Oneshots, imagines, and ideas, oh my! *discontinued*

Eren Jeager Imagine

Eren Jeager x Reader

Note: I'll bet you're asking why. I don't know why. I'm sorry.

Song for this chapter is: Psycho, by Puddle of Mudd. I highly suggest you listen while reading this. It doesn't have much to do with the imagine, but it sounds good.

Warnings: Blood and gore galore, sadness, Eren had frowny biscuits for breakfast and this is what we get.

It was always going to end this way. 

Her, him, sitting somewhere as the sunset roared across the sky. He imagined it would look exactly like her cheeks did, when she flushed because he'd kissed her in front of the whole squad. It was about that color, with orange and yellow sprinkled in. The sunset, however, was not the focus of his attention. As he'd always suspected, he was looking at her. Her hair was messy, wind-whipped and carelessly pulled from an up-do. However, there were many differences between what he'd imagined and where they were.

They were supposed to be sitting at the ocean. The sunset was supposed to line up with the crashing waves, like an abrupt and sudden change in the middle of a painting. Warm colors, meeting up with blue. That would have been beautiful. 

She was supposed to be old, too. They were both supposed to be old, maybe they had kids, maybe they just had each other. There was supposed to be a ring on her finger, not just a promise murmured in the darkest moment of the night, when they shouldn't be awake but they are because neither can sleep.

She wasn't supposed to have nightmares anymore either. He liked to think that maybe eventually, both of their trauma would give way to something beautiful, like winter ebbing away into spring and eventually summer. She'd sleep soundly through the night and he would too, except every now and then he'd wake up just to make sure that she was still right next to him, breathing steadily, heart beating slowly but surely.

He imagined that they'd have a life and a legacy behind them--a won war, credited names, yet no responsibility and no pain. For how much they'd sacrificed, even in his barest fantasy it was established that they were happy.

The end, in his mind, wouldn't have been sad or upsetting. They would have woken up one morning, lived their lives, and then decided to go down to the water and wait. Old, tired, ready to move on--but together. They would get to chose when they died. 

As ridiculous as it sounds, he'd imagined a lot for the two of them. He thought of her the second the war was over, grinning like an idiot as she shouted with pride. Of running up and holding her, ensuring that she was still there with him. Of being held just as tightly for the same exact reason. 

He thought of a small, private wedding. Comrades, his sister, his best friend--everyone was there, and he pictured her in a simple white dress as she--

She would have made an excellent bride. According to his mind, an excellent mother too. He thought of her being wise, like she was, and kind like his mother. He saw a reflection of her in Y/n, anyways, and he wanted nothing more than to have two kids with her.

In the scenarios he'd made up and played on a loop in his head, the children didn't have names or faces, they just were. Maybe they did have faces, but the only thing he ever looked at was Y/n. Looking at her face growing older and older, yet still holding the same beauty as it did when he first met her in the cadet corps.

God, Y/n, the love of his life. The girl he'd known for years, the girl who trained with him and helped him and trusted him...

She was brilliant, and skilled--better than him, anyways. Even when she didn't, she always seemed to know what she was doing. She was dangerous, and frightening, but she was also the kindest person he'd ever met. 

Now, he didn't have a chance to actually marry her, or to have kids with her, or to grow old and die with her. He didn't even have the dignity of never going a day without her. He'd lost it on an expedition, he'd transformed and--almost everyone was dead. Mikasa wasn't awake or perhaps she wasn't breathing--Armin was gone, people were injured, and the rest were doing his best to get a shot at him. Would they kill him, though? No. They would torture him and dissect him and even if the Survey Corps wanted to save him they couldn't. 

The Military Police wouldn't let him go after he killed countless people, Captain Levi wouldn't save him because the love of the life that was dying in his massive fist was Y/n Ackerman, and he wouldn't let himself be saved anyways.

She was coughing and choking, choking on her own blood as he just stared at her, not doing anything to help her, watching horrified through the eyes of a titan.

Not her...not now...

He was caught in a moment, strangled by the screams, and clouded by the steam his blood created as he was sliced over and over and over again. He heard Levi, clearly;

"LET GO OF HER, YOU BASTARD!"

That's what he was. A bastard. He was watching the life drain out of her eyes at an impressive rate as she struggled to stay with him. She was fighting a losing battle--humanity was fighting a losing battle against his kind. He was a titan. 

Her lips moved, and it was clear she was trying to speak with absolutely nothing to show for it aside from strained gurgling. Those perfect lips, however, formed the words 'I love you', and then there was nothing. Eyes wide open, mouth forever caught in an 'o' shape, he knew her heart had stopped beating. He had killed her and he had watched her die.

Seconds later, the shock he had been put into was broken, as a loud scream was followed by the agonizing pain of having his actual, real limbs cut off from outside his titan body. Captain Levi's strategy to keep him alive while also killing the titan he was operating. Except this time, he wasn't being kept alive for any reason other than pure rage.

He would pay for what he'd done. First, in the real world, and then in whatever came after. For now, though, just before the effect of what he'd done and what he'd lost could hit him fully, consciousness escaped him and he fell backwards into the quiet black of nothingness. 

And god, he wished he could stay there forever.