing together.
“Truth is, Eren, I still love you. As a friend.”
Did he really think that’d make anything better? As a friend? Did he think I
still even cared how he felt about me, because I don’t. I don’t, I don’t, I
don’t!
“So let me take care of you. Okay?”
More fury rises in my throat. I try to swallow, but I end up drowning in it.
“No.”
His expression crumples like paper, as if he’s actually pained. I don’t believe
assholes like him feel anything anymore. He left me. He abandoned me, like I
was some kind of – what? – Some kind of animal. He put me in a cage, and left
me in the woods alone.
He didn’t stand up for me.
I take a step back, and another. My steps are loud to myself, just like
everything else is.
“Eren-“
I take off, making sure to push the door shut behind me.
He doesn’t follow.
 
 
 
 
 
Eren wasn’t where he usually was during third block – it caused plenty of
mental pandemonium for me the rest of the day. I looked everywhere, every
single classroom, but he was nowhere.
In a burst of extreme terror, I asked the coconut where he was.
He’s doing what needs to be done.
I don’t usually trust the coconut, but he’s very close to Eren. He knows what I
want, and he knows who I really am. Of course, I wasn’t the one who told him –
the Ackerman bitch told him.
What needs to be done? Spit it out, shitstain.
After fourth block, I found him. His mascara was like ashy rain down his
pinkish cheeks – he held his books close, head tilted down to hide it. It was
easy to spot if you were looking for it.
It’s nothing important, Rivaille. He’s just dealing with Jean.
It was Jean.
Jean.
I followed him home that day, making sure he followed that strict like he
always has. If he veers off course, I’m blocking him. If I have to knock him
out, I will.
I’m taking Jean out.
Maybe I’m being too dramatic for this. Eren is mine, and if someone hurts
what’s mine, they burn. And if they burn, they burn slowly, and I get the best
seat in the house. Maybe Eren will thank me later for it.
No, you’re not. If you kill, you’ll draw attention to the school. Keep yourself
in check, or you loose Eren.
It doesn’t serve to calm my nerves at all. Eren’s house is how I imagined it –
small and comfortable, shutters a cream white and exterior walls a washed out
bluish gray. It peaks in three different areas, and the garage is wide open for
anyone to peer in.
Needless to stay, I camp outside of his house that night. I wish I could just
walk in and lay in the same bed as him, but wouldn’t that just be creepy?
Fine. But Horse will get shut up if he doesn’t shut up on his own.
I have enough sense not to peek in on him. I’d feel wrong if I did – I wouldn’t
sin against Eren like that.
Sadly, sense doesn’t always win out for me.
By nearly 9 pm, Eren finally goes to his room, and begins undressing to sleep.
His silhouette slants over the grass, gold framing his body from the lamp he
keeps on his desk. Automatically, my first thought contemplates the fact he
keeps the window open each night like this, even when he’s undressing.
Secondly, I wonder how he looks bare. Third, I wonder how intrusive thoughts
like the second one can burn in Hell.
Sense does not win out.
I’ve only missed a small part of the show, really. I shouldn’t feel
embarrassment or shame, but Eren has taught me that as well. He’s taught me
more than I’d ever hoped to learn.
He’s beautiful.
Well, that much is obvious. My body tenses, fingertips pressed against the
glass. Are boys supposed to look like this? What am I supposed to know, aside
from the bloody masses that Kenny brought to the basement?
He never brought any boys. He didn’t swing that way.
Eren’s body is a fine, delicate type of curvy – his hips flare, but just
slightly. It’s subtle and so very hypnotizing. My throat tightens. Every
sensible part of me begs me to look away, but sadly, it doesn’t win out again.
Shorts slip down his legs, slumping on the wooden floor. Fuck.
I have so little control to want to smash my fist against something, at least.
Maybe then this type of feeling wouldn’t be so intense.
His legs are long, nearly feminine – thighs delectable plush, the remaining
panties clinging to his hips, far too small to cover what panties should. Or
maybe it does cover what it should, and I’m just too ashamed to admit it and
I’m being prude.
I’m sad to see him pull on a shirt over everything though. Thankfully it
doesn’t cover anything below his thighs, and I still get to watch the graceful
sway of his hips.
When his lights go off, I slide down the wall, tilting my head back against it.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
Sex has always been disgusting to me. It’s defiling the body, and Kenny taught
me most of that. I’ve heard the sounds women make, and it’s always only made me
feel like puking.
Maybe that’s just how Kenny played them, then broke them. Perhaps I’ve always
been sexually interested, I just haven’t know what that kind of attraction felt
like because I’ve never seen how the body should look, not mutilated or broken.
When I see Eren, I see cleanliness and purity. All of those women have been
tainted with Kenny or other men, most of them were even prostitutes. There’s a
chance I’m simply addicted to Eren’s purity.
Yes. That has to be it.
Armin. Has Eren had sex?
 
 
[“Extinguish my eyes, I'll go on seeing you.
Seal my ears, I'll go on hearing you.
And without feet I can make my way to you,
without a mouth I can swear your name.

Break off my arms, I'll take hold of you
with my heart as with a hand.
Stop my heart, and my brain will start to beat.
And if you consume my brain with fire,
I'll feel you burn in every drop of my blood.”
― Rainer_Maria_Rilke]
***** Hell is Home *****
Chapter Notes
     LOOK! An update! Su r p r i se
     I know, crazy right?
     Anyways, the reason for such a h ELLA late update is in due
     (entirely) to family issues and being unceremoniously tossed into an
     Independent Living GH, so I've been pretty busy as of late =_= And
     I'm slightly more dead inside, so this will be interesting, right?
     So, this entire chapter is Armin's POV (boring, right), but the next
     will be entirely in Levi's. There's gonna be some interesting contact
     between Levi and Eren next chap, so be prepared c:
     Enjoy!
It’s late in the night when Levi stops responding, not long after making a
regret on Jean’s life. A part of me is terrified he may actually go down there
and murder him – Levi knows where he lives, it’d be easy to him. The other
part, however, knows that Levi is too smart to risk that kind of thing. Not
only had Levi automatically assumed Jean was after Eren, whom he considered his
property, but Jean had a history with the brunet boy, and a bad one.
Levi is practically insanity released, after that. Knowing what Mikasa knows,
Kenny was very wrong in releasing Levi without a leash. She would have
preferred if the man got caught, and Levi put, rightfully, in a mental
hospital, where he belonged – maybe then, after tough treatment and trauma
therapy, he’d be a positive impact. But right now, he’s not safe.
He’s a time bomb – homicidal, to the tenth power. Holding him back would be
like holding back a bull with a stick, if someone touched Eren wrong. Or even
looked at him wrong.
It’s fifteen minutes later, just when I’m assuming he’s gone, that another text
comes in. One I don’t expect in the slightest: has Eren had sex?
I nearly drop my phone.
What he had towards Eren was purely emotional. I’m beginning to fear Levi is
actually  attracted  to Eren, physically as well. If that’s the case, then what
else could he do? Eren would be too embarrassed to say he’d been raped, or
touched wrong. I swallow thickly, thumb hovering over the phone’s screen.
There isn’t anything I can do without Mikasa’s help. She’s the Ackerman – she
knows Levi, and Kenny, and Kuchel – she knows their entire story, and why Levi
is the way he is. I don’t even know how to answer this.
Feeling powerless is the hardest thing. It was bad when the house burned down
and my parents died, but now… I can’t lose my friends, either.
I have to be strong, and careful. I’ve wanted to just call the police since I
got put here, but Kenny has connections. He’s not a criminal to anyone but us.
He cleans his messes well, and the only people who’d get hurt is my reputation
and Mikasa’s. We can’t call wolf until the wolf bites.
I wouldn’t know. Why, Levi? You know better.
It’s true – I don’t know if Eren has had sex or not. If I’d said no, which I’m
confident is the more likely answer, then he’d become more fascinated. If I
answered yes, he may become angry, and I can’t risk either of those options.
I’m balancing on a thin ledge, and one wrong move will take everyone on the
edge with me. Even Eren – who won’t even know he’s on a ledge until he’s gone.
It doesn’t take long to get a response, but it’s not what I want. Nothing near
to what I want. A picture – of Eren’s room. In the dark.
My throat closes in again, and I can barely breathe.
Why are you there. That’s trespassing.
Sure, like a small little law is going to stop Levi Ackerman, obsessed with a
boy he’d kill half the neighborhood for just a moment to stand beside him. He
has a one track mind, and that’s success. Consequences may not be important to
him when he’s high on need like that.
I was making sure he was safe.
Levi is the only person Eren would need to be safe from. I refrain from texting
that, even if it’s the truth. Reality doesn’t sit well with psychopaths.
He’s safe, Levi. If anything happened to him, his parents would be there to
help.
Those idiots? The husband is a man-whore.
Mikasa’s dad, in other words. I breathe a soft sigh. There’s a lot of history
with Grisha and Karla, relating to the Ackermans – it may as well be a feud.
I know, but stalking Eren won’t make him love you. Go home and rest. So you
won’t be tired, and you’ll look better for him.
I know he contemplates it, because the text has a R beside it for a good three
minutes, before he begins responding. I hope, so very much, that he’ll agree
and go home, but what’s stopping him from saying no? I still want to call the
police, tell them the address and have them come pick the freak up and arrest
him, but I can’t. Who’s to say Levi will be gone before then? I could always
keep him on the phone, but I’m bad at lying. I can’t keep him occupied long
enough.
You’re right.  I release a breath I didn’t know I was holding. I slowly tilt my
head back against the wall, thankful for those two sweet words. He believes me
– he thinks I’m doing it for his best interest and not Eren’s.
Get some sleep. You need it.
He doesn’t respond again, and I decide I can rest easy after going to the
kitchen and grabbing a glass of milk. When I return to bed, there’s no
response, and my bed is already calling to me.
I should probably just go to sleep, too – Levi will stay away from Eren,
hopefully, for the rest of the night.
Hopefully, I say, because I can’t predict anything the other boy does.
 
 
 
 
 
The bell rings just as 11 am comes around the corner, in all it’s tired, half-
sleepy glory. I can barely lift my head from the desk, and I never sleep in
class. If I do, it’s because I finished the work far quicker than everyone
else, and I’m fully energized.
My run-in with Levi the night before left me drained. Mikasa had picked me up
this morning, and I’d explained the whole night to her, even showed her the
picture he took of Eren’s dimly lit room. She’d blanched, her knuckles turning
whiter than they usually are around the wheel. I swore she was inches from
running off the road and turning back just to hunt him down.
Mikasa’s growing fidgety. She has no clue what to do – and I don’t either. We
may as well both be stumped.
We’d planned much before. One of our precautions was that we’d have to tell
Eren, if Levi became to hostile. I felt her beginning to consider it.
We can’t tell him, not yet – if Eren knows, he’ll hate Levi, and right now, I’m
sure Eren is attracted to the senior. I’m sure every girl in the school is,
too. He’s only been in the school for a few months, and he’s already drawn the
attention of everyone.
We’re running down on options. Before, we were hoping Levi would be content
with just having close proximity, not too close but not too far, either. A
friend, maybe. We were wrong. Then, we began hoping that we could trap Levi,
maybe get rid of him on our own. Wrong, again – we learned he was no sucker,
and he definitely wasn’t weak. All we can do is hold off the beast until we can
come up with another plan, that’ll take Levi and Kenny down. If we took Levi
down, Kenny would come after all of us.
Eren, included. I forgot why he sent Levi on Eren and not gone after him
himself. I know that, in part, Kenny doesn’t want to finish a dirty job he
doesn’t entirely want to do. And if Levi got caught, he could easily slide by
as the distressed uncle that adopted him and had just moved from out of country
to see about a better life for a stressed teen.
Aside from that, none of us know a thing about all of this. Not enough.
I manage to lift myself from my desk, and file into the hallway without the
teacher waving me down and begging to know why I’m so off my game today. I know
exactly why, it’s just something she couldn’t know.
In the hall, hundreds of bodies bump and bustle, trying to get to next class
before the bell rings, or to their girlfriend’s class, just for a little kiss.
Gross.
It isn’t long before Levi is beside me, following in step. His class was just a
few doors down, and we usually have some sort of run-in during the day. I had
completely forgotten, so when I feel him come near, I nearly run.
“Where’s Eren?”
“On the first floor,” I say. I’m sure he would know that, right?
“Right.” I haul my bag more onto my shoulder, also managing to put better space
between us. He doesn’t get a lot of social cues, does he? “Do you know how he
is? I’ve been to busy to check,”
“He’s fine, Levi.”
It’s odd, hearing from a psycho that he wants to make sure someone is okay.
Sometimes I forget he’s not a stalker, that he’s just a sweet boyfriend wanting
to know how his boyfriend is doing.
The hallway is far too loud. It’s making me stupid.
“How do you know?”
“He texted me an hour ago,” I’m starting to sound frustrated, and that’s never
good. I can’t get frustrated - Levi probably has an arrange of disorders, and
maybe one of them includes being unable to agree. Maybe ODD?
Yeah, that’s right - stick labels to uncomfortable feelings, like I always do
when everything feels wrong.
Before I can say anything else, Mikasa is there too, at my other side, likely
coming from her fourth period - French. Immediately, hair raises on the back of
my neck, feeling both of their crushing Ackerman intensity. Gods, why do they
have to be so  intense ? Why can’t we all just love each other and be nice and
calm?
“Stay away from Eren.” Mikasa says, right off the bat. She does that everytime
she’s close enough to Levi for him to hear anything she says. “He’s stressed as
it is. He doesn’t need a relationship.”
“Say that to horse,” he snarls back. We come to the end of a hall, and Levi’s
the first to push open the double doors, letting us into the stairwell. I’ve
always hated the stairs, mostly because I’m anxious of falling and smashing my
head on something - another kid, even. “That thing stares at Eren. It’s an
abomination.”
“What you have is an abomination too, then. Jean isn’t trying to  kill  you, is
he, for Eren?” I try to input some realistic thoughts, for once. It backfires.
“Eren is my right.”
“Burn in Hell, psycho.” Mikasa says, dully, from my other side.
In his head, Eren probably is his right - maybe Kenny had put that there, so
he’d play with his food before he got bored and ate it, too. Just to hurt
Grisha and Carla more. It’d make sense, then. Or maybe Kenny never wanted Levi
to love Eren like this, or at all, and all of it comes from Levi alone. I’d
feel less obliged to hate him if that was the case. As it is, I already feel
sympathy.
He’s mentally ill, confused, and this is his first time in years being above
ground. I can’t imagine, from what Mikasa described Kenny as, what his
childhood life was like. I can’t imagine the scars, mentally and physically.
“I’ve already been to Hell, schoolgirl.”
Like that, he’s already at his next class, just at the base of the stairs. I
watch him leave, and so does Mikasa, fury in her iron eyes.
“He’s getting too persistent,” Mikasa mutters.
We don’t say anymore, until I’m at her class. She reminds me to keep him under
watch, text him as much as I can, and stay vigilant. She promises to talk to
Jean later.
I worry for her, even when she’s here, now. I never know about her for sure
anymore. She’s an Ackerman, too - her mother was the same as Levi’s mother, and
she was the one with the mental illnesses that caused this entire mess before,
with Grisha. If Levi inherited that kind of insanity, how easy would it be that
she did, too?
But Levi had a lot of reason to show it. Levi had likely been beaten and hated
most of his life, kicked around like a puppy, while Mikasa is growing up in a
good home. One that loves her, and would do anything to make her life
worthwhile.
Environments are crucial in the development of mental illnesses, right?
I sit at my seat, and my head comes down on the desk again.
***** Borderline Insane *****
Chapter Notes
     Aye lookey there itsa new chapter;;;
     Thank you so much for keeping up with this ~! I’m losing drive to
     write and it sucks so bad XD Hopefully I’ll start finding interest
     again. In other news, I got put on medicine that makes me hella
     spacey. It’ll be harder to write now, but I’ll be trying! ♥
     And yes, Levi’s skipped a few bases.
     Thank you so much again, for reading. You make me so happy ♥
     Music muse: Lund – Broken
     (And I'm so sorry it's hella short! This is sort of like a fill in.
     The next chapter, I swear, will please u babies.)
I’m beginning to lose any form of patience I had with the blonde and the other
Ackerman. Before, I had hoped they would stay out of my way, but Mikasa knows
who I am, and specifically what I’m here for. She knows what I need from Eren,
not what I want.
And she’s becoming hostile. I want to go ahead and put her down, but I know
that’ll hurt Eren. If I hurt either of them, who’s to say Eren won’t start
cutting ties with everyone else, becoming a town recluse? Then again, my entire
family is filled with town recluses, so I’m sure I could make arrangements for
that type of behavior. No one would miss him, save for his mother and father.
So with these two developments – my failing patience and Eren’s likely
depression, I can only keep on the same track I’ve been on. Get close to him,
gain his trust, and become part of his life the natural way. If that doesn’t
work – Mikasa and Armin will have to be ended, because they have connections to
me, and then I’m taking Eren where no one could find him.
I’d hate to take his freedom.
But thankfully, the Eren Crew seem to let me do what I want. I know the blonde
– Armin – isn’t on my side, though he chooses to act like it. It’s obvious he’s
trying to seem like he’s on my side. Trying to become my ally. I’m not that
easily manipulated, though I’d like to let him think he has control over me.
Maybe then he’ll let me stray closer to Eren without raising alarm. Jean and
Mikasa together couldn’t take me down, but police could.
That’s my biggest problem – the police. If they become too uneasy, they’ll
bring police into the picture. I know that my uncle will try his best to seem a
good man, what with his connections, but connections can only go so far. All of
this is dependent on if I can make Eren run away with me in the first place.
I make a point to be in his range of sight as much as I can. For the next two
weeks, we speak rarely – occasionally at his locker, where he seems to try and
wipe me off his shoulder like a fly, but slowly he begins to show more and more
interest. I know Jean speaks to him once or twice about me, but Eren erases it
from his mind like a non compliant child. Good boy.
I know I’m becoming a significant part of his life, and it empowers me. Armin
and Mikasa can’t push me away if Eren has me drawn in, because his gravity is
stronger than theirs. He’ll start to question why they’re so avid about getting
rid of me, and if he knew about me, he’d know about his parents and what
happened with my mother. And, to them, that’s a last resort. There’s also the
fact he won’t believe them. He likes to ignore things he doesn’t want to
believe.
Regardless, with extreme pleasure, I’m happy to say we’ve already started
texting.
As someone with little social interaction throughout my childhood, this is a
massive step. Within a few days, I’ve already learned interesting things about
Eren. He has one of Jean’s sweaters (much to my disdain), drinks coffee with
milk and tons of sugar, hates tea (again, to my absolute disdain), takes
fifteen minute showers, and he loves animals. I get pictures. Lots of them. He
takes selfies, and it’s annoying but adorable at the same time.
At first, I’m continuously fearful that I may say something wrong. Eren is,
surprisingly, very understanding. Although he never asks anything of my life,
he knows things about me, too. He knows I don’t sleep well, that I love tea,
and I have a fear of tight spaces. He doesn’t know why.
Mikasa and Armin don’t know about these conversations. I’m hopeful that he
doesn’t mention it to them, or they’d be furious. They’d understand what I’m
trying to do.
Really, what I’m actually doing is falling deeper and deeper in this dark place
in my head. Intrusive thoughts attack me from every side every time he sends
those pictures. Bright emerald eyes, sweet smile, sunlight from a morning’s
kiss across his cheeks. I imagine slicing up his face into little ugly strips,
breaking his legs like my uncle had done to his visitors. He would never run
from me again.
I close out of every single picture the moment these thoughts even so much as
caress my mindspace. I erase it, like Eren does the unhappy memories, and watch
them burn in that violent place. That dark place.
You’re not crazy, my mind whispers. It’s a promise, as those notes – blood,
Eren’s screams, broken fingers – burn in that place. He made you this way. They
made you this way.
I want it to yell to me, not whisper. It’s tiring, thinking I’m insane all the
time. I just love Eren. I need him. I don’t want to hurt him.
There are two people in my head, now – one that hates him, and one that loves
him, and they’re both just as strong. I sometimes fear I’m only getting close
to him so I can hurt him, and I’m not sure I want to, either.
Do I want to hurt anyone, in the first place?
L: Eren, am I odd?
E: Odd is good, sometimes.
L: Didn’t you say once that odd is odd?
E: That was before I knew you.
L: You don’t know me.
Do I know me? Whoever did? My mother did, once, before she took her life. I
feel like she always did. The extreme emotions, how she sat at my father’s feet
and begged for him to hit her harder, to please him. What did they say, those
police men, as they rolled my mother’s body out on a stretcher? I was shivering
in a cop car, tears streaking down my face. Blood was on my hands, and my
father was screaming, being dragged out in close succession behind my mother’s
body. Borderline Personality Disorder. The whole family has it. Isn’t that odd?
Odd.
I don’t have a disorder. I love him, I hate him, I need him, I can’t standhim.
L: Sometimes I feel sick.
E: Sick? How so?
L: I don’t know. It feels weird.
E: Don’t die on me, now. I’m starting to like you.
L: No you don’t.
E: I do, though. I really like you.
L: You have odd interests.
I do, too. I guess we know each other in small, insignificant ways.
E: So we’re both odd, now, right?
L: Whatever you want me to be.
I felt him sink, too. I felt him scrabbling for that surface, hoping he
wouldn’t become part of me like he’s become part of me. But insanity is
attractive to some, in a way that a broken doll may appear aesthetic to a sad
person. Eren is sad. I’m borderline crazy. You’re not crazy, it whispers back,
furious in my ear. I bat the voice away, even if it is my own conscience. I
hate that voice, my own.
E: I want you to be a lot of things.
L: Elaborate.
E: Tomorrow. On the football field, during lunch. How does that sound?
L: Sounds fine. Now, go to sleep. It’s late.
E: Yes, sir~
Like that, he’s gone. I’m in my room again, on my bed, in this dimly lit room
my uncle had given me permission to sleep in once I began my mission. I’m back
in the room with a million eyes, all of them green and taped to my wall.
 
 
 
File 37: Concerning Texts between Victim and Defendant
On ████ █,███, at exactly █:██:██, Victim ███ ████ sent a picture containing
what may be considered “sexually provocative” material to the defendant. The
victim is shown in what appears to be midday light, licking his left middle
finger, winking. His right shoulder is entirely exposed due to ill-fitting
clothing. Defendant has no comment towards the picture.
[Open Attachment]
***** Mine, Mine, Mine, Mine *****
Chapter Notes
     yes, i'm caught up on season 2 and i am ded
See the end of the chapter for more notes
I don’t know what happened.
Surprising, right? The emotionally fucked teenager, who can feel himself slowly
fall into an abnormal, unprovoked depression, suddenly finds himself wanting to
talk to someone he used to be scared of. Not really scared of – but I didn’t
feel necessarily positive towards him, not at first.
It was mixed, and one day, we spoke for moments at a time. The next day, he had
my number, and after that, there was no dark aura to be afraid of. I felt a new
confidence, knowing he didn’t see me for what I really was. He heard my words
with no tone, and thus only had that to go off – words.
I think I started liking him, but I don’t know for sure. I sent him pictures,
nothing really extreme. I’m not an idiot. Even the strange boys can be bad. But
he did get the blunt of my artistic photography. I got very vague compliments,
which lead me to want more. I got pictures from him, too.
I already knew he was handsome. Anyone who could see also knew he was perfect.
But his pictures brought out a vulnerable part of him, and I loved it. No one
else saw the pictures I received, the awkward grin he has, the way he runs his
fingers through his hair when he’s nervous.
 I also already knew he had girls on his tail – the bad-boy lovers,
specifically. He doesn’t talk to anyone much, seems to keep to himself, but
people want to get close to him. I’m the only person he really talks to, and
the attention is wonderful.
And one day, I felt something possess me to ask him to meet me, alone. I had
lost fear for him a long time ago. He doesn’t seem like Jean, or any other boy
I’ve ever met. It drives me crazy, trying to analyze him. Every word we make
between each other is another moment I spend wondering why he would say it,
what kind of person says those kinds of things.
I learned he has no type, and he is no “type”. He is Levi.
Which means, ultimately, I’m his type, because I belong to no one.
The day after I asked him to meet me, I kept away from Armin and Mikasa. I know
they don’t like him, nor does Jean, but I never bothered trying to figure out
why. I can assume it’s for the same reason I was afraid of him – he just has
this feeling, this overwhelming sensation that he puts on everyone around him.
I had run away from it before, now I’ve embracing it. It makes me feel safe,
and dangerous all at once, like standing on an edge with a fence. The view is
beautiful, too.
But I don’t trust him, either.
I keep my phone on me, and a knife in the waistband of my skirt.
During lunch I sneak out through the gym’s back door, and because the football
field isn’t that far from the gym, it’s only a short walk across a staff
parking lot. I know automatically that we’ll be the only two on the field,
which means I won’t be spotted talking to him, and thus, there’s no way for
Mikasa or Armin to find out. If they did, I’d be stuck having to explain
myself.
Thankfully, he was there before I was. He sat on the tenth stair of the
bleachers, scrolling through something on his phone. I’ve never found any sign
of him being on social media, which is odd for teenagers. I did, however, learn
that he has a few other contacts. I don’t know who, but he has them.
He doesn’t look up until I sit beside him. He doesn’t just look up, no – he
snaps his head up, eyes an odd sort of empty. I feel my throat close, and
suddenly I wonder if it was right to come out alone. Slowly, the emptiness
clears up, and so does the confusion. My heart unclenches, as does my fingers.
“Hey,” he pauses, then adds, “For a boy who wears heels, you’re very stealthy.”
I smile, and this time, it’s not fake. It’s a strange feeling, being able to
smile without having to force it.
“Practice,” I respond. I blank out, staring up at the older boy. I notice the
birth mark on his throat, a small speck of black, and from this vantage point,
I can tell he’s tired, but in an attractive way. I don’t know how to explain
it, but whatever it is, I quite like it.
“Oh? So who’ve you been stalking lately, then?” He asks. There’s an odd
undertone to it – too personal.
“I’d have to kill you if I told you,”
“It’d be a nice ending, but I’d have to decline.”
I cross my legs, letting my bag slump on the metal seat beside me. The day is
beautiful – it’s Summer, by now, and only a few weeks of school remains. In
other words, Levi will be graduating very soon. I’ll never see him again, or
maybe I will. Really, it’s up to him, and I hate having that kind of power
outside of my hand.
“Eren, what do you want us to be?”
I look away from the emerald green field, back to those two shards of glass. I
wonder what would happen if I shattered them – would he feel it? I tilt my head
a little, brushing my fingers over my pleated skirt only to begin pulling on a
loose piece of the hem. I twirl the string around my finger, feeling the blood
drain from the digit.
“It’s a hard thing to choose,” I say softly, nearly inaudible with the summer
breath all around us. “I feel strange when I’m around you,”
“Odd is odd,”
I can’t help the shy smile I make. “Odd is odd,” I repeat. It feels like
something we both can agree on, and I like the intimacy. We’re too close, but
too far apart – emotionally and physically. I can feel his body’s heat through
the summer’s sun, and it’s a nice feeling, but at the same time it’s all too
much. And yet I want him closer.
We don’t speak for a short moment, and it’s a comfortable silence. I like the
silence, until I realize he’s still waiting for my answer. It seems he can feel
me wavering on that edge – wanting and not wanting, needing and yet not needing
at all, because all he can do is place a hand on my thigh.
My whole body warms up the moment he does it, even though his hand is cold
against my skin. I know he means nothing by it, but to me – someone who can
feel that fucking aura – it’s like he’s blasting music in my ear.
Suddenly, everything is a little too much, and I love the suffocation.
But I don’t get any chance to tell him no, or even yes, because along with that
hand on my thigh, a fingertip against my chin forces me to look up again from
my fingers and the string.
“Eren…” his voice is a deep, dangerous sound. The way he says my name is like a
vicious, hateful prayer, to a God that never listened. My heart hurts.
Everything feels too loud again, even if it’s almost dead silent. My phone
vibrates in my waistband against my hip, but I forget it’s there. I don’t want
it to be there. “Are you afraid of me?”
Am I?
I am, but I’m not.
“No…” I whisper.
He smirks, our lips inches apart. That smirk – I love it, I hate it. I’m so
conflicted, and every side of me wants him all the same. I feel his sweet
breath against my skin, his thumb still absently passing over my chin. He seems
so controlled, not wild – if anything, I’m the wildcard.
“Then why are you shaking?” His voice sounds so nice, up close. It makes my
whole body feel like fire and ice, the ice in his eyes and the fire in mine.
I clench my fist in my lap, string in my palm. I’m shuddering all over – it has
nothing to do with the fear, but the excitement.
“I’m not afraid,” I breathe, a precious promise. A stupid promise. Who’s to say
I will always stay so fearless? Certainly not him, and certainly not me.
I don’t expect him to chuckle. It makes my bones vibrate, the sound – it makes
my throat close again, and his hand on my thigh finally moves, setting me free
from the still I was stuck in. He moves away, leaving me so very alone. So very
cold. Does he like to play with his food before he eats it, like some sort of
toddler?
I have five minutes to tell him what I had the courage to tell him last night,
and now I’m trapped staring at this stupid string I’d dug up from my skirt. I
rip it off, and wipe it onto the bleacher floor.
“You’re not going to play me,” I say, even if my voice is shaking just as hard
as my body is. “I’m not a plaything.”
“You’re right,” I jolt with the sound of his voice again, no longer as quiet as
it had been before. Had he even been quiet, when we were that close, or was I
imagining everything? “You are no plaything. You are invaluable. But the truth
is, Eren-”
“There is no truth, Levi. Mikasa and Armin obviously don’t like you, nor does
Jean. But I like you. Is there something they know that I don’t, or are you
just a bad person like they say you are?”
“You haven’t let me finish.”
I make a soft hmph,pouting at him.
“Because you are not a plaything, I’m terribly afraid of hurting you. You’re
fragile, and anyone could tell.”
“I’m not fragile!” I snap. Why does everyone think I’m some precious maiden
that needs saving? I wear skirts, sure, but sometimes I can be my own hero. I’m
not a stupid kid.
“And I’m not gentle,” he says.
“Prove it to me.”
I shouldn’t have said it, but I did. I did, and I regretted it.
I didn’t ask to be attacked, but that’s what it felt like. One moment, I can
sit perfectly still and have a decent conversation, the next he’s surged upon
me and I’m searching for the knife in my skirt, his hands on me. I’m afraid. He
was right – I’m afraid.
My hand pauses on the hilt of the knife when his lips find mine, his hand
finding my wrist and twisting it free of my skirt. The knife falls on the metal
seat, clattering onto the flooring. I forget, for a moment, that I should be
afraid. That aura that chased me into the girl’s bathroom one morning is thick
around me now, but no longer does it sting me. It cradles me, and the heat that
I used to hate becomes a warmth I need.
His lips are soft. Too soft for someone with those kinds of eyes.
My wrist wrenches free of his grip, but I don’t push him away. The same thing
that possessed me last night possessed me all the same today, forcing my
fingers to find his nape, over the scratchy undercut. With a new free hand, he
explores the same expanse of flesh on my thigh he’d been at earlier, running up
just beneath my skirt.
The kiss lasts a wonderfully long time. I feel his teeth at one point, because
he bites me, but with the euphoria he gives me everywhere else I forget he’d
done it. By the time I pull away, my bottom lip is sore, and the bell is
ringing for 6th period.
I pant, confused and almost as vulnerable as he was in his pictures. I want
more.
“Get to class,” he orders, not even slightly out of breath. There’s something
in his eyes I can’t name – beautifully chaotic.
“T-text me.” I remind him, dizzy from the sensory.
I grab my bag, but before I can stand, he kisses me one last time. It’s brief
and sweeter than the one he’d given me moments before was – it makes my flesh
tingle, but the feeling has to leave quickly.
He doesn’t say anything more, and I have to race on shaky legs to my next
class.
I feel like I’ve opened a gate, and that gate isn’t to heaven.
Chapter End Notes
     MMMMMMMMM THEY K I S S E D ARE YOU HAPPY NOW YOU FEISTY DEMONS
***** His Demon *****
Chapter Notes
     OMG BIG UPDATE? BIGGER THAN USUAL??? S H O O K CHAPTER 10 omg
     aNYWAYS, guess what! last episode of SNK season 2 is soon to be
     released, and Eren looks wonderfully hilarious on the back of
     Bertholdt!
     Thank you for reading, and you guys make me The Happiest™ with every
     comment and kudos! I will SQUEAL when we reach 200 kudos<3333 and
     I'll cry a lil, too, cus I'm a pussy
See the end of the chapter for more notes
The moment I got home, I let myself think at long last. I pull off my uniform,
bathe, but I don’t ever leave my room.
I’m not sure I even remember what happened. It feels like I’m thinking too
deeply into it, but maybe I’m not – maybe I’m doing what every single girl or
boy has ever done out there over their first kiss.
Did I like it? Yes. It wasn’t uncomfortable – I liked it, so much to the point
I wonder if Levi’s had practice before me. It wouldn’t matter. Was I afraid? A
small part of me, of course. Levi has always felt dangerous, but I love it. I
was afraid he’d grab me too hard, and everything I remember now would be very,
very different. I wouldn’t have ever wanted to change, or bathe. I wouldn’t
have wanted to look in the shower at my body, wondering how he could like me,
the Queer.
Would I want another kiss, the exact same way? Fuck, yes.
But why do I still feel like I had something stolen from me?
I touch my lips, laying on my bed, still in the towel. They’re soft, but torn.
Sore. He’d bitten me so hard that my bottom lip inflated, turning a blush red.
I can’t help but stroke the area he’d torn, the hard ridge of a scab right
along the center.
I’m okay with it, but I know I shouldn’t. Boyfriends are gentle, exactly what
Levi had said he wasn’t. Boyfriends let you wear their shirts, kiss you softly
and make you feel like you’re priceless and forever. They don’t bite you.
Or do they?
He hadn’t texted me since I’d left him alone, and I want him to. I have a
feeling he will eventually, but how could I respond?
Hey, you remember what happened this morning? Yeah, I liked it but I didn’t. I
want you to fuck me viciously now.
And then there’s the sexual frustration, too – could I imagine being like that
with him, when everyone is already terrified of what he’s capable of? Mikasa,
Armin, Jean, even Marco seems to be unsure about him. He has friends, if you
can even call them that, but he doesn’t talk to them much. I’m the person he
talks to the most.
I let my hand flop on the bed, fingers furled just slightly. His hands, too –
they heated me up. Is that normal? Do normal hands feel so hot?
What if he’s a demon?
My demon.
I inhale uncertainly, then exhale, letting the breath escape me like he had,
all with the ring of a bell – but this bell is in my head, telling me it’s
wrong, it’s wrong, it’s wrong. He bit you. You loved it.
What does he want from me? What do I want from him? I feel like that’s some
sort of relationship therapist’s words, and they work well. I can assume what I
want from him is maybe a relationship, or at least someone I can be close to.
Closer than Mikasa, closer than Armin. I want more. What does he want from me?
That’s where my mind begins drawing blanks, slashes through empty boxes. Does
he want sex? Does he want a relationship, too? Or does he want something else?
I’m not sure if I’d mind giving him the former. I probably won’t. Teenage
thoughts, my mom would call them – teenagers never seem to care about what they
give, and I know she feels that way from experience. Maybe I could talk to her
about it. She agrees with my sexuality, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind giving me
advice on boys – she knows good and well about those kinds of things,
considering she’s been married for a decent amount of years.
What if he wanted sex, again?
What if he wants to just use me?
My thighs clamp together, my knees up and closely pressed. Can I imagine his
hand sliding down my thigh a little more, beneath that skirt that was there
earlier this morning?
My breath comes out again, but this time it’s shaky.
Wrong, wrong, wrong-
Yes, I can imagine it. And it doesn’t seem very bad, either. What if it went
beneath more than my skirt though? Would I like that?
Wrong! Wrong!
I make a frustrated sigh, and sit up entirely, furiously raking my fingers
through my hair. What am I thinking? Sure, I’m a teenager, but why the fuck
would I so easily throw my virginity at someone? I’m not a toy, I told him, I’m
not. So why would I show him otherwise? If he used me once, he’d use me again,
and when he gets bored, where will I be? I can’t afford to be alone after that.
I can’t afford to let him leave, after that.
In the end, I know there’s only two choices. And I can’t regret either, or
it’ll just hurt worse.
“Eren?” I jolt when a knock comes from my door, three soft little wraps I know
immediately as my mother’s knuckles. She doesn’t knock as hard as dad. Plus,
her voice. I pull my towel tighter around my body, calling for her to enter.
She does, a towel between her delicate fingers and a faint smile. She’s always
smiling a little, and it’s always been lovely, too.
“How was school?” She rubs some sort of liquid from her fingers, likely from
what she was cooking. She must be letting it settle for a while, coming to tell
me it’s ready. “You just came home and started sulking. Did something happen
with Jean again?”
She knows about Jean. There’s not much I’ve kept from my mother – I can’t
remember a single thing I’ve been afraid to tell her.
“No.”
I might as well start now, it seems. How would she react to knowing someone
wants to be with me? I can imagine her marching down to the school, demanding
to speak to the principal. She’d count it as sexual harassment, I’m sure. But
then again, I was also afraid she’d burn all my panties, and when she found
them, she just grinned and complimented the ribbon on the front of one of them.
Like she was entirely unsurprised by it, maybe even expecting it.
“Hm… that doesn’t sound reassuring,” she stuffs the towel in the pocket of her
green apple apron, moving to sit at the edge of my bed. I’ve always admired the
way she crosses her legs. When I do it, it’s uncomfortable, but she seems to
settle perfectly into it. “Any boy problems?” She wriggles her brunette brows,
lips pursed.
“You could say that.”
“Plenty of those, sweetheart. You’re an attractive boy! Of course someone would
want to date my precious little prince,” she sighs, tilting her head, letting
her braid fall down her back. “I’d have to get used to you being away so
often…”
“I wish you couldn’t read minds,” I say.
“Ah, I don’t read minds. But I know you’ve been blessed with your mother’s
looks,”
She’s not wrong. My mother is very pretty, and I can imagine how many boys
liked her when she was younger. When I was just hitting puberty, I would never
have imagined I’d ever have anyone who would find me attractive. I was
switching constantly between wearing boy clothes and sneaking skirts. I was
either comfortable with boy clothes, or uncomfortable with them, and eventually
I just began wearing whatever felt best that day. I wasn’t really very
attractive. I got my dad’s eyes, and my mother’s face I’ve heard.
That didn’t help me when I was lanky in 5th grade.
“Mom, there’s a boy.”
She raises a brow, cupping her chin and setting her elbow on her knee. “Mm? How
old?”
“18.”
“Oo! A senior? Isn’t that a bit old?”
I roll my eyes, cheeks blushing a cream crimson.
“No, mom. Just… two years. Dad is three years older than you…”
“You’re right. But still, isn’t it my duty to make my boy better than me?”
“Anyways,” I continue, trying to escape the miniscule age gap. Her lips quirk
up playfully, but she makes no more complaints. “He’s new. You met his uncle.”
“Oh? You mean the Ackerman boy?”
“Levi,” I remind her.
Her brows draw together in confusion, and her lips bunch again. “So, this is
the boy you’re interested?” I know she’d met the uncle, and had good vibes
around him. Apparently they live in a clean house, where an older woman used to
live. “You know, now that I think about it, Ackerman sounds very familiar…”
I sit back, crossing my legs beneath the towel and splaying my fingers across
the sheets. Ackerman may be a very common name – I wouldn’t know. I’m not that
important on last names, anymore.
“Something your father said once. And isn’t that Mikasa’s last name?”
I nod. I’d completely forgotten about Mikasa’s last name.
Ackerman.
Huh.
“May be a coincidence. Maybe they’re related?” She suggests, curling her
fingers up on her lap. I notice her wedding ring glimmering on her finger.
“It doesn’t matter. Anyways… he kissed me.”
The woman pauses. I wonder, for a moment, if my whole world has stopped, or if
she has only. My room is uncomfortably still, without her being so responsive.
Her brows seem to only get closer and closer.
“Oh. Hm…”
“Mom?”
“It’s just…” she falls silent again, beginning to twist the ring. “Nevermind.
Just be careful, okay?”
I bob my head once. I already know I should be careful. I was careful from day
one, and I’m not going to put down my guard until I realize otherwise, or he
shows otherwise. For now, I’ll let it stay there, a silent protector. Like it
was with Jean for the last couple years.
She stands, brushing imaginary dust from her apron and pausing to give me one
kiss on my cheek.
“Well, dinner is ready, sweetheart.” She smiles one last time before turning to
leave.
At the door, she stops again. She seems hesitant to leave – there’s something
wrong with the way she looks at me, seeming afraid. More afraid than I was, at
his mercy.
Something in her eyes says, it’s wrong louder than my head ever had. I know it
has nothing to do with his gender, either.
 
 
 
 
 
I don’t leave my room to eat, but I do get a plate before hurrying back. When I
return to curling up on the bed, legs up, phone on my thighs and bowl in my
lap, there’s a text playing across the top of the screen.
L: Did I hurt you?
My heart begins to thud in my chest, excited to know he’d texted me first and
terrified of how I could answer. If I said no, I’d be lying. If I said yes,
maybe he’d be too frightened to stay with me? Too frightened of hurting me? I
decide to be a liar, because liars get what they want more these days.
E: No, I’m fine.
L: Based on previous experiences from more… feminine people, ‘I’m fine’ is
begging for attention. What’s wrong?
I can’t help but giggle softly. He’s right – a lot of girlfriends say I’m fine,
but never really mean it. I may become one of those people. I’d taken a bite
while I was waiting for his response, so I have to answer with a spoon hanging
from my mouth.
E: Oh, Levi, you know me so well! You’ve won my pitiful, girly heart!
It’s sarcasm.
L: Seriously. What’s happening?
I frown a little. I wish he’d humor me a little longer. I twirl my spoon for a
moment between my fingers, unsure of how to tell him. How can I tell someone I
want to be with them, without sounding too straight forward or too needy?
E: I’m still not scared to be near you.
L: Do you want to be, Eren?
It sounds like an invitation to something. I blush again, forcing the spoon
into my mouth and pouting on it. I’m not sure if he means it sexually, or
truly.
E: Levi, what do you want from me?
I’d rather avoid the question he’d posed, until I know what he means by it. For
all I know, he’s asking me to join a cult.
For the next five minutes, I’m left with a read text message and three periods
– a sign he’s responding. I wonder if it’ll be a long list, or if he just
doesn’t know entirely. I’m hoping the latter. I’d rather a confused boyfriend
than an extremely needy one.
At last, I’ve set my phone down and begun to actually eat when he sends it. I
set the bowl down, deciding not to finish it, and swipe my phone open.
L: I’ve told you before, I can be many things. I don’t necessarily have
anything I want from you, aside from you. I want your attention, and your
attention only. Really, all of this depends on what you want from me.
It’s funny that he left me on read for so long just for those three sentences.
It sounds clingy, whatever he’s suggesting, but then again I may be
misinterpreting it. He may just want something simple, and I’m throwing it out
of proportion because I’m so paranoid about him.
E: I can do that. But… “me”? What of me do you want?
L: Everything.
My heart starts aching again. My thumbs hover over the keyboard, wondering if I
should even respond. It sounds sexual, but how can I be sure? Why do I have to
take everything to the extreme?
E: My body?
L: You can take your time, of course. I’m not going to demand anything of you.
I bite my lip. That’s good, right? But maybe he won’t accept a relationship
until he’s had sex with me? For all I know, he’ll be a lair and break up right
after he’s taken everything he could get from me. I decide I should take the
risk.
E: Okay. Levi, I want to be your… boyfriend.
L: Are you sure?
E: Yes. Of course I am.
Maybe I’d just signed my soul off to Satan – but who knows? I don’t. I don’t
even know for sure, and I’m the one writing in blood.
L: I’ll take care of you. Promise.
 
 
 
File 94: Family Response
███ █████ explains a connection between the Defendant and the Victim’s family.
A relationship between the defendant’s deceased mother, ████ █████ and the
victim’s father, ███ █████ was closely examined by officers. █████ claimed that
the relationship was broken off due to a more suitable partner, now the
victim’s current mother, and █████ went into a violent rage. She was arrested,
but only put into a psych ward for close evaluation and medication. She was
released five months later, diagnosed with ███████ ██████████ ██████, █████,
and ██████████. The defendant has also been diagnosed with the former and the
latter, based on Psychiatric records.
Chapter End Notes
     OO look there! they are the together now!!! *cries*
     For a warning, soon we'll be getting into some deeper stuff. We'll
     learn more about Eren's mother, and about his father too, as well as
     Levi's mom! The family tree is C r AZY
***** Good Boys Don't Wear Crop Tops *****
Chapter Notes
     Hahaha you guessed it, it's a new chapter and we're getting HEATED
     YA'LL
     AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA*snork*
See the end of the chapter for more notes
I hate her. I hate her. I hate her.
Her stupid bland eyes, that ridiculous braid she always wears, that grin she
gives to him – my prince. He’s mine.
Every moment she’s around him, I feel him let go of me. I hate feeling his
fingers loosen, his heart untwining from mine. It took years for him to love
me, years for him to need me, and suddenly she’s there, sucking up all that
love I was supposed to have. Like a parasite. Like an abomination.
I sharpen my knife. I like the sound it creates, like a sweet screech – soon,
her scream will replace the metal’s. Every moment I wait, he wants her more and
more. He’s a stupid boy looking at a stupid girl, and that girl is not me. It
was supposed to be me, and that’s what makes me furious.
My hands shake the more I sharpen – my bones feel numb, but at the same time
like they’re on fire. Anger is my creed, and she should have seen that before
she spoke to him.
I feel myself flash in and out of reality, if only for a moment. In that split
second, I slice a clean mark across my palm, from my middle finger straight
down to the base of my open hand. I cringe, clenching my other hand hard
against the wooden board.
I hate those moments, where I forget what I’m doing. As of recently, it’s been
happening more and more. I feel my body relax slowly, melting away the heat in
my bones. Dissociation, the doctors had said. If she does that while driving,
she may die.
I wish it wouldn’t last so shortly. If it happened longer, maybe I wouldn’t be
ready to murder.
I take my knife and tuck it into my skirts. Blood trickles onto the floor from
my tightened fist, leaving a trail behind me as I make my way to the
abomination’s home. After tonight, she will be no more.
 
 
 
 
 
Drip. Drip. Drip.
I inhale slowly, pressing my cheek against the cool metal of the flag pole
sitting just outside the school. It’s a warmer day than usual, especially since
summer has finally hit full force, but it’s raining like crazy. Thus, the
humidity.
Rain drips from the school’s awning, and drains through the parking lot. I’ve
been sitting here for a good few minutes, waiting for Mikasa to come. I’d
texted her before, but it seems she’s too busy to bother with me. If I remember
correctly, she has classes after school, but I don’t know on which days.
Suits me right, since I’d begun to shrug them off. Even before school I don’t
talk much to them anymore, and I know they’re becoming annoyed by it. I don’t
need them, anyway; I’m fine on my own.
So, I listen to the rain drip, and the silent of the summer. The parking lot is
nearly empty, save for a few remaining cars – teachers still busy on tomorrow’s
work, the principal, the counselor. The student parking lot is out back, but it
isn’t like that one has anyone there, either. Mikasa is at Votec, her early
college classes, which isn’t too far away from here, either.
I sigh.
I should probably get to walking. I can’t expect her to pick me up when we’re
already deep in some stupid hole called acquaintances, no longer friends. In a
way, I deserve it.
I’m only just hauling my bag more onto my shoulder when a car pulls up just in
front of me. I look it over, confused as to who it may be, but I lose words
when the window slides down.
Jean.
Explains why it’s such a nice car – a Mercedes, likely bought by his overly
rich idiotic parents. Homophobic, too.
“Need a ride?”
I wonder if it’s really smart for me to ride with him. First of all, he’s an
asshole. Secondly, he’s – according to Levi – a stupid jock. Third, Levi is
protective of me. I’m not sure if Levi would find out or not. I peer around the
parking lot, seeing no one in sight like it’d been for the last several
minutes. I puff out a small breath, which clouds right in front of my face. Too
humid.  
“Yeah.” I mumble, annoyed. With myself and with him – him, for being there.
He pops the lock, and I pull it open, slipping onto the passenger seat. The car
smells like alcohol, which is no major surprise – Jean and his friends usually
do a little after party for every football game, and that was less than two
days ago.
I keep my thighs pressed together, my fingers curled in my lap. He should know
by now what my defensive side looks like, and this is a perfect example. If I’m
comfortable, I wouldn’t be so strung up.
I shouldn’t be trusting him. Jean and I are already on a thin line. I’m not
sure if he’s an enemy or a friend, and these days it’s hard to tell, what with
his sudden gay realization and his past homophobia. I could always let my guard
down, hope he’s changed, but I don’t hope much anymore. Funny – I used to be
the most hopeful person in the school.
My phone buzzes in my backpack, resting on the floor between my legs. I bend to
slip my fingers in the pocket, pulling it out.
L: You already home?
E: No.
I flick my phone off, catching Jean’s eye. It’s just a side-look, but he looks,
and that’s what bothers me.
“Mikasa?”
“No.”
“Armin?”
“No.”
He snorts. I’m not usually talking to anyone but those two – I’m not very
friendly. Used to, he had my number exclusively. Now, he’s just a set of
numbers. I don’t even have a name for him. It used to be Horsie.
“So, you’re making friends…?” he says. I keep my eyes on the window, watching
the world pass by in a fuzz of green. No, certainly not friends. He wasn’t a
friend in the beginning. He’s a dangerous feeling, and I love him for it. I may
be spiting Jean being with Levi, but I’m getting a fair kick from it too.
L: Where are you?
I decide to ignore Jean for a moment, instead responding to Levi.
E: I’m on my way, though. Do you need something?
L: Mind if I pick you up later? Just for a while?
Jean swallows thickly out of the corner of my eye. His eyes remain on the road,
but his fingers clench around the wheel. I wonder what he’s thinking. Is he
wondering who I’m texting? He shouldn’t think so hard about it.
E: Definitely. Romantic night?~
L: If you want to call it that… then yes.
I smile faintly.
“Eren…” I can barely hear him over the rain, beginning to pour onto the car.
“Mikasa and Armin are worried.”
I lift my gaze to the older boy. He doesn’t look at me, but his tense body says
a lot about how he feels.
They can stay troubled, if they want. If I told them what I was doing, they
would be furious. Mikasa, especially. I still want to know why they dislike
Levi so greatly – he’s a teenager, just like all of us, even if he does wear a
lot of black and is a pronounced loner.  
“So what,” I mumble.
E: What time?
L: What time do your parents go to sleep?
E: Nine.
L: I’ll pick you up at 10.
I’ve never snuck out before. He truly is dangerous – and I love it. I bite my
lip, worrying at the soft skin.
“Is it that guy? Levi?”
I snap my head up.
“So what if it is?” I growl. He sucks in his bottom lip, suddenly more tense
and perilous on his own. I shove my phone back in the pocket of my bag,
crossing my arms. It isn’t any of his business, in the first place. I can be
with who I want to be with, and he should have thought about that before he
called me a whore and told me to go away.
My shoulders bunch close to my head, and my stomach clenches in my abdomen. I’m
my own fucking person, and I’m tired of people trying to control me.
“Listen, Eren,” he says, just as he pulls up to my house. I’m thankful I can
leave if I don’t want to hear what he has to say. “I understand that you’re…
rebellious and all. You can do what you want. I’m just saying, he’s not… good.”
“Good is an opinion, Jean.”
He doesn’t speak for a moment, stunned with my response. There are people out
there who love to get bit, beaten and hurt. Maybe I’m one of those people?
Maybe I don’t want a good boyfriend?
“We just want you to be safe.”
“I’ll use a fucking condom,” I snap, yanking the door handle and grabbing my
bookbag. He seems surprised I’d say something so intense, but it’s all I had.
Maybe I won’t, just to piss him off. I slam the door, rather hard, hoping his
stupid window will shatter and his perfect parents will yell at him.
I stomp up the steps, leaving Jean to smack his head on the steering wheel.
 
 
 
 
 
 I put on my best outfit.
It’s to spite Jean, in part, but the other part is that I want Levi to like
what he sees. I’m his, now, and Jean can’t say anything to stop me. When Levi
sees me, he’ll be mine, too. I can have what I want, not what Jean or Mikasa or
even Armin wants – I’ll be my own person.
I stare at myself in the mirror. I look different. I’m used to wearing my
school uniform, so seeing myself in this is new and it feels wonderful.
Especially since I know a boy will be seeing it – a boy that I like, not a boy
that Armin or Mikasa likes me being with.
I touch the gap between a black, pleated waist-high skirt, and the crop top
that matches. It’s barely three inches wide, but it still feels like too much.
Make yourself uncomfortable for him. It’s not yourself you’re looking to
impress. Besides, what’s three inches of skin, just below my ribcage, going to
do? At least I covered up most of my legs with thigh-highs. The most you can
see is my upper leg, and then everything else is hidden.
I hug my body, suddenly so very sure that this was a mistake. I have five
minutes, and he’ll be here. The boy that everyone wants, including me. But I’ll
be alone, and how long have I known him? Maybe three months?
But I love talking to him. His voice is so, so nice – it makes me feel nice,
like sugar and spice. His eyes.
Would I mind letting his eyes rove down my body?
No, I wouldn’t.
God, I want them to.
I hear the sound of rocks cracking beneath wheels, an engine purring just
outside. I grab my jacket and pull it on, before opening the lock on my window
and thrusting it up. I slip out, one leg at a time, and finally gather myself
just outside the window. I leave it shut, but not locked. I’d rather like being
able to come back.
As expected, Levi is sitting out front in the car. I cross the lawn, still
pulling the sleeves of my jacket.
He opens the door for me – the look of amusement on his face is evident from
the moment I’m at the door.
“Hey there, cheerleader,” I roll my eyes, slipping in just beside him. I’d
overdressed, it seems. He’s not in his uniform like I’m used to, but a band t-
shirt and torn black jeans. He looks better like this, casual. “Is there a
reason you’re dressed like every other girl at our school?”
“You don’t like it?” I grin at him, pulling my skirt down more over my thighs.
His eyes follow, but he doesn’t get much. “I can always change. That is, if you
want to wait a while.”
“No. You look beautiful.”
I wasn’t really expecting those kinds of words. How long had it been since
someone has called me beautiful? Heat floods my face, destroying the care-free
nature I’d adopted just before I’d left. I attempt to find words, but there’s
nothing in my mind aside from the ice of his gaze. It takes longer than usual
to respond.
“Thank you,” I say. It isn’t much, but it’s something. I don’t want to sound
like an idiot.
He shifts gears, chuckling softly. That nice voice. Why does Jean want me to
leave him?
“No need. I’ve never thanked anyone for stating fact, before, and you shouldn’t
start, either,”
How does he know exactly what to say in moments like these?
“So, where are we going, prince charming?”
He raises a brow at me, but keeps his eyes on the road.
“Where do you wanna go?”
Good question. Where do I? His bed. I cross my arms, running my fingertips over
my forearm. It smells nicer in here than it did in Jean’s car – like smoke and
roses. I quite prefer it over alcohol.
We could always go to the town, maybe stop at a icecream shop. That sounds like
a normal date – I don’t like normal, anymore. Maybe because he exists, and he’s
here with me. It’d be stupid for me to just choose the easiest possible choice.
Besides, I’d rather do something dangerous.
“You didn’t have anything in mind, genius?”
“Well, I did… but you’re a good boy, right? Can’t do those kinds of things with
good boys.”
“Who said I was good?” I say.
He gives me a faint side glance, tracing down my sitting form. I sit up a
little more, baring the ring of skin along my upper waist. His eyes stay there
a little longer than everywhere else. I’m not a good little boy, not anymore.
Not with him.
“Mm. Maybe we can make a change of plans,” his voice is laden with a kind of
sweet poison. This time, I’ll sign my death wish in blood readily.
We make a U-turn. Breaking laws, already – but it’s not like anyone is
watching.
The only person watching is God, and even he’s given up on us.
Chapter End Notes
     Next *update*;;; will have the sexiness;;;
***** Break Me: Part 1 *****
Chapter Notes
     Alrighty !! So, I split this chapter into two parts, because it was
     getting w a y too long, so the next part actually has the sexiness.
     I've updated in one day, so you don't have to wait for the
     *cough*smut*cough* kinky stuff when I'd already said you'd get it
     sometime next chapter. SO, he r e yougo.
Blood drips from the tip of my blade. The girl trembles on the ground,
clutching her ribs where I’d lashed out at her. Her eyes are wide, absurdly
honey-brown in the afternoon light. Every breathe she makes is harsh in my
ears, pounding against the inside of my brain, reminding me she’s still alive,
when I should have just stabbed her and gotten it over with.
I can’t let her live, now that she knows what I am. I’m a monster, a psychopath
that doesn’t feel anything but obsession.
Need, need, need, need.
She shuffles back, her uniform black shoes scrabbling against the concrete of
the sidewalk. I step near, skirt swaying and knife trembling in my palm. I
sharpened it just for her, so she could feel it in between her ribs, where her
bird-like heart beats for my boyfriend.
Mine, mine, mine, mine.
“P-Please. I… I don’t know what you want,” the girl – abomination – whimpers.
Tears have begun to pool in her eyes, a desperate last cry for sympathy before
she dies like the bitch she is. I wipe the knife’s blade on my skirt, relieving
it of its crimson stains. She breathes faster, like a hummingbird’s wings,
frantic in her lungs. “What do you want from me!”
I’m thankful I chose to attack her while she was on the way home from practice.
If I’d chosen to be just a little later, I would be in her neighborhood now,
and they’d all hear me. But no one can hear her scream now, because no one is
around to listen. Does a tree really fall if no one is around to hear it hit
the dirty ground? It’s just a child’s memory. A fairy’s last breath.
“K-Kuchel. That’s your name, right?” She gasps, desperate for me to speak. I
pause, knife tight in my hand. I still bleed, but not for her. I do it all for
him.
“Yes,” I say. I don’t step any nearer to her body, because she’s already
stopped trying to escape. I tilt my head, thoughtful – if I kill her, what fun
will there be? I worked so hard for the boy she’s in love with, and then she’s
going to try and take him? Of course, she deserves any torture I’d want to give
her.
“What… what did I do wrong?”
Everything. You spoke to my everything.
I silently remember all the times I’d been picked on. She stood idly by, a
frown on her average face, lips just slightly turned down, like she disliked
the situation but wanted nothing to do with it. I remember the fist that
connected to the locker just beside my head, how I stood perfectly still, eyes
locked with the highschool boy I know would later hurt me. He liked to play
games on the field, but he did more than that off the field.
“Nothing,” is all I manage to say. Her bronze eyes share my pain, if only a
fluttering millisecond.
“I won’t tell anyone,”
“It won’t matter,” I snap. She stiffens, tears pouring down her face only
quicker. Her makeup is smudged on her cheeks, like coal.
I take another step. Then another. I watch the cold fear envelope her again,
how it drains the warmth from her tanned face. I want to rip her intestines
out, use it to tie her up on her parent’s doorstep. I’ll gift her heart to the
boy I love, and he’ll understand why.
“Kuchel.”
I stop again. I’ll listen to her last words – I’m not that horrible.
“It’s for him, isn’t it?”
It is.
“He doesn’t love you,” the abomination says, with all the audacity of someone
who isn’t beneath my knife.
“He gave me his child,” I breathe. I have his child in me, so thus that is all
the love I need. All the love I desire, and she can’t take that from me.
“He didn’t mean it,” I begin to shake with fury. He meant it. He always did,
every moment – the locker, the football field, the locker rooms, the bathroom
stall- “He felt bad for you.”
My breath becomes trapped in my throat. What does she mean? Is she only trying
to stop me? Of course she is – she values her life like an animal values its
food, and she won’t ever let go if it. She values it as much as I value the boy
who fathers my child.
“You… you were always so alone. You looked… empty,”
I was empty since I was born. I am a husk, a tree that’s been hallowed out so
other creatures can fester within me. Her hazel eyes are filled with a type of
emotion I know I have never felt – regret. She regrets that she ever felt bad
for me, and I now regret that I’d ever let her think I was weak. I’m not weak,
I’m just silent. Silence pays the most, these days.
“I am empty,” I say. My voice sounds vague, like it’s faded in my brain.
“But… he filled you, didn’t he?”
He did. He made me whole. He was the rings of my tree, and every second was
another I could count later. The red begins to fade from my vision, and all I
see is a teenage girl, barely 16. Karla. The girl that held doors open for
others, always smiled at everyone that passed by. She’s amazing at cooking,
from what I’ve heard from Home Ed. She’ll be a beautiful mother one day.
Will I?
This small child within me, barely two months old. Hiding the bump from my
father will be hard, but it won’t matter as long as she stays alive for me.
I know why he loves her. Because she gave him something worth living for – and
he gave me something worth living for. She gave him kindness and love, and me?
I’ve given him nothing, have I?
But he still gave me my little girl.
“Kuchel. If you leave… I won’t say a word. I won’t go anywhere near him
anymore.”
I let my eyes flutter closed. I can smell the afternoon on our heels, the light
buzzing of summer insects and the tweeting of baby birds. If I leave her now,
she will continue to love him. The possession I feel towards him is painful and
horrible, like ripping ribs from my body one by one with each foot I’m away
from him. But at least I have this child. If I hurt her, the police will come.
They always do, just not for me.
The concrete we stand on will be lit with red and blue, and I will be taken
away. Maybe not today, but they always find out.
I breathe in one last time, the breath of a lovesick girl, not a fairy.
I drop the knife on the concrete – it clatters, then bounces into the lush
summer grass.
I leave the girl on the ground, bleeding from a shallow cut across her ribs.
She does not make a word, instead vouching to drag herself to her feet,
watching me leave with what I have left.
It’s a battle I cannot win.
Kenny will understand.
 
 
 
 
Greenery crunches beneath our feet, twigs snapping and birds chirruping lazily
from the overgrown trees. Eren ambles behind me, completely unaffected by the
nature that surrounds us. Of course, I’m leaving a wide margin for him to walk
through by shoving branches aside for him, and I’ve also spent most of my life
underground, aside from the occasional chances I’d get to help Kenny.
What I do remember of nature is when my mother would bring me to the spring
behind our house. We’d always be in a rush to get home, and I was barely old
enough to walk – father was always angry when we returned, ripping my mother’s
skirts and cursing her. I was barely three, and watching it was a pain even
then, even if I didn’t really understand what was happening.
I’d taken Eren onto commercial property that’s not been cut down yet – I’m
surprised he trusted me enough to climb into the damn eerie forest. It seems
like he’s never watched any slasher movies. I don’t intend to hurt him,
anyways. The only time I may consider it is if he runs away.
I silently recall the way my father grabbed my mother by her hair as she tried
to pull away, dragging her back like she was a doll. His boot on her cheek, her
sobbing, the blood pooling on the floor.
I sometimes wondered if she enjoyed it. She laughed, sometimes, even spat on
him like it was a game of who could be worse.
I know I never liked it. My mother was a kind woman; she was simply in a lot of
pain. I would be, too.
“Are we almost there?” Eren calls, panting and flushed. It doesn’t affect me as
harshly, the climbing and all, because I’ve barely broken a sweat. You could
say I have quite a lot of practice.
“Yeah. Just a few more meters, and we’re there. You want me to carry you?” I
raise a brow at him over my shoulder. He flushes darker, and makes a soft growl
of indignity.
“’Course not! I’m a grown m-“
“Shut up, you’re barely 16.”
He huffs, swiping a twig out of his way. He’s really quite amusing – he
probably didn’t think I’d take him out into the night towards a forest area, so
the skirt and crop shirt really must be getting quite annoying. His eyeliner is
still immaculate, though, so I really can’t complain about it myself. I quite
like how he looks with cat eyes.
It isn’t but another quick moment before I push aside one last branch, into a
small clearing. At the end of it, it drops steeply into a dipping hill. Beneath
that, it’s nothing but city lights and a fresh breeze from the north.
This is where I dumped a body when I was 13, where Kenny helped me tip the
small, frail body of one of his many girlfriends off into the night.
Eren trips up beside me – his entire body is shivering with the heat, and his
skirt looks to have been torn at one edge. I reach to touch it, but the shorter
boy jolts, blushing dark and skipping back once. I’m guessing he assumed I’d
lift his skirt, but that’d be too bold. I roll my eyes.
“W-What is this place?” He breathes, peering out over into the city. It’s
mostly orange lights, but the occasional blue and white blinds us both. In this
state, there isn’t many tall buildings, but it’s still a massive city. The
drive down her was nearly forty-five minutes, due to the fact it’s the state’s
capital and we’re due further south.
“I used to come here a lot,” I say absently. He flattens his skirt down,
recomposing himself. I reach to tug a leaf out of his hair, causing him to
huff.
“Really?” He sits up straight, peering up to me. I would prefer forgetting the
time I’d been in that stupid fucking cage, and how that picture appeared to me.
His face was so innocent, so kind – I could make so many assumptions of his
personality, just from how he gazed so lovingly at that camera. He was so
young, and I was so broken.
I still am.
I quietly slump on the ground, letting my legs suspend into the air. Eren
follows suit, settling on the ground directly beside me. We had to trespass and
bypass a few security guards to get here, as well as climb a fence, but it was
worth it. It really is quite beautiful – calming. The stiff breeze seems to
cool us both down, winding our nerves back a notch or two. People are always
angrier and more hostile when it’s hot. I should know that, because Kenny
taught me at an early age.
“So… brought any other girlfriends here, before?”
“No. My Uncle’s been here with me before, though, a long time ago,” I say. I
don’t want to lie to him anymore, but I can always give him half-truths. He
came here with me, sure, but it wasn’t to gaze at the city like he thinks it
was.
In the corner of my vision, I can see the breeze brush hair from the younger
boy’s face, tickling the tips of it just past his flushed ears. His vivid green
eyes stay trapped on the many stout buildings collecting into small
neighborhoods and fading off into taller, more thin buildings. I feel like I
could reach out and touch them, and they’d fall. The moon wades in the sky like
it’s out for a midnight swim, illuminating his fine features.
“You’re not really from France, are you?”
No. I’m not. I have French blood, and my mother used to sing songs to me in
French, but I was never there. Of course, I know a lot of the language as well,
due to the books mother kept around during the day – and Kenny’s “code
language”. I’ve always wanted to go to France, of course, but how could I? I’m
trapped, whether I like it or not.
Kenny’s still at my shoulder, thinking I’m waiting for the perfect moment to
murder Eren. He doesn’t know that I’m obsessed with him, that I’m terrified of
him dying. I would kill so many people just to have him nearby. I wouldn’t
hesitate.
“No,” is all I can force myself to say.
“So, your transfer papers were all plagiarized?”
“You could say that,”
Smart kid. How could I have brought my uncle here if I was in France that long
ago?
He doesn’t seem to affected by the new information, though, even shifting to
press his cheek to my shoulder, curling his legs up onto the grass beside him.
His body is warm, likely because of the trek up here and the brief moment we
had to slip past a thirty-something old man talking on a radio.
“What happened to you?”
I don’t know. Maybe I should ask that myself – I don’t remember some of my
childhood, just the small, useless things. For example, I remember my father
beating my mother, but I don’t remember ever going to school. I remember the
spring, but I don’t remember having any friends. It’s a blur, a lot of my
younger days, but what was always the most distorted was the time I lived with
Kenny.
“That’s a vague question,” I say.
“Are you a criminal? Are you coming here to… escape, or something?”
“No. Not necessarily,”
How’d he feel if he knew that I was here to kill him, as a dirty side-job for
Kenny? I’d killed for Kenny before, but I can’t bring myself to kill Eren. He
is beautiful, and I can’t do it without hurting myself, too. He’s my reason to
live, and being near him brings all sorts of odd, jittery feelings. When he
leaves, I break a little, and I have to bite my tongue so I don’t drag him back
and force him to stay.
Force him to stay. What would that be like?
What if he was in a cage, just like I was? I could do whatever I want with him,
and he’d have no say in the matter. I imagine those thin wrists bound in rope,
hearing him cry because of me. Beautiful. I would cut a thin little line down
that flat expanse of his belly, run the tip of something sharp up his aching --
“I don’t mind. If you were a criminal, I mean. I… don’t really care. I like
being around you,”
I’m glad he’d cut my imagination short. I breathe a deep breath, swiping the
many ideas away. Don’t hurt him. Don’t hurt him. You can’t.
“What if I’d killed someone, Eren?”
“T-Then so be it! People make mistakes,”
“What if I don’t regret it?”
“Then they must have done something horrible to you,”
I give him a sideways glance. Eren is the innocence of all the world in one
little bundle. I grin a little, which earns a little whimper from Eren.
“Stop giving me that stupid side smirk!”
“Do you like it?” I tease him. He pouts, shaking his head.
“It’s just… so snarky,” he pulls his thighs closer to his body, and I reach to
wrap my arm around his waist. My fingertips graze over his exposed skin,
causing it to heat up. “I don’t… like it,”
“I think you like it,” I say, burying my nose in his hair. He nuzzles deeper
into my shoulder – I’m getting tired of how far away he is, how I can’t touch
him where I want. It’s a limit of control, and limits have always been my worst
fear. Ever since that cage in Kenny’s basement came into existence.
I think he doesn’t like the lack of proximity, rather than the control, because
he shifts at long last to settle himself in my lap, facing me. His body presses
into mine, the skirt sliding up his legs.
“What if I do? What’s so wrong about liking certain things?”
“There are some things that are taboo, Eren. Like being tied up. Or wanting to
be hurt,”
“You can tie me up,” he says. He doesn’t know what kind of permission he just
gave me, what kind of images just flashed in my head. I want to be buried
inside of him, I want him tied to the headboard of the bed, baring everything
for me to see. I blink, and the thoughts fade to the innocent boy sitting in my
lap.
My hands fall to his thighs, tracing up beneath his skirt. I feel his skin heat
the farther I go, closer and closer to the place where his thighs meet his
hips.
“Don’t wish for stupid things,”
His green eyes flutter cutely, those lips pursing in annoyance. I want to run
my thumb along his bottom lip, let him bite me like a puppy trying to nibble.
I’d teach him to be a dog for me, if I could.
“I can wish for anything I want,”
“And what would that be?”
Here, he stops. I don’t think he even knows what he really wants. He barely
knew what I wanted from him, and I still don’t know what he wants from me. My
hands pause on his thighs, feeling his hips arch up a little. He doesn’t even
know what to say, or he’s too afraid to say it – if it’s the latter, then I may
have an idea of what he’s thinking. I can say, myself, that I want to do
whatever he asks of me.
“I want…” his eyes stay locked with mine, thoughtlessly memorizing every piece
of me that he can get. I can see the faint fear that lingers in his depthless
eyes, suspended there until I give him reason to not be afraid. He had told me
he wasn’t, but tongues can always lie. They can do other things, too, but the
most they’ve ever done is tell stories that center around dishonesty. “A… a lot
of things…”
“Start with one,”
“I’ve thought about h-having sex with you,”
Of course he has. The kind of relationship we have isn’t purely emotional. Eren
has a body, and I have one too – I know good and well that Eren has needs. I
do, too, but I haven’t felt those kinds of things until he’d been around me.
One day, I’d like to see him undress without a pane of glass between us.
“You don’t have to wish so hard for that,” I breathe. God, he’s sitting right
here in my lap, skirt hiked up his absurdly long legs. I doubt he’s forgotten
that his panties are catching on the zipper of my jeans with every breath he
takes, or that my hands have been wandering for a long time now. The longer we
sit like this, the longer we delay what he’s apparently been wishing for.
“I’m not doing it on a hill,” he says.
I grin again, amused. I could do anything, absolutely anywhere. I’d fuck him in
a park against a tree, if he let me.
“How about we cut this date short?”
***** Break Me: Part 2 *****
Chapter Notes
     *screams from the rooftops* REALLY SHITTY PORN
     ANYWAYS, if you want to skip it, don't read the unitalicized part of
     the chapter! The italicized part is important to the story.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Karla and I both wake at nearly five in the morning to an incessant knocking.
The sound is small, as if made by a small hand, but it’s loud enough for both
of us to easily hear. We’d tried to ignore it at first, but after a while,
Karla’s hand touched my shoulder and she nodded faintly, telling me I should
probably go and see to it.
I rub her swollen belly once before pushing myself out of the bed, grabbing
some pants from the drawers and hopping around while I tug them on. I have both
legs on by the time I get to the bottom of the stairs, and the knocking has
turned into banging.
At long last, I pull the door open, and the girl’s hand stops mid-air. Her eyes
are wide – the same grey eyes I remember very well from high school. Which had
ended only a year ago. Next to her, a little girl stands, red scarf wrapped
around her neck. She couldn’t be any older than three years, maybe less.
Kuchel. She looks frailer than usual, her pitch black hair hanging around her
ovular face, draping well past her waist. Her clothes hang from her body – I
wonder for her health, but decide I shouldn’t question it. She’s always eaten
like a bird, but not so much to where she’d become a skeleton.
“Grisha,” she says, in a faint greeting. She peers past me into the livingroom,
but there is no one for her to see. Karla and I moved here just after getting
married – less than three months ago.
A small hand pulls at Kuchel’s skirt, bunched into a small pale fist. The
little girl has Kuchel’s eyes, and her dark hair, but it’s cut fairly short.
“It’s been a long time, hasn’t it, Kuchel?” I say. My voice is tired to my own
ears, scratchy with another sleepless night. I don’t sleep as well as I used
to.
Last time I saw Kuchel was before highschool ended. She had dropped out just as
she turned 17, and had disappeared into the world we were all fearing at the
time. I could call her brave, or I could call her stupid. I can’t imagine that
she’s made it well for herself, considering her frailty and the small child at
her knees, but I can’t judge her for wanting to drop out. We were all suffering
for her, both Karla and I. Karla more so than I, because she was the one who
suggested Kuchel and I date. It was a short fling, and a painstaking one.
There was something always so odd about her. Karla knows most of it, because
Karla was the one who wanted to make everything okay for her. I never wanted to
be anywhere near Kuchel, I’d rather watch her suffer and pity from afar, but
Karla pushed me into it. That was before we were even considering being a
couple ourselves.
“This is Mikasa,” Kuchel says, as if bypassing the words I’d just said. She
pushes her skirts aside, showing the small girl to me. Mikasa bows her head for
only a moment, black hair coming free from behind her ears and draping infront
of her pale little face. “She… is my daughter,”
“And?”
“I can’t take care of her anymore.”
I raise a brow. Is she saying that I can? Karla and I are already expecting
another child, and we’re both just fresh out of highschool. I’m barely able to
support all three of us, and I don’t think Kuchel understands that. But the
longer I look at the little girl, the more I realize that her frame is
beginning to match Kuchel’s. They’re both underweight, and a bruise rests under
the small girl’s eye, fading from time.
Kuchel has always been attracted to bad people. For the short time we were
together, she’d been prone to thinking I would hit her all the time. I know all
about her father, and everyone knew what the football player did to her. He had
told the whole school about her, how she cried.
“Kuchel… don’t tell me you’ve…”
“He’s all I have,”
“He’s a psychopath.”
And he’s hurting their child, too, it seems. There’s something oddly familiar
about the little girl – the way her eyes gaze up at me, the small freckle on
her neck, just where her chin meets her neck. She bounces on the balls of her
feet for a moment, looking up at me with such oddly empty eyes. She looks a lot
like Kuchel, but she looks nothing like the man Kuchel is undoubtedly with.
“Please. Can you take her?”
I shake my head. I know that Ian must hurt the little girl, but I can’t give
her a home. Someone else may be able to, though.
“There’s a couple that lives nearby, on Mangrove, 75. His wife is infertile…”
“Perfect.”
She doesn’t wait for more, bending to pick the young girl up and settle her on
her bony hip. The little girl grasps for me, but her mother takes her little
hand and tucks it back against her chest. I watch her turn to leave, but I
can’t let her simply walk away.
“Wait, Kuchel-“
She pauses, turning only halfway. Only now am I seeing her limp, how bruised
her left leg is. Dark purple, apple green – like someone had pounded it with a
sledge hammer. I wince a little, but make no mention of it.
“You… you can’t keep doing this,” I beg her to turn and ask me for help. But
she will never, for she is an empty husk, and husks don’t ask for help.
She can’t. One day, she’ll die. Living with the man who’d hurt her is like
throwing yourself into Hell. For all I know, she enjoys the pain and lives off
of it. Maybe it’s all she knows, all she can understand.
“Goodbye, Grisha.”
She turns entirely, and leaves. I watch her walk away, favoring her right leg.
That is the last time I see her, for five years. The next time, she will be on
the news, reported a suicide and an abuse victim.
Her four-year-old son will briefly be shown, completely unbruised, with the
same empty eyes as his mother. He will not shed a tear, but instead he will
smile as his father claws at the air, screaming profanity at the younger boy as
he’s dragged away to a cop car.
 
 
 
Eren. Eren. Eren—
His body molds into mine, small fingers dragging across my back, up into my
hair. His breath is hot against my throat, and the sounds he makes – God, the
sounds. I want to hear them every day, every night. I want to hear him scream –
no, no, no. No screaming. I’ve heard that too much.
My favorite thing to hear is the small, panting wails. Forget the harsh sounds,
forget the begging. His green eyes look up into mine with such a loving trust,
the kind I don’t deserve. Had my mother ever looked at my father like that? I
can’t imagine that they did, because I’d never seen them kiss, I’d never seen
them smile at each other at all, lest it was in spite.
It doesn’t matter. My father doesn’t matter, wherever he is, rotting in jail or
in a cage like I was. What does is the small body beneath mine, the hot insides
that clench around me every time I roll my hips into his. If I do it just
right, he shudders and makes that beautiful sound I love to hear so much, a
reward that I want all to myself.
Eren, Eren, Eren – God, Eren.
I don’t say it, but I think it. He can’t keep his mouth closed for longer than
a moment, letting my name spill out on occasion with soft, fluttery moans. I
grip the undersides of his thighs harder, and he jolts, nails raking down my
back. I’ll bleed for him.
“Levi,” he whispers, just beside my ear. That’s not my name. His name isn’t
Eren. What are we, anyways? Humans, beasts, monsters, criminals.
All of the above, I marked on the page, the police standing around me as I
checked each and every box for abuse. Sexual, Physical, Emotional –
Eren. Eren.
Blood drips, but it’s not blood, it’s sweat. My sweat. I watch Eren’s bead on
his chest, the crop top pushed just past his perked nipples. I lean down,
running my tongue over one of the small peaks. He gasps, fingers grabbing for
my hair desperately. He can hurt me, I don’t mind. Hurt me. Do it. We’ll be
monsters together.
“Levi, I-I’m… haa- s-slow… slow down,” I can’t, I want to say. I can’t, because
I’m lost.
He arches up against me, against the scars along my stomach. His green eyes
water, but they don’t drip down his flushed cheeks, making his eyes appear like
pools. I would lick up his tears, if he would let me. I would lick up anything
he made for me.
Eren, Eren, Eren. “Eren,”
I let one slip past my lips, and he moans at the word. Really, that’s all it is
– a word. But it represents the boy beneath me, it represents everything about
him. I didn’t want to fuck him in the back of my car, but God, everything about
him wouldn’t let me wait. The moment we got back to the car, I had him against
the hood, eating him alive with fingers and teeth. He didn’t complain, and I
didn’t have the time to. I wouldn’t have, either way.
And when he pulled me to the back seat, I didn’t complain when he tugged his
panties off his legs, leaving the skirt on for me to enjoy. It hurt him at
first, but the pain on his face was more than enough to keep me hard. I wonder
if my father felt the same towards my mother. Was her pain something beautiful
to him? When he made me, did she cry? Was I born through her suffering?
“F-Fuck,” I growl. Eren clenches when I curse, so I know he enjoys hearing my
voice. I bury my face in his shoulder, and his fingers bury into my flesh,
pulling me apart by the seams. The seams my father and Kenny made.
Break me, Eren, I beg in my head. I want to be hurt, just like he’s so willing
to be hurt. He shouldn’t have fallen for me.
He breaks before I get the chance to. He makes one high cry, and comes onto his
stomach. I don’t stop for him, even though I’m sure I’m beginning to
overstimulate him. I flip him, and his cheek presses into the car door, but I
don’t care. His back is red from rubbing harshly against leather, but he
doesn’t complain when I drag my tongue across the area between his shoulder
blades. He jolts, pressing himself harder on my cock, letting me fill him
however much I want to.
Even if he didn’t want it, would I still be doing this? I can’t say as though I
wouldn’t. I just wanted to forget for a moment, but it only made the memories
come harder and harder.
He balls his fingers up against the door, rocking on his spread knees – he
begins to bite his lip to muffle the sweet noises, but I don’t want him to.
Eren. Break me.
I grip his hips hard when I hit my high – he gasps, shuddering, his entire body
becoming jello beneath me. I let him grind back more, taking every ounce of
what I have to give him. I wonder if he likes the idea of my essence being in
him. I sure do. He slumps against the car door when I pull out, leaving a
string of white between him and I. It drips, but I don’t pay mind to it.
I’m thankful I can’t give him a child. It would be just like me – a monster. A
disgusting mess. I’ll start the cycle again, and later that child will pass the
Ackerman blood. We’re all a little broken, maybe my mother more than others.
I kiss down his spine, to the round curve of his backside, where I begin to
kneed my fingers into him. When I pull him apart, cream white drips down his
thighs, onto the leather of the seat.
“Disgusting,” I murmur. The younger boy waves his ass a little, seeming to
disagree.
“It feels weird,”
I know it does. I leave a kiss on his flushed backside, sitting up to fix my
pants.
We’re both hot, and I can probably get that by now. Before, I was too concerned
about fucking this beautiful boy that I didn’t care that we may get heat
stroke. I pull my keys from my pocket while he rolls, with a lot of struggling,
onto his back. I find his panties on the floor of the car, picking them up to
slip part of it onto his left leg, and then onto his right. He doesn’t help
much, but I don’t mind. I toss the keys onto the front seat, working his
underwear back up over his thighs. His eyes are lidded, watching silently.
He really is delicious. I could feast on him a little longer, or I could get
him home. He wriggles his hips, but I push his black skirt down.
“Levi-“
“I’m taking you home,” I say. His emerald eyes linger on me a moment longer,
over my shirtless torso. He reaches to brush a fingertip over my chest, where a
long scar resides, the size of my forearm.
“What happened to you,” he whispers. I know it’s not a question to me, but
rather to himself. He knows things he shouldn’t, and I’m not sure I want to
know what he does. Maybe he doesn’t know anything at all, and he’s just very
good at reading people. I’ve been a closed book my entire life, on lock and
key. I hold my own key, and I’ll never give it to anyone else.
Maybe one day he’ll know. He’s bared all for me to see, hasn’t he?
“A lot of things,” I press a brief kiss to his forehead, and he returns it to
my throat.
“Whatever it is… forget it. Replace it with me,”
I will.
Trust me.
Chapter End Notes
     Sorry it's short <3 there will be more in later chapters,,,,, cause
     i'm a hungry little kinkster and i can't write without porn for
     long,,,,,
***** ((Author Note)): 2 WEEK HAITUS *****
Heyya readers! 
I know this (may) annoy you, but I'm deciding that I'm taking a short (very
short) haitus on this fic in particular. My other fic, Invisible Fears, will
continue to update, though! 
I'm taking this break mostly so I can better plan out beyond this point. Of
course, I'd just finished the 13th chapter (the PROMISED SMUTTER FICCER), and
after this point things will get VERY HEATED, and I'M NOT READY FOR THIS. I
have the bare minimum planned out (the skeleton of the fic, if you will. Such
as the family, the settings, the ultimate ending), but I'd like to get together
absolutely everything. I have a very good idea of how I expect this to end, and
I'm really hoping there won't be anyone who disagrees with how I choose to end
it. THANKFULLY, I've decided that Eren will not die, and you do not have to
worry! Levi will not die either. However, several lives will be lost in this. 
As for everyone who's wondering as to Levi's mental stability, I'd like to say
that Levi is majorly traumatized. He's likely suffering from C-PTSD, his
mother's personality disorder and a mood disorder, thus making his feelings and
emotions towards people around him and himself very, very odd and fluctuating.
In the beginning, he may have seemed more hostile, but he's slowly becoming
accustomed to being around Eren and Eren is becoming accustomed to being around
Levi. 
I'd like to say, as well, that Levi is not entirely the "evil villain" of this
fic. In real life, a lot of roles are involved, and people who may sometimes
seem to be bad may be good in the end. Trauma causes proneness to violence,
sexual mistreatment and even intrusive thoughts. Of course, Levi'd grown up
believing a lot of things his uncle did were normal and okay (rape, sexual
abuse, physical violence), and so he'd likely be very prone to having sexually
violent thoughts about his friends and others he may come across (RED FLASHING
"EREN" SLIDES ACROSS THE SCREEN). 
But anyways, aside from this short little reminder, I'm going to say that I'm
going to be very haitus for about 2 weeks. I've been updating a lot, like maybe
once every other day, so I feel like I need to hold off and put some interest
on Invisible Fears. 
Invisible Fears is a lot more stable than this story (IF has a lot less
unhealthy relationships/rape/violence/death n despair), and I feel like it'd be
better for me to continue on that for a while.
But thank you all for reading! I'm very, very happy to have reached my goal,
and I can't believe you're all still here. People who had commented on my first
chapter are still hanging around, commenting on the most recent updates. You
guys make my world go round, and I'm not sure what this story would be without
you! 
 
-Author, SW
 
***** Little Girl *****
Chapter Notes
     Minor gore in this chapter;;
     Heyoo! So, I released the hiatus super early because I found out some
     information. In... about a month, everyone in the home has to move
     out. AKA - I have three options. Foster home (chance of internet), a
     mental hospital (no internet), or my grandparents home (internet, but
     I had left them due to physical/emotional abuse and neglect). I'd
     like to say that my grandparents is the most likely thing to happen,
     because the scars on my wrists are months old, and foster homes for
     teenagers over 15 are super, super rare.
     Thus, I want to update as much as possible before August 1st.
     Thank you for reading ♥
Do you see the red? The voice whispers. The world is a void around me, empty
and stark black – there is no one, nothing but the boy on his knees in front of
me. Do you see all the red he can bleed? All for you?
His head is bowed, chocolate brown shielding me from the eyes I know are
beneath it. Green, green, green.Green like the emerald blouse the girl wore,
ripped from Kenny’s blade and bent so awkwardly on the floor. I sat at the
bars, sobbing fresh tears and trying to reach for her through the bars. I
didn’t even know her name, but there she was – a girl, a human.
Why don’t you kill him? Crimson drips onto the floor from the tip of his nose,
and he trembles, fingers clenching on the dark floor. He’s so young… you’ve
tainted him.
I have. The only reason I wanted him before was because he was fresh. He was
never touched by Kenny, never felt the kind of thing all those women did. The
prostitutes, the whores, the sluts. They were all just women, all in the wrong
place at the wrong time. If I didn’t taint Eren, he would one day. I don’t know
how I would have reacted if he did.
You can lick up his blood. Eren’s body slumps forward a little more. His arms
tremble, as if boneless. Look at him. Disgusting. Abomination.
I love him. I love him, and the voice in my head is just a liar. Eren is
beautiful, precious, kind. He looks for the best in everyone, and found it in
himself to look for it in me, didn’t he? I want to reach out and touch him,
grab him by the shoulders and pull him close. His shoulders shake, and he cries
sweet tears. I can’t move, I’m chained to the ground just like when I was in
the basement.
Hurt him like Kenny did to all those girls. Chain him up. Rip his fingers off.
Gauge out his eyes. Slit his throat, don’t let him die, though. Make him
suffer, listen to those beautiful screams.
I choke. Stop, stop, stop!Nothing could make me hurt Eren. No one could make me
kill him.
But the boy slumps all the way onto the floor. He’s entirely naked, blood
smudged over his tanned skin – his spine has a slice all the way down,
revealing white ridges of bone beneath it. He shudders again, making a
disgusting sound. Gargled, like he’s choking on blood.
Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.
I want to help him, but the image is so sick. So beautiful. So serene, like
touching the precipice of Hell is his final rest.
“H-Help,” he gags. “Rivaille,”
No. Don’t.
He has no green eyes, anymore. He is a husk. Instead, two empty holes stare up
at me, black and endless.
You’ve already murdered him, Rivaille. It’s over.
 
 
===============================================================================
 
 
 
I touch the flat of my stomach, the ridges of my hipbones, barely visible due
to my slight curve. My skin is tan, like a creamy caramel frappe, and my body
is curved as femininely as a slight female’s. Mikasa is more masculine than I
am – God, she even has abs. My legs are a new story – I don’t have a thigh gap,
but my thighs are soft and not muscular in the slightest.
This works for me. For some reason, I’ve never felt entirely male and I’ve
never felt entirely female. I can easily throw on a baggy t-shirt and some
jeans and automatically pass as a boy, or I could throw on a crop top and skirt
and be a girl.
Of course, that’s not why I’m really looking over my body. Levi had left marks
– small love bites over my stomach, on my throat, and little red spots along
the insides of my thighs where he’d nibbled me. He’d bruised my hips, but it’s
not bad – just darkening marks on my sides and hips. It didn’t hurt in the
moment, and it doesn’t hurt now unless I touch the bruises.
After that day, I skipped school. On Saturday, I slept in, and on Sunday today,
I’d spent part of the morning texting him. He’d told me I’m beautiful, but I
don’t understand why. When I look at myself, I see a person. That’s practically
it. What does he see from me?
He had to get off his phone for a while – for what, I don’t know, but it still
sucks that he did. I was enjoying our conversation, about him and what he does
when he isn’t around me. I learn that he likes music, and he’s interested in
criminal investigations. I’m not sure if that’s bad or good, but regardless, I
like that he isn’t going to stick to the mainstream jobs.
I sigh, watching the way my chest swells, then deflates. It’s fucking cold,
like usual, so my nipples are perked.
“Eren?”
I jolt, quickly grabbing my shirt off the mattress and throwing it on. It isn’t
but a few seconds later that the door opens, and my father enters. He’s
massive, in my door’s entrance, his head nearly touching the lintel. He looks
tired – when does he not? He works constantly, has a queer son, and his wife is
always hopping up to claim another day as “family day”. But at the same time,
my father has always looked gentle and kind. Like a doctor.
I wouldn’t dislike him so much if he didn’t look at me odd every time I wore a
skirt.
“Sorry if I barged in,” he says, though I still don’t even have pants on. Of
course the shirt is my sleep shirt and covers halfway down my thighs, but
still. “Your mother told me about this… boy you’re interested in,”
I flop down on the bed, pulling my legs up to rest beside me. I know he’s
struck by the feminine position, because his brows lower and he looks a little
less happy about being in my room. He doesn’t like to come in here, really –
mainly because the walls are baby blue but my sheets are pastel pink, along
with practically everything else. I sigh, digging my nails into the quilting of
my blanket.
He tilts his head to the spot beside me of the bed, asking me if he’s allowed
to come in and sit. I nod. It’s not like I’m going to bite him, but he acts
like I’m some sort of monster for liking pink and wearing panties.
I don’t look at him when he sits beside me, making the bed sink in. He’s like a
friendly giant – when I was little, I used to hang myself like a cape around
his neck, screaming and giggling as he dipped and swayed. Now we can’t even
have a conversation together without him saying something bad.
“Listen…” he starts, but his tongue catches and he has to pause. He looks so
out of place, sitting in my room. I swear he’s going to randomly grow a rose
crown on his head and turn into Jesus. “Boys are… confusing.” He says, at long
last. He tastes the word confusing, like he’d known it forever but never said
it. “They can hurt you, and sometimes they can be kind,”
“Levi is a good guy.”
“Are you sure that’s his name?”
I pause, freezing in my place on the bed. I give him an angry look, then bite
my lip, looking down. Of course he’s going to deny that someone really likes
me, that he’s really who he says he is. No one is supposed to love the ugly
queer boy.
“Eren… I’m just saying, you don’t know this boy as well as you think you do.”
“Why does everyone keep saying that!?” I snap, flying off the bed. He doesn’t
even flinch – instead, he sets his hands in his lap and stills. “I know Levi!
I-I’m the only one he ever really talks to. And… and who are you to suddenly
want to help me! You didn’t care until someone said they loved me.”
“Did he say that? Did the boy say he loved you?”
“N-No… maybe not—“
“Then why do you believe it, son?”
Of course. Of course he’s going to try and make me think I’m alone again. I’m
not alone. If I texted Levi now and asked him if he loved me, then maybe he
would say yes. He has to. I got undressed for him, I let him fuck me in the
back of a damn car. I clench my fists, crossing my arms over my stomach to hide
my hands. His eyes follow, knowing I’m already mad as it is.
“Your mother and I are concerned about this boy,”
“Why?” I whisper.
“We don’t think he’s exactly who he’s saying he is,” he confessed. My mother is
in on this? If he’s lying, then he could have told me last night. I silently
recall what he had said – a lot of things. What happened to him that made him
have to lie to me? If he even is lying, that is. “His uncle. His name is Kenny,
right?”
“Yes,” I think. I’d heard my mother mention the man before.
“Kenny Ackerman. He has a sister… that died, named Kuchel.”
This is new information. I’d wondered where Levi’s mother and father was, but
it never occurred to me that maybe she was dead. It’s a sad thought – I can’t
imagine what Levi must have felt. If my mother died, I’m not sure I would be
able to live through it.
“So?”
“She has a son named Rivaille,”
“And?”
“Eren, Kuchel has a bad history with this family,” my father faltered on the
woman’s name. Saying it, to him, is almost like a wound. I silently wonder who
this woman was, and what she had to do with my family, and the relationship I
have with Levi. “She wasn’t exactly a good woman. And the man she married was
far worse,”
“I don’t care about his family. He cares about me,” I objected, fingers curling
in further. I can feel my nails digging into the soft flesh of my palm.
“Eren… I’m just telling you. You may want to talk to him about these kinds of
things,”
He’s acting like he’s trying to be defensive, but he was the one who came in
here and tried to tell me my boyfriend was a liar. If he hates Levi so much,
why doesn’t he just forbid me from speaking with him? Don’t normal parents do
that? “Dad, I get that you’re afraid of me dating, but isn’t this a little too
far?”
“You are gay.”
I swallow thickly.
“I-I’m not gay. I’m… I’m interested in anyone,”
“But you like men, don’t you?”
I nod. There isn’t a way to deny that men are my primary interest – ever since
I was little, I’d liked watching the older boys play on the dusty field in the
playground. Other girls would sit with me, and we’d all ooand ahh over the
boys.
“It’s my job as your father to make sure you find the right one. I know I don’t
agree entirely with… your taste in men and outfits, but I can’t change your
mind on any of that, so the most I can do is make sure you are your safest.”
He’s only now talking about being a father? For the last few months, he’s only
scowled at what I wear or mentioned that my skirt is too short. “Eren, you’re
still my little boy,”
“What if I don’t want to be a boy?”
“Then you’ll be my little girl.”
I choke up at this. I didn’t expect it – I had expected him to say something
along the lines of but you have a penis, but instead I get this. Something I
want to hear. I’d had a retort on the tip of my tongue, ready to slide off the
moment he disagreed, but now there’s nothing. I make a small sound, and the
sides of his eyes crinkle with a little frown.
“Ah, boy—I mean, girl—don’t cry,”
“Dad, I’m—“ I choke, and fuck I feel my eyes water. He coos, opening his arms
and letting me bury my face in his chest, bent over just a little. He rubs my
back, letting me shiver and hold the tears back as hard as possible. “I’m not
e-either,” I whisper.
“Then what are you?”
“I don’t know,”
“You don’t have to know,”
And like that, the tears come rushing out.
***** Fresh Blood *****
The murderer felt no remorse for what he’d done, even as he stood over the
body. Blood smeared was smeared over his once pure white shirt, and grime from
the ground had joined it during the struggle. The teen laid lifeless and
emptily, a husk of a former life. How long had the whole ordeal been? It had
felt like an eternity, but his blood had sung too loud to hear the ticking of
the clock.
Kenny had done this many times before. In the cover of night and in the broad
daylight - but never had he killed a boy, and definitely not one below the age
of 18. His specialty was a grown woman. Those screams were the nicest to
indulge oneself in. Today, however, his victim was a friend of his enemies, and
it was worthy of the battle that ensued once he’d gotten the boy by his throat.
Armin Arlert. Barely old enough to be a freshman, yet already into his senior
year. The kid was in hysterics when Kenny had found him - he stood alone after
school, in a deep conversation over his phone. No doubt whoever he’d been
speaking to would soon call the cops out of fear for the final choked sound
their friend had made before Kenny had drove the blade between his
shoulderblades. When that wasn’t enough to kill him, only severely mame him,
he’d slid it across his throat and let him fall, gushing onto the concrete and
dirt.
Kenny crouched, finding his phone had ended the call. Blood smeared over the
screen, he shoved the electronic into his back pocket and stood, kicking the
body over onto it’s back.
It was smart to attack the kid after school in the parking lot’s blind spot -
he could leave the body there and go along the school’s outer edge and get away
with it clean. Not a single moment would he be caught on footage, and not a
single moment would the police spare a thought for him. He was the town shut
in.
Before he could turn and waltz away, a high ring began to blare from the flip
phone - a chime, a warning. On the screen, it read “Mikasa”.
Mikasa. Oh, Mikasa. She knew better than to partake in the Ackerman affairs,
for once an Ackerman became part of the fun, they’d never escape. Especially
the ones that spat on the family name. Kenny flipped the phone open and pressed
it to his ear.
“Armin?”
She sounded rightfully terrified. Kenny smiled.
“Hello, Mikasa! I’m afraid your friend has decided to take a short nap,” he
nudged his foot against the body. When he pulled away, blood was on the toes of
his shoe. “Maybe you should call back on a later date.”
There was a long, agonizing silence - the breathing he heard became deeper,
furious.
“You bastard. What did you do to Armin?”
“I only gave him a pleasant hello,”
“What the fuck did you do to him!”
“Listen, kid,” his voice fell. Kenny stalked around the body, wondering to
himself how well the boy would have looked in a skirt. He’d never thought of it
before now, but perhaps he did kill a woman - well, a potential woman. He
stopped at the foot of the body, and spoke. “My boy is only doing what he needs
to do. Your… Eren… will be dead by the end of the week, either by my hand or my
boy’s. I’ve waited long enough for a little good old fashion revenge, wouldn’t
you say?”
“If you lay a single finger on my friend, I will gouge your eyes out and use
them as golfballs.”
“Tch. Don’t be so petty, Mikasa. I’m only doing what my late sister would have
wanted…” Kenny murmured with mock sadness, before turning on his heel and
marching the other way around the body. He found he couldn’t keep still - he
was giddy with the kill, with the stench, with the mere presence of death.
“Kenny-”
“Anyways, my dear niece, I should probably take my leave. It’s been a long day,
you see, and I would like to clean up the scene. I’d like to have another nice
little chitchat like this later.”
“Kenny!”
He hung up, dropped the phone on the concrete and stepped on it, leaving it to
pool in the dark blood of his niece’s friend.
 
 
 
“Oh my god,” Eren breathed, hips rocking forward and back against mine. His
body is as wonderful as ever; my hands roam over his fine, curved hips and over
two firm road cheeks, pulling them apart. He quivers, biting his lip.
“Don’t be so fucking loud,” I hiss.
Staying after school to grind on a teacher’s desk wasn’t the smartest thing to
do, but it was the best option to my horny teenage brain. I couldn’t stand
watching him sway his hips as he stood at his locker, putting up books and
tugging at his skirt. Today it was pleasingly short, and my dick wasn’t exactly
prone to staying in my pants with him around.
The younger teen humphed and bounced just lightly, feeling my cock nudge up
against him. His face a dark red, he lifted his skirt and pressed down only
harder, forcing me to jerk up against him. Fucking hell.
“Hard,” he mumbles. I lick my lips before placing a brief kiss on crook of his
shoulder. He tastes delicious. He always does. “Feels funny.”
“Feels hot,” I grumble back. I grab him by his waist and pull him closer, shirt
pulled up his sides by my roaming hands. HIs flesh is soft and supple, just
right to lick and tease and bite-
No biting. I can’t hurt him.
“L-Levi, ah-”
I shush him softly. We only break so he can tug on the band of his panties,
lifting a leg from my lap to tug it off and throw it behind him. His length is
fully hard, a bead of precum already forming at his slit. A part of me wants to
lick it up, but I keep my mouth closed and instead begin unbuttoning my pants.
I can’t wait to feel him again, for the first time in damn near forever.
But just as I’m free, his phone begins to ring. I make a low growl, wanting to
toss it out the window, but before I can snatch it from the waistband of his
skirt he pulls it free and answers it.
I take the initiative and lean down to kiss and lick his nipples, quietly
listening in on his conversation.
“Mikasa?”
I perk up, making another soft, threatening growl.
“No, I can’t… right now, I’m sorry, ah…” He swats the top of my head, but I
continue anyways, giving him a soft nip. He jerks, cock rubbing against my
stomach. “Yes, I talked to him today.”
There’s a brief pause as Eren listens, but I know his manner changes based off
of how he winces when I bite him again. I circle my arms around his waist and
stop, merely burying my nose in his chest. He smells wonderful, like honey and
vanilla, and it makes me want to eat him up.
“Yeah, I’m at the school.”
I don’t hear what she says, but it sounds urgent. I tug on Eren harder, my
brain already concocting ways of cutting up the girl for even interrupting our
play. Eren is mine. When he’s like this, only I can hear his voice -
“What do you mean, ‘get out’? I’m not leaving. I have work-” Another pause.
Mikasa sounds furious. “Armin…?”
“Hang up on her,” I say at last. My voice sounds too scratchy. He peeks down at
me, and as what I can assume is punishment, he rubs his cock against mine. I
wince and breathe a small groan. “Babe-”
“Look, Mikasa. I’m busy. I’ll call you back later.”
He hangs up before she can respond, and returns to rocking. I tilt my head back
and let him.
Fuck, I’m a mess for this boy.
 
 
It’s nearly late evening when Levi and I finally leave the classroom. To escape
the cameras we hug the walls of the school, and like usual Levi’s car is parked
on the side of the road leading into the school. He claims he doesn’t like
having it in the parking lot because someone might scrape it, which I can
certainly understand. You haven’t seen a scraped up car until you’ve seen a car
from our school.
On the ride home, we’re mostly quiet. Mikasa had attempted to call me back at
least 18 times, and each one I’d hung up on maybe the third or fourth ring. She
gave up, which I’m mildly happy for. Levi and I need time alone - I’m sick of
Armin and Mikasa always getting into our business, and I especially hate when
they tell me he’s bad. He’s not. He’s just as bad as Armin - he wouldn’t hurt
anyone unless they hurt him first.
I peer up at him, watching the way his shoulders roll when he turns the wheel
or the way his forearm muscles flex. I lick my lips and look away, crossing my
arms and bringing my thighs together.
We’d practically had sex on a teacher’s desk, today. He let me ride him, kissed
every inch of my body and listened to my moans - he says they’re his favorite
part of sex, just the sounds I make when we make love alone could make him
orgasm.
I sincerely doubt it.
But it still turns me on, knowing he loves me so much he listens to the
smallest thing.
“You tired?” He finally says. I nod a little, and make a soft purred noise. I
watch the way his lips pull into a little smirk, before he reaches and touches
my leg, dragging it up my milky thigh. I swallow and part my thighs a little,
telling him to rub me some more.
But he pulls away, leaving me to whimper.
“Not tired enough, apparently.”
“Shut up,” I shoot back mildly. He doesn’t listen.
“What did Mikasa want?”
Ah, yes. The phonecall. In the middle of our sex. I shouldn’t have answered it
- she just kept mumbling incoherent words and telling me to leave the school.
She needs to get over her power trip - she doesn’t own me, and she sure as hell
has no say in what I do, especially with Levi.
“It was nothing,” I say. “Levi… I have a question I’ve been meaning to ask, as
of late.”
He inclines his chin a little, a way of telling me he’s all ears.
“Do you know a man by the name Grisha? Grisha Jaeger?”
He automatically shakes his head. It seem sincere - he knows the last name, as
it’s mine, but certainly not the first name.
“I assume that’s someone you know fairly well?” I bob my head once and smile.
“My father. He claimed to have known your mother,”
He stiffens. His entire demeanor shifts, and suddenly my heart grows cold. What
about his mother could possibly spurr such a reaction to knowing my father
knows her? When I peer up at him, his expression is twisted into a horribly
hateful thing, his lips tight and his eyes dark with the unsaid. I tighten my
arms around my body.
What if Mikasa is right? What if Levi isn’t as good as I want him to be?
“Eren, my mother isn’t important.”
“What was wrong with her?”
What did she do? What makes her so villainous to my father? I know nothing
about Levi, I realize with uncertainty and fear. I know nothing about what his
family is like, and I’ve certainly never had the will to look into it. What if
what I find is so horrible I wouldn’t be able to stand it?
“It was nothing. My dad was a bad man, and my mother just suffered for it. A
lot. I promise it’s nothing too bad.”
Something in his expression says something entirely different. Something worse.
Before I can open my mouth again, he pulls over into my driveway. I spot
curtains flutter; my mother is spying, surely she knows something more than my
father does. I unlock the door and slide out, not before giving Levi a brief
kiss. There’s something wrong. He seems unstrung, and the way he twitches is
unnerving to say the very least.
What’s wrong with him? What did I do?
I close the door, and watch him drive away.
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