Archive of Our Own

The morning sun stretched its pale arms across the campus, spilling over the cracked pavement and dew-streaked benches of Trost University. Students trudged toward their classes, some in groups, laughing and loud, others hunched and silent beneath the weight of sleepless nights and caffeine hangovers. 

Eren Jaeger fell somewhere in the middle—not unseen, but easily forgettable. The kind of person you passed by in a hallway and remembered only as “that guy from Bio lab.”

He was… ‘average’. 

A typical twenty-one-year-old with a coffee in hand, a backpack slung loosely over one shoulder, and a schedule that revolved around lectures, labs, and late-night study sessions. 

“Normie Eren,” some called him in high school—not out of cruelty, but as a label that fit too neatly to deny.

The autumn air was crisp that morning, the kind that smelled faintly of wet leaves and pumpkin spice lattes from the campus café. Eren walked beside his only friend, Armin Arlert, who was mid-rant about a movie he had gone to see with his film club the night before.

“I’m telling you, it was supposed to be a psychological thriller, but it just turned into a two-hour montage of people making stupid decisions!” Armin’s hands flailed as he spoke, his blond bob catching the sunlight. “Who runs into the creepy house after seeing the ghost crawl out of the wall? Who does that, Eren?”

Eren chuckled, adjusting the strap of his bag. “You, probably. If there was a chance to analyze it.”

Armin frowned, feigning offense, pushing up his square glasses with his index. “Hey, I would document it scientifically. Not run in unprepared like those idiots.”

Eren shook his head, smiling softly. “Sure, sure. I’ll remember that next time you get yourself possessed for research.”

The banter was familiar. 

It had been like this since junior school. Armin, the bright one, always lost in theories and books, surrounded by people who shared his mind. 

And Eren, the quiet presence beside him—the listener, the steady one, the friend who was too bored to outshine anyone.

He didn’t mind. He didn’t need to be popular. He didn’t crave attention or excitement. All he wanted was to get through med school, become a doctor, and give his parents the life they deserved. 

His father, Grisha, had spent decades bent over scaffolding and blueprints, his hands rough and scarred from construction work. His mother, Carla, woke before dawn every day to knead dough at the bakery downtown, smiling through exhaustion. They never complained, but Eren saw the way their shoulders slumped when they thought no one was watching.

He would change that. That was his promise to himself. No parties, no distractions, no nonsense. Just focus. Just graduate.

“Hey, you’re zoning out again,” Armin said, waving a hand in front of his face. “Thinking about cadavers?”

Eren blinked, smirking. “Something like that."

“Yikes,” Armin said with a laugh. “I’ll never understand how you can handle that stuff without flinching.”

“You watch horror movies for fun,” Eren pointed out. “Same thing.”

Armin looked genuinely horrified. “No, it’s not! Movies are fake. Dissecting something that was once alive is—ugh—morbid.”

“Science,” Eren replied simply.

They reached the science building, a tall, gray structure that always seemed to hum faintly with fluorescent lights and the smell of disinfectant. A group of students passed them on the steps—some in varsity jackets, others with cameras slung around their necks for the campus media club. 

The hallway buzzed with chatter and footsteps. Posters for the upcoming Halloween festival this weekend covered nearly every wall—ghost-themed bake sales, costume contests, haunted dorm tours. The orange and black streamers gave everything a half-serious, half-silly charm. Armin stopped in front of one flyer, eyes bright.

“Hey! We should go to the Halloween fair. There’s supposed to be roller coasters, food vendors, live music, and even a haunted maze set up by the theater club—and all the good stuff.”

Eren frowned. “You know I don’t really do crowds.”

“Oh, come on,” Armin said, tugging at his sleeve. “It’s your last chance to do something fun before midterms eat your soul. Plus, there’s food.”

Eren hesitated. He could already imagine it: the noise, the costumes, the awkward public affection displays of couples. 

Not his thing. 

“I’ll think about it,” he sighed. 

Armin grinned like he’d just won a debate. “Okay!”

Eren smiled faintly, though a strange feeling stirred in his chest—a quiet unease, like the moment before a storm when the air feels too still. He brushed it off.

It would be just another Halloween. 

Just another day in his normal, uneventful life.

At least, that’s what he thought.

Because that Halloween… something would happen that would tear the word normal from his life forever.

And by the time the first scream echoed through the campus fairgrounds, “Normie Eren” would be gone for good.

Eren trudged up the narrow dormitory staircase, the worn carpet muffling his footsteps as the weight of the day hung on his shoulders like a soaked coat. His backpack, overstuffed with textbooks and notes he already dreaded revisiting, dug into his back with every step. He reached the third floor, rounded the corner, and stopped in front of his door.

A sigh slipped out before he even turned the key. The metal clicked, and he pushed the door open with his shoulder, greeted by the faint hum of the mini-fridge and the sterile scent of instant coffee. The space wasn’t much—barely enough for two people to stand comfortably—but it was his and Armin’s. Two narrow beds pressed against each wall, two desks cluttered with papers and half-finished assignments, and a window overlooking the campus courtyard, now glowing orange from the setting sun.

He closed the door behind him with a soft thud, his body moving on autopilot.

“Brutal,” he muttered to no one.

Today’s classes had chewed him up and spit him out. Organic chemistry had been bad enough—Professor Hannes and his monotone voice explaining reaction mechanisms that might as well have been alien code—but what really did him in was anatomy lab. He wasn’t squeamish, but after three hours of memorizing muscle structures and being told he’d “need to know them backwards and forwards for the exam,” his brain felt like melted plastic.

He had gone into college thinking it would be fun. That studying medicine, being one step closer to becoming a doctor, would be fulfilling in that noble, cinematic way—saving lives, making a difference, helping his parents retire early. But the reality? It was exhausting. It was repetition and caffeine and the quiet dread of never being good enough.

He dropped his backpack at the foot of his bed with a dull thud, then collapsed face-first onto the sheets. His pillow muffled a long, drawn-out groan.

“Help me,” he mumbled into the fabric, his voice smothered and barely audible.

He stayed like that for a moment, soaking in the silence. The quiet hum of the dorm room was oddly comforting— chatter and laughter echoing from the hallway was muffled. 

But at least here was stillness.

It wouldn’t last long though.

Any minute now, Armin would probably come bursting through the door without knocking, animatedly describing some club meeting or movie night he wanted Eren to join. And though Eren would roll his eyes and grumble about it, deep down he was grateful. Armin had always been like that—relentless in trying to drag him into the world beyond textbooks.

He appreciated it more than he’d ever admit out loud.

Armin’s friends were good people, too. Nice, even. Marco Bodt, for instance—soft-spoken, friendly, the kind of person who made everyone feel at ease. Eren had only hung out with him a few times, but Marco had this way of making him laugh, even when he didn’t want to. Maybe that was why Armin liked having him around so much.

Eren rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. The plaster was cracked in one corner, forming a shape that always reminded him of a rabbit. He watched it absently, letting his mind drift. The world felt distant in these moments—just him, his thoughts, and the faint tick of the old alarm clock.

With a sigh, he fished his phone out of his pocket.

He wasn’t sure why he opened the browser. Maybe boredom. Maybe curiosity. Maybe that small, surprising flicker of anticipation that had crept up on him ever since Armin mentioned the Halloween fair earlier that morning.

‘Male Halloween costumes,’ he typed.

Instantly, his screen filled with links, ads, and thumbnails.

He scrolled.

And scrolled.

And grimaced.

Some of the options were outright ridiculous—plastic vampire teeth paired with fake blood that looked like ketchup, “sexy” nurse and pirate costumes that made him raise an eyebrow, and one horrifying inflatable banana suit that made him question humanity altogether. Others were painfully cliché: skeleton onesies, generic superheroes, unfunny meme costumes that were already outdated.

“Who actually buys these?” he muttered, thumbing past a “Hot Dog Duo” set meant for couples.

He almost gave up. He wasn’t big on dressing up; Halloween had never been his thing. As a kid/preteen, he’d gone trick-or-treating, dressed, but that had been years ago. Still… something about the fair this year tugged at him. Maybe it was Armin’s excitement, or maybe it was the thought of doing something different for once—something that wasn’t just studying or working on assignments.

His scrolling slowed when he saw it.

A werewolf costume.

Not one of the over-the-top Hollywood types with fur suits and glowing eyes—just a simple set. Fake ears, a fuzzy tail, a pair of plastic fangs. The model in the picture wore shredded jeans and a flannel shirt. It was subtle. Playful without being ridiculous.

He could work with that.

He had old clothes that were halfway to being ripped already—stuff he used for painting his dorm walls or doing odd jobs. He could tear them up a bit, maybe add some makeup scratches if he felt like it. It was simple, cheap, and—he hesitated to admit—actually kind of cool.

Eren leaned back, one arm resting across his forehead as a small, reluctant smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Guess it wouldn’t hurt to try,” he murmured.

His phone screen dimmed, the faint reflection of his own tired face staring back at him. He looked ordinary—plain brown hair, green eyes, faint dark circles under them from lack of sleep. 

The same “Normie Eren” everyone knew.

But maybe, for one night, he didn’t have to be that guy.

Maybe, just for Halloween, he could be someone—or something—fun.

The week blurred into a jumble of deadlines, caffeine, and sleepless nights. Eren barely remembered what day it was anymore between lectures bled into labs, essays into exams, and half his meals were instant noodles eaten while rereading notes under his small desk lamp light. But somehow, between the chaos, the fair had crept up on him.

And now here he was, standing in front of the mirror he and Armin shared in their cramped dorm room, adjusting the ears of his werewolf costume.

It wasn’t bad, actually.

The tail clipped neatly to the back of his torn jeans, and the ears sat surprisingly well under his brown hair. He’d slashed up an old flannel shirt and added a few streaks of fake blood near the collar for effect. His fangs—cheap plastic ones he’d bought from the Halloween store—fit awkwardly against his teeth, forcing his jaw to rest slightly open. Still, the effect wasn’t terrible.

He leaned closer to the mirror, baring his teeth with a low, experimental growl. “Rarr,” he muttered around the fangs, then winced at his reflection. “Okay… maybe not that.”

From the bathroom came the distinct sound of a hairdryer, followed by Armin’s voice. “Eren, have you seen the wig glue that came in the package? The mustache won’t stick!”

Eren couldn’t help but grin. “Maybe because you’re trying to glue it to your lip, Einstein!”

“That’s the point,” Armin shouted back, exasperated.

Eren chuckled, shaking his head. The dorm looked like a costume explosion—fake fur, makeup wipes, empty coffee cups, and bits of fabric scattered across the floor. Typical chaos before a big campus event.

A moment later, Armin emerged from the bathroom, and Eren had to bite back a laugh.

His best friend stood there in a slightly oversized lab coat, a wild white wig sticking out in every direction, and a fuzzy mustache glued crookedly above his lip. A pair of round spectacles perched low on his nose, completing the look.

“You look like a stereotypical mad scientist,” Eren teased, his voice muffled by his fangs.

Armin gave him a flat look. “It’s Albert Einstein, Eren.” He adjusted his wig, then fished out his phone after it dinged with a message, thumbs flying rapidly across the screen.

Eren watched him in the mirror, curious. “Who is it?”

“My Calculus group chat,” Armin murmured, barely looking up. “Apparently, there’s a pre-party before the fair starts. One of the sorority houses—Delta Kappa something—everyone is invited.”

Eren raised a brow, scoffing. “A sorority house? Yeah, right. There’s no way we’re invited.” He tried to smirk, but it came out lopsided thanks to his fangs.

Armin didn’t even glance up from his phone. “Everyone’s invited, says the post online, Eren,” he said casually. “Free drinks, snacks, music—basically a warm-up for the fair.”

Eren crossed his arms, unconvinced. “That sounds like a trap.”

Armin sighed, slipping his phone into his pocket. “You’re such a pessimist. Come on, Eren—it would be our chance to go to a sorority party! And also, when was the last time you went anywhere that wasn’t a classroom or a study hall?”

Eren paused, considering. “…My cousin’s wedding?”

“Exactly.”

“I didn’t even dance at that wedding.”

Armin rolled his eyes. “You don’t have to dance. Just… exist socially. We could use a drink before finals hit.”

The word finals made Eren shiver involuntarily. His mind immediately conjured up images of thick textbooks, late-night cramming, and that endless feeling of drowning in flashcards.

He groaned, rubbing his face. “Don’t remind me.”

“Then let’s forget about it—for one night,” Armin said, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You’ll thank me later.”

Eren stared at his reflection again. The werewolf ears, the scruffy flannel, the faint shadow of exhaustion under his eyes.

“Fine,” he muttered softly. “Let’s go.”

Armin grinned triumphantly and Eren rolled his eyes before they finished getting ready.

The night air buzzed with energy as Eren and Armin made their way down the crowded sidewalk toward the sorority district. The path leading there was lined with flickering jack-o’-lanterns, their carved grins dancing in the cool wind. The chatter of students filled the air—excited voices, laughter, and the occasional shout of someone already tipsy before the real party had even begun.

Armin walked just ahead of Eren, his Einstein wig slightly crooked, phone light guiding their path through the throng of costumes. On their way out of their dorm building, a few of Armin’s friends tagged along—Marco dressed as a mummy, Porco Galliard in a Roman gladiator one, and Colt Grice, who wore a sleep vampire getup. They were all talking, though their voices trembled with a mix of excitement and nervousness.

“Are we sure everyone’s invited?” Porco asked, glancing nervously at the looming glow ahead. “I heard the Deltas kicked out a guy last year just for not bringing enough alcohol.”

“They also kicked one out for sneezing on their fog machine,” Colt added dryly.

Armin waved them off with a laugh. “Relax, guys! It’s open this year. The invitation was in their socials and everything. It’ll be fine.”

Eren walked a few steps behind, hands stuffed deep in his pockets. The air was sharp, and his breath came out in faint puffs. He could hear the others’ nervous chatter but didn’t chime in. His fangs clicked faintly when he shifted his jaw, and the faux-fur tail brushing the back of his jeans made him feel faintly ridiculous.

He wasn’t here for the social scene. Just a few drinks, a walk through the fair, maybe some funnel cake, get on some rides, and then back to his dorm. 

Simple and predictable to be honest. 

Then the music hit him before the house even came into view.

A deep, pulsing beat rolled through the streets, vibrating the pavement under his shoes. A few steps later, the source appeared—a massive, columned house at the end of the block, bathed in orange and purple lights. The front lawn was packed with people, all in costume, laughing and shouting over the booming sound system. A fog machine spewed mist across the yard, and fake cobwebs glistened under the porch lights.

Eren slowed, his eyes flicking up at the grand sorority house. It was more mansion than house—three stories tall, with balconies and carved pumpkins lining every railing.

He couldn’t help the flicker of annoyance in his chest.

While he and Armin shared a cramped, half-crumbling dorm room with flickering lights and a radiator that rattled all night, these guys got chandeliers and French windows. The smell of cinnamon, alcohol, and expensive perfume drifted through the air, and he couldn’t tell which made him feel more out of place.

“Man,” he muttered, scoffing under his breath. “Guess breaking your back for tuition doesn’t buy ceilings like those.”

Armin turned backward, kept walking, and looked at him, beaming. “Isn’t it amazing? They really went all out!”

“Yeah,” Eren said dryly, weaving through the crowd. 

As soon as they crossed the lawn and then threshold, the sound doubled—bass pounded through the wooden floors, laughter echoing from every corner. The place was drenched in Halloween décor—hanging skeletons, fake bats swooping from the ceiling, black lace curtains, and glowing pumpkins stacked along the staircase. Every room glowed in dim orange light, flickering in rhythm with the music.

People were everywhere. Costumes of every kind flooded the foyer—zombies, witches, vampires, angels, and even a few students who clearly confused Halloween with a fashion show.

Eren raised an eyebrow at a girl in a costume that was little more than glitter and fishnets. “Some of these barely count as clothes,” he muttered.

Armin laughed nervously, tugging on his lab coat. “I think that’s part of the holiday spirit.”

“Right. Fear and frostbite.”

Before Eren could comment further, Marco and Porco waved from across the room. “Armin! Eren! Over here! They’re doing a trivia drinking game!”

“Oh!” Armin’s eyes lit up, his inner nerd instantly intrigued. He turned to Eren, grinning. “Come on, it’ll be fun!”

Eren made a face. “Trivia? At a party?”

“It involves drinking, of course!” Armin reached for his wrist to pull him along, but Eren lifted his hand just slightly, a small, dismissive gesture.

“Nah, you go. I’ll find the kitchen, grab a drink, and catch up later.” His words came out slightly garbled through his fangs, but Armin got the point.

“Alright,” Armin said, reluctant but already being tugged away by Colt. He looked over his shoulder one last time, calling, “Don’t disappear, okay?!”

Eren gave a small wave, his version of a “yeah, yeah.”

And just like that, he was alone.

The foyer buzzed around him—music shaking the floorboards, the chatter of dozens of conversations blending into a single, messy hum. He scanned the crowd, looking for the kitchen. Through the sea of moving bodies, he caught a glimpse of the kitchen archway.

Perfect.

He weaved his way through the people, sidestepping a dancing couple, brushing past someone in a cheap superhero cape.

He exhaled, shoulders easing.

If he could just grab a drink, find a corner, and wait for Armin to finish seeing his trivia game, the night would pass quickly enough.

Bottles and cups were lined up across the marble counter—cheap beer, red punch in a crystal bowl, a few unlabeled plastic jugs that looked suspiciously homemade. Eren wasn’t picky, he just wanted something to take the edge off of incoming exams.

He reached for the nearest red cup, sniffed it cautiously, then took a sip.

Instant regret.

It burned—not the pleasant warmth of whiskey, but a sour, artificial sweetness that clawed at the back of his throat. He grimaced, swallowing hard.

“Yeah,” he muttered under his breath, setting the cup back down. “That’s nasty.”

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and leaned against the counter for a moment, staring towards the room with people dancing.

He pushed off the counter and into the living room to see all the fuss.

The space was massive, and every inch was packed. Colored lights flashed across the crowd, strobing over faces and costumes. Fog from a machine clung low to the floor. People moved in waves to the music, a blur of motion and color—witch hats, angel wings, leather, lace, glitter. The air was hot and damp, the kind that clung to your skin and made it hard to breathe.

Eren scanned the room, spotted an empty couch near the corner of the wall, and slipped through the dancing, sweaty crowd until he reached it.

Perfect—out of the way, unseen, but still with a view of the chaos.

He sat down, sinking into the cushion, and exhaled as the faint vibration of bass thudded through his legs.

From his pocket, he pulled out his phone, taking a sip of his drink.

Instagram loaded slowly on the weak dorm Wi-Fi signal that reached this far, but eventually, the app flickered to life. He scrolled idly, thumbing through stories—former high school classmates showing off their costumes, a few college classmates posing in front of the fair or rides.

Then he saw Marco’s latest post—just minutes ago. A mirror selfie of him still in his mummy costume.

Eren snorts, double-tapping the photo to like it.

He had just started scrolling again when someone’s foot bumped hard against his boot.

Eren looked up. 

Not annoyed—there was hardly space to breathe, let alone dance without collisions—but curious.

And in that instant, everything in him stopped.

The noise, the lights, even the heavy rhythm of the music—all of it faded to the background.

The girl standing before him was stunning.

For a second, Eren forgot how to breathe.

She’d spun around mid-dance, startled by the accidental bump, her wide eyes darting down to him. Her outfit caught the strobing light—a short red plaid skirt, a black cropped tank that bared her midriff, and fishnets that disappeared into worn black Doc Martens. Her hair was tied into messy pigtails, a few loose strands brushing her flushed cheeks. Rings and silver jewelry glinted on her fingers and ears, catching every pulse of colored light. Lips red as blood, pouty and kissable—

“I—oh my god, I’m so sorry!” she said, leaning forward slightly, her voice raised over the music. “I didn’t step on you, did I? Or—did I make you spill your drink!?”

Eren just… stared.

His drink rested forgotten on his lap as his mouth opened slightly, but no sound came out. His chest felt tight, his pulse stuttering in a way he didn’t understand.

She tilted her head, confusion flickering in her expression. Her lips parted slightly as if to say something else, then she smiled—small, nervous, polite. “Sorry again,” she said, voice softer this time. “Didn’t mean to invade your space.”

Eren managed a blink. 

Nothing else.

After a brief, awkward pause, she said, her voice bright and a little breathless from dancing. “You by yourself?”

Eren blinked. For a second, the words didn’t register. ‘She’s talking to you, idiot.'

He swallowed hard, realizing too late that he was staring again. He opened his mouth—nothing came out. Then, finally, he stammered, “Uh—no, I mean, yeah—I mean, I’m with my friend. He’s… around somewhere.”

His voice cracked halfway through, and he wanted to sink into the floor.

The girl giggled softly—not mockingly, but with genuine amusement. Her eyes flicked over the crowd, then back to him. “Well, your friend’s missing out. You should come dance.”

Eren blinked again, his brain still catching up. “Me?” he said dumbly, pointing at himself.

Her smirk deepened, playful now. “No, the guy behind you.”

Eren instinctively glanced over his shoulder, and he met with the wall. He curses himself internally and closes his eyes briefly for his stupidity. 

When he turned back, she was laughing—really laughing now, head tipped back, eyes shining. He could barely hear it over the music, but it was the kind of sound that tugged something warm and unfamiliar in his chest.

She held out her hand toward him, her small black acrylic nails shone with the lights. “Come on, it’s Halloween. You should at least have some fun before midnight turns you back into a pumpkin.”

Eren froze. 

Her hand waited in the space between them, small and steady, the flashing lights dancing across her bracelets. He could feel the heat rising up his neck, his palms already sweaty. ‘You don’t dance,’ his brain hissed. ‘You’ll look stupid. Just laugh it off and decline.’

But another thought pushed through the noise. ‘When will you ever get another chance like this?’

He glanced at her again—at her bright, expectant eyes, the curve of her smile—and before he could overthink it, he set his drink down on the low table beside the couch. His heart was pounding so hard it made his chest ache.

“Alright,” he said, his voice quieter than he meant it to be.

She smiled like she’d known all along he’d say yes, and slipped her hand into his. Her skin was soft and cool against his clammy palm, but she didn’t seem to mind. Instead, she gave a light tug, pulling him into the crush of people and the pulsing lights.

Eren’s breath caught as they stepped onto the makeshift dance floor, the air thick with sweat, perfume, and the sugary scent of spilled alcohol. The bass hit hard, rattling his ribs. He’d never been this close to so many people before—never been pulled into their rhythm like this.

“Idiot,” he muttered under his breath to himself, dragging a hand over his face. “You just stared at her. Didn’t say a word for a while. Great first impression, Jaeger. Real smooth. Totally not creepy at all.”

The air in the center of the room was thick—humid with sweat, laughter, and the pounding rhythm of the music that shook through the floor. Colored lights flashed across the walls, painting everyone in bursts of red and violet, turning the world into a haze of movement and heat.

Eren barely had time to think as the girl tugged on his hand again, pulling him deeper into the throng of dancers. People brushed past his shoulders, costumes blending together into a blur of glitter, fake blod, and tattered fabric. His heart hammered in his chest—not just from the crowd but from how easily she guided him, her small hand firm around his wrist, her laughter trailing behind her like a melody.

“Come on!” she shouted over the music, her eyes glowing with mischief as she looked back at him. “You’re too slow, werewolf!”

Eren grinned faintly, breathless and nervous all at once. The crowd opened just enough for her to slip through, and suddenly they were surrounded by a tight circle of dancers—her friends.

They were dressed in an assortment of costumes: a girl in a vampire cape, another in a glittering fairy outfit, and a guy with green paint across his arms and face, clearly going for Frankenstein’s monster. When they spotted her, their faces lit up.

“There you are!” the vampire girl shouted, spinning closer. “We thought you disappeared!”

The girl who’d dragged Eren there gave a playful grin, her pigtails bouncing as she replied, “I did. Found myself a nice werewolf.”

She gestured toward him with a teasing smile, and only then did her friends seem to notice Eren standing awkwardly at her side, hands shoved into his pockets, shoulders tense.

For a moment, the group blinked at him—surprised, not unfriendly, just… confused. Like they were trying to figure out how this quiet, average-looking guy ended up attached to her.

Eren gave a small, stiff wave, the fake fur on his torn flannel sleeve brushing his cheek. “Uh, hey.”

Her friends smiled awkwardly at him.

The girl beside Eren beamed and tugged him closer, ignoring the heat rising to his cheeks. “Okay, let’s dance!”

She faced him as her friends started dancing too. The music shifted to a faster, bass-heavy beat—her hips swaying, her laughter bubbling up as she danced with him. 

Eren, however, froze completely. His hands stayed at his sides, his feet glued to the floor as he tried to keep up with her rhythm—unsuccessfully.

She stopped mid-turn, noticing the way he stood there like a statue. A teasing smile tugged at her lips as she leaned closer, her voice raised just enough for him to hear.

“You’re so stiff,” she teased, grinning. “Come on, loosen up!”

Eren smiled weakly, his voice barely audible over the music. “I… I don’t know how to dance.”

That made her pause. For a split second, the teasing melted into surprise. Then, just as quickly, her expression softened. “You don’t?” she said, almost incredulous—but not mocking.

He shook his head, embarrassed. “Not really. I’ll just—uh—watch. You go ahead.”

But before he could take a step back, she closed the distance between them in one bold move.

“Then I’ll teach you,” she said, her tone playful but steady.

Eren froze again, his eyes wide as she reached up and—without hesitation—looped her arms around his neck. Her fingertips brushed against the nape of his neck, and he swore every nerve in his body lit up at once. His breath hitched, and he had to fight to keep his composure.

She smiled up at him, close enough for him to smell her perfume—something light, sweet, and dizzying. “Just follow me,” she said gently. “It’s easy. Hands go here…”

She took his wrists and guided his hands down until they rested against her waist before looping them again around his neck. The warmth of her skin burned through the thin fabric of her top, and Eren’s heart pounded so hard he was sure she could feel it.

“Now,” she continued, her voice lowering just enough to send a shiver down his spine, “you move with the beat. Don’t think. Just… feel it.”

He tried. 

God, he tried. 

His hands trembled slightly where they rested against her, his breath shallow as he stared down at her. She moved slowly at first, swaying to the rhythm, her body leading his. His steps were awkward, his timing off, but she didn’t laugh—she just smiled up at him encouragingly, her eyes glinting under the colored lights.

“There you go,” she whispered, “see? You’re not terrible.”

Eren huffed out a shaky laugh, the tension in his chest easing just a little. He focused on her voice, her movements, the rise and fall of her shoulders as they danced together. The rest of the world—the crowd, the music, the lights—faded into the background.

For once, he wasn’t just ‘normie Eren’.

He was the werewolf who got to hold the prettiest girl in the room.

Sure, he’d thought girls were cute before. He wasn’t dead. 

But never like this. 

Never this sudden pull in his chest that made it hard to breathe. Never this sense that, if he blinked, she’d disappear forever.

Eren moved clumsily, still trying to match her rhythm. Every time she shifted, his delayed steps followed a beat too late, but she didn’t seem to care. She just kept smiling at him, her eyes shining in the flickering light, her laughter soft and bright even when he nearly stepped on her boot once.

Then, over the noise, she said. “Hey, you never told me your name.”

Eren blinked, his mind scrambling. ‘Oh god,’ he thought, ‘I never did, did I?’

He felt his ears burn. “Uh—right, sorry,” he stammered, trying to sound casual but failing miserably. “It’s Eren. Eren Jaeger.”

She smiled, repeating it softly, tasting the syllables. “Eren.”

He didn’t know why, but the way she said it—slow, gentle, like she was testing the sound—made something in his chest tighten. He could’ve listened to her say it over and over again and still never get tired of it. He smiled shyly, eyes darting away, hoping the flashing lights hid the blush creeping up his neck.

She tilted her head slightly, her smile widening. “Nice to meet you, Eren Jaeger.”

“Yeah,” he said, a little too quickly. “You too,” he cleared his throat. “And yours?”

She chuckled again, and then, with a playful glint in her eyes, she added, “I’m Mikasa. Mikasa Ackerman.”

‘Of course, she has a pretty name,’ Eren thought dazedly. 

“Mikasa…” he repeated under his breath, almost reverent. It was melodic, smooth, and somehow fit her perfectly.

He didn’t mean to say what came next. It slipped out—unfiltered, stupid, honest.

“That’s… that’s a really pretty name. Hell, all of you is pretty.”

The words hung between them, loud despite the blaring music.

Mikasa froze, blinking up at him, the corners of her lips parting slightly in surprise. For one awful second, Eren forgot how to breathe. His brain screamed at him—’you idiot, you absolute idiot’—and heat flooded his face so fast he thought he might actually combust.

“I—I didn’t mean—well, I did, but not like—uh—sorry,” he blurted, words tumbling over each other. He pulled his hands back awkwardly, ready to retreat into the crowd, to melt into the floor, anything to escape.

But before he could take a single step away, Mikasa’s expression softened. The flash of surprise melted into something warm—gentle, even shy. Her lips curved into a small, genuine smile that caught him completely off guard.

She leaned in, close enough that he could see a speck of blue in her dark eyes framed by thick, long eyelashes, her voice barely audible over the music.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Eren froze again, but for an entirely different reason. His heart thudded painfully against his ribs, the sound of the world fading beneath the rush of blood in his ears.

She smiled, a pretty blush on her cheeks, her eyes soft and glowing under the colored lights.

And Eren, still blushing furiously, could only stare—speechless again, for what felt like the hundredth time that night—as the realization sank in:

He was in deep trouble.

The night had melted into a haze of laughter, flashing lights, and heart-thudding beats. The next song pulsed through the air, heavier and faster than before. Mikasa was still in front of him, moving effortlessly with the rhythm—her skirt swishing, her bracelets catching the light—and Eren found himself… actually moving with her.

Not well, maybe, but better. He wasn’t stiff anymore; the tension in his shoulders had eased. Every time he caught her laughing or glancing at him over her shoulder, that nervous knot in his chest loosened just a little more. For the first time all night, Eren forgot to think about how ridiculous he probably looked. He was just there, caught in her orbit, grinning like an idiot.

When the song ended, Mikasa leaned closer, her cheeks flushed, a strand of hair falling loose from her pigtail. “Come on,” she said over the music, smiling. “Let’s get a drink.”

Eren exhaled a small laugh. “Yeah,” he said, his voice a little hoarse. “I could use one.”

Before he could move, she’d already grabbed his hand again, her fingers lacing with his like it was the most natural thing in the world. She turned to her friends, shouting over the music, “Be right back!” and they waved her off without question.

Eren let himself be pulled through the crowd, weaving between clusters of dancers. The lights flashed across their faces as they pushed through the dense, moving bodies. He noticed, though, that people’s gazes lingered on them—no, on him. Some of the looks were surprised, some whispering behind raised hands. One or two outright glared, their expressions sour.

Eren blinked, uneasy. What’s their problem? he thought. Is she that popular?

He didn’t know much about sorority parties or social hierarchies, but judging by the looks, Mikasa Ackerman wasn’t just another student in costume. She stood out—and not just because of her looks. There was something about her, a quiet confidence that drew eyes without her even trying.

Still, he pushed the thoughts away. He wasn’t here for them. He was here with her. And somehow, that was enough.

They finally slipped into the kitchen, where the music was softer and the air less suffocating. There were still people crowding around—laughing, shouting, mixing drinks—but compared to the chaos of the dance floor, it felt almost peaceful.

Mikasa reached for a red cup from a cluttered counter lined with bottles and bowls of punch. “Sweet,” she murmured after taking a sip, making a face. “Too sweet.”

Eren grabbed one for himself and took a gulp. He grimaced instantly. “Yeah,” he agreed, setting the cup down with a wince. “I make better ones.”

Mikasa’s head tilted toward him, her lips curving upward. “Oh, really?” she asked, her voice teasing as she leaned against the counter beside him.

Eren shrugged, trying to sound casual. “Yeah. My dad taught me a few tricks. I can mix something actually drinkable.”

That earned him a small smirk. She stepped just a little closer, crossing her arms loosely over her chest. “You make drinks now?” she said, eyebrow arched. “Are you sure you’re not just talking big, Mr. werewolf?”

He swallowed hard, her tone making his stomach flutter in a way he didn’t expect. Her proximity didn’t help either.

“Positive,” he said after a moment, forcing a confident grin. “I’d prove it, but I don’t think this party’s the right place for it.”

She gave him a look—playful, knowing—and Eren’s chest tightened because he knew exactly what that look meant. Her gaze lingered on him a moment longer, waiting, like she was silently offering him an opening.

His mouth went dry. All he had to do was say, ‘You could come by sometime. I’ll make you one. Just that. Easy.’

But the words refused to come. His throat felt like it had turned to stone. He could practically feel the moment slipping through his fingers as silence settled between them.

After a beat, Mikasa cleared her throat softly and took another sip, glancing away with a polite smile. “Right.”

She turned her cup in her hands, eyes flicking back up to meet his. Then, after a brief pause, she smiled again—smaller this time, softer. “Come on,” she said, setting her drink down. “Let’s go dance again."

“Yeah,” Eren said quickly, eager to say something and make up for his awkwardness.

Once again, she reached for his hand. Her fingers fit against his so easily that he didn’t even think twice about it this time. They moved through the crowd again, but this time Mikasa didn’t lead him toward the packed center. Instead, she stopped near the edge of the floor, where the lights dimmed slightly and the crowd thinned out.

The DJ switched the track. The pounding bass faded, replaced by a slower, softer melody that flowed through the air like a sigh.

Mikasa gasped softly and turned around, her eyes lighting up. “Oh, I love this song!” she said, grinning.

Before Eren could respond, she turned back to face the dance floor, the soft, rhythmic beat wrapping around them. She started to move, swaying her hips gently, her movements slower now, more fluid. Her dark hair brushed her shoulders as she rocked side to side, her skirt catching the faint light.

Eren froze behind her, his breath catching. He tried to keep his eyes anywhere but where they wanted to go, staring at the wall, the ceiling, the floor—anything.

But then she laughed quietly to herself, moving with the song in a way that made everything around them fade.

And Eren couldn’t help it. He found himself watching her—not just her body, but her ease, her freedom, her glow under the dim lights. He swallowed hard, feeling his pulse quicken.

Eren shifted uncomfortably in his spot, the fabric of his pants growing tighter as he tried to ignore the growing ache between his legs. He couldn't tear his eyes away from Mikasa, who twirled and swayed to the slow music, her tantalizing form barely within arm's reach.

The tiny red plaid skirt she wore hugged her toned thighs, the hem riding high whenever she stepped to the side or back. His gaze was inexorably drawn to the fishnet stockings that covered her legs, the way the fabric conformed to her curves like a second skin.

Eren's breath hitched when Mikasa's cropped top rode up, exposing a sliver of her smooth, tanned skin and the tantalizing dip of her spine. His eyes traced the contours of her lithe figure, lingering on the delicate dimples at the base of her back, the swell of her rear posited enticingly in the air as she lost herself in the music like everyone else dancing.

He was acutely aware of the erection growing in his pants, straining against the denim with a mind of its own. The proximity, the intoxicating sight of Mikasa so close yet out of reach, was a potent cocktail he couldn't resist. His hands itched to reach out, to touch the soft fabric of her skirt or the supple skin of her back, but he bit back the impulse, fearing the consequences.

The song slowly built to a climax, Mikasa's hips moving in a seductive rhythm, her eyes closed, and a blissful smile on her face. Eren's heart pounded in his chest, his blood running hot through his veins. He had never wanted anyone as fiercely as he did in this moment, the longing a physical ache that threatened to consume him.

As the final notes faded away, Mikasa opened her eyes and caught Eren gazing at her. For a breathless instant, their gazes locked, and Eren felt the heat of her stare like a touch. Then, with a subtle smile, Mikasa boldly stepped a little closer to his front and kept dancing. 

Mikasa's curves seemed to come alive under the flashing lights, every undulation of her hips and bounce of her breasts hypnotic. Eren's mind fought to maintain focus, but the proximity and allure of his companion rendered him practically powerless. He was acutely aware of every detail, from the way her loose top clung to her chest with each movement to the teasing glint in her eye.

Lost in the haze of attraction, Eren's own dancing grew more lackluster, his attention consumed by the woman beside him.

He was too distracted to do anything about it. His fingers twitched, aching to reach out and touch, but he held back, not wanting to break the spell.

It was Mikasa who finally made a move, her hand shooting out to grasp Eren's, the one not holding his cup. Her touch was electric, sending a jolt of awareness through him. As she tugged him closer, he found himself staring into her eyes, a dual spark of challenge and allure sparking within their depths.

With deliberate slowness, she guided his hand to the groove of her hip, pressing it there as she continued to sway to the music. The heat of her body seeped into his palm, and he could feel the subtle give of her skin, urging him on. Their gazes remained locked, the tension between them palpable.

In that moment, the rest of the world melted away, leaving only the two of them, entwined in a dance of unspoken desire. The music faded into background noise, the thumping of Eren's heartbeat the only sound that mattered. He knew he should pull away, but he couldn't help the way his hand seemed to mold to her hip, the natural curve a perfect fit.

Mikasa's smile grew wider, her eyes glinting with mischief. She seemed to revel in the power she held over him, the control she wielded with every subtly provocative movement. And Eren, trapped in her web, could only stand there, his body betraying him with its hard, aching need.

The haze between them felt almost tangible. The air was thick with bass, heat, and something unspoken—something that made Eren forget about everyone else in that crowded house. Mikasa’s dark eyes were locked on his, and even though they barely moved now, just swaying in sync to the slow beat, it felt like they were the only two people alive.

The soft glow of the string lights caught in her hair, and Eren thought she looked unreal—like she had stepped right out of one of those fantasy movies Armin always tried to get him to watch. His pulse thrummed in his throat, matching the rhythm of the song. Mikasa’s lips parted slightly as if she were about to say something—

“Mikasa.”

The name came next to them. Sharp. Cutting through the warmth between them.

They both turned. Standing a few feet away was a tall guy, broad-shouldered and clearly angry, in his pirate costume. His fake sword hung at his hip, but the glare he gave her was anything but pretend.

Mikasa tensed, the shift in her posture immediate. Eren felt her hand twitch at her side before she subtly stepped closer to him, as if the movement alone could create a barrier between her and the newcomer.

The guy—Yukio, Eren heard Mikasa greet him flatly—looked from her to Eren with a scowl. His gaze swept over Eren like he was some kind of bug on the wall, unworthy of even existing in the same space. The disdain in his eyes was obvious.

Mikasa sighed, her voice calm but edged with irritation. “What do you want?”

“What do I want?” Yukio snapped, running a hand through his messy dark hair. “Maybe an explanation, Mikasa. Why the hell have you been ignoring me? I’ve been calling, texting—nothing! For months!”

Mikasa’s expression didn’t change much, but Eren saw the flash of annoyance in her eyes. She rest her free hand on her hip. “We broke up, Yukio,” she said, her tone firm and clear over the music. “I don’t owe you an explanation.”

Yukio’s jaw tightened. “We broke up because you were being dramatic,” he hissed. “I said I was sorry. You could at least let it go already.”

Mikasa let out a small, humorless laugh—a sound that made Eren’s stomach twist. “Let it go?” she repeated, her voice rising just enough to make a few nearby dancers glance over. “Getting cheated on—that’s not something you just let go.”

Eren felt awkward, caught in the crossfire, but also angry. Now, Eren may be a wallflower but that doesn't mean he doesn’t know how to throw a punch or two. He used to do it when he was younger while protecting Armin and his nerdy friends from bullies. 

Because the way Yukio looked at her—like he owned her—made Eren’s blood simmer. He wanted to say something, anything, but the words refused to come out, and it wasn’t really his place. 

Unless, he does something Mikasa doesn’t want.

So he only stand there, frowning, his fist clenching slightly at his side.

Yukio scoffed, clearly not expecting resistance. “Come on, Mikasa, it wasn’t even—”

Before he could finish, Mikasa shoved her half-empty cup at his chest. “I’m done talking about this and to you,” she said flatly.

Yukio stumbled a bit, glaring as some of the drink spilled onto his costume.

Mikasa turned to Eren then, her expression softening as if the tension just rolled off her the moment she looked at him. Without saying a word, she grabbed his hand—firm, warm.

She didn’t give Yukio anything back. 

She tugged on Eren’s hand, pulling him through the kitchen and into the chaos of the party, through the front door, the night air hitting him like a shock.

They stopped at the end of the porch steps, laughter and music echoing behind them, her fingers still loosely laced with his.

Eren’s heart was slamming against his ribs so hard it almost hurt. He didn’t even know her that well—hell, at all. But as they walked away from there, under the Halloween lights, with her warm hand in his — he knew one thing for sure.

She could’ve led him anywhere, and he would’ve followed without a second thought.

The night air was alive — the hum of laughter, the distant crackle of fair lights, and the sweet scent of kettle corn drifting on the breeze. Eren’s brain, however, could barely process any of it.

He was still reeling, following this girl as she led him down the campus sidewalks, her hand still wrapped around his. The fairgrounds glowed in the distance, bursts of color and noise spilling across the night sky, but all Eren could focus on was the small, warm hand holding his. Her fingers fit against his palm perfectly, soft and light, like she’d done this before — like she belonged there.

Every step they took together made his pulse louder. He wasn’t even thinking about where they were going; he’d follow her anywhere. The sway of her pigtails, the soft flutter of her skirt in the cool October wind — everything about her seemed to move in rhythm with the faint thump of music still echoing from the sorority house behind them.

He caught himself looking down — just for a moment, a flicker — and immediately cursed under his breath.

‘Seriously, Jaeger? Get a grip.’

She wasn’t some fantasy to drool over, to which he had been doing a little while ago. 

She was a person, and he refused to be a creep. His jaw tightened as he looked away, scolding himself. The last thing he wanted was to disrespect her — especially after she’d trusted him enough to drag him out away from her ex.

Her pace slowed suddenly, pulling him out of his thoughts. She came to a gentle stop at the edge of the fairgrounds, the glow of string lights reflecting in her eyes. Slowly, she released his hand.

The absence of her touch hit him harder than it should’ve. His fingers twitched, aching to take it back.

She turned toward him, a small, shy smile tugging at her dark-painted lips. “Hey,” she began softly, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I… I should probably apologize. You don’t have to stay with me. I just dragged you to get away from my ex.”

Eren blinked.

Before his brain could stop his mouth, he blurted, “No, it’s okay. He seemed like a douchebag.”

She smiles and nods. “You got that right.”

They stand there for a moment before she shyly looks at him and then to the fair next to them. “So, the fair. I heard it’s really fun.”

Eren looks down at her and nods. “We should go.”

Too fast. 

Way too fast.

His words hung between them, awkward and earnest, and he could feel the heat crawling up his neck. He wanted to sink into the ground.

But then — she giggled.

A soft, melodic laugh that made his stomach twist into knots and he wanted to hear it again, wanted to bottle that sound, keep it forever.

“Alright then,” she said with a grin, turning toward the fair. “Come on, Eren. Let’s go.”

His heart did a weird, fluttering skip as he hurried to catch up, their shoulders brushing lightly as they fell into step side by side.

The fair was in full swing now — ferris wheel lights spinning like stars, booths lined with prizes, the faint smell of fried dough and caramel apples filling the air. Kids ran by in costumes, couples laughed over shared snacks, and somewhere, a performer was juggling glowing pumpkins, actors dressed up were scaring people as they walked by.

Eren cleared his throat, sneaking a glance at her every few seconds. She seemed completely at ease now, her eyes wide with amusement at the festive chaos. 

Her eyes then flicked over his outfit — the tattered shirt, the fake tail, the wolf ears still clinging crookedly to his head. “I like your costume,” she said, and he swore she meant it.

Eren flushed, scratching his neck. “Thanks. Uh—hang on.” He reached up and pulled the fake fangs from his mouth, grimacing as he tossed them into a nearby trash can.

Mikasa giggled behind her hand. “Why would you throw them?”

“They were rubbing off my gums,” he muttered, embarrassed but smiling despite himself.

“I see.” She chuckled softly, brushing a loose strand of hair from her cheek.

Eren hesitated, then said, “I-I like your costume, too.”

That earned him a blink of surprise — then a burst of laughter. 

Genuine, bright laughter that made his chest ache.

“This isn’t a costume,” she said through her laugh, shaking her head. “This is me.”

He stared, dumbfounded. “Wait—you’re a…”

“Goth?” she finished for him, raising a brow.

He nodded sheepishly. “Yeah. I, uh… I just assumed—”

Her smile softened again, warm and teasing. “That’s okay.”

Eren rubbed the back of his neck, mortified. “I’m sorry. That was dumb.”

“It’s fine,” Mikasa said, her voice with soft laughter. “I wasn’t planning on coming since I had to help my brother at his laundromat, but luckily, he let me go early and came straight here.”

‘She dressed up for work like this?!’

He felt dumb but nodded, suddenly wanting to know all about her. 

Yet somehow, knowing this was just her — no costume — made her even more beautiful in his eyes.

And as the Ferris wheel lights danced across her face, Eren found himself smiling, utterly mesmerized by the girl who’d turned his ordinary Halloween night into something he’d never forget.

Eren had never been more aware of his own body than he was at that moment — every stiff, awkward step he took beside Mikasa felt exaggerated, robotic, like he’d forgotten how to walk like a normal person. His palms were clammy, his heartbeat loud enough that he was half-convinced she could hear it through the noise of the fair.

The night had grown cooler, the breeze carrying laughter and the metallic groan of rides, but Eren was sweating like it was midsummer. Every time she turned her head — that slow, graceful motion of her pigtails swaying — and smiled at him, that soft, gentle kind of smile that didn’t even seem real, his chest would tighten. He’d smile back, but it always felt… forced. Not because he didn’t mean it, but because he didn’t know how to handle it.

He wasn’t used to this. To walking beside someone so effortlessly stunning.

Every detail of her — the small silver hoops glinting in her ears, the way her skirt swayed with each step, the quiet confidence in how she moved — it all left him off-balance. He’d spent his life surrounded by textbooks and lectures, not… this. 

Not girls who smiled at him like he mattered.

He swallowed hard, trying not to overthink every movement.

‘Get it together, Jaeger.’

He’d only ever been this close to women when he was home for the holidays, helping his mom with groceries or carrying bags for the elderly ladies who parked beside them at the store — mostly because Carla Jaeger insisted he ‘be a gentleman.’ The thought made him grin faintly, imagining his mom’s teasing voice. If she could see him now, she’d be thrilled — though he wasn’t sure if he’d survive her questions.

His inner ramble was cut short when Mikasa suddenly glanced up at him, her eyes gleaming beneath the string lights.

“Hey,” she said, her voice light and playful. “We should try the rollercoasters.”

Eren blinked, her words taking a moment to register. “Uh—yeah,” he stammered, nodding far too quickly.

Her smile widened — bright, genuine, and so full of warmth it made his stomach flip. “Come on then!”

Before he could react, her hand found his again, fingers curling around his palm with ease, and just like that, he was being tugged along through the crowd.

He barely noticed the noise or the blur of faces around them — all he could think about was the way her hand fit in his, smaller but firm, how his pulse seemed to sync with her every step. His brain short-circuited completely when she laughed, pulling him through a group of students dressed as the Mystery Gang.

They reached a rollercoaster line, a bit long but buzzing with excitement. The metallic tracks loomed above them, the cars shrieking as they tore through the air. The crowd whooped and cheered as the ride came to a stop, and Mikasa’s eyes sparkled like she’d just been promised the world.

“This looks fun!” she said, bouncing slightly on her tiptoes to get a better look.

Eren’s lips twitched into a small, helpless smile. She looked radiant under the warm glow of the fair lights — her pale skin illuminated by strands of amber bulbs, her eyes wide with anticipation. The red of her skirt shimmered faintly in the glow, and the faint scent of her perfume — something sweet but not overwhelming — reached him whenever the breeze shifted.

She really is beautiful.

The kind of beautiful that made everything else blur out. The noise, the chatter, even the churning of his own nerves — it all faded. 

All he could see was her.

He didn’t even realize he’d been staring until she turned, catching his gaze with a small, teasing smirk tugging at her lips.

“Caught you,” she said softly, tilting her head just enough for her pigtails to sway.

Eren’s breath hitched. His face burned instantly, his ears surely glowing red as he tore his gaze away, staring anywhere else — the crowd, the Ferris wheel, the popcorn stand — anything but her.

“I—I wasn’t—uh—” he tried, but the words tangled hopelessly on his tongue.

Mikasa giggled — a light, melodic sound that hit him harder than the October chill. 

“I don’t mind looking at you neither.”

She grinned teasingly and making him blush even harder, heart almost beating out of his chest. 

She didn’t say anything more, just turned back toward the rollercoaster, her shoulders still trembling from quiet laughter.

And Eren, standing just behind her in line, felt his heart do that stupid thing again — the skip, the flutter, the ache.

He tried to play it cool, to steady his breathing, but his pulse didn’t listen. It was impossible to be calm when she was right there, glowing under the lights like some dream conjured up just to mess with him.

So he stood there, his hands shoved awkwardly in his pockets, trying to seem relaxed while his entire body screamed otherwise.

And when the rollercoaster car roared past again, wind and cheers rushing through the night, Eren found himself smiling softly — not forced this time, not awkward. 

The line inched forward slowly, winding between rope barriers lit with orange and purple bulbs. The hum of chatter and the sound of firecrackers filled the night, but for Eren, the world had narrowed to the small space between him and Mikasa.

They’d been waiting a while now. Every time she glanced back to comment on something — the way the ride twisted, or the terrified screams from above, or the costumes all ar them — Eren had to focus hard on forming coherent answers.

His heart was still racing from the way she’d caught him staring earlier, but now, with her standing just a step in front of him, it was impossible to think straight.

He cleared his throat, trying to sound casual. “Hey, uh… you want something to eat or drink while we wait?”

Her expression softening into that small, kind smile again. “Hmm, that’ll be nice—”

But before she could finish, a loud “RAHH!” erupted behind them.

Mikasa shrieked, the sound half surprise, half laughter as she instinctively jumped forward — straight into Eren.

The culprit — an actor clown in a tattered jumpsuit, fake blood dripping from his gloves, and a fake axe slung over his shoulder — cackled loudly. His painted grin stretched wide as he waved a hand, clearly proud of his handiwork. “Gotcha!” he said cheerfully before sauntering off, searching for his next victim among the crowd.

Mikasa’s laughter came in soft bursts against Eren’s chest. “Oh my god, he actually jumped scared me!” she said breathlessly, tilting her head back to watch the clown disappear into the crowd.

Eren wanted to laugh too — really, he did — but his brain had short-circuited. Because right now, Mikasa was pressed against him, her hands braced lightly on his chest, her head tilted back just enough that her hair brushed his chin.

His arms had moved on instinct, one loosely around her shoulders, the other half-raised in surprise. He could feel the warmth radiating from her, smell that perfume again, and it was way too much for his nervous system to handle.

She looked up at him, eyes still wide from the scare, cheeks flushed from laughing. “You okay? He scared you too, huh?” she asked softly, a little teasing lilt to her tone.

Eren blinked rapidly, realizing he was still holding onto her, letting her go. “Y-yeah. Just a little—yeah.”

She smiled and turned her gaze to where the clown had gone, now sneaking up behind a group of teenagers near the cotton candy stand. They both watched as the clown jumped out again, earning a synchronized scream from the group before they dissolved into laughter.

Mikasa giggled, covering her mouth with her hand. “He’s good at his job.”

Eren chuckled too, relieved for something else to focus on. “Yeah. I think one of them almost threw their drink.”

They both laughed — light, genuine, the kind of laughter that made the chill in the air fade away. But as it subsided, they realized — almost at the same time — that she still hadn’t stepped back even though he let her go.

Mikasa’s eyes flicked down, then back up to meet his, her expression shifting into something softer. “Oh—sorry,” she said, her voice a little breathless now as she stepped away slightly.

Eren quickly waved his hands, his face flaming. “No, no—it’s fine, really. I just—uh—didn’t want you to, you know, fall or anything.”

‘Really? Fall or anything? You couldn’t come up with a better excuse?’ Eren really hated himself sometimes. He awkwardly stood there as she stared at him.

Her lips curved into a teasing small, “Right. You were… protecting me from the evil clown.”

“Exactly,” he said, trying to sound confident, but his grin came out shy, nervous.

Mikasa chuckled again and turned forward in line, though he caught the faintest trace of pink on her cheeks under the lights.

And as the rollercoaster roared overhead again, Eren exhaled quietly, his heart pounding so hard it almost hurt. He stared at the spot where she’d been pressed against him seconds ago, the ghost of her warmth lingering against his skin, and thought that no haunted house or horror movie could ever scare him the way she just did.

By the time they reached the front of the line, both Eren and Mikasa had powdered sugar dusted over their fingers from sharing a funnel cake, and each carried an almost-empty cup of juice that turned out far too artificial for either of them. Mikasa had laughed when Eren tried to finish his anyway—his expression twisting with regret after every sip—while she quietly sipped hers.

Now, finally, they stood at the gate, waiting for the next round of passengers to unload. The night breeze carried the scent of fried food, sugar, and engine oil from the coaster’s machinery. The neon lights reflected on Mikasa’s face as she grinned up at the massive track.

“Front cart,” she said confidently, pointing to the very first row as the gates opened.

“Front?” Eren blinked, impressed that she wanted the front cart. “That’s the worst spot to survive in.”

“That’s the best spot,” she corrected with a laugh, brushing her hair behind her ear. “You see everything first—or unless somebody is scared.”

She eyed him teasingly and Eren scoffs, then smirks. “Of course not. I like going fast.”

They stared at each other and Eren realized that sounded with double meaning, and he cleared his throat, looking away from her slowly smiling face.

As they stepped ahead, the ride assistant—some student volunteer in a reflective vest and cheap tiger costume—let his gaze linger far too long, openly eyeing her from head to toe.

Eren’s jaw clenched immediately. His hands went straight into his pockets, but the glare he shot the guy could’ve burned a hole through him. The guy didn’t notice, or didn’t care—his eyes followed Mikasa all the way to the front cart.

Mikasa slid gracefully into the front seat, the metal cold against her legs, while Eren climbed in beside her, fixing his tail to the side for it not to bother him, he was still glowering.

“Lap bar coming down,” the assistant announced in a drawl, stepping closer. He leaned over Mikasa’s side a bit too much while securing the bar, his arm brushing against hers.

“Thanks,” Mikasa said politely, not missing a beat.

“No problem,” the guy said, flashing her a grin—and, as if to top off Eren’s irritation, winked.

Eren scoffed audibly, rolling his eyes so hard it almost hurt. The guy moved on, helping the row behind, completely oblivious to the dagger-sharp glare aimed at his back.

Mikasa didn’t seem fazed. She was watching the rails ahead, fingers tapping on the safety bar in anticipation.

Eren turned to her, still annoyed. “You know that guy was totally gonna ask you out, right? Probably gonna wait till the ride’s over just to try.”

Mikasa’s lips curved, the faintest hint of amusement. She huffed a small laugh before looking at him. “He can try,” she said simply. “Doesn’t mean I’ll give him a chance to talk to me.”

Her tone was casual, but something in it—something sure, something unbothered—made Eren pause. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, unsure what to say.

For a moment, all he could do was stare at her. The soft light from the control booth illuminated her face, the curve of her jaw, the quiet confidence in her eyes.

Then, suddenly, the cart jolted forward, the chain beneath them clanking as it began its slow climb. Mikasa looked ahead, the wind lifting strands of her hair, her eyes bright with excitement.

Eren looked away quickly, pretending to focus on the track—but his pulse was racing again, for a completely different reason.

‘Yeah,’ he thought, as the coaster began its ascent. ‘That guy can try.’ But somehow, Eren doubted she’d be giving anyone her number tonight.

When the rollercoaster screeched to a stop, Eren could barely feel his legs. His heart thundered in his chest, lungs burning from the mix of adrenaline and laughter still stuck in his throat. The world spun a little when he stood, his hair tousled wildly from the wind, head piece to the side and barely hanging on, but the moment he turned to Mikasa, all of it disappeared into the background.

She was laughing—really laughing—head tilted back, cheeks flushed from the rush, eyes sparkling under the carnival lights. Her hair was a mess, too, strands whipping across her face, but she didn’t seem to care. She was radiant, alive in a way that made Eren forget to breathe.

“That was amazing!” she said between laughs, brushing hair from her face, stepping out of the cart once the lap bar mechanism lifted.

Eren smiled wide, a little dazed. “Yeah,” he breathed out, “that was… really fun.”

Before he could say anything else, Mikasa grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the exit ramp. Eren stumbled a bit, laughing under his breath as she urged him to move faster.

“C’mon,” she said, tugging harder.

“Wha—?!”

But he saw why. 

The same ride assistant from earlier was walking their way, eyes locked on Mikasa through the crowd. Luckily, a rush of people exiting the ride swarmed in between them, blocking his path.

Mikasa grinned in triumph. “Perfect timing,” he said, and pulled Eren into a run down the ramp.

They both broke into laughter as they made it to the fairground again, the sound of music and chatter washing over them. Mikasa still hadn’t let go of his hand, and Eren didn’t have it in him to remind her—not when her fingers fit so naturally between his.

From then on, the night became a blur of lights, laughter, and shared thrill.

They hit every ride they could find—the teacups (which made Mikasa dizzy enough to cling to his arm, laughing breathlessly), another rollercoaster (less terrifying, but twice as fun), the pirate ship (where Eren swore his stomach had left his body), and the chair swing ride (where Mikasa’s hair fluttered like black silk under the floodlights).

But it was the bumper cars that stole the night. 

Mikasa couldn’t stop smiling, her laughter echoig over the metallic clangs as she crashed into him on purpose. Eren was hopeless at steering—half because of her attacks, half because he couldn’t take his eyes off her even in a crowd of spinning cars.

He had paid for all of it, of course. Every ticket, every snack, every ride. Mikasa had tried to protest more than once.

“Eren, I can pay for myself,” she said as they joined the carousel line.

“With what?” he asked, brows raised. “You didn’t even bring a bag.”

She smirked, a little mischievous glint in her eyes. “Who says I didn’t?”

Before he could ask, she reached into the neckline of her shirt and pulled out her smartphone—hidden perfectly against her bra.

Eren blinked. 

Once.

Twice. 

Then his face turned beet red. “Y-you— you hid it—there?” he stammered, instantly looking away toward a group of laughing kids running to a nearby ride.

“Safe and convenient,” Mikasa teased lightly, watching him squirm.

He cleared his throat roughly. “R-right. Yeah. Smart.” He nodded stiffly, pretending to be extremely interested in the carousel horses.

Still chuckling, Mikasa nudged his arm. “Tell you what, if you’re so insistent on paying, at least hold onto my phone for me.”

Eren turned back to her, eyes wide. She was smiling softly—sweet, teasing, but somehow genuine, too.

“I—uh—yeah,” he stuttered, holding out his palm awkwardly. “Sure."

Mikasa leaned in close, her scent hitting him all at once. She set the phone gently in his palm, her fingers brushing his for a split second longer than necessary.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice low and velvety. “For treating me.”

Eren froze, breath hitching. His heart skipped like a broken record, and he could feel the heat climb all the way up his neck to his ears.

He gulped, trying to find his voice. “Y-you’re welcome,” he managed weakly, nodding too fast.

Mikasa smiled again, turning toward the carousel as the next round of riders stepped off. The lights flickered across her face in soft gold and pink hues.

Eren slipped her phone carefully into his pocket like it was made of glass—and as he glanced at her one more time, he realized he was already lost.

The carousel’s lights flickered like a slow heartbeat—soft golds and pinks glowing against the night sky—as Eren and Mikasa stepped through the gate, the assistant ushering them in with a practiced smile.

“Go ahead, you two,” the man said, counting heads as families and couples streamed past. “You’ll be the last ones for this round.”

Eren nodded, hands shoved into his pockets, watching Mikasa's hair sway as she scanned the glittering ring of painted horses. The music tinkled faintly in the air—an old, whimsical tune that didn’t quite drown out the hum of laughter and chatter around them.

“Let’s see…” she murmured, her eyes bright as they flicked from horse to horse.

She soon spotted one—a sleek white horse with a deep red saddle and golden trim—and turned to Eren with a small, excited smile. “I’ll take this one,” she said softly, already stepping toward it.

“Yeah,” Eren said, returning her smile awkwardly. “I’ll, uh… find another one.”

But before he could even step away, another attendant, a woman in a construction worker costume, hurried over with a clipboard in hand.

“Oh—hey you, with the werewolf costume!” she said, looking between them apologetically. “Sorry, we miscounted. There’s no more spots left for this round.”

Eren blinked. “Oh—uh, that’s okay,” he started, already stepping back toward the exit. “I’ll step down—”

The woman waved him off. “Nonsense! You two can ride together,” she said cheerfully. “There’s plenty of room for couples to share.”

Eren froze. 

His brain completely short-circuited. 

Couple?

He opened his mouth, instantly flustered. “W-wait, we’re not—”

But Mikasa was already moving. 

Her face flushed a delicate shade of pink, but she grabbed his arm before he could dig himself deeper. With a dazzlingly sweet smile—the kind that could convince anyone of anything—she looked at the woman and said, “Thank you! That’ll work just fine.”

Then, without missing a beat, she turned to Eren and said softly, “Would you help me up?”

Eren’s entire body went rigid. His heart thudded so hard he thought the carousel music might actually drown it out. He barely heard the attendant chuckle and walked off the platform.

Mikasa released his arm and turned her back toward him, both hands gripping the pole on her horse. “Well?” she said, glancing at him over her shoulder with a hint of teasing in her eyes. “Aren’t you going to help?”

Eren swallowed hard. “R-right,” he stammered as he gulped, throat drying. He wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans before carefully placing his hands on her waist.

Her waist.

It was small—delicate, warm. He grabbed on bare skin thanks to her crop top. His pulse skipped a full beat as he bent his knees slightly, bracing himself. 

‘Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. Just lift her up.’

He hoisted her up gently, her body light and graceful in his grip. Mikasa gasped softly, gripping the pole for balance as her feet found the stirrups. For a split second, Eren’s chest brushed her back, and he thought his brain might just stop functioning altogether.

She turned slightly to look at him once she was seated, a smile tugging at her lips. “Thanks,” she said, voice low and sweet.

“N-no problem,” he muttered, trying to act nonchalant and failing miserably.

Then she scooted forward on the saddle—just a few inches—but enough to leave space behind her. She tilted her head, motioning for him to get on too.

Eren blinked and took a subtle calm breath in. “Okay.”

Her lips curved into a smirk and he could’ve sworn the air around him got hotter.

With another deep breath, he grabbed the pole with one hand and steadied himself on the side of the horse with the other, swinging a leg over to sit behind her. He was careful—painfully careful—to leave a small gap between them, his back stiff, his hands glued awkwardly to his lap.

He wasn’t sure what to do with himself now. His heart was pounding so loudly it drowned out the carousel music.

Around them, the crowd was cheering as the announcer started the countdown. “Ready? Five! Four! Three!”

Mikasa giggled, glancing back at him over her shoulder. The sound made something flutter in his chest, light and dizzying.

“Two! One!”

The carousel jerked forward and Eren backwards.

He hadn’t expected it to start so abruptly, and when the ride jerked forward, the motion made his whole body pitched back. He let out a small startled gasp and instinctively grabbed the nearest thing to steady himself.

Which happened to be Mikasa’s waist.

His arms wrapped around her in a panic, holding tight as the horse began its rhythmic rise and fall. Her body went still for a heartbeat, surprised, and Eren froze too—mortified, breathless.

But before he could pull away, Mikasa glanced back at him again. Her expression softened into something teasing, her lips curved in a knowing smile.

“Hold on tight, Mr. Werewolf,” she said, amusement glinting in her eyes, she gently set a hand on his forearm.

Eren exhaled shakily, face burning. “Y-yeah,” he murmured, tightening his hold just enough to keep his balance as the carousel spun around them—lights blurring, laughter echoing, her soft perfume surrounding him like the sweetest kind of trap he never wanted to escape.

The carousel slowed, the golden lights shimmering over the spinning world around them. The music still played its slow, lilting tune—but to Eren, it all blurred into a hazy, dreamlike hum.

He was acutely aware of everything.

Mikasa’s back pressed gently against his chest, the warmth of her body seeping through his shirt. Her scent wrapped around him, intoxicating and dizzying. And her hand, light but deliberate, rested on his forearm, fingers curling slightly against his skin as the carousel swayed.

Eren’s heart pounded so hard he was sure she could feel it.

He tried to focus on anything else—his parents, Armin’s stupid movie rants, his chemistry homework, the kids on the horses beside them laughing gleefully—but none of it could overpower her.

When she lazily leaned back, relaxing against him as if it was the most natural thing in the world, he nearly forgot how to breathe. His entire body tensed, and he swallowed thickly, silently begging his racing pulse to calm down.

She tilted her head slightly, eyes half-lidded as she smiled softly, the reflection of the lights dancing in her eyes. 

She looked—happy. 

Peaceful. 

Beautiful.

And Eren felt like he was losing his mind.

Too soon, the carousel began to slow, the horses bobbing to a gentle stop. The announcer’s cheerful voice rang out over the speakers: “Thank you for riding! Please exit carefully!”

The spell broke.

Mikasa exhaled a little sigh of contentment, and Eren blinked rapidly, realizing the ride was over. He released her reluctantly, hands hovering awkwardly as she reached up to brush her hair away from her face.

“I guess that’s it,” she murmured, voice soft, playful.

Eren swallowed. “Y-yeah,” he said, and quickly swung one leg over the horse to step down.

The ground beneath him felt strangely unsteady, like he’d just stepped off a boat. He turned back immediately, holding his hands out to help her down. She was teasing him again with that small, knowing smile.

“Oh, what a gentleman,” she said lightly, her tone making his ears burn.

He chuckled nervously before she placed her hands gently on his shoulders. She turned sideways, sliding down slowly.

His hands found her waist automatically, steadying her as she descended. He could feel her warmth through the fabric, every second stretching out longer than it should’ve.

When her boots finally hit the ground, she didn’t step back. Instead, her arms looped around his neck—soft, slow, deliberate.

Eren froze, eyes wide.

Their faces were close, her forehead nearly brushed his, and her breath hit his lips in soft, teasing waves.

For a heartbeat, the fair vanised. 

The laughter, the carousel music, the distant chatter—all gone.

There was only her.

Mikasa’s fingers played lazily with the baby hairs at the nape of his neck, sending shivers down his spine. Her gaze was steady, her dark eyes unreadable—but there was something there. 

Something intense, it made him crazy to think she was also feeling this…something too. 

Eren’s throat tightened as his hands were still on her waist, and without realizing it, his grip had tightened slightly. 

She smiled faintly, lips curving with quiet amusement. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Eren’s mind was a mess. His thoughts dissolved into static because he didn’t even know if he responded aloud or just nodded dumbly, because all his focus was on her—her closeness, her eyes, and most dangerously, her lips.

God, they were so close.

She could’ve asked him for his wallet, his car, his soul, and he would’ve handed it over without question.

He could only stare—caught in her gravity—utterly lost.

The fairground had begun to calm down by the time Eren and Mikasa made their way to their final ride—the Ferris wheel. The air had cooled, crisp and faintly sweet with the lingering scent of all sorts of sweets.

Eren walked beside Mikasa through the maze of fading lights and half-empty game stalls, the tail of his ridiculous werewolf costume brushing against his calves. He tugged at one of the floppy ears on his headband, genuinely amazed it hadn’t fallen off during the roller coasters earlier. Mikasa noticed and laughed softly—a sound that always made something flutter deep in his chest.

“This one’s our last,” she said, looking up at the glowing wheel towering above them, its bulbs reflecting off her dark hair like a crown of scattered stars.

“Best for last,” Eren replied, shoving his hands in his pockets to hide how fidgety he suddenly felt.

To their surprise, the line wasn’t long since it seemed that the people tended to migrate toward the faster, louder rides. 

The wait was short—maybe ten minutes—and soon enough, the ride assistant guided them to an empty cabin with a polite nod.

Eren stepped aside to let Mikasa climb in first before following her. The cabin’s metal seat was slightly cold through his jeans, but the warmth between them filled the space quickly. As they sat side by side, the door latched shut with a click, and the Ferris wheel began its slow, methodical rotation to fill the other cabins.

Below them, the fair stretched out like a blanket of gold and blue lights. The music was softer here, distant. Mikasa leaned forward a little, resting her chin in her palm as she looked down.

“Today was fun,” she murmured, her voice blending with the hum of the wheel.

“Yeah,” Eren said, smiling faintly. “Even if I screamed like a maniac on that drop ride.”

She laughed quietly. “You were brave—mostly.”

“Mostly,” he repeated, grinning. “I thought I was gonna lose my lunch.”

They both laughed as the cabin creaked faintly when they shifted, gravity pulling them ever so slightly closer together. It wasn’t deliberate—at least not at first—but soon their thighs brushed. Neither of them moved away from the intoxicating warmth.

Eren tried to focus on the view, but it was impossible. The glow of the fair below bathed Mikasa’s face in warm amber, her eyes catching both the moonlight and the reflection of the lights below. Her lips curved into the softest smile, and he thought, how can someone look like that without even trying?

Then, she looked like she remembered something before pointing at his pocket. “Oh! Can you take a picture of me?” she asked. “I want to post it later.”

“Yeah—yeah, of course,” he said too quickly, his voice cracking slightly as he fumbled to take her phone out from his pocket.

He was looking at her without even looking at the screen, muscle memory to where in the lockscreen, the camera icon was on the bottom right. Once on the camera app, he adjusted the angle, but his eyes refused to leave her. Mikasa leaned back slightly, tilting her head, a soft smile playing on her lips. 

She looked ethereal…

His pulse hammered as he blindly snapped a dozen photos, terrified she wouldn’t be satisfied with just one. 

“Got it,” he said weakly, lowering the phone.

She smiled. “Thanks.”

He smiled back awkwardly before pocketing her phone. 

The Ferris wheel groaned, shifting again as it reached the final loading point. From their vantage near the top, the whole fair was visible—the tiny dots of people, the smell of popcorn drifting up faintly, the cool whisper of wind brushing against their faces.

“They’re probably loading the last cabin,” Mikasa said softly. “We’ll start soon.”

Eren nodded, but his voice failed him. His attention was entirely fixed on her—on the way her hair framed her face, on the faint blush on her cheeks.

Then she turned to him, and for a second, neither of them spoke. Her gaze was soft but intent, searching him in a way that made his chest feel too tight.

“No one’s ever seen me like you do,” she whispered suddenly.

His heart stuttered. “W-what?”

Mikasa’s lips quirked upward in a small, almost shy smile. “The guys I meet… they all look at me like I’m a piece of meat. Something to show off. But you… you look at me like I’m a person. You respect me.”

Eren blinked, his throat dry. “That’s just… how I was raised.”

She smiled again, her blush deepening as she inched closer. Their thighs fully pressed together now, the air between them heavy and warm. “That’s what attracted me,” she admitted softly.

Eren froze. “Attracted?” he echoed, voice barely a whisper.

Mikasa nodded, eyes flicking down briefly—to his lips.

His heart stopped. 

No way.

He wanted to say something, anything—but his brain was a jumble of static. “Mikasa, you’re—you’re so… I mean, how could someone like you be interested in someone like me? I’m not—”

Before he could finish, Mikasa reached up and gently cupped his face in her hands. The touch was feather-light but grounding, silencing his words instantly. Her fingers were cool against his burning cheeks.

“You think too little of yourself,” she murmured, smiling softly. “Sometimes, normal and boring is exactly what someone in a whirlwind needs.”

Eren could barely breathe. Every inch of him buzzed with nervous electricity as she leaned in—slowly, deliberately—her eyes flicking from his lips to his gaze again.

When her lips finally met his, his world went still.

It was soft, tentative at first—like she was giving him a choice to pull away. But Eren didn’t, his eyes fluttered closed as her warmth flooded through him, and the Ferris wheel began its slow, steady spin over the fairgrounds below.

It was his first kiss. 

Yes—at twenty-one. 

And it felt like everything in him finally caught fire.

He froze for a second, not sure what to do, until instinct—or maybe gravity—pulled him in. His hands found her waist, tentative but firm, drawing her closer. Mikasa giggled softly between the kisses, clearly sensing his nervousness. She guided him gently, tilting her head, deepening the kiss with patience and grace.

Eren followed clumsily, his heart pounding so loud he was sure she could feel it. The kiss grew warmer, slower—sweet and hesitant and full of wonder. Mikasa’s fingers trailed through his hair, her thumb brushing his jaw as she showed him how to breathe, when to move, when to let go.

The air grew heavy with unspoken longing. With a feather-light touch, she brushed her thumb against Eren's cheek, tracing the curve of his jaw.

Eren's breath caught as Mikasa's intimate caress sent a shiver down his spine.

Mikasa's hand slipped into Eren's hair, fingers tangling in the messy locks as she deepened the kiss with a subtle tilt of her head.

The cabin's gentle sway and the increasing tempo of their hearts created a sense of weightlessness, as if they were floating, untethered from reality. Eren's hands found Mikasa's waist, fingers splaying across the small of her back to pull her closer.

Their kiss grew more heated, tongues dancing, teeth clinking in a passionate rhythm. Eren could feel himself twitching, a telltale sign of his growing arousal. The thought of Mikasa's hands on him, exploring his body, sent a jolt of need through his veins.

The Ferris wheel was still going, the lights of the fair glowing like embers beneath their feet. And for the first time that night, Eren forgot about everything else—the rides, the laughter, the world spinning below.

All he could feel was her and her soft, cherry taste, lips.

The world outside their cabin had completely faded—the cheers, the lights, even the faint music below. There was only the slow hum of the Ferris wheel and the quiet, rhythmic thump of Eren’s heart echoing somewhere between them.

Mikasa’s fingers were still curled into his hair, her lips warm and soft against his. Every time they parted for breath, her eyes would flicker open and meet his, and he’d claim her lips again. He didn’t know how long they’d been kissing; time had melted away, blurred by the slow turns of the wheel and the pulse of adrenaline humming through his veins.

At some point the ride had stopped completely, but neither of them noticed. They were still lost in the quiet, hesitant rhythm they’d found together—her hand tracing the back of his neck, his thumb brushing the side of her waist. The cabin’s dim glow painted them in gold, the world suspended in that single, dizzying moment.

Then—

A loud cough shattered the air, making them jerk apart.

Eren blinked rapidly, dazed, and turned behind him to see the ride assistant standing right outside the cabin door, arms crossed, a look of pure annoyance etched across his face. He was clearly waiting for them to get out.

The man gruffed, voice rough with irritation, “You two done? Get a room, for crying out loud.”

Mikasa froze, mortified. Eren could feel the heat flooding his ears. For the whole ride—had they really been kissing?

“Oh my god,” she muttered under her breath, eyes wide as the realization hit her. 

“W-we’re so sorry!” Eren blurted out, face crimson. 

“Yeah—sorry, sir!” Mikasa added.

“Uh-huh,” the assistant said dryly, stepping aside so they could exit.

Eren quickly grabbed Mikasa’s hand, their fingers tangling together as they all but bolted out of the cabin. They half-ran, half-tripped down the exit ramp, both of them bursting into helpless laughter once they were safely out of the man’s line of sight.

“I can’t believe—” Mikasa gasped, laughing so hard she had to grab his sleeve. “Eren, we didn’t even realize—”

“I know!” he said, laughing too, rubbing the back of his neck. “I swear I thought we were only up there for, like, a minute!”

Their laughter mixed with the sounds of the fair, the energy between them bright and giddy. But as they reached the bottom of the ramp, Eren’s eyes caught something—a small, light-up booth tucked to the side of the ride exit. 

The photo stand.

He froze mid-step. Then, grinning, he tugged on her hand.

“Come. I want to see something,” he said.

“What—Eren—”

But he was already pulling her toward the booth, weaving through the sparse crowd until they reached the display of freshly printed ride photos. His eyes scanned the rows of glossy images—families, couples, friends mid-scream—and then he saw it.

Right there in the center.

Them.

Locked in a kiss, the night sky and Ferris wheel lights framing them in soft gold. It looked unreal—like a scene straight out of some romance drama that would make Armin tease him for weeks.

Eren huffed out a nervous laugh, covering his mouth with his hand. “Oh, man…”

Mikasa followed his gaze, her blush deepening instantly. “Eren, oh my god,” she whispered, laughing quietly but covering her face.

He didn’t even hesitate. 

Letting go of her hand for just a moment, Eren pulled out his wallet, turning to the vendor—a woman probably in her fifties, watching them with a amuse smirk.

“I’ll take two wallet-sized copies of that one,” Eren said, pointing to their photo and flashing what he hoped was a confident smile. “Please.”

The woman raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed but amused. “Is that all, werewolf?” she asked, taking his cash.

“Y-yeah,” Eren said with an awkward smile now.

Beside him, Mikasa giggled softly, leaning against his shoulder, her fingers brushing his sleeve as they waited. The woman behind the counter kept glancing up at them with that same skeptical, half-teasing look.

Mikasa tipped her head back slightly to look up at him, resting her chin against his right triceps. “So, Eren?” she whispered, voice low, just for him.

He has to suppress a shiver at her tone as he looks down at her. His heart beats faster when her eyes lower to glance at his lips. 

“Are you going to take me to your room now?”

Eren choked on his own breath and his knees nearly buckled, he gulps and blinks a couple of times, thinking his brain isn’t working properly because there is no way a hot girl asked him to take her to his room.

“W-what—uh—uh,” he stammered, blinking rapidly as his face turned beet red. His mouth opened and closed like a fish as he tried—and failed—to form a coherent sentence.

Mikasa’s smile told him she was not playing. 

She was really asking him to take her to his room.

‘Holy shit! Say something, Eren!? Tell her yes! That you would love to!!!—“

“Yes!” Eren blurted out, startling her and himself to be honest. 

He blushed hard as Mikasa slowly smiled. She opened her mouth to say something but before she could respond, the vendor slid two freshly printed photos across the counter. “Here you go, guys,” she said dryly.

Eren shook in his spot and from his trance she put him under before he grabbed the photos carefully, still flustered, and slid a few bills onto the counter a little bit in a hurry. “Keep the change,” he said quickly.

The woman gave them a knowing look and pocketed the money with a scoff. “Have fun, kids.”

Eren ignored her comment, pocketed the pictures, and turned back to Mikasa, who was grinning up at him, eyes sparkling beneath the glow of the fair lights. Without thinking, he reached for her hand again, threading their fingers together.

“Come on,” he said, smiling excitedly. “Let’s get out of here.”

And with that, he led her away from the booth, laughter and fair lights fading behind them as the night swallowed them up—still warm, still dizzy.

The cool autumn air nipped at their faces as they half-walked, half-ran through the quiet campus. The fair was still in full swing behind them—laughter and music echoing faintly in the distance—but here, everything was still and dimly lit. Just the occasional flicker of a streetlamp or the soft hum of crickets filled the silence between them.

Mikasa was still holding his hand, their fingers tangled tightly as they made their way toward the dorm building. Both of them were buzzing with leftover adrenaline—half from the Ferris wheel, half from… everything else.

“Are we sneaking in?” Mikasa whispered, barely suppressing a laugh, stating the obvious. Her eyes gleamed mischievously, and it made Eren’s heart flip.

He grinned back, breathless. “I—I guess we are,” he said, glancing around to make sure no one was watching. “Since you know, uh…girls aren’t supposed to be in the guys’ dorms.”

She raised an eyebrow, teasing. “So you are breaking a rule.”

“Yeah,” he said quickly, fumbling for the keypad by the door. “But, um… we’ll be quiet. It’s fine.”

Before she could reply, he typed in the code—hands shaking slightly—and the lock gave a soft click. Without thinking, he pulled the door open and grabbed her wrist, tugging her inside with a whispered, “Come on!”

They burst through the doorway, laughing quietly, both panting from the run. Eren pressed his back against the door to close it softly behind them, the metal latch echoing faintly in the hallway.

Mikasa leaned against the wall, one hand on her chest as she tried to catch her breath, grinning from ear to ear. Her hair was a little messy from the wind, the faint pink still dusting her cheeks from all the excitement.

Eren looked at her—really looked—and felt something in his chest twist. 

“Eren,” Mikasa whispered, her voice low and playful. “You look like you’re about to have a heart attack.”

He huffed a nervous laugh, running a hand through his hair. “I probably am.”

Mikasa laughed softly, shaking her head. “Should I get a doctor?” She teased with a smirk.

Before he even realized what he was doing, Eren stepped closer, his hands finding her waist almost instinctively. Mikasa gasped softly, her eyes widening—but she was smiling, her lips curling into something mischievous—and her hands going to his arms.

He looked a bit smug. “Lucky for me. I’m studying to be a doctor,” he said, grinning now. 

She kept her eyes wide and now huffed a laugh. And Eren, already catching on to her slow buildup teasing smile, knew she was about to say something teasing.

So he interrupted her.

“Eren—!” she squeaked in surprise as he suddenly lifted her off the ground, his arms strong under her legs and back. Her hands flew to his shoulders for balance, and she let out a soft laugh that she quickly muffled with a hand.

“Shhh,” he whispered, grinning as she squirmed in his arms. “You’ll get us caught.”

Her eyes sparkled with amusement as she nodded dramatically, pretending to zip her lips shut.

He couldn’t help but laugh quietly, his pulse racing as he started walking down the hallway. The building was silent—most students were still out at the fair—and only the soft hum of fluorescent lights accompanied the sound of his footsteps.

Mikasa was still in his arms, light and warm against him, her head resting against his shoulder as she tried not to giggle.

“I can walk,” she whispered near his ear.

“Hmm, yeah. I know,” he whispered back, smiling despite himself. “But it’s only the second floor, and you’re being loud.”

She rolled her eyes fondly but didn’t protest. Her fingers absentmindedly played with the edge of his costume collar as they made their way up the stairs, and Eren thought his heart might actually stop.

When they reached his door, he gently set her down, his hands still lingering at her waist as she steadied herself. Mikasa smiled up at him, a little breathless, still caught in the thrill of it all. She had her back against his door while he was in front of her.

Eren stared at her for a moment, realizing how utterly gone he was. The fair lights, the laughter, the forbidden rush of sneaking her in—it all blurred into one single truth: she made him forget everything else.

“This is my mansion,” he whispered jokingly.

She laughed softly, eyes bright. “I like it, rule breaker.”

He laughed breathlessly, still riding the wave of adrenaline from sneaking her in. One hand slowly reached and gripped the doorknob to open it, but it was more for support, while the other stayed on her waist, as if tethering himself to reality. Mikasa’s eyes held his, dark and deep and impossibly unreadable, and for a moment it felt like the world had shrunk to just the two of them.

Her lips curved into the tiniest, almost imperceptible smile, and she leaned forward ever so slightly, on her tiptoes. Eren’s heart skipped, his pulse hammering in his ears. She whispered, her voice just above the sound of their own breathing, “Are you taking me inside… or are we just going to stare at each other out here in the hallway?”

Eren froze, feeling the weight of her gaze, her proximity, and the teasing lilt in her tone. The faint scent of her perfume—or maybe just the night itself—hit him, making his stomach twist in that mix of nerves and anticipation.

He swallowed hard, blinking rapidly as he tried to steady himself. “I… y-yeah,” he began, voice trembling slightly, “yeah. Come in.”

Her smile widened ever so slightly, mischievous but approving, as she tilted her head just a fraction. “Good,” she whispered, giving him just enough encouragement to finally twist the doorknob and take a careful, deliberate step toward her.

Eren’s hand tightened ever so slightly on her waist as Mikasa closed the space between them and kissed him, hungrily. Eren immediately kissed her back, having half a mind to open the door.

They stumbled into his dorm room, lips locked in a passionate kiss. Eren slammed the door shut behind them, never breaking the intense connection with her. Mikasa's hands impatiently tugged at his jacket, eager to feel him.

With a swift motion, Eren shrugged off the jacket, letting it land in a heap on the floor. Their kiss deepened, tongues dancing as they explored each other's mouths with growing hunger. Mikasa's fingers gripped his arms and Eren groaned into the kiss, his hands roaming over Mikasa's petite frame, mapping the toned muscles beneath her clothes.

Eren's dorm room was dimly lit, the only sound the soft rhythm of their heaving breaths intermingled with the quiet rustling of clothes.

With her athletic physique, Mikasa's toned arms wrapped around Eren's neck as she pressed her lips to his. Her tongue danced with his, stoking the flames of their arousal. Eren felt his body respond with urgent twitches, his inexperience making every sensation more intense.

He groaned into her mouth as Mikasa's leg hooked over his hip, her heat radiating against his thigh. He guided her to the wall, trapping her there. Eren's heart pounded in his chest as he and Mikasa pressed against each other, their bodies hot and urgent. His hands roamed over her toned back and shoulders, feeling the definition of her muscles through her shirt. 

She broke the kiss to catch her breath while her hands slid under his shirt, her fingers tracing the lines of his stomach as he leaned in to capture her lips in a searing kiss. Eren moaned into her mouth, his hips bucking involuntarily as his excitement grew. He had never been this close to a girl before, let alone touching and kissing one so passionately.

But as the heat between them intensified, Eren felt his control slipping. He was a virgin, and the overwhelming sensations were building to a crescendo he wasn't sure he could handle. His pants were growing wet, and he knew he was close to cumming right then and there.

The friction sent shivers of pleasure coursing through him, making him teeter on the brink of climax. With a gasp, Eren broke the kiss, panting heavily as he struggled to regain control.

Mikasa looked up at him, her eyes dark with desire. "What’s wrong?" she asked, her voice husky.

He shook his head, though his breath still came in ragged gasps. "Just... need a moment," he managed to say, his voice strained. “I-I’ve never—“

Mikasa understood, her expression softening with concern and affection. She took his face on her small hands and made him drop his head so she could lean in to kiss his forehead, soothing his throbbing in his loins. "We can take it slow or do nothing. It’s okay," she murmured, her lips brushing against his skin.

Eren's hands caressed her sides, gripping her tight as he pulled her closer.

But Eren's body had other ideas. 

Despite his efforts to control himself, his pants continued to dampen with pre-cum. He gripped Mikasa's waist tightly, his fingers digging into her sides as he panted heavily.

Mikasa's hands slid down to cover his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Shh, it's alright," she murmured, her voice like a lullaby. "Don't worry about it. Just breathe. Like I said, we don’t need to do anything.”

Eren shook, trying to calm his racing heart. Mikasa's words helped, and he felt himself relax just a bit. She continued to kiss his cheeks, his neck, his jaw, her lips gentle and soothing.

Eren's mind was a jumble of thoughts and feelings, but somehow, Mikasa's presence grounds him. He knew he might never have another chance like this, with a girl as cool and beautiful as her. 

‘So screw it,’ he thought, a rough determination settling over him. 

Eren's primal instincts overruled his rational mind. The idea of possibly climaxing too soon, of missing out on this incredible opportunity with the girl of his dreams, filled him with a reckless abandon. 

He thought. ‘If this is my only shot, I'm taking it.’

With a growl, Eren grabbed Mikasa with a ferocity that surprised even himself, Eren grabbed Mikasa's waist and lifted her off the floor and away from the wall. She let out a startled gasp and then a small yelp as he tossed her onto his small bed, the bounce of the mattress sending her hair flying, ponytails threatening to come loose.

Not giving her a chance to process this sudden reversal, Eren pounced, his lips crashing against hers in a bruising kiss. Mikasa's initial shock quickly melted into a fierce reciprocation as she wrapped her toned legs around his hips, pulling him closer.

Their bodies moved in a frenzied rhythm, hands roaming, exploring, claiming. Eren's fingers dug into Mikasa's skin as he devoured her mouth, drinking in her intoxicating flavor. He couldn't get enough of her, of the feel of her beneath him, the scent of her hair, the sound of her breathy moans.

Hence, all of this was new to him, so of course it was exciting. But Eren had a gut feeling that it wasn’t just the act itself, but the girl beneath him as well.

Their hands moved with fervor, tugging at each other's clothing with a desperation born of desire. His narrow bed creaked beneath them, a symphony of springs and sighs that echoed through the dorm room. With Eren on top, his weight pressing her into the mattress, Mikasa's slender fingers tugged at the hem of his shirt, urging him closer. Eren's breath hitched as the heat of her body seeped through the thin fabric of their clothes. His hands roamed over her curves, mapping out every contour of her toned frame.

He deepened the kiss, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her hips as he pulled her closer.

Breaking away for a moment, Mikasa's gaze searched his face, looking for any sign of doubts or regrets. Eren's response was immediate and resolute – a nod, a press of his lips to the tender skin beneath her ear, and a hard, insistent grip on her hips. The message was clear: he was sure, more than sure, completely convinced that this was who he loses his virginity to.

With renewed urgency, they kissed and shed the remaining barriers between them. Eren's shirt hit the floor along with the stupid stubborn werewolf ears, followed by Mikasa's blouse and skirt, leaving them both in their underwear – a provocative intimacy that made the air between them crackle with tension. Mikasa's bra and panties were black laced, contrasting backdrops to Eren’s plain green briefs.

As their clothing lay in a haphazard heap on the floor, they returned their attention to each other, hands roaming, exploring, claiming every inch of newly exposed skin. Mikasa's touch was bold, her fingers tracing the lines of Eren's chest, dipping into his navel, before continuing their journey lower. Eren's hands, meanwhile, cupped the firm globes of Mikasa's rear, kneading and pulling her closer, seeking the heat of her core through the thin barrier of their underwear.

Eren groaned into her mouth, his hands gripping her ass tightly. Mikasa tugged at his shoulder, urging him closer as her hand slid down to the waistband of his underwear. His heart stopped for a second, and he panted heavily, breaking the kiss to look down at her with wide, desperate eyes.

"Mikasa, if you touch me there, I..." he warned, his voice cracking. "I might—"

The very thought sent a shudder through him, his arousal straining against the confines of his underwear.

Mikasa's eyes sparkled with mischief as she huffed a laugh, her hand pausing just above the waistband. "Okay," she purred, her voice a seductive husk. "Then…do you have a condom?”

The words hit Eren like a punch to the gut. 

He doesn’t have any…

His heart raced as a wave of panic washed over him. 

‘No, no, no! This couldn't be happening.’ He was so close, on the brink of something incredible, and now it was all being ripped away.

In that instant, his world tilted on its axis, imploding into chaos. The question hit him like a thunderbolt, searing his brain. Condom? He was a virgin, for god's sake! 

The realization struck him like a lightning bolt, leaving him dazed and breathless.

Panic seized Eren, his body rigid atop Mikasa's as his mind raced. He'd been so close, so tantalizingly close to losing his innocence with the first woman who was willing to have sex with him! And now, it all seemed to be slipping through his fingers.

"I...I don't have one," Eren stammered, his voice cracking. The realization, the shame, the dread of ruining everything – it all suffused him, leaving him paralyzed.

Mikasa's expression softened, her eyebrows furrowing in concern as she gazed up at him. "Eren, it's okay. We can still do other things.”

He groans and drops his forehead to her shoulder in despair, she smiles and soothes his hair.

But then, like a beacon in the storm, an idea struck him. 

A neighbor...there was a small chance they might have some spare condoms.

It was a long shot, but it was better than nothing.

Eren pulled back, his face flushed and eyes wide. "Wait here," he managed to say, pecking Mikasa's lips quickly before scrambling to pull on his clothes.

Mikasa sat on the bed as she watched him dress and say no further explanation for where he was going, but a slow smile appeared on her lips.

His breathing came in ragged gasps as he fumbled with the doorknob, desperate to escape the intimacy of the moment and salvage what he could. "I'll be right back," he told Mikasa, his voice trembling slightly. "I need to grab something real quick."

Mikasa's expression was a mix of excitement and curiosity. She nodded, her gaze softening as she watched Eren flee the room, his hasty retreat leaving a trail of displaced air and shattered expectations in its wake.

As the door clicked shut behind him, Eren leaned against it, his chest heaving as he tried to calm his racing heart. He took a deep breath, then another, steeling himself for the ordeal ahead. The gamble was a risky one, but it was better than leaving Mikasa disappointed and unsatisfied.

With a final, steadying breath, Eren pushed off the door and began the short trek to his neighbor's room, the weight of his virginity and the thrill of his pending encounter propelling him forward into the unknown.

Eren stood frozen in front of the neighbor’s door, silently praying to every god he could name—and a few he made up on the spot—that the guy was home. The last thing he needed was to be caught wandering around the dorms at this hour, dressed haphazardly and looking like a disaster.

He raised his hand and gave a firm knock, the sound echoing down the dim empty hallway. His heart hammered in his chest as he muttered under his breath, “Please be in there. Come on. Please be in there…”

A second passed and nothing, he is going to have to knock on the next door if there is no answer.

He exhaled shakily, looking down at himself—and immediately groaned. His shirt was inside out. The tag was sticking out from his collar, proudly announcing his humiliation to the world. His pants—the werewolf tail still attached—weren’t buttoned, hung loose on his hips. He quickly buttoned it, trying to look less ridiculous.

“Come on, man” he muttered, raking a hand through his hair. “I have a hot girl waiting for me.”

He was just about to knock again when the door swung open.

Eren froze mid-motion.

His neighbor stood in the doorway, bleary-eyed and half-asleep, wearing an oversized T-shirt and an expression that said ‘I was in the middle of a dream, and you ruined it.’

Eren’s soul practically left his body.

“Uh—hi,” he stammered, straightening his posture too fast. “It’s me, Eren. Uh—Eren Jaeger?”

The neighbor blinked, unimpressed and confused. “Yeah, I know who you are. We’ve had biology together for a year.”

Eren wanted to melt into the carpet. “Right, yeah, of course. Sorry. I just—uh—I needed to ask you something. Really quick.”

The guy rubbed his eyes. “At this hour?”

Eren’s face was burning. He could feel it. “It’s kind of… urgent.”

His neighbor squinted at him, his suspicion clearly growing by the second. “You drunk or something?”

“No! No, no, no—just—uh…” Eren hesitated, then blurted, rused even, “Do you… haveanycondoms?”

That woke the guy up instantly.

The silence that followed could have swallowed Eren whole. 

The neighbor’s eyebrows slowly climbed toward his hairline once his foggy brain caught up. “Condoms,” he repeated flatly.

“Yeah,” Eren said quickly, nodding too fast. “Like—um. You know. The ones you—uh—put on your—“

The guy stared at him. “And you’re asking me.”

Eren wished a lightning bolt would strike him or that the floor would open up and drag him straight down. “I know it’s weird, but please,” he begged, clasping his hands together. “I swear I’ll owe you. Anything. Homework for a week, eh? Just—please.”

Neighbor blinked again, looking both disgusted and faintly amused. “You’re serious.”

“Dead serious.”

There was another long pause. 

Eren was so mortified but he was not going to let this opportunity slip, he actually considered kneeling and telling his neighbor to help a bro out, but before he could, the guy sighed heavily and muttered something about “whatever cosmic joke this is” before disappearing into his room.

Eren stood there in the hallway, rocking on his heels, running through a scenario in his head. If Mikasa asked why it took him so long, what was he supposed to say? ‘Oh, I had to bribe my half-awake neighbor for a condom?’

The door opened again, and the guy returned—now holding several small, pastel packets. He shoved them hard against Eren’s chest. “Here,” he grumbled.

Eren scrambled to hold them all, nearly dropping one. “Oh—wait, I don’t— This is more than one. I just needed—”

“That’s two weeks of homework,” the neighbor interrupted, glaring at him. “And don’t you — ever — tell anyone about this.”

Eren’s mouth opened, but before he could reply, the guy added, “And keep it down. I have to work at six.” Then the door slammed shut with finality, leaving Eren standing there in stunned silence.

He looked down at the small pile of condoms in his hands, still too dazed to move.

Then, slowly, a grin spread across his face.

He whispered under his breath, “Worth it.”

And with that, Eren turned on his heel and quietly hurried back down to his room, clutching his spoils like they were treasure.

Eren practically slammed the door shut behind him, pressing his back against it as if he’d just outrun an army. His chest rose and fell, his hair even more mussed, and a deep sigh of relief escaped his lips. For a moment, he just stood there, gripping the small pile of condoms like they were sacred relics.

He finally looked toward his bed—only to freeze.

Mikasa was sitting there, legs crossed neatly, hands folded over her knees. On her underwear and his costume jacket. Her dark ponytails hung low, but they still framed her face perfectly, and her lips were pursed tight in a failed attempt to keep from laughing.

Her eyes gleamed with amusement as she took in his flustered state—the backward shirt, the loose pants, the faint sheen of sweat on his forehead. Also noticing the small foil packets in his hands.

Eren pouted automatically, cheeks flushed. “Don’t say anything,” he muttered, though the way she bit her lip to hold back laughter only made his blush deepen.

“I wasn’t going to,” she said, voice soft but teasing, her shoulders trembling with silent giggles. “I assume you went to ask for a condom?"

Eren blinked, then his pout disappeared. His entire demeanor shifted—he straightened, lifted his chin, and grinned proudly. “Yep.”

He held them up like a magician revealing his grand trick, the packets crinkled together in his hands.

Mikasa’s jaw dropped. “They gave you all those?”

Eren smirked, basking in her disbelief. “Yes, they did.”

For a heartbeat, they just stared at each other—Eren smug and flushed, Mikasa blinking in astonishment—until she finally let out a quiet laugh and shook her head.

“You really went and got condoms.” she teased, raising an eyebrow. “What did you do to get them?”

Eren cleared his throat, trying to look casual. “Negotiated. Fair trade.”

Mikasa leaned forward slightly, her eyes narrowing with playful suspicion. “What kind of trade?”

He coughed and looked away, blush intensifying. “Doesn’t matter.”

Her soft laughter filled the room, light and unrestrained this time. “You’re funny,” she said fondly.

Eren looks back at her and smirks. “You’re welcome.”

But before he could say anything else, Mikasa tilted her head, her expression shifting—still teasing, but now with that quiet, confident glint that always made his heart skip.

“Sooo,” she murmured, leaning back on her hands, the mattress dipping beneath her weight, his jacket opening due to the movement revealing her front, “wanna use them tonight?”

The way she said it made Eren’s brain short-circuit.

He blinked once, then twice. “Wh—what?”

Mikasa only smirked, reclining a little more, her eyes glinting mischievously beneath the soft dorm light. “You went through all that trouble,” she said, her voice low and teasing, “it’d be a shame to not use them, don’t you think?”

Eren’s throat went dry. He could feel the heat climbing up his neck, and he gulped, hard. His grip on the condoms tightened as if they were keeping him grounded.

Mikasa laughed softly at his expression—the wide eyes, the helpless blush, the way he stood there like a deer caught in headlights. She leaned forward again.

“Come here?”

Eren exhaled shakily, realizing he’d been holding his breath. He followed her voice like a sailor to a mermaid’s call. 

She reached for the condoms and bunched them in her tiny hands before setting them on his night table, bringing him on top of her again by pulling on his shirt. 

And just like that, he was hard for her again. 

She kissed him and Eren's heart pounded in his chest. He settled himself between her legs, kissing her back. His hands on either side of her head and hers were still fisting his shirt. But then Mikasa broke the intense kiss, her warm breath ghosted over his lips. The flush on his cheeks deepened as he gazed at her, transfixed by the sensual slide of her fingers taking off his jacket, and all Eren can do is stare. She dropped the jacket on the floor and then reached behind her, to the clasp of her bra. 

With a deft motion, she unclasped the bra and slowly dragged the bra away from her chest, freed herself, the delicate fabric dropping to the floor.

Eren's eyes widened, pupils dilating as he took in the sight of Mikasa's perfect breasts. Full and round, they seemed to glow in the soft light of his dorm room, her areolas a delicate pink. 

Mikasa grasped Eren's hand from the side of her head, guiding it to cup the warmth of her breast. Eren's breath hitched, his fingers sinking into the soft, yielding flesh. A moan escaped him as he felt the stiff peak of her nipple against his palm. He bit his lip so hard he tasted blood, fighting the urge to release the pent-up desire that threatened to overwhelm him.

Mikasa's own arousal was evident in the way her nipple hardened further, and a sweet, primal sound escaped her throat. Her voice was a seductive purr as she suggested, "Put your mouth on them, Eren." The words sent a shudder through him.

Eren's gaze snapped up to meet hers, a wealth of indecision and longing evident in his expression. Then, with a deep, unsteady breath, he lowered his head, his lips closing around the tender bud of her nipple. A groan of pleasure vibrated through him at the first touch of her skin on his tongue while she sighed softly.

Mikasa's fingers threaded through his hair, holding him close as he suckled, relishing the soft give of her breast in his mouth. Her other hand roamed over his back, nails lightly scraping his skin, urging him on.

He kissed and sucked hungrily at her nipples, sending waves of pleasure coursing through her body. Her soft moans filled the room, a symphony of desire.

"Ah, Eren," Mikasa breathed, her voice husky with arousal.

Mikasa's fingers threaded through Eren's dark hair, pulling him closer, reveling in the sensation of his eager mouth on her skin. She loved the way he explored her body so intently, as if he was discovering hidden treasures. His lack of experience only added to the excitement, his tentative touches sending shivers of pleasure through her.

As Eren's mouth moved lower, his excited hardness pressed against the fishnet of her thigh. He groaned, feeling the fabric and the tantalizing heat of her skin. With a burst of boldness, he pressed his hips against her thigh to relieve tension.

Mikasa's breath caught as she felt his dick on her thigh—and the size of him, a flush creeping up her neck at the thought. But beneath the thrill of vulnerability, a thrill of desire stirred. She spread her legs more, silently inviting him to thrust again.

As Eren's mouth closed on the other nipple, his excited length twitched at her invitation. He groaned, feeling the fabric of her underwear and the tantalizing heat of her skin. He pushed against her hot core and they both moaned, Mikasa’s gaze on the top of his head while he was busy sucking her boobs.

With a burst of enthusiasm and curiosity, Eren's hands trembled as he reached down, his fingers brushing the delicate lace of her thong. He inhaled sharply, the scent of her arousal filling his senses. He slowly began to kiss his way down and Mikasa’s breathing started to pick up its pace. He planted a soft kiss on the swell of her hip, then traced the edge of the thong with his tongue, tasting the sweetness of her skin.

Mikasa's hips twitched, her body aching for him to let him explore, but she wasn’t in the mood for that. She brought Eren up to claim his mouth in a passionate kiss. Their tongues danced, bold and exploratory, as his hands roamed her curves, kneading her breasts and tracing the lines of her toned physique.

"I want… to taste you," he whispered between the kisses, his voice husky with desire. "I've heard… it's amazing, eating a girl out."

She huffs a laugh and shakes her head. “No, I am too horny—need you.”

The simple admission made Eren's length twitch like crazy and harden even more. A low groan escaped him, and he nodded, understanding the unspoken demand in her words.

“Next time then.”

He didn’t even realize he was thinking and voicing for the next time, and Mikasa didn’t even think about it as she nodded, watching him reach for his nightstand to retrieve a condom. 

Eren sat on his hunches, fumbled with the condom, his hands shaking as he tried to open the package. He had never done this before, he had an idea of how to put a condom, but never actually did it.

With a swift tug, he pushed his pants down and threw it across the room, his erection springing free. Mikasa's breath caught at the sight of his dick and at the raw, almost primal desire etched on Eren's face as he gazed at her.

Eren took a breath and slowly tried to get the condom on, but not without a struggle. The latex felt tight, almost too snug for his length. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of male pride as he thought about how his dick was bigger than the guy who had sold him the condoms. His thoughts were interrupted by Mikasa's gentle touch as she reached down to help him.

A low groan escaped Eren's lips as her fingers rolled the condom down against his throbbing member. Her breathy voice sent shivers down his spine when she murmured, "You're big, Eren. And thick—veiny too."

Mikasa's words and touch made his head spin. He had fantasized about his first time with no one in particular, but the reality was overwhelming. Eren's heart pounded in his chest as she finished rolling the condom and gently tugging his wrist and making him to position himself between her toned fish-net clad thighs, the thin fabric of her thong the only thing separating them.

The small, noisy springy bed creaked, Eren's hands trembled as, with an uncertain gaze, he met her eyes, seeking reassurance.

She smiled softly and leaned up to kiss him sweetly before her fingers deftly worked to slide her thong aside, revealing the glistening expanse of her shaved, wet core. Eren's breath caught, his heart hammering in his chest. The sight rendered him speechless, his mouth parting involuntarily as drool began to form at the corner.

With a sultry smirk, Mikasa captured his lips once more, deepening the kiss as her thumb stroked his cheek. Breaking away, Eren's gaze was drawn back to the enticing view before him.

With a gentle pressure, Eren aligned himself with Mikasa's entrance, his dick throbbing with anticipation. He paused, taking a deep breath to center himself, before slowly pushing forward. The tight, velvet heat enveloped him, an overwhelming sensation that made his vision blur.

"Oh god, Mikasa..." Eren's whispered plea was swallowed by the snug and hot feeling of her core. He stilled, allowing his body to adjust to the profound fullness, his mind lost in the sublime pleasure of their joining.

Mikasa's hands framed his face, her touch tender as she gazed into his eyes. "You're doing great, Eren," she cooed, her voice husky with arousal. "Just relax and let yourself feel it."

With a nod, Eren drew in a steadying breath and began to move, his hips undulating in a slow, sensual rhythm. Mikasa's small moans echoed through the room, spurring him on as he lost himself in the incredible sensations coursing through his veins.

In that moment, Eren swiped away the notion of cloud nine – he had plummeted headfirst into a realm of unparalleled bliss. The pleasure was immense, her tight, gripping heat enveloping him like a cocoon. Each thrust sent shivers down his spine, his climax building at an alarming rate.

Mikasa's hands slid down to grasp his ass, her nails digging into his flesh as she urged him on, their bodies moving in perfect sync. The room filled with the sound of their heavy breathing, the creaking of the bed, and the soft slaps of skin against skin.

Sweat glistened on their skin as he trembled on top of Mikasa, thrusting inexperienced but reaching where Mikasa never thought anybody could reach. It made her toes curl and get a moan out of her. With each thrust, he could feel his climax swiftly approaching, coiling tight in his core like a spring ready to snap.

Mikasa's lips trailed kisses along his neck and jaw, her breath hot against his skin. "Let go, Eren. It’s ok," she whispered, her voice husky with need.

Eren's hips jerked at the plea, but he gritted his teeth and refused to surrender. He couldn't bring himself to finish before Mikasa, not when her lithe, toned body was wrapped so tightly around him. He yearned to see her succumb to the pleasure he was generating within her.

So, with a fierce determination, he raised his head and gazed into her eyes, his voice coming out steadier than he felt. "Tell me where to touch you," he asked, his words almost desperate. "I want to make you cum, too. Show me how to get you there."

Mikasa's eyes widened in surprise at the sudden shift, her tight hole fluttering around him at his words, even gushing. Eren bit his lip and closed his eyes for a moment to control himself after feeling her doing that. But then a look of hunger replaced her shock, and she grasped his face, pulling him down for a searing kiss. "Your hands," she gasped against his lips. "Rub my clit with your fingers. Hard and fast, like you're fucking me with them."

Eren stuttered his thrusts and groaned, he nodded, breaking the kiss to position himself on his knees and one hand gripping her hip. With a deep breath, he slid his fingers over the swollen bud, applying the pressure she craved.

Mikasa's back arched, a low moan spilling from her lips as he obeyed her instructions. Eren was mesmerized by the sight in front of him, he  groaned and pumped his length in and out of her as his fingers rubbed her in a relentless rhythm. He looked down to where their bodies were connected and his eyes rolled with raw pleasure, seeing the condom glistening with her slick and the way her core tightening around him was driving him closer to the edge.

"More," Mikasa panted, her hands gripping his pillow. "Faster. Make me cum on your cock, Eren."

With a primal growl, thanks to her words, Eren pistoned his dick harder and moved his fingers in tandem, the dual sensations pushing him over the precipice. He cried out, his vision blurring as a kaleidoscope of whites and greys erupted before his eyes. The air in his lungs evaporated, replaced by a warm, electric rush that seemed to lift him off the bed.

Eren felt his release volcanic in its intensity, as if the very essence of his being was being expunged through the latex barrier between him and Mikasa. He was certain, with an almost delirious confidence, that his semen overfilled the condom as he was still spilling into the condom with long, pulsing thrusts. The thought sent a thrill through him, adding to the overwhelming sensations coursing through his veins.

Through the haze of his own climax, Eren registered Mikasa's cries of ecstasy, his name, and her inner muscles clamping down around him. Their bodies shuddered and spasmed together, locked in the throes of completion.

When the waves of pleasure receded, Eren floated back down to earth, his breath coming in ragged gasps. 

Eren collapsed onto Mikasa, burying his face in the crook of her neck. He could still feel the heat of their joining, the evidence of their passion slick against his skin.

Mikasa ran her fingers through his hair, holding him close as she caught her breath.

Eren let out a contented sigh, his chest heaving as he lay there, Mikasa's soothing strokes through his hair lulling him into a dazed state. The feeling of her fingers gently taming the tangled strands was almost sleep-inducing, and despite the rampant exertion his body had just endured, he felt an overwhelming sense of pride and accomplishment.

He had done it. 

He wasn’t a virgin. 

Had sex with the hottest. sexiest, beautiful girl he has ever laid eyes on. How lucky he was indeed. 

He smiled hazily, the memory of her gasping his name as she climaxed still echoed in his mind, a distant but exhilarating hum.

With a groan, Eren settled himself onto his elbows, each of them on the sides of her head. He looked down at her blissout face and smirked smugly. For a virgin, he thinks he did a great job.

He then lowered his head, seeking out the warm skin of Mikasa's shoulder to plant a gentle kiss. His lips trailed upward, savoring the taste of her as he reached her neck, then the smooth expanse of her jaw. A final brush of his mouth against her cheek sent a shiver through Mikasa, which Eren eagerly kissed her with a deep, languid kiss.

As their lips melded together, Mikasa's smile grew, her own satisfaction evident in the way she wrapped her arms around Eren, holding him close. 

They kissed like that for a while, the world outside his dorm room fading into insignificance.

Finally, Eren broke the kiss, his chest still heaving. He looked at Mikasa, his eyes filled with wonder and a hint of awe. "I...I did it," he whispered, hardly believing it himself. “Not a virgin anymore.”

She stared at him for a moment before laughing at his dumb comment. 

He smiles too as he looks down at her afterglow, freshly fucked face.

And damn. 

What a sight it was. 

He was too greedy if he didn't want to share it?

His heart stutters as he thinks of asking her out—

His eyes fluttering closed as he savored the image of them holding hands though campus, boyfriend and girlfriend. 

Him introducing her as his hot sexy goth girlfriend—

But his fantasy was cut short as his dick suddenly twitched to life within her warmth. Mikasa's eyes widened in surprise, couldn't help but laugh, the sound raspy and amused. "Already?" she teased, her breath tickling his ear. "You've got a lot of stamina, rookie."

Eren smirked, his hips making a subconscious thrust. Mikasa let out a gasp-moan, her eyes fluttering closed as pleasure darted through her. "Let me show you how much stamina I got," he breathed out and her eyes fluttered, her body betrayed her by responding eagerly to his sudden movements.

"I see that you're insatiable," she whispered.

"Can't help it when you feel this good," Eren murmured, nuzzling her neck as he began to move again, slower this time.

Mikasa's breath caught, and she closed her eyes, her hands coming to rest on his back to pull him closer. "Fuck, Eren," she panted, "put on a new condom."

He nodded, he quickly reached down to retrieve the used condom, working it off with a little struggle before rolling a fresh one onto his throbbing member. Mikasa smiled excitedly as he thrusted back into her, the new latex a jarring contrast to their slick, joined flesh.

She purred, rolling her hips to encourage him.

Eren responded eagerly, his hips rocking in counterpoint to hers. Mikasa felt his cock swell and harden anew, stretching her inner walls deliciously. She wrapped her legs around his waist, opening herself further to his renewed advances.

Their movements grew more urgent, passion igniting once more, making the bed creak again. Eren's inexperienced thrusts had been clumsy at first, but now, guided by Mikasa's guidance and his own growing confidence, he moved with purpose and power. She liked the way his body tensed and relaxed with each stroke, the primal sounds he made as he chased his pleasure.

Mikasa gasped and moaned, her own arousal building with each deep penetration. She reached down to circle her clit, the added stimulation pushing her closer to the edge. Eren, sensing her impending climax, redoubled his efforts, pounding into her with renewed vigor.

The bed creaked even more beneath their frenzied movements, the room filling with the erotic symphony of their coupling. Eren's balls drew up tight, his orgasm approaching like a freight train. With a final, desperate thrust, he buried himself to the hilt and came with a hoarse shout, his seed erupting inside the condom in hot, pulsing spurts.

Mikasa cried out, her own climax crashing over her like a tidal wave. Her inner muscles clamped down on Eren's spurting covered cock, milking him for every drop as she rode out the aftershocks.

They collapsed together, spent and sated, Eren nuzzled his face into the crook of Mikasa's neck.

He was sweating—not from heat, but from nerves, from everything that had happened, from everything she made him feel.

For a long, quiet moment, they just laid there. His forehead pressed to her shoulder, her fingers gently tracing the damp ends of his hair at his nape, their hearts trying to find a steady rhythm.

Then, before he could stop himself—before he could even think—Eren whispered against her skin, voice low and rough.

“Go out with me.”

The words tumbled out like they’d been sitting at the edge of his tongue all night, waiting to be set free.

Mikasa froze.

Her hand paused mid-motion, fingers tangled in his hair. The sudden stillness made his stomach twist.

Eren’s breath caught. He squeezed his eyes shut, panic immediately setting in. Oh no. What did he just do? They’d had a perfect night—fun, laughter, smiles that made him feel alive for the first time in forever—and he had to go and ruin it by blurting that out.

‘She’s not even into you like that, idiot,’ his mind screamed. ‘She inly goes out with popular hot guys. You’re Eren—the plain guy, the one who eats in the back corner of the cafeteria, who no one notices. She’s Mikasa—confident, beautiful, and social. She could have anyone she wants. What makes you think—‘

He started to pull back, his throat tightening with embarrassment. He opened his mouth to stammer out something—anything—to backpedal, to say it was a joke, that he didn’t mean it like that.

But before he could, Mikasa’s hands moved.

She cupped his face, her palms warm against his cheeks, and gently tilted his head up to look at her.

Eren blinked, stunned.

Her expression wasn’t disgusted, confused, or pity. 

It was soft. 

Her lips curved faintly, her eyes—those dark, star-sparked eyes—shone with something that made his chest ache.

“...Yes,” she whispered.

Eren froze, staring at her, his brain stuttering. “Wh—what?”

Mikasa’s smile widened, and she nodded once, slow and deliberate, her thumbs brushing against his flushed cheeks. “Yes, Eren,” she said again, firmer this time, voice steady but full of quiet joy. “I’d love to go out with you.”

For a second, he forgot how to breathe.

His lungs just stopped. His mind went blank, every thought wiped clean except for her words echoing again and again.

He blinked once, twice, then laughed weakly under his breath, disbelief curling through him. “You—you’re serious?” he asked, his voice trembling with something close to awe.

Mikasa giggled softly, the sound like wind chimes. A flush bloomed across her face, delicate and real. “Of course I’m serious,” she murmured. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Eren just stared at her—completely, utterly entranced. The way her eyes caught the dim light, the soft pink that painted her cheeks, the way her lips curved when she smiled.

And then something broke open inside him—a rush of warmth and relief and pure, dizzy happiness. His lips twitched into a shaky smile that grew wider and wider until he couldn’t stop it.

“Holy crap,” he breathed, half laughing. “You actually said yes.”

Mikasa laughed too, her eyes shining. 

Eren’s grin split wider, boyish and bright, and before he could think, before he could even remember to be shy, he leaned forward and kissed her—hard.

It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t graceful. But it was real.

Mikasa giggled against his lips, her laughter spilling into the kiss as she cupped his jaw. Eren kissed her again, clumsy and earnest, his hands finding her waist, pulling her closer like he still couldn’t believe she was real, that this moment was happening.

And for once, he didn’t overthink it. He didn’t worry about being the plain guy, or about whether he deserved her. He just let himself feel it—her warmth, her laughter, her heartbeat against his.

When they finally pulled apart, breathless and grinning like fools, Eren’s forehead rested against hers.

Mikasa smiled softly, eyes half-lidded. “You’re cute when you’re nervous,” she teased.

Eren laughed, low and happy, his cheeks flaming. “You are hot—of course I’d be nervous around you,” he admitted.

She giggled, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “You’re hot too,” she said. 

Eren scoffs and is about to deny it but she shit him up with a sweet kiss that made his heart swell so much it almost hurt.

The following week, the campus felt… different.

Eren wasn’t sure if it was the crisp November air or just the way the world seemed to shift after one night, but everything felt a little louder, a little sharper—especially the sound of his own footsteps echoing down the hall. Heads turned as he passed by. Whispered voices trailed after him like shadows.

At first, he thought he had something on his face. He rubbed his cheek, checked his reflection in the window glass—but no, he looked the same as always: plain Eren Jaeger, messy hair, dark hoodie, backpack hanging off one shoulder. But the stares didn’t stop.

He caught snippets of conversation as he walked.

“—that’s him, right? The one Mikasa was with?”

“No way, that guy?”

“She was totally holding his hand, I swear!”

“Maybe he’s, like… secretly rich or something?”

Eren tried not to laugh. 

‘Yeah right,’ he thought. ‘If being broke and perpetually tired counts as rich.’

A few students didn’t bother whispering. Some gave him those thin, sharp looks—disbelief mixed with irritation, like he had done something offensive simply by existing near her. Others, mostly girls, just stared with wide eyes, as if trying to figure out what on earth Mikasa Ackerman saw in him.

And Mikasa…

That was another story.

Apparently, she wasn’t just anyone on campus. Eren hadn’t realized it before, but she was practically college royalty. Not the loud, center-of-attention kind—no, Mikasa was the quiet storm type. The girl who aced her law classes, volunteered at the legal aid clinic downtown, and somehow managed to make black lipstick and combat boots look elegant. People respected her. Some adored her. Others envied her.

And all of them were now talking about him.

He made it to his classroom just as a few people were still whispering near the doorway. One of the guys from his biology lab—a tall, overly friendly guy named Floch—grinned at him. “Yo, Jaeger! Didn’t know you were that kind of legend, man!”

Eren blinked, already dreading what was coming. “What are you talking about?”

Forster chuckled. “Come on, dude. Don’t play dumb. Ackerman? Mikasa Ackerman?” He leaned closer, whispering like they were trading state secrets. “How’d you pull her off?”

Eren opened his mouth—then closed it. “I… didn’t,” he said lamely. “It just kind of happened.”

He laughed. “Man, you gotta teach me how to ‘just happen’ like that.”

Eren rolled his eyes and kept walking, ignored the redhead. The attention was weird—he’d never been anyone people noticed before—but it wasn’t all bad.

As he made his way to his seat, a couple more classmates nodded at him, some giving that knowing grin, others flat-out asking, “So… are you two, like, official?” or “You seriously attracted her?”

He brushed them off, keeping his head down as he pulled his laptop from his bag. But deep down, beneath the awkwardness and disbelief, there was a quiet satisfaction humming in his chest.

Because yeah—Mikasa Ackerman had chosen him.

And no rumor, no stares, no half-whispered gossip could take away the memory of that moment under the soft orange lights of the Halloween party. The warmth of her hand in his, the way her eyes softened when she looked at him, the way she moaned under him—

“Yo, Eren!”

Armin’s voice broke through the noise as he slid into the seat beside him, beaming like he’d just discovered a new planet. “We are officially famous, you know that?”

Eren groaned. “Don’t start.”

Armin ignored him completely, practically bouncing in his chair. “I’m just saying, I told you going to that party was a good idea! Now look at you—campus heartthrob!”

“Heartthrob,” Eren muttered, typing his password into his laptop. “More like gossip fuel.”

Armin laughed, leaning back. “You’re welcome either way.”

Eren shook his head, smiling despite himself. It was strange—being noticed, being talked about—but when he thought of Mikasa, it all faded into background noise. Because she didn’t care about rumors. She didn’t care about what anyone thought. When she’d texted him that morning—Meet after classes? Same café?—he couldn’t stop smiling the whole way to campus.

Now, as he sat there pretending to focus on the professor’s lecture, he found himself glancing at the clock every few minutes.

He wasn’t used to looking forward to anything, really. 

His life had always been about routines, about studying and scraping by and keeping his head down. 

But now? 

Now there was something—someone—waiting at the end of his day.

When the class finally ended, Eren packed up his things, slinging his backpack over one shoulder, said his goodbyes to Armin, who smirked teasingly up at him

He scoofs at his best friend and kept walking out. Then he smiled to himself.

Normie Eren, huh?

Maybe not this year.

Because this Halloween, for the first time in his life, things weren’t normal. 

They were something better—something new. And as he stepped out into the crisp autumn afternoon, heading toward the café where Mikasa would be waiting for him, Eren couldn’t help but think…

This year he had a not-so-normie Halloween.

Halloween costumes

Mikasa's:

https://www.artstation.com/artwork/y4QYxn

Eren's:

https://www.pinterest.com/pin/201043570852226042/