#marley warriors x reader

[quiveringdeer]

More musings on AoT Canon Verse

This time focusing on geopolitical interactions, immigration and such. Basically been thinking about this for the fic I've been dreaming of and the hyperfocus is deep y'all 😩 Pleeeease feel free to leave corrections or thoughts in comments, my dms/asks or reblog with commentary.

Concepts and thoughts on my Reader's potential background:

Reader's mom is from outside the Eldian/Marley empire and holds political power of her own through the ties of her father who is possibly a leading ambassador? Really want this version but with how it seems patriarchy is so pervasive in Marleyan society that if her mom was to marry into it somehow to put her in Marley long enough to form connections with the Warrior Candidates it just doesn't seem conceivable?

So her dad being Marleyan could be a potential still, but he'd have to be super progressive thinking. Or an implant spy like Kruger? Thought that's a shit ton of trauma and shit I don't know if I have the space to explore lmao

More likely her dad will be someone either military/diplomat from outside the Marley/Eldian reach of things, but for some reason does trade or work with Marley? Perhaps they're more a neutral country like Switzerland/Wakanda 👀 Cause reader's gonna have a smart mouth and progressive thoughts about the shit that's going on, so she'll need to be up in a family environment that will value that. Even if they're impressing upon her to not go talkin like that in public. Working from the inside to subvert things (sure know how that feels 🙃) — I think this would most likely lead to her mother being Marleyan? Cause like Marley folks seem xenophobic as heck/especially high gov officials so I feel like to walk around freely and not constantly be accosted she's gonna have to at least be part Marleyan. :/

I think this would also help her possibly relate to both Rei and Porco. One of her parents would have grown up in the Marley propaganda machine–even if somehow they avoided being completely indoctrinated and finding companionship and love with someone outside it to start a family.

One other thought is from the vague memory that other countries treat Eldians more like actual people and citizens than Marley. So perhaps her mom is Eldian, but escaped Marley via being a refugee or something else. This way she also, in some regard understands the Warriors on the terms of being oppressed. Which I feel like would be easier for me to hold mind space for and portray accurately.

With this I have to figure out a reason that her mother/parent would risk being found out and returning to Marley to give Reader opportunity to grow up with the Warriors :/

My other thoughts surrounding this is the culture of Reader's Nation being accepting of naturalizing refugees and such (what a utopia 😌/but also sheesh hard to comprehend given life) So once they arrive and go through a process they are now citizens of that country and maintain those legal rights when traveling. Even within Marley. Which would be a sticking point cause can't imagine they'd be ok with that. And they'd know this about this Nation's government to it would be difficult to just sneak in ya know? I'm sure there's other countries in verse with "white"/[cause we know this is an our world concept] folks but like what we mainly know are Eldians and Marleyan so if you can't walk the walk and talk the talk and have identifying papers of being Marleyan, then it ain't gonna fly living there.

There could be avenues of getting papers forged and falsifying connections to Marleyan family lines that are sympathetic to the cause? It's hinted that the doctor that helped Kruger falsify blood work was sympathetic so precedence for that. Also that reminds me that obviously they do blood tests! aiyiyi

#long but i want people to maybe skim #instead of glossing by a read more #aot #attack on titan #snk #shingeki no kyojin #marley warriors #eldians #aot meta #nat talks aot #porco x reader #reiner x reader #porco galliard #reiner braun #gabi braun #pieck finger #onyankopon

[freya-fallen]

Beastly 5/17

CWs: Manipulative Zeke Yeager, talk about eating people and death

Word count: 3674

Part 1 Part 4 Part 6

Zeke spends a lot of time working. Training, mostly, he says. However, since he’s also the leader of the Warriors, he has paperwork and other responsibilities. Once a week, he checks the quarters of each of the youths under his charge to make sure they’re keeping everything tidy, and so he knows they’re taking care of themselves.

They’re all teenagers aside from him, so he’s the one who has to keep them accountable. It’s how he keeps the Marleyans who run the military from interfering too much.

“The boys have been asking about you.”

A lance of bitterness spurs through you and you set down your fork. Breakfast is suddenly less appealing when thinking about the two boys whom you’d counted as allies so recently.

Zeke is watching you, waiting, so you say, “Oh?”

He nods. He’s shaved off his beard since returning to Liberio, and his hair is shorter. You liked him scruffy, but he’s handsome like this, too. “Would you like to have lunch with us?”

It’s the one meal a day you have to fend for yourself, though Zeke reminds you what’s there before he leaves everyday. 

You don’t want to see Reiner and Bertholdt.

One large hand lands on your thigh, imparting a squeeze. “I know you feel betrayed, sweetheart,” your brother implores, “but you have to understand that they were doing what they were taught was their duty.”

Your throat tightens and your eyes grow warm. “They killed my mom, Zeke.”

“Oh, honey. I know, but they were younger than you are now when they did it. I know they regret it, and that they’d give anything for the world to be a different place.”

He cares so much about the teens under his charge, just like he cares about you. He’s known them since they were both small children. You’ve learned Marleyan Warrior candidates start training as young as five. 

Even with the horrors of titan invasion, the military in Paradis doesn’t allow kids to join until they are twelve. You can’t imagine being that little, and getting inundated with all the messages about good order and discipline.

“Why did they become Warriors?” you ask after dwelling on the image of chubby-cheeked children standing at attention.

“Well, Reiner’s father is Marleyan. He always hoped becoming a Warrior would unite his family.” He rubs his chin thoughtfully as he recalls. 

“Did it?”

“Well, no,” Zeke says sadly. “Marleyans see us all as a blight on the earth, and I can’t rightly blame them.”

You know that your people, Eldians, can become titans, and that’s something unique to your blood, but you have to ask, “Why do they hate us?”

“Our people used our ability to conquer other nations and rule over them.” 

“Oh.” That certainly explains it. “And they all feel this way?”

“To most, the potential to turn into a titan is evidence of an ancient deal with a devil. They even call Paradis Eldians ‘Island Devils.’ And—” he hesitates before the next part, “many would rather die than claim an Eldian in their family.”

“That’s horrible.”

He nods. “It is. You have to understand, this is the mindset with which they rule over us. We serve in their military and live as less to atone for the actions of our ancestors. Eldians and Marleyans alike are raised with this knowledge. Those of us who choose to take on the mantle of titan shifters are elevated because we are sacrificing thirteen years of our life to serve as their weapons— and then die to pass that ability forward.”

You stare at Zeke as he finishes this little explanation, wide eyes filling with tears that tremble across your vision, already cool when they finally spill over. “What—” You blink away the tears and try to clear your throat. “What do you mean?”

Your brother leans forward and takes one of your hands in both of his. Those silver eyes bore into you from behind gleaming glass. “I mean that those of us who become titan shifters only have thirteen years to live. Once that time comes to an end, we will die. If we die without being consumed by another titan, then our titan form will go to a child born after that time. To avoid that, we train our successors to be ready to inherit our titans.”

“How long ago did you inherit your titan?” Your voice wavers, catches halfway through, but you manage to get it all out.

“Eight years,” he tells you, his sad smile saying it all.

Your eyes go wide as you realize that you have five years with him. Five years, and then your brother will be gobbled up by someone who wants to take his place.

And then your blood freezes in your veins.

Eren.

“Eren doesn’t know,” you whisper. 

Zeke moves one hand to your cheek to brush away your tears. You hadn’t realized you were crying. The streams down your face are a continuous deluge, but he doesn’t stop trying to clear them for you. “I’m not surprised. I didn’t want to believe it when I heard, but our father was not a good man when I knew him.”

“Why? Why was he exiled?”

“I— It’s complicated.” For the first time since you’ve known him, your brother looks torn.

Your hands wrap around his this time, and you look up at him pleadingly. “Please. I need to know.”

“I’ll tell you,” he promises, and you nod. “But not right now. You’ve already learned Eren and I have our days numbered. Let’s not add to that burden today, hm?”

“When?”

He leans forward and kisses your cheek. “Soon.”

When he stands from the table, you belatedly remember that this all started with a question. “Zeke?” He pauses and waits for you to continue. “I think I’d like to have lunch with you and the others.”

“Good. I’ll see you then, sweetheart.” 

His gentle smile remains with you after he’s left, a comfort against the doom looming over the two boys bound to you by blood. 

You spend the rest of the morning reading and slowly getting ready for the day. You decide to wear a long cream skirt and a white blouse. There’s a hat that matches rather well, though you feel weird wearing a hat all the time. Apparently it’s normal in Marley.

Everything is so nicely made, soft and smooth under your fingers. You don't think you’re familiar with the material, but you like how it hangs and breathes.

“Don’t you look pretty,” Zeke comments when he comes home to get you. There’s a tall young man behind him. At first, you assume it’s Reiner, but the color is more dull, and he’s not quite as broad.

He wears a yellow armband.

“This is Colt Grice, the front runner for my chosen successor.” Zeke pats the boy’s shoulder before leaning down to kiss your cheek. You’re surprised he’s so affectionate in front of one of his juniors, but you’re happy to accept the gesture. “Colt, this is my sister.” 

Whether he’s surprised, you can’t tell. You think there’s a flicker of something behind Colt’s hazel eyes, but it’s swiftly suppressed. 

“Nice to meet you,” you say, to which he responds in kind. 

You take your brother’s arm and let him guide you from the building. They have a private dining mess, somewhere the Warriors can talk about whatever they want without having to worry about others, Zeke informs her. He gives a little inane commentary about their surroundings as they walk, and Colt occasionally chimes in, but none of it matters in the scheme of things.

“And here we have my own little study.” It’s nice. There are couches and chairs, all padded with matching pale blue cushioning, a huge desk, and a modest sized table. Tall shelves are full of mementos and books alike, and there are pictures on the yellow walls. 

Sitting around the table, you find Reiner and Bertholdt seated on one of the long sides of the table, in twin chairs. On the other sprawls a pale, dainty young woman, her dark hair fanned over one arm. An unfamiliar blond boy stares out the window, leaning against Zeke’s desk.

“Oh, hello, there.” The woman rises to all fours on the couch. “Faye?” When you nod, she beams. “Oh, you’re so cute. You didn’t tell me she was so cute.”

You blush as Zeke guides you into the room. “Pieck, move over, will ya?”

The young woman pouts, but slides over to allow space for you and your brother to join her. “Pieck Finger, the Cart,” she says, as though that explains everything. With the red band around her arm, you figure it’s the name of her titan. 

“Porco Galliard, the Jaw.” The blond boy has turned to face you, but remains behind the desk.

Zeke tuts. “Get over here, Pock. It’s impolite to introduce yourself from so far away.”

The boy, who looks to be around your age, sneers as he rounds the desk. “Don’t call me that.”

It has the sound of something he’s had to say multiple times, and no one bats an eye in response.

Reiner and Bertholdt are both studying your. You’ve felt their gazes since you stepped into the room, though at least Bertholdt has the grace to seem embarrassed when you catch them. Reiner’s eyes narrow and flit over you the little skin that shows. You’re glad the blouse is covering, because the bite mark Zeke left is still healing.

“I’m surprised you’re allowed out.” Your attention diverts back to Porco. He takes a seat at the end of the table, though he’s not sitting in it properly. “Being an enemy combatant and all.”

You blink at his boldness, but before you can say anything, Bertholdt speaks. “Leave it alone, Porco. You know she’s not a threat.”

“I don’t know. She seemed good enough at killing titans.” His pretty grey eyes survey you sharply. “It’s not like she’s a civilian.”

You tense, and Zeke wraps an arm around you. “I got permission from the old man. She didn’t know what was going on. Surely you saw that, too. None of those scouts knew the truth.”

“I also know she handled herself on those little missions. What’s to stop her from—”

“She doesn’t have access to weapons or—

“— slashing our necks—”

“— ODM gear, so how would she—”

“Excuse me.” At your slightly raised voice, Reiner and Porco both fall silent. “I’m really not a threat. I don’t know what you’ve heard about me, but I’m a terrible scout. I can ride, and kill unintelligent titans easily enough, and take orders, but I’m miserable fighting people. And I’m—” You grimace at the truth of what you’re about to say. “Well, I’m soft. I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

The blond runs a hand through the longer strands of his undercut and considers you keenly for a moment. “Yeah, you are pretty shitty at ground fighting, huh?”

Despite saying as much, you flash hot with irritation and embarrassment. “I’m not that bad.”

“Nah, you are.” Porco flashes a grin, one nice enough to make you hot for an entirely different reason, and you feel Zeke’s arm tighten around you. “I saw it myself. Got it all up here.” He taps his temple.

Seeing your confusion, Zeke clarifies, “We inherit memories from those whose titan we inherit.” 

You have no idea how that’s relevant until Porco reveals, “Your friend Ymir, she took my brother’s titan. He was the Jaw when they left Marley five years ago.”

Your face falls. Your memory surrounding the day you met Zeke on the Wall is a little fuzzy, but you vaguely recall something about Ymir needing to come with across the sea, how she had something that was missing.

“You ate Ymir.”

The teen shrugs, the lines of his face unaffected by your horror. “Yeah, that’s how it works.” Your expression twists, and Porco scoffs at it. “Look, she ate my brother first, and she knew what she was getting into when she came back with us. Don’t get all up in arms about it.”

How can you not have strong feelings about it when Ymir is someone you’ve known and trained with for years? You know her as well as you know Reiner and Bertholdt, who are still watching you with rapt attention. 

“How can you all think this is okay?” 

“It’s normal for us,” says Pieck. She leans over Zeke to meet your gaze. “This is just the way things work. Just like, where you’re from, it’s normal to go out and kill titans.”

You turn your sight to a scenic painting on the wall, staring into it as though you can climb through it and disappear. “And all those titans were once people like us.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Zeke pulls you against his side. “I know it’s all a lot to take in. How about we just focus on eating lunch right now, hm?”

You look up at him, into those pale eyes that are so searing and so comforting all at once, and nod.

He smiles and strokes your cheek. “That’s my girl.”

There are boxes on the table, and you didn’t even pay attention to them when you came in because you were too focused on your company. Now, Bertholdt is opening them up to reveal food. There are sandwiches sliced from long loaves of bread, the halves nearly dripping their insides with how full they are. You recognize leafy greens, meat, cheese, and probably vegetables. There are shiny green apples in another box, and some strange crisps you’ve never seen before, but find out are from fried potatoes.

You don’t try those; you know you won’t be able to keep yourself from dwelling on Sasha’s probable reaction to them.

Zeke hands you a plat with a segment of sandwich on it, then adds an apple to the meal. There’s already a glass of water poured from a pitcher in front of you. “Eat up,” he orders, and you comply by taking a bite of the tart fruit.

You eat in silence while the others chatter around you, then there’s a knock on the door.

“Come in.”

At your brother’s permission, the door opens to reveal a young man in a sharp military uniform. “The general wants a word with you, chief.”

Zeke nods. “I’ll be right there.” He sets aside his food and pats your head. “I’ll be right back. Stay here, okay?”

“Yes, Zeke.”

All eyes seem like they follow him to the door, and the second it shuts, Reiner’s attention snaps back to you. “How is he treating you? Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Your brows furrow and you set your plate on the table; you don’t have much of an appetite now that you’re without your brother and facing his Warriors alone. Never have you been more aware you’re in enemy territory than this moment.

“Because the last time we saw you, Zeke—”

“Reiner,” Bertholdt interrupts sharply. It’s a warning, though the blond waves it off.

“I just want to know he’s not being inappropriate.”

You don’t like this line of questioning. “He’s my brother,” you retort. “He’s making sure I eat and bathe and take care of myself.”

Reiner’s eyes narrow. “He was your brother before, too.”

“I didn’t know that,” you snarl. You want him to shut his traitor mouth, but you also worry about saying too much, giving away what transpired to the other three in the room.

Those others are watching everything without even trying to hide it.

“He knew it.” It’s Bertholdt who speaks this time, his voice evenly measured. “I told him your name myself.”

You and Zeke have talked about this a little. You know how complicated the situation really is, though for an outsider it might seem like he’d taken advantage of you or that you were a naive little girl or something. You sigh, wondering what you can say to make them stop interrogating you.

“What are you guys talking about?” Porco finally sits properly in the chair, though he leans so his elbows are on his knees. “What happened?”

The two former scouts exchange a glance, one you resent.

“It’s none of your business,” you say. “It’s between me and Zeke. We’ve dealt with it, and it’s done.” That last is toward Bertholdt and Reiner. Neither looks convinced, but one nods, then the other, and you settle back in your seat.

Pieck stretches across the couch to inspect your face. Her eyes are dark and pretty, and her nose adds a sense of strength to her otherwise fragile beauty. “Did they find you kissing or something?”

She’s matter-of-fact about it that you choke in disbelief. Your cheeks flush, your ears grow hot, your throat swelters behind your collar.

Porco laughs and slaps his thigh. “Holy shit, that’s fucked up.”

Your panicked gaze flits to him. “No, it’s not like that—”

“You had a crush on him, huh?” The boy’s grin is sharp as a wolf’s growl. 

“He is goodlooking,” Pieck remarks with a non judgemental shrug. “I’ve always thought so.

“Yeah, if you like giant monkeys.”

You glare at the Jaw titan. You know it’s a reference to Zeke’s titan form, but you haven’t actually seen it yet. You just know the name, and that it’s appropriately hairy.

“Can we not talk about this?” you ask into your water cup, having taken it to try and draw its coolness into yourself.

He chuckles again, shaking his head. “You could do better, you know. If you don’t exclusively like guys a lot older, I’d be happy to take you out.”

Is he flirting with you?

“Pock, back off.”

His genial smile morphs as he sneers, “Shut it, Braun.”

“Boys, behave. You’re setting a bad example.” Pieck pointedly looks at you, then Colt.

It dawns on you then that Colt is technically a bit of an outsider, too. He’s the only other person without a titan form in this room, though he’s hoping to have Zeke’s someday—

He’s going to eat Ze—

You don’t want to think about that right now, how your brother is training this boy to take his place someday, and seems content to do so despite the ramifications.

“Besides, the War Chief will be back any minute,” she continues. “We don’t wanna upset him, do we? You know he’ll have no problems making us run laps for upsetting his sweet li’l sis.”

Porco rolls his eyes, but deflates. “Yeah, yeah.”

The room falls quiet, everyone electing to focus on their food. You pick at yours, but finally manage to finish the whole apple and half your sandwich. You even accept a few chips at Pieck’s insistence, and they’re almost too salty and crunchy. Sasha would love them.

It’s quiet when Zeke returns. He steps behind you, rubbing a large hand down your back, and surveys the group. “Well, chow time is just about done. I’m gonna take my sister back now.”

“It was great meeting you, sweetie,” Pieck pipes up. Porco nods, Bertholdt waves, Reiner doesn’t say anything, but he watches as you go.

When Colt gets up, Zeke raises a hand to halt him. “Head back to the other candidates, Colt.”

The trip is much quieter this time, since Zeke feels no need to fill the space between you. He seems contemplative. When you arrive back at his quarters, he turns to hold you in his arms, tipping your chin up to gaze down at you. “Wanna tell me what all that was about?”

“What do you mean?” you reply innocently.

He chuckles. “I saw how awkward the room was when I came in. What, did Reiner and Bertholdt interrogate you?” He sighs at your answering flush.

Before he can extrapolate the wrong conclusion, you say, “No, it wasn’t like that.”

“So what was it like, sweetheart?”

“It’s.” You swallow and frown, thinking of the least offensive way to word everything. “They asked questions, but didn’t say anything too bad. Porco thought maybe they saw us kiss. When I blushed, he figured it’s because I had a crush on you before. That’s all.”

Sometimes you believe Zeke is far smarter than he appears, which is already a fair amount. But when he stares at you with gleaming silver eyes that pierce to the heart of the matter, as precise as a surgeon’s blade, you feel fully exposed to him. You have no secrets, not if he wants them bared.

Then he blinks, shakes his head, and gives a laughing huff. “Oh, honey, is that all? Pock just figured out you like me? That’s adorable.” He dips down to kiss you, a tender action that warms you completely until you remember the conversation you just had.

When you part, you’re flustered and confused. Zeke thinks it’s all your usual embarrassment. 

“Say, sweetheart. There’s an event this weekend. It’s a state affair, kinda stuffy, but I’d love to have you come along to keep me company.”

He trails his hands along your arms to intertwine them with yours. “I’d like that.” You know those kinds of things happened in the Walls, too. The military higher ups sometimes had to hobnob with the nobility, which was especially important to Commander Erwin, since the Scouts had the worst budget of all the branches. You’ve never been to one, though. You’re just a random lower-ranked scout.

Zeke gently squeezes your hands. “First time I’ve ever had a date to one of these. I’m looking forward to showing you off.”

It’s another reminder; after all, you’re hardly a proper date. It feels good to know he doesn’t usually bring women, though.

He favors you with another kiss, this one short and chaste, then heads back to the grind.

You grab the book you’ve been perusing, a grade-school level story for Marleyans to help you get better with their writing system, but your thoughts are back with your brother.

#zeke yeager x reader #zeke yeager x sister reader #manipulative zeke yeager #aot attack on titan #darkfic #aot darkfic #marley warriors #porco galliard #pieck finger #reiner braun #bertolt hoover #bertholdt hoover #colt grice

[only-my-unexistent-fiances]

I need Levi x Marley Warrior after manga ending headcanons, please, tell me where to find them or else I'll make them myself

But the problem is I actually don't want to do it myself 😭

I'm writing a fanfic with that trope but I need inspiration, please, I'm begging

#Levi x Marley Warrior #please i need it #imagine #just imagine 😭 #I'm writing a fanfic about that but it's on spanish... anyways #aot #levi ackerman #snk #attack on titan #shingeki no kyoujin manga #I'm begging #levi x reader #levi x you #levi headcanons

[cutecinnamon]

Concurrence I

{ Concurrence I: A Declared Traitor • Levi x Reader }

CW: ⊹₊ MDNI ⊹₊ Pregnancy ⊹₊ Somewhat Explicit Smut Details ⊹₊ Levi Cares Despite The Circumstance ⊹₊

:gif from pinterest

• 2.3k word count •

Note: Concurrence II is now up ♡

: divider by @cafekitsune

Synopsis:

(Y/n) was a soldier under Levi's squad, she was a very skillful and effienciently trained scout until one day her cover was blown and the whole squad found out that she was in fact a Marleyan, and she was a warrior sent as an agent to infiltrate the survey corps. When Levi and the others found out she was to be executed until Queen Historia decided that the best punishment for her was to in fact stay at the survey corps since she was one of the most liable scouts, but one thing she did not expect was that she was ordered to carry the child of Humanity's strongest in order to keep the Ackerman Bloodline alive.

PART I

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

The gentle breeze of the air touched your skin, it was cold.

Ever since the cat was out of the bag it became almost impossible to gain the reputation in the survey corps you once had.

You gently looked down at your belly, it was still not showing.

You then remembered the words of the queen that changed your life.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

"(y/n) how can you do this...? " Historia asked her, her gaze flickered with doubt and cold acceptance of the situation.

"Forgive me Historia, please know that I never intended to be a traitor to the survey corps... even if I'm not an Eldian by blood, my loyalty belongs to everyone here, in the walls, to Captain Levi and the survey corps."

(y/n) told Historia while kneeling, facing the consequences of her actions as a declared traitor.

"I know you (y/n), We have been under Levi's squad and I can tell that it wasn't all an act and show... that your loyalty was indeed with us... despite you being sent here by Marley to infiltrate the corps."

Historia said knowingly, she did believe that

(y/n) never intended any of that to happen and she had grown to fight for Paradis.

"I will accept any punishment that will be dished out on me, whatever it is... I know the terms of the regiment and I will face the consequence of my actions wholeheartedly."

(y/n) said, looking at Historia, her gaze showing acceptance of what is to come towards her actions.

"You know that I won't punish you with death or anything of that sort (y/n), I know that you are needed in the squad and I know that you are a good person,"

Historia said, her orbs carried kindness, just like how she was when she was still reffered to as her former alias Krista.

"Although you are still a declared traitor and... there is this other thing..." Historia continued,

"The Ackerman Bloodline, it must live on." Historia stated, her gaze changing with a hint of austere.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

pitter-patter

The sound of raindrops making contact with your skin and the floor brings you back, pulling you away from your thoughts.

You looked at your uniform as it started to soak from the droplets of water meeting your now fragile body.

You were still out of it, after hearing the words fall from Commander Hange's mouth an hour ago.

"Looks like you're pregnant (y/n), Congratulations." Hange said, her voice laced with warmth and anticipation.

Although it was delivered with a cheery and accepting tone by the Commander, it was not something that you wanted to hear, especially given the case that this was the punishment dished out to you by Historia herself and the fact that the biological father also despises you due to your faults of being a declared traitor under his squad.

You continued to stand at the field despite the continued droplets of water becoming heavier.

You were lost in your thoughts, the overwhelming feeling of the potential present and future,

It was all too much.

You were once again pulled away from your spiraling thoughts when someone pulled your arm, it wasn't the most gentle gesture but it also wasn't the harshtest.

"Snap out of it (y/n)." Levi firmly reminded while leading you to the barracks, to your shared quarters,

Levi didn't say anything afterwards, the walk towards your shared quarters was very quiet.

When you both reached the door, he opens it and drags you in despite your uniform dripping from the cold rain you openly welcomed while standing at the field spacing out earlier.

Levi closed the door, he then approaches you. The same distant, cold and hardened gray orbs was met by your gaze, despite the news he still maintained the same demanor, unfazed.

Turns out that Hange had a discussion with Levi telling him the news while you were at the field drenching yourself in the rain while your thoughts and feelings were all over the place.

"Tch, are you really that fucking careless (y/n)?" Levi asked her, his gaze piercing her.

"Sorry, I was just out of it, Captain." (y/n) replied, trying to keep her emotions in check, it was honestly an indescribable feeling.

"Change your clothes, you shouldn't get sick." Levi told her, though his tone of voice was void of concern and was laced with a hint of annoyance, he did care for her, and their now existing baby inside of her.

"Do you know...?" (y/n) asked, looking at Levi.

"Do you think I'm dumb? Besides, four eyes already discussed it to me." Levi responded, his tone still hinted subtle annoyance.

Levi approaches their wooden closet, he then grabs (y/n)'s white colored silk nightgown which was neatly folded and hands it to her.

"Take a bath and change, we wouldn't want you and that growing baby inside you to get sick." Levi told (y/n) his voice in monotone, his gaze still the same, with that unbothered and unfazed look to it.

(y/n) took the neatly folded silk nightgown, muttering a "Thank you." to her Captain.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

You knew that your relationship with the Captain wasn't the best ever since your identity of being "A Marleyan warrior sent to the survey corps to infiltrate them to get intel" was disclosed.

When everyone found out in your squad, they're jaws were all hanging open and they can't seem to grasp that you were a traitor,

The betrayal was far too foreseen.

You were a very skilled scout and edition to Levi's squad, especially when it came to your mission to protect Eren.

Your relationship with Levi was not bad too, although it was only civil, he did see potential in you, hell you even sometimes have tea with him at his office after helping him clean.

Which adds to the more disappointment and hatred that Levi has for you.

Although he still somewhat acts civil with you, you know deep down that he hates you, and the idea of concieving a child with you was indeed a burden for him.

"I mean, who would want a child from a traitor anyways?"

That phrase or question, the usual you hear from a few scouts who had heard about your rumored punishment.

After taking a warm bath, you wore the white silk nightgown as you proceeded to leave the bathroom.

You and Levi had been sharing quarters ever since you were exposed at the regiment about you true identity, It was an order that you are to be watched by Levi as he can end you with a swift if you are still proven guilty for the past accusations against you.

You went to your side of the bed, there is only one bedroom but it has two beds with a small space in between which was occupied by a small nightstand.

A few minutes prior, the Captain also entered the room, approaching your bed as you sat down at the soft neatly covered cushion.

"Don't be careless again brat." Levi stated, his tone hardly annoyed but still maintaining its usual monotone.

"Yes Captain," you simply responded avoiding his gaze, unsure how to face your captain,

Unsure how to face the father of your developing child.

"I'm sure that you were thought as a cadet to look at your superiors when taking with them."

Levi reminded you of your current behavior with his stern tone of speaking as you continued to avoid any eye contact with him.

You tried your best to look at him, meeting his piercing gray orbs.

"My apologies Captain, that was wrong and disrespectful of me." You stated, trying your best to maintain eye contact with him.

"Don't forget your ground (y/n), even if you're pregnant with my child, that doesn't change anything." Levi said, the coldness of his voice still lingering.

You nod at Levi, while maintaining eye contact with him.

"Yes Captain, I understand." You replied trying to keep your voice monotone despite the overwhelming feelings you were feeling.

You were seeking for comfort,

Namely Levi's comfort,

The comfort of your baby's father.

The news still struck you with many emotions of uncertainty, and it all wasn't easy.

Your mind then went back to the day that you and the Captain were both trying to conceive, it wasn't the most romantic gesture like others described it to be, reaching cloud nine, but then again you still reached that high, despite knowing better than anyone that given your circumstance, affection was doomed to be devoid between the two of you.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

The room was lit dim with candle lights, The smell of Chamomile lingering the room's gentle atmosphere. A few moans and groans were heard from the room.

"Ca- Captain..." you moaned out, as you arched your back feeling Levi's lips making contact with your already wet core.

"I shouldn't be enjoying this... this is suppose to be a punishment, damn you (y/n)". Levi said as he continued to burry his lips and tongue towards your moist and slippery entrance.

"I... I'm close... Captain Lev-" Levi cuts you off, as he continued to burry his tongue deeper reaching for your sweet spot that makes you see stars, as tears started to blur your sight from the overwhelming pleasure running its course throughout your body.

"Give it to me, let go." Levi said with his usual monotone and cold voice, but despite the cold gaze he always conveys, you also saw hunger and anticipation in his orbs as he looked at you while you lose yourself into the pleasure with the work of his tongue.

Your back arches as you let go a muffled moan echoing throughout your shared quarters as you grabbed Levi's raven black hair.

"Good girl, now let me fill you up until you carry my child, you Marleyan brat." Levi stated as he started to align his tip in your sensitive yet still soaking core.

As Levi pushed his length inside of you all you can do is remember the punishment dished out for you, for being a Marleyan traitor who infiltrated the scouts.

"You are ordered to carry the offspring of Captain Levi as your punishment."

"Is.. is this really all for the punishment...?" you asked while feeling Levi's tip between your seizing needy walls.

"Do you actually think I'll make love to someone like you?" Levi asked with a hint of subtle sarcasm in his voice as he fully inserted his hard length inside of you.

"So... this is all nothing to you...?" you asked, although you know the answer all too well, at the back of your mind you were hoping for a different answer, as you felt each thrust Levi was giving you, it started out slow as he lets you adjust to his size.

"Nothing, just like how you mean nothing to me." Levi answered coldly with no hint of guilt, not even a flash of regret is visible in his eyes, as he continued to thrust deeper, his pace getting faster as he penetrated your walls.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

"Nothing, just like how you mean nothing to me."

Levi's words were honestly stuck in your mind, playing like a broken cassette record.

You then decided to lay down on your bed while Levi was sitting on his chair near a small round table drinking his tea peacefully despite his unknown thoughts screaming loudly at him.

"(y/n), I know our situation is not ideal for the both of us." Levi stated while looking at his cup of tea.

"I am aware, Captain Levi." you simply stated, still feeling the needy desire to be wrapped around his arms while being comforted by his warmth.

Levi sighs, he knows what you need, even though he wants to provide it, he feels as if something is holding him back from giving you the comfort you very much seek for.

"You're a traitor." Levi stated while looking at your direction, you then decided to sit up making eye contact with him, both of your gaze meeting.

"No matter how much I explain myself, I do know I have that reputation in your eyes, and the whole regiment." answer him softly, at this rate you have come to the conclusion that nothing will change, it was impossible to change your image nor your fate after everything.

Levi stands up, leaving his cup of tea at the round table beside him.

He then makes his way towards you.

"(y/n) a scout never gives up, if you really want to return your proper reputation then prove yourself, the regiment is no place for pathetic and soft-hearted beings like you." Levi stated firmly while still maintaining eye contact with you.

"Captain... no matter what I do, I will always be viewed as a traitor, I'm a lost cost." at this point you were honestly at the verge of tears.

"Damn this pregnancy hormones," you continued to state, while wiping the tears forming in your eyes.

Levi then kneeled his right knee while you were sitting at your bed, making you both leveled.

"Listen to your Captain, I may not be fond of you but you are currently carrying my child, I do not wish for my child to have a mother who is a pathetic crybaby so stop crying."

Although Levi's voice was still the same with its usual stern and cold hint to it, his orbs were softer, making you come to the conclusion that he is at the very least trying to comfort you.

Your tears started to pour,

"Damn it brat, didn't I tell you not to cry?" Levi asked with the same tone of voice but then again, his gaze melting softer as he stood up, closing the distance between you both, he then pulled you into the warmth of his body, his arms holding you, while gently stroking your hair.

"Stop crying, I don't want your tears soaking my uniform." Levi reminded, still holding you gently betraying the coldness of his own tone of voice.

"Yes Captain... I understand." you softly replied while sobbing, as tears continued to pour from your eyes, soaking his scout uniform, although everything was a mess and out of place due to the overwhelming occurring events, you felt safe with the presence of your Captain's warmth meeting yours.

Maybe, he does care.

I hope you all like the first part of Concurrence,

Will start and write a few drafts for part II,

- Cinna ♡ ໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১

#concurrence #levi ackerman #attack on titan #captain levi #snk levi #levi x reader #levi x y/n #aot levi

[biskyfy]

Wicked Game

Reiner Braun x Fem!Reader

pairing - reiner braun x fem!reader

word count - 5.2k

tags - MDNI, 18+, nsfw, smut, hurt/comfort, canon universe, mild angst, based on a song, reiner on his knees begging, briefly appearing armin, connie, and jean

summary - set in the canon universe on the ship between the group leaving the port in paradis and arriving at the hangar in marley to repair the flying boat. the reader having a previous history with reiner prior to his betrayal of the 104th and survey corps decides to confront him for his actions and get closure before their upcoming battle against eren and the founding titan. titled for the song Wicked Game by Chris Isaak.

ao3 - wattpad

You stood on the deck of the boat leaning against the rail and looking out across the waves of the sea as the breeze ruffled your hair lightly. The smell of salt water brought you some peace as your mind tossed like the waves beneath you.

So much had happened in such a short time.

Only a few days ago your biggest problem had been trying to quell the growing anger of the Jaegerists and now you were on a seemingly impossible mission to stop Eren from taking out the entire world with The Rumbling.

Not to mention, your group was the most rag-tag group of people you’d ever worked with before. You had your trusted comrades of the Survey Corps that you’d been with for years now. But then there were the others. Two Marleyan volunteers, one of which you could trust and the other you were unsure of who’s side she was on. Two children, one of which had murdered one of your best friends, the other now holding one of the Nine titans. A Marylean Warrior you’d only fought against until today and another girl you once called a comrade until her betrayal four years ago only to work with her again.

And then there was him.

Why did it have to be him?

You let out a heavy sigh as you hunched over the railing watching the ship cut through the water below you and ran a tired hand through your hair.

You knew his Titan power was necessary in order to take down Eren, but that didn’t mean you wanted to work with him again. Not after what he had done to your group of friends. And more so what he had done to you.

The night before the tension around the campfire had been palpable between the opposing sides now forced to work together for a common goal. But he had been surprisingly quiet through the accusations thrown back and forth.

Part of you wanted to see some sort of reaction from him. Anger towards you and your people that five years ago had fueled his choice to reveal his betrayal and help in the slaughter of almost the entirety of the Survey Corps. The hatred he had held towards you and the others after pretending to be your comrades until revealing his true intentions.

But he was nothing more than the empty shell of the man he once was. He sat quietly until admitting to being the reason for Marco’s death so long ago. He was pathetic as he groveled to Jean, insisting he couldn’t be forgiven for the sins he had committed. And he did absolutely nothing to defend himself as Jean beat him senselessly until the girl had thrown herself in the line of fire to protect him.

You hoped to see something of his past self you had loved so much. But there seemed to be nothing. You hadn’t made any effort to speak to him and him the same to you. But you could always feel his eyes lingering when you were around. Quietly watching you as he took in who you yourself had become in his absence.

It had felt almost ironic killing your former Jaegerist comrades in an effort to defend him and Annie in their Titan forms. It felt even stranger watching Jean and Connie carrying him in his weakened state onto the ship as you all made your escape from the port. The last you had seen him was when Annie had broken down to you all shortly after departing. You assumed he had taken refuge in one of the various rooms on the ship while recovering from his injuries.

So why was it that you felt compelled to visit him? You had no interest in hearing whatever excuses he had for doing what he did to you. But part of you still wanted answers. Wanted to know if he regretted his choices or had ever felt anything for you at all. Or if it was just a part of his plan in infiltration in the first place.

As you stood contemplating your options you felt a presence join you at your side looking out over the sea.

“He asked me where you were you know.” Armin said casually and you let out a bitter laugh.

“Did he?” You scoffed as you rolled your eyes. But Armin looked out the corner of his eye at you briefly before saying.

“I think you should go talk to him. This might be your only chance.” He said thoughtfully before looking back out over the sea. You stood in silence, considering his words and what he was implying. After a few moments he looked over at you with a small smile.

“Second floor below the deck, last door on the right.”

You gave him a half smile and small laugh before shaking your head and heading towards the stairs to below deck.

As you made your way down the steep stairs, you heard a loud wailing coming from the room closest to them. You made out the voice to be Falco, who you figured had finally woken up after his first Titan transformation. The poor boy’s wails tugged hard on your heart as you felt the gravity of the situation that you all found yourselves in.

Perhaps speaking to him wouldn’t be the worst idea considering you weren’t sure how much longer you two would be around for.

You made your way down the corridor until you made it to the room Armin had mentioned and stood in front of the door. You took a moment to brace yourself for what you were about to do and took a deep breath to steady yourself. Slowly, you raised a hand and knocked quietly on the door.

After a moment, the door opened and there he stood, towering over you. He looked tired, dark circles under his eyes and an exhausted look on his face. But the moment he registered it was you standing in front of him, his eyes shot open and and his face morphed into one of surprise.

“Reiner.”

His hazel eyes darted over your face rapidly as he seemed to try and grasp that you were standing in front of him as you stared back. After a few beats of silence, he came back to reality, blinking, and then cleared his throat.

“Oh, hey. What’s up?” He asked, voice shaky and unconfident as he tried to gather himself.

“Can we talk?” You asked with a firm tone.

Reiner nodded quickly and backed into the room, letting you in. He shut the door quietly behind you as you glanced out the small window placed just above sea level, a small amount of sunlight casting shadows around the small room furnished only with a small bed, a desk and chair, and small dresser.

You made your way over to bed and sat on the edge, the covers slightly dissaray from where he had been laying before you had come in. He quickly pulled the desk chair out and sat down across from you, watching you carefully.

“Seeing as the world is ending and I don’t know how much longer I’m going to be alive. I wanted a chance to get closure before I die.” You explained but he only stared back, face dropping back into the seemingly permanent frown he now wore.

“I just wanna know, was what we had real? Was any of it real? Or was I just another part of your plan to infiltrate?” You asked, thankful your voice sounded confident and firm as opposed to the shaky feeling you had throughout your body.

“No, you were never a part of the plan.” He answered quietly. You waited a few moments, expecting him to elaborate, but he didn’t. He only looked down at the ground, leaning forward elbows resting on his knees while wringing his hands anxiously.

“Oh, so I was just collateral damage then? An easier way to gain our trust and seem less suspicious?” You snapped and he flinched at your sharp tone.

“No.”

“Then what was it Reiner? Was I just some sort of entertainment and comfort until you could finish what you came to do and just go back home? Was your plan to throw me aside and leave me to die the whole time? Tell me, was any of it real? Did you really love me? Or was it fake just like everything else?” You demanded, growing angrier with each word, spitting the words at him laced with the poison of hatred you had held for so long.

He refused to look at you as he stared pointedly at the ground before only responding, “It wasn’t fake.”

Overwhelmed with frustration you threw your hands up exasperatedly with a huff, “This is waste of my fucking time.” You quickly stood up to leave but before you could, Reiner grabbed the fabric of the leg of your pants to stop you.

“Please, listen.” He begged, finally looking up at you, tears threatening to spill out of his hazel eyes. You paused, waiting for his explanation.

“I never meant to fall for you. I never intended to have a connection with someone in Paradis like the one we had. But once I met you, I was done for. I kept pushing off the thought that you were my enemy and that I had sworn to destroy you and your people because you made me forget all about it. It killed me to leave you behind. It killed me to have to fight against you in Shiganshina. But I chose to put my mission first because that’s what I had come here to do. I never meant to hurt you and I never wanted to leave you behind. I would’ve brought you with me if I could have but that’s not how it worked out.”

You watched as he held on to your leg desperately as he rambled, the words tumbling out of his mouth full of more emotion than you had seen from him in the past few days. He was breathing heavily as he cut himself open and began to bleed all his pent-up emotion and feelings, he had kept to himself the past four years right on the floor in front of you.

Before you could respond, he dropped out of the chair and onto his knees in front of you, now gripping the fabric around your ankles as his tether to reality as he truly began to let go. You could hear the heavy sobs in his chest as he stared at your shoes, curled in on his knees.

“I loved you then as I have always loved you. Not a day has gone by that you haven’t crossed my mind. The ghost of your existence has haunted me since the day I left. I see you in my dreams, I hear your laugh in people on the street, I feel the ghost of your touch with the brush of wind. You have never left my mind. Not once. I have loved you since the beginning and I still do. I will always love you.” Reiner cried before finally raising his head and meeting your eyes.

He moved his grip from your ankles to grasp your hands, bringing them together in front of his face and clasping them in his much larger hands, staring up at you with tears shining in his eyes and streaking down his cheeks.

“I don’t expect your forgiveness. I can’t imagine the pain that I put you through. You never deserved any of it and I’m so sorry that it happened. But I don’t want you to ever think that it wasn’t real. It was always real. It still is.” He pleaded desperately, gripping your hands in his tightly as he bled himself dry in front of you, his heart falling out and landing into your grasp to determine its fate.

You took a moment, processing the weight and meaning of his words as he stared up at you, tears watering in his eyes, waiting for your response. You felt your own heart hanging heavily in your chest at the sight, realizing his own pain that he had felt in his actions. It had hurt him as much as it had hurt you.

You slowly took your hands out of his and saw the pain flash across his face. But before it could settle, you reached out to cup his face in your hands, brushing the tears off his cheeks with your thumbs. You slowly bent down towards him and pressed a gentle kiss against his forehead before pulling away to watch his face.

“You’re pathetic, you know that right?” You murmured.

He nodded quickly in your hands causing you to do a short and quiet laugh. “Get up off of your knees.”

Your hands dropped from his face as he stood, having to angle your head to look up at him instead of down. He looked down in your eyes with an intensity you hadn’t seen in years as he slowly brought a hand up to grasp under your chin gently.

“Do you believe me?” He asked in a whisper.

“Yes.” You murmured.

“I love you.” Reiner breathed, slowly getting closer to you.

“I love you too.” You said quietly and he immediately pushed his lips against yours.

You let out a quiet sigh of relief at the feeling of his mouth against yours for the first time in years and slid your arms up around his neck, fingers gently toying with the strands of hair at the nape of his neck. Reiner slid his empty hand around your waist to press against the small of your back and push you up against his muscular chest.

You angled your head as you got closer, nose brushing against his as he kissed you hungrily gripping you tightly against him as if you were going to fade away at any moment. You matched his desperation, pulling his neck down closer to you as you feverishly met his pace.

He let go of your chin before taking his hand and tangling it into the hair on your back of your head as he tried to bring you even closer as if you weren’t already pressed up against him before sliding a tongue past your lips to meet yours.

As he deepened the kiss you slid your hands from around his neck to run down his chest, taking in the feeling of the muscles beneath the thin cloth of his shirt as he let out a sigh at your touch. Craving more intimacy you slid your hands to the bottom of his shirt, toying with the edge, before sliding both hands up to touch the hot skin underneath.

Reiner quietly whimpered against your mouth at the feeling before quickly moving his hands to start desperately pawing at the buttons on your collared shirt. He made quick work and undoing the buttons before your shirt was hanging open.

You separated your mouth from his and took a small step back causing him to let out a quiet whine of disappointment as he opened his eyes. But before he could reattach his lips to yours, you began to pull his shirt up his body. Once he understood, he helped you pull the rest up and over his head before tossing it aside on the floor next to him.

Within an instant he was back on you, lips tracing along your jawline and across your neck, hands resting on your hips. You began to slide your own shirt off as he did, head thrown back in euphoria at the feeling of his mouth on your bare skin. Once it was off his mouth traveled down and across your collarbone before hesitating above your chest wrappings.

When he stopped you looked down at him and met his hazel eyes, watching you intently, waiting for your approval. You consented quickly with a sharp nod, and you saw his expression shift into one of almost hunger.

Reiner graced his hands up your torso before grabbing the end of the wrappings and slowly undoing them with the utmost care. Occasionally he glanced back up at you, checking to ensure that you were still okay with what he was doing. Finally, only a piece of fabric lay between your bare chest and his eyes, and he hesitated.

Gently, you took your hands and placed them on top of his. Slowly, you guided his grip to pull the fabric off and on to the floor, leaving your bare breasts in front of his face.

Reiner took in a sharp inhale of air followed by a low murmur of, “God damn…” at the sight before him.

Once his eyes had finished taking in what your breasts looked like, his mouth was on them in an instant, kissing along the gentle curves with utmost care, almost as if he were worshipping them.

You slid your fingers through his soft hair, tangling them as you let yourself enjoy the feeling of his warm mouth on your bare skin. The slight rough stubble around his mouth tickled along the sensitive skin, causing chills to run through your back, your nipples reacting from the sensation.

As he noticed this, he made his way to the middle of the breast he was at, enveloping the sensitive nipple with his warm mouth and flicking his tongue across it. You let out a breathy gasp at the sensation and tightened your grip on his hair causing him to make a low noise of approval.

Once he was satisfied with the work he had put in, he moved to your other attention deprived breast and gave it the same treatment. As he continued you could feel your stomach tightening at the sensation, breaths turning into pants as your need for the blonde man grew exponentially.

“Fuck, Reiner. Need you.” You said breathily and he hummed low in response before pulling away from your sensitive skin.

“Whatever you wish, darling. I’ll give it to you.” Reiner said, hazel eyes meeting yours, looking up at you with a need to please.

“You want me to forgive you? Show me how sorry you really are.” You challenged.

“Yes ma’am.” Reiner replied, quickly dropping to his knees before you.

He helped you carefully step out of your shoes before he began to unbutton the dress pants and panties you wore, sliding them quickly down your legs and guiding you to step out of them before tossing them to the side. He then placed his hips gently on your waist and guided you backwards to sit on the bed behind you so that you were placed right at his eye level.

He used his large hands to spread your legs before him, eyes hungrily taking in the sight of your cunt before him. You leaned back on to your elbows, moving slightly downward to give him a better view and better access, smirking as you watched his mouth slightly agape at the sight.

Reiner took one large finger, tracing along the folds of sensitive sex as if memorizing the feeling of it. You gasped quietly at the feeling before you felt his finger dip down towards your entrance which was already wet with arousal.

“All this? For me?” He murmured quietly, almost to himself as he smeared your arousal along his large finger, coating it in preparation for his next move. When he was satisfied with his work, he placed the tip of his index finger at your entrance before looking up at you once again, waiting for your consent.

“Please.” You whispered with a quick nod before he slowly began to slide his thick finger into you.

You let out a quiet moan at the feeling of his finger but didn’t miss the hiss he made as well at the feeling of your walls enveloping him. Once reaching his knuckle he slowly pulled back out to his tip before starting to repeat the process. You let the feeling of pleasure take the lead in your senses as you relaxed into the feeling of him, letting out sighs of content as he did.

After a few moments he slid his finger out before coating his middle finger and adding it into the process. You groaned at the increase in size and pressure as your cunt adjusted to the extra finger before restarting his movements, picking up more in speed.

You could hear the explicit noises of his fingers sliding in and out of your now soaked pussy and you glanced at him who was going back and forth between watching your face for reactions and the sight of your sex taking in his fingers so easily, wet with arousal from the work he was doing.

When he noticed you were watching him, he looked at you with such sincerity before saying, “You are so beautiful.”

You felt yourself blush at his words before looking away again, unable to keep eye contact with his look of utter infatuation. But as soon as you did you felt him curl his fingers just the right way, grazing along just the right spot within your core. You groaned at the overwhelming feeling of pleasure and gripped the bed spread below you tightly.

Once he realized the effect that the motion had on you, he quickly began to repeat it relentlessly sending you quickly spiraling into the euphoria of the feeling. As he did you felt his thumb graze along your clit before flicking against it at the same speed in time with his fingers within you.

You felt yourself nearing your climax as he continued, a tight feeling growing increasingly stronger deep in the pit of your abdomen. All you could make were breathy gasps of pleasure as you fought to keep yourself from yelling out and alerting the rest of the ship to your actions.

“C’mon baby, let me make it up you. Let me make you cum all over my fingers as an apology.” Reiner said sounding almost as desperate as you were about to finish. He began kissing along the sensitive inner skin of your thighs as you felt his rough stubble contrast the soft feeling of his lips on the skin.

Finally, with the perfect placement of his mouth and facial hair on your thighs, the flick of his thumb against your clit, and the curl of his large fingers in your cunt, you felt the tightening snap like a rubber band as you were drowned in a wave of overwhelming pleasure as you came.

All you could manage to do was grip the bed sheets desperately and let out quiet whines of pleasure as he continued to fuck you with his fingers through your high.

“That’s a good girl, cum for me, just like that.” Reiner murmured against your inner thighs, peppering your skin with kisses in-between his words as you peaked and then began to come back down once again.

Once he felt your walls finish spasming around his fingers, he gently pulled his fingers from you, an obscene wet noise accompanying the process. Without hesitation, he slid both fingers into his own mouth, cleaning off the mess you had made with his tongue. He let out a quiet noise of approval before finishing and removing his fingers once again as you watched, breathing heavily.

“Have I made it up to you?” Reiner asked, hazel eyes watching you closely.

“Not yet, I need a little more persuasion.” You said with a smirk.

“And how can I do that?”

“Fuck me to show me how much you regret leaving.”

Reiner gave you the first real smile you had seen from him since your reunion before quickly standing up and kicking off his own shoes and undoing his belt and pants. You watched closely as he slid off his pants and own underwear, his erection coming free of its fabric confines as you watched with an open mouth and wide eyes.

You lay back onto the bed as he took your thighs in his arms and pulled you down closer to him so that he could angle himself before taking one of your legs and throwing it over his shoulder to bring your hips up to meet his height. He kept the one leg held in place with one arm as he used his other hand to line himself up with your cunt before sliding all the way in.

You groaned at the feeling of his size stretching you even further than his fingers did, hands reaching out to grip his forearms tightly, digging your nails into the skin underneath.

Reiner gritted his teeth, breathing heavily and remaining entirely still once he had reached your cervix. He glanced down at the sight of himself buried within you before his head quickly shot up and eyes closed tightly.

After a few moments of no movement, you squirmed slightly, craving the feeling of him pounding into you but he hissed and swore in response.

“Fuck. Stop moving. If you keep moving, I’m gonna cum right now before I’ve even had the chance to fuck you.” Reiner groaned, using his strong grip on you to try and keep you still beneath him. “So fucking tight.”

You quickly stopped moving, waiting for the muscular blonde to regain his control before you felt him begin to slowly pull back out of you and back in again. He began to fuck you slowly and sensually, reaching further into your abdomen than you felt possible. You were certain if you looked down you could see his dick pressing up through your skin from within you from how deep he was.

“I missed you. So fucking much that it hurt.” Reiner groaned as he continued his slow pace as you gasped each time he reached the base of his erection.

“There’s no one I’ve ever wanted but you. Only you, my love.” He said, opening his eyes with tears shining in them and looking down at you below him, balls deep into your soaking wet, throbbing cunt.

“Only you, Reiner. No one but you.” You responded breathily, squeezing his forearms in comfort, tears beginning to well in your own eyes from the overwhelming emotions you were experiencing with him.

Reiner continued to fuck you slowly and deeply whispering his apologizes and love for you over and over like a mantra as soft tears slid down both your cheeks and his own.

After a few minutes he quieted and then began to pick up his pace as he fucked you. His thrusting became harder and harder as the sound of your skin slapping together echoed within the small room.

You could hear the crashing of waves outside the small window as he angled you more on to your side to begin fucking into you at a relentless pace, your breasts bouncing from the momentum of the force.

“Fuck, missed you so much.” Reiner groaned, head thrown back and breathing heavily as he slammed into you. You could only manage breathy moans of pleasure in response as you felt your second climax quickly forming.

“Only you, only you, only you.” He began to repeat over and over, gripping you tightly as he fucked you before you felt him began to stutter as well.

“I’m close Rei.” You managed to gasp, and he nodded quicky.

“Cum all over my cock just like you deserve to.” Reiner said in a low voice, keeping his relentless pace before you felt the wave of pleasure consume you once again. You bit down hard on your lip to keep from crying out, drawing blood in the process.

“Oh fuck. I’m about to cum.” Reiner moaned loudly as your walls spasmed around him before he suddenly pulled himself from you and took a hand and began jerking his hard erection through his large hand. “Where?” He gasped but instead of responding, you sat up quickly and snatched his wrist from his dick and thrust your mouth onto him instead.

Within moments, Reiner came hard into your mouth, the tip hitting the back of your throat and hot semen shooting from it. He moaned loudly at the feeling as he gripped your hair within his hands as tears welled in your eyes from how deep he was. Once his cock finished twitching in your mouth, you slid off it and swallowed the taste of him and yourself down as he stood above you breathing heavily. You stared up at him before he got back down on two knees before you, meeting your level.

“I will say it as many times as I need to until you believe me. I never wanted to leave you and I’m so sorry that I did. You are everything to me and I promise I will never leave your side again so long as you’ll have me.” Reiner said softly, reaching a hand out and tucking a piece of hair stuck to your sweaty forehead behind your ear.

You only nodded in response before placing a quick kiss to his mouth and wrapping him in a hug as he pulled you into his muscular chest. As you listened to his heart beating against his chest in your ear, you couldn’t help but think how overwhelmingly grateful you were to have him back on your side. Even if it was a suicide mission to try and save the world.

Short epilogue:

You opened the door of the bedroom, walking out after you and Reiner had taken some time to yourselves before redressing and getting ready to face the rest of the world again. But as you walked out you heard a loud voice at the end of the hall near the stairs of the ship.

“HA! YES! I TOLD YOU SO! PAY UP JEAN!” Connie screeched, smacking the tall man beside him on the back.

“Shut up Connie.” Jean groaned, rolling his eyes and reaching into his pants pocket and grabbing out some money and handing it to Connie.

“What the fuck is that about?” You asked as you and Reiner walked over to the pair.

“Jean and I bet if you two would “make up” before we got to shore.” Connie said with a suggestive grin as he counted to make sure Jean had given him the correct amount.

You felt your cheeks heat up from what he had said and quickly smacked him in the chest.

“That’s not fucking funny. And how do you even know? You don’t have any proof, idiot.” You scolded, but Jean scoffed loudly.

“Are you kidding me? We didn’t have to see anything. We could hear Reiner at the other end of the hall.” Jean said with a roll of his eyes as Connie was now doubled over from his laughter.

You glanced at Reiner who looked absolutely horrified at the news before he quickly cleared his throat.

“I’m going to check on the kids.” He said awkwardly before hurrying away from the group causing Connie to somehow laugh even harder.

“I hate you two.” You glared before storming off, Connie’s loud laughter echoing through the halls of the ship.

#reiner x you #reiner x reader #reiner smut #aot reiner #reiner braun #aot x female reader #aot x you #aot x reader #aot #aot smut #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #self insert x canon #snk #snk x reader #18+ only #smut #minors dni #minors do not interact #mdni #oneshot

[levithestripper]

how the members of the survey corp and marley warriors would train with you

masterlist

warnings: gender-neutral reader

included characters: eren yeager, armin arlert, mikasa ackerman, jean kirstein, marco bodt, connie springer, sasha braus, reiner braun, bertolt hoover, annie leonhart, porco galliard, levi ackerman, erwin smith, and mike zacharias.

length: 1.5k || read on ao3 || join my taglist

a/n: hi y'all. i never thought i'd be writing for attack on titan again, but here we are lmao. i've been rewatching the series from the beginning, and this is the result of that. anyways, some are more 'x reader' than others, but i hope y'all enjoy it!

— Eren Yeager

When you ask Eren to help you train, this boy gets so smug you can practically see his ego grow three sizes larger. You know you’re probably better off asking someone else who’s better, but you know Eren appreciates it when you go to him. He likes to show off and impress you, so you get more of a show than actual training assistance. Still, you appreciate the effort Eren puts into trying to help you out. Eren falls on his ass more than he likes to admit, making you hide your laughter behind your hand. 

— Armin Arlert

Asking Armin to train with you surprises Armin more than anything. Him? You want to train with him?! He immediately rejects your offer, saying he can’t possibly help you with anything that isn’t tutoring. However, you insist upon it, assuring him that you want his help and prefer it over others. The training you guys do isn’t intense; instead, it focuses on the areas you said you needed to improve. Armin always pulls his punches, never wanting to seriously harm you. But if you insist upon it, he will come at you in full force, just not very happily. Afterward, Armin apologizes profusely for possibly hurting you, and you reassure him you’re fine. Expect a flurry of hugs from him and a part of his supper rations, but he denies knowing anything about where your extra food came from. 

— Mikasa Ackerman

Mikasa isn’t keen on helping you, viewing you as something that will only slow her down from achieving her goal of being as strong as she can be to protect Eren. It takes you a few minutes to convince her that you won’t get in the way or be a burden, simply wanting to shadow her, spar with her, and pick up any techniques that make her such a good fighter for yourself. Realizing you didn’t want her to teach you, Mikasa accepts your request, warning you that she doesn’t go easy or pull her punches. It’s safe to say that you hurt all over come supper time, wincing from the hard wooden benches in the mess hall. 

— Jean Kirstein

Similar to Eren, Jean is cocky as hell when you come to him for training help. He doesn’t stop until you threaten to ask Eren instead, which makes him shut up and behave. Jean’s a decent spar partner, so you’re in good hands with him. You’re decently matched against him, winning about half of the rounds and losing the other half by only a second or two. He’s better at the knife-disarming move than you are, though, which he teases you for.

— Marco Bodt

Marco is flattered that you picked him out of everyone else. Being the definition of an average fighter, Marco didn’t think there was anything he could help you with, but he’s ecstatic to spar with you regardless. After all, it’s time Marco gets to spend with you. And if you think he’ll go easy on you because you’re his partner, you’re sorely mistaken. Marco loves you and wants you to be as prepared for the world as possible, seeing no benefit in pulling punches. But that’s not to say he’ll beat you up, obviously. After all, this is only an exercise, so you’re relatively unharmed, ignoring the scattered bruising. 

— Connie Springer

Connie is more than eager to train with you, joking around and laughing the entire time. He knows he should take it more seriously, but Connie can’t help having fun with you instead, completely ignoring the current exercise. He’ll hide behind you and tap your shoulder, waiting for you to turn around before ducking just out of your view. When you finally catch him, you’re dizzy and out of breath from laughing so hard. Your efforts are rewarded with a peppering of kisses all over your face <3

— Sasha Braus

Like Connie, Sasha is just as obnoxious during training but takes it a bit more seriously than he does. If you are serious about training, she’ll do her best to take it seriously with you. She’s not immune to Connie making faces at her from across the field, and frankly—you aren’t either. Typically, if you’re sparing with Sasha, you’ll end up with Connie, too. 

— Reiner Braun

Training with Reiner is like training with your long-lost twin. You read one other perfectly, evading and blocking each other’s swings like it’s nothing. You duck underneath his outstretched arm to kick him in the back of his knee, but Reiner is two steps ahead, spinning on his heel to knock your feet out from under you. He expects you to yield, but you don’t give up that easily. Sneaking between his spread legs to pop up from behind, it was your turn to knock him unsteady, twisting his arm behind his back and disarming him of the prop knife he wielded. It goes on like that until the quittin’ bell rings, except the roles reversed themselves every few rounds. 

— Bertolt Hoover

Bertolt is still such a sweetheart, even when he’s trying to pin you to the ground. He wants to win, but that doesn’t make his timidness disappear. You win more often than not, but you let him get the better of you sometimes. Watching a blush spread across his face and neck is worth letting him win. His blush worsens when you point it out, too. Still, he likes sparing with you, regardless of how well he does or not. 

— Annie Leonheart

Training with Annie is very similar to training with Mikasa. It’s not that Annie believes you’ll hinder her progress; it’s because she’s simply not good with people. Annie knows you can hold your own against tough opponents; she’s seen you go against people like Reiner and Eren and win. The best way to put it is that she feels awkward, not knowing how to help you or what she should say. You’re the only one able to render Annie speechless, a talent that immediately raises you above the rest in her eyes. 

— Porco Galliard

If you want to spar with Porco, you better be prepared to have your ass beat into next week. He’s out to prove he’s the best, and not even you can get in his way. He’s stubborn and afflicted with tunnel vision, blinding him from remembering how talented you are at it, too. Porco’s favorite move is pinning you on your stomach, twisting your wrist until you forfeit your prop weapon of choice. He’s stupidly cocky about it, too, straddling your hips and spouting snark while your face is shoved in the dirt. You may be talented at that day’s exercise, but somehow, Porco always has the upper hand, no doubt due to his Shifter abilities giving him heightened agility and reflexes. He’s always stupidly proud of himself afterward, bragging to his friends about how many times he’d pinned you. It earns him a sharp flick on his forehead from you.

— Levi Ackerman

You must be a glutton for punishment if you seek out Levi as a sparing partner. His version of training isn’t just sparring, oh no, no. First, he has you running laps around the courtyard for at least thirty minutes. And if he catches you jogging, he adds another ten minutes. You wanted the best, so you’ll have to endure everything he throws at you to get it. Next is calisthenics. Push-ups, thirty-second planks, burpees, sit-ups, dips, and wall sits are the bane of your existence for the next hour and a half. By now, your entire body aches, and your legs are shaky and exhausted. Levi gives you a break, allowing you to drink nearly your weight in water and grab a quick snack before his torture resumes. He gives you enough time to ensure you don’t vomit, but finally, it’s time for sparring once you’ve finished your snack break. Once he deems training to be done for the day, you ask him why he put you through such an intense workout just to spar. Levi’s reasoning? If your body was tired, you’d fight better. If you’re exhausted, you’ll seek out more ways to end the fight quicker and discover new techniques as you go. If you get frustrated enough after losing to him so many times, combined with your body’s exhaustion, you’d eventually find a hole in Levi’s attack and utilize it. 

— Erwin Smith

Training with Erwin isn’t much different than training on your own. He acts professionally throughout the exercise, seeing it as nothing to take lightly. Erwin doesn’t go easy on you, but he does pull his punches, not eager to send you to the infirmary just because of sparring practice.

— Mike Zacharias

Believe it or not, Mike is like a combination of Levi and Connie. Training with him will last hours, but he’s having fun with you while he does it. Mike is quick on his feet, darting this way and that, always out of reach. It’s almost like a dance you’re engaged in. Every time you miss, he’ll pop a teasing joke as if he’s goading you into catching him. When you think you’ve cornered him, Mike’ll knock your legs out from underneath you, claiming the win for himself. He’ll help you back up and reset the round, giving the prop weapon to you this time.

taglist: @myglitteringstardust, @alicchis-badonkadonks (sorry if this isn't you, it's the only blog that popped up when i typed in the user from my taglist form), @nxuvillette, @killeva, @aestosia, @aangzeo, and @fantasy-and-love.

#eren yeager #armin arlert #mikasa ackerman #jean kirstein #marco bodt #connie springer #sasha braus #reiner braun #bertolt hoover #annie leonhart #porco galliard #levi ackerman #erwin smith #mike zacharias #eren yaeger x reader #armin arlet x reader #mikasa ackerman x reader #jean kirstein x reader #marco bodt x reader #connie springer x reader #sasha braus x reader #reiner braun x reader #bertolt hoover x reader #annie leonhart x reader #porco galliard x reader #levi ackerman x reader #erwin smith x reader #mike zacharias x reader #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader

[imjustasimpxd]

My Angel (Part Two)

➬ Reiner Braun x Fem reader

Part One | Part Three | Masterlist | Blog Home | Aot Masterlist

Summary : Reiner was always taught that the devils of Paradis were vicious creatures, but what is he supposed to do when he soon finds himself reluctantly falling for one? Or when he is forced to go back to Marley and leave her altogether?

Word count : around 5, 200 words

Warnings : Again, very angsty. Reiner feels guilty about what he’s done, reader is angry with him. Crying, mentions of heartbreak. Spoilers for season 4 part one.

Author’s notes : reblogs are appreciated!! I appreciate all feedback on my writing so that I can know what you guys liked and what you think I should improve on😊

Disclaimer : this is a work of fiction and should in no way, shape, or form, be taken seriously.

Side Note : this fic, and everything else I’ve written on my blog, is mine and only mine. I work very hard on everything I write so do not, under any circumstances, modify, copy, or steal my work.

❗️Important Note❗️

There will in fact be a part three! While I was writing part two, it ended up becoming so long that I just decided to split it up. That’s why this chapter leaves off on a cliffhanger (and that’s also why it took me so long to post this one). But I thank you all for your patience. If anyone else wants to be tagged for part three then let me know in the comments! :)))

“Can I please ask where exactly we’re going?” Reiner questioned, his voice lacing with a hint of annoyance as Falco gripped his arm, anxiously pulling him towards the city’s back alleys.

“I told you it’s a surprise! A friend of yours wants to say hi before the show starts!” Falco explained, glancing backward at his superior with a cheerful smile as he continued to pull him in the opposite direction.

“Is that right?” Reiner spoke sarcastically, scoffing quietly to himself as he took in the boy’s words.

What was Falco really up to?

Surely the whole “a friend wants to say hi” explanation was made up; because Reiner Braun wasn’t exactly a man you would think of as having friends.

Sure, he was surrounded by people a lot of the time, and he even had allies with whom he got along pretty well with. But even so, Reiner knew he was nothing more than a comrade to them; nothing more than a vessel to wield the armored titan.

But that was okay, because they were nothing more than comrades to him.

With being born Eldian as well as being a warrior for Marley’s military force, Reiner Braun didn’t exactly have the time, luxury, or frankly, the mental strength to seek out any social interactions beyond strictly work-related ones.

Well, at least, not anymore.

He made that mistake once, and in doing so, it cost him the demolition of a poor woman’s heart; as well as his own.

In fear that opening up to another person again might cause that beating vessel in his chest to truly see itself past repair, Reiner Braun had decided to close himself off from others, refusing to repeat those tragic events of his past.

So, with that in mind, who exactly was this “person” that Falco was happily dragging him by the arm to see?

It couldn’t have been anyone he was genuinely close with; there wasn’t anyone like that for him, not anymore at least. Any authentic connections he once had with people were now severed, collapsed by the calamity he caused back on that forsaken island.

So who on earth was he being forced to see?

“It’s just in here!” Falco said excitedly, his finger pointing toward a wooden door as they rounded the corner; one that lead to a basement stationed under an older apartment complex.

From the outside, the place looked dim and run down, its location secluded to a quiet and unfrequented street.

The very sight had Reiner scratching his head in confusion. Of all places, why here? Why pick such an isolated area to meet with him? Not only that, but why would this person send a naive little boy to escort him to this place instead of just contacting Reiner directly?

Was this a trap he was walking into?

Should he leave?

Like a flame set to brush, panic began spreading through Reiner’s veins. His free hand was gripped into a strained fist and his eyes darted in all directions, watching out for any surprise attacks.

If this really was a trap, if someone was anticipating charging at him, then he’d be ready for it.

Suddenly, the wooden door opened. Loud groans from the beat-down hinges filled the air, followed by the sound of footsteps; footsteps that belonged to a dark, hooded figure.

Reiner’s eyes widened at the scene before him, an eerie feeling twisting in his stomach as he watched the mysterious person walk out the door; heading in his direction.

Whoever it was, he thought about fighting them off, even going as far as raising both his hands in the air to assume a defensive stance.

However, that’s when he caught a glimpse of Falco next to him. The little boy had started to head towards the figure, almost as if he was acquainted with the human; if it even was human.

“Falco wait!” Reiner quickly followed in the boy’s footsteps, gripping his arm before he could walk any closer to the person. “We should leave.” He suggested, anxiously tugging on the boy’s limb in hopes to urge him back in the opposite direction.

“It’s okay Mr. Braun,” Falco smiled, quick to reassure his superior. “This is where he said to meet him.”

Who’s he? Was it that person lurking around with the cloak draped across their face? Or was there someone inside as well?

Reiner didn’t have any answers, nor did he have a definite resolve on how to react in this situation. Should he trust Falco’s judgment and allow this “meetup” to happen? Or should he grab the boy and run while he still had the chance?

The latter seemed like the best option, especially considering the fact that Falco was just a child, and therefore could’ve easily been manipulated into something dangerous.

He wanted to trust Falco’s words, but it was too risky. If something happened, the boy’s blood would be on Reiner’s hands; and he couldn’t bear the weight of any more sorrow, or any more guilt.

“We’re leaving, Falco!” Reiner insisted, readjusting his grip on the boy’s arm to forcefully pull him away from the situation.

Although, just as he’d turned around to take those first few steps, he heard something that made his body freeze, and his heart clench.

“If you’re done arguing you can go on ahead. He’s waiting for you inside.”

That voice. Reiner knew that voice.

It was the same one he used to hear nagging at him to wake up in the early mornings. The same voice that used to comfort him whenever he was feeling disheartened.

It was… the same voice he never thought he’d have the pleasure of hearing ever again…

All he received was one simple sentence, but that was all the verification he needed. There was no doubt in his mind, the voice he heard: belonged to you.

“Y/n?!” His body immediately turned around to face the hooded figure. His eyes then squinted, trying to see more than just the gentle silhouette of a pair of lips and a jawline that was exposed by the moonlight’s glow.

The figure froze at his words, saying nothing in response; almost as if they didn’t anticipate being recognized.

“Y/n, is that you?” Reiner asked again, hoping to earn a response this time.

However, there was none; at least, not a verbal one.

All he gained was a sudden flinch that occurred once he spoke that name a second time, followed by the subtle shaking of fingertips that poked out from the sleeves of the cloak.

You must’ve been scared, embarrassed; perhaps even both.

And who would blame you for it? The last time you saw him he had slaughtered more than half of your comrades. Who knows what he’s capable of now after four years have passed?

“Falco?” Reiner finally broke the silence, glancing down at the boy he was still holding on to. “Why don’t you go on inside, I’ll be with you in a minute.”

However, before the boy could open his mouth to speak, he was quickly interrupted. “There’s no reason for him to leave! I’m not staying to chat.” A stern voice echoed past the cloak covering your face, but that didn’t phase Reiner.

He knew it was you from the moment that first syllable left your lips, even more so now that you’d spoken a second time.

Your tone was serious, added with a hint of aggression in order to scare him off, but he wouldn’t be turned away by that. Not when this was the chance he’d been silently praying for ever since he left that island four years ago. The chance to finally see you once again, even for just a moment.

Now that this chance was finally here, standing in front of him, there was no way he’d let it slip away; regardless of the tone you used with him.

“Just a few minutes?!” He insisted, taking a few steps forward in case you were preparing to run away. “Please?” He asked in a much quieter tone, his eyes practically begging for you to give in, to grant him even the smallest portion of your time.

Even after all these years he still knew how to persuade you, didn’t he? He must’ve, otherwise, your mouth would’ve never opened to let out a frustrated “Five minutes and that’s it!”

Reiner’s shoulders quickly relaxed at your words. His head then turned towards Falco subsequently, giving him a quick nod of his head: which apparently was his signal to “get going.”

Falco’s gaze switched between Reiner and the person he was apparently dying to speak to. The boy was unsure of what was going on, or who that unidentified person even was, but nevertheless, Falco knew better than to argue with his superior; so he’d comply with the orders given to him.

“S-sure…I’ll just, be inside then…” Falco spoke hesitantly, slowly backing away to walk toward the wooden door. He stopped momentarily after placing his fingers on the handle, almost as if he was waiting for Reiner to change his mind. But after receiving no signs of a change of heart, Falco reluctantly opened the door and stepped inside; closing it behind him.

The moment that wooden door shut, an unpleasant silence filled the air. Instead of partaking in the “conversation” you were supposed to have, the two of you just stood in silence.

You didn’t dare speak up. Reiner was the one who made you stay after all, if anyone should be the first to start this conversation it was him.

Your eyes were fixated on him with a calloused glare, your lips refusing to part even the slightest bit.

Reiner on the other hand, wore an expression more timid and anxious than yours.

He shifted uncomfortably on his feet, fingers fidgeting with each other as he contemplated the best way to start this conversation.

“I uh…” He tried to speak, but the words fumbled in his mouth, leaving just as quickly as they came.

It’s ironic, just a moment ago he was begging for you to stay so that he could have the chance to talk to you, but now that his chance had finally arrived, he couldn’t think of anything to say.

As he stood there, overanalyzing a potential response, he noticed the way you scoffed, clearly annoyed at his delay in response.

You were growing impatient with him, and if he didn’t take the opportunity to speak with you now, you’d most likely never allow him another chance to waste your time again.

So, after what had seemed like hours of silence, when in reality was more like 1 minute, Reiner finally spoke up.

“Can you take off the hood?”

Your eyes quickly narrowed in confusion at his odd request. Out of everything he could’ve asked, everything he could’ve apologized for, this is the first thing he says?

“Why?” You questioned, still unsure of his intentions on the matter.

“I just…” He began, but his words quickly started to fade out, almost as if he felt unworthy to be asking in the first place.

Nevertheless, you were persistent.

“You just what?!” You snapped, frustrated at his apparent dedication to withhold information from you; a recurring dedication at that.

“I just…” he inhaled shakily before speaking, “I want to see your face.”

You paused at his words, taking a moment to process what he’d just said. After expecting something pitiful, or perhaps even bitter coming from him, it was quite a shock to receive this: a fairly tender request.

He wanted to see your face? Why? What difference would that make?

It’d be the same one he saw four years ago, nothing’s changed; at least, not to you.

Despite asking for something which would require him to look upwards, Reiner kept his eyes glued to the ground, as if he felt undeserving to see you again. It wasn’t until he heard the heavy sigh that jerked past your lips, along with the quiet “fine” you gave in response to his request that made him finally look up.

As his gaze lifted, watching you pull that gloomy hood off your head, Reiner was met with a flashback of memories.

It all reappeared in an instant: the sound of your adorable laugh, the way your hair looked when the sun glistened across it, even the small little habits he’d discovered about you as time went by; they were all coming back, recollecting in his mind clearer than if it all happened a day ago.

Reminding him, painfully, of a time when things were simpler, when he was happier, and, most regretfully, a time when he had you.

Pulling off that hood allowed him to finally lay eyes upon a face he hadn’t seen in ages. A face he used to watch soundly sleeping next to him at night, placing gentle kisses all over when no one was around.

It was the same face he used to stare at in fascination; taken back by the beautiful way your lips would curve upwards into a smile, or even the way your eyes radiated the most alluring shade of color when the sun shone across your skin.

That face was one he had desperately longed to observe once more for the entirety of four long years, and coincidentally, it was the same face that now stared him down with an irritated glare.

Absent was the sparkle your eyes once held for the man standing before you, and gone was the loving countenance you were never hesitant to grant him.

Now your face lay still, your features refusing to move even the smallest bit in case it were to form some sort of pleasant expression towards him accidentally.

Who was this woman?

If not for the fact that he had easily identified her face, Reiner wouldn’t have recognized her.

Where was the kind and loving woman he fell in love with? Was she not the one standing before him now?

No, this woman was different. This one seemed to hold an inkling of abhorrence towards him, easily provoked by just his presence alone.

Was this… the product of his own making?

Was this… what he’d turned you into?

As if he wasn’t tormented enough by his decision, now he was witnessing the consequences of his actions unfold before his very eyes.

“How.. how are you here?” Reiner stuttered, still in shock over the fact that you were actually standing there; that for whatever reason, his prayers to see you again had finally been answered.

“I’m only here in service of a friend; nothing else.”

Your response was so vague, so cold; nothing like the endearing way you used to speak to him.

“Which friend?”

“It doesn’t matter,” You replied forbiddingly. Your tone sounded so distant, so unfriendly towards him.

To think, the last time he heard your voice, it had told him “Goodnight, I love you.” But now that voice was harsh as it spoke, probably regretful of saying those very words after waking up to find out he’d abandoned you that next morning.

The difference in your tone was beginning to eat away at Reiner, straining that beating vessel in his chest more and more with each look of your indignant expression. As if you’d just picked up a shovel and started digging, deepening his guilt further than it already was; if that was even possible.

“Your minutes are up by the way, and I have to leave.” You suddenly spoke, hoping your statement was bleak enough to end the conversation, meaning you could finally leave; finally be free of him.

“Wait!” Just before you could escape, Reiner quickly reached forward and grabbed your wrist, clinging to it as if his life was hinging on it. “Wait please, don’t leave…”

“That’s rich coming from you.”

He deserved that. Honestly, he deserved more than that.

Call him whatever names you could think of, and he would let you, he’d allow every single one of them, no matter how excruciating, because he knew they were true; because deep down he knew he deserved them.

“I’m not interested in what you have to say, Reiner.” Your words were like knives to his heart, causing the already aching organ to shudder yet again. “Whatever it is you should’ve said it four years ago.”

Was that true?

If he really did explain it to you before he left, would things be different now? Would you have understood his situation? Understood why he had to do it?

Why he had to leave?

“Please,” he implored, desperately maintaining that grip on your wrist. “Please, just let me explain it to you.”

It was pathetic, how he was begging like this, pleading for you to stay and hear him out as if he wasn’t the one that left you in the first place.

“Nothing you say will change what happened.”

He knew that was true, but in spite of that, he still refused to let you go again without telling you, without apologizing at the very least.

“I know,” he admitted, a glossy haze shimmering in his eyes as he looked at you. “But please, I want you to know the truth.”

A part of you wanted to leave, to deny him any further chances to cause you more pain with an explanation. However, another part of you wanted an apology. You wanted to hear his side of the story; to hear whatever excuse he had for abandoning you. No matter how twisted, or pitiful, his reasoning was, you couldn’t deny you had questions you wanted him to answer.

“Fine then. Tell me.” You quickly adjusted your posture, staring at him with your eyebrows raised; a gesture he remembered you only used when you were serious about something.

“Why did you betray us?”

Here it was, the moment he had been waiting for since this conflict arose: his chance to finally be understood, to be seen as more than just the traitor he was made out to be.

“I was given orders,” he started, retracting his hand from your wrist now that you’d clearly abandoned the option to run. “I had no choice but to follow them.”

“And what were your orders?” Your voice sounded heavy, almost as if it was hurting to bring all this back up again; like a wound that was still fresh, still desperately trying to heal itself.

Reiner’s mouth remained shut, his head lowering as he closed his eyes, not wanting to answer your question. He knew he’d be made to look like the villain no matter what he said, no matter which way he worded it.

Did that mean he really was the villain?

In your eyes, maybe.

Perhaps you’d never accept his side of the story, never be able to see past the wretched sins he’d carried out. But regardless, even if he never got the forgiveness he so desperately wanted from you, he couldn’t hide from the truth any longer. It was time to embrace it, all of it.

“They told us to sneak in and make allies first, that way we had the people’s trust and no one would suspect us.” He sighed, his eyes refusing to look up at you in fear of the face you’d make upon hearing his confession. “Once the time came, we were ordered to steal the founding titan by whatever means necessary. And if anyone tried to stop us, we had permission to silence them, using whatever tactics we deemed fit.”

Reiner’s heart felt tight as he let those words out, his shame growing stronger now that he was remembering it all, remembering what he’d done.

How did things end up like this?

He was just trying to do what he was trained to do: save the world from ruin; that’s all. But here he was now, that mission an embarrassing failure as he reminisced on his actions; the same actions that caused such sorrow for so many people, including himself.

And as if things weren’t bad enough, as if Reiner wasn’t feeling guilty already, he heard a sudden change in your breathing that could only mean one thing: you were beginning to cry.

“No, wait!” His head quickly lifted to look at you, instantly regretting it as your distressed face came into view. “Please, don’t cry.” He begged, using his thumb to wipe away the liquid collecting on your skin; which you surprisingly allowed him to do without putting up a fight.

“Don’t cry, okay? Not for me.” He demanded, despite his own eyes welling up with tears as well.

He just couldn’t bear it, knowing he was hurting you yet again.

It was almost as if nothing had changed, even after all those years. As if he was reliving those horrors of his past once more, reliving that anguish he saw imprinted across your visage when you found out he was the armored titan; the same armored titan that had killed so many of your friends.

You didn’t understand it, even now.

Was the man who used to dote on you really the same person as the one who carried out such violence and hatred against your people?

How could that be true? How could he have done such a thing, committed such betrayal against the woman he loved?

What changed? Was it something you did?

Or perhaps a more gut-wrenching explanation: he never loved you to begin with. Maybe that’s why it was so easy for him to give you up, maybe, this was his plan all along.

“What else?” You asked, your voice trembling in the process.

Reiner’s face quickly scrunched in confusion, unsure of what you were getting at. “What do you mean?”

“Were those your only orders?” Tears quickly began trickling down your face faster than Reiner could stop, your gaze looking more despondent than ever. “Was there really not anything else?” Your lips parted to let out a stinging sob, one that seemed like it’d been held in for too long.

It was obvious you were waiting for some sort of answer from him, and every second he delayed with a response was only tormenting you further.

But, even so, it didn’t change the fact that Reiner didn’t understand what you were asking of him; or what you wanted to hear so badly.

Your eyes stared at him in sorrow, more tears absorbing into your skin before you asked your question one last time; phrasing it differently now.

“Was falling in love with me a part of your mission too? Was I just another means to accomplish your end goal?”

Reiner’s heart convulsed at your words, his mouth agape to let out a pained gasp.

Did he just hear that right?

A tool?! Is that really what you thought? Is that really all you assumed you were worth to him?

As if you could ever be such a thing.

Granted, he understood how you may have assumed that, given the matter of his betrayal and all. But, despite that, he never expected such an absurd accusation.

There was a wide range of names you could’ve called him: a traitor, a liar, a monster; anything, and he would’ve accepted it; He would’ve owned up to it.

But this: questioning whether or not his affection towards you was genuine; that was one accusation he’d never admit to.

You were never a tool, you weren’t even a part of his plan to begin with. Falling in love with a woman of Paradis wasn’t exactly one of the orders he received when he was assigned to that mission. In fact, getting involved with you went against the sole purpose of him being there; the sole purpose of his assignment.

He was sent there to exterminate the Eldian race, to wipe out every last one of those despicable beings so that the world could finally be safe.

Falling in love wasn’t an order laid out in his job description at all, much less with a woman of Paradis. And yet, he did.

Reiner was a strategic man, he wasn’t one to easily abandon orders, no matter how difficult they may be. That in itself should’ve been enough to prove his affection toward you; because he never would’ve done such a thing had he not felt it was worth it, had he not felt you were worth it.

Nevertheless, here you were, teeth gritted in frustration as you impatiently awaited his answer.

Your face spoke only of torment, and it pained Reiner to have to witness it. The way your eyes were slanting together in an unsuccessful attempt to subdue your tears, your fingers curling into fists to help better contain your irritation, all of it was a clear sign of the repercussions his decision to abandon the woman he loved had caused.

It was just like the last time, you were falling to pieces over him once more, and Reiner couldn’t stand the sight of it.

Your gentle cries may not have been as loud and mournful as they were four years ago, but it didn’t matter; the fact that you were even crying in the first place was enough to make that twisting sensation return to his stomach; possibly becoming permanent at this rate.

Reiner stretched his arm out to grasp your hand, hoping to console you, however, you quickly backed away, refusing to let him touch you.

“I don’t want your pity!” you spat, your fragile body trembling from both the anger and suffering fueling inside. “I just want the truth! Did you ever love me?”

Was that even a question?

Yes, he was fully aware that it would’ve been hard to believe the authenticity of someone who’d abandoned you; someone who so easily decided to turn against you, as if doing so didn’t phase them in the slightest.

But regardless, ignoring the heinous crimes he’d committed, did you still believe he never loved you?

Were his actions before this messy conflict never enough to convince you of his sentiments?

What about all the times he’d hold you in his arms, whispering to you about how happy you made him feel? Did you really not believe any of that? Was he pouring out his heart’s inner-most secrets for nothing?

Or what about the times he’d surprise you with food, despite rations being low? He almost got caught stealing food for you so many times; which was unwise of him considering the fact that it could’ve possibly had him kicked out of the survey corps: meaning his whole plan to infiltrate the military would’ve gone up in flames.

Or, perhaps how he’d always try to keep an eye on you during missions, making sure you never encountered something too dangerous for you to handle. You always complained that he was being too paranoid, but it was only because, unlike you, he was aware of the kind of power titans held; the kind of pain they could’ve, he could’ve, inflicted upon a tiny human being.

All he ever wanted was to protect you, to do what was best for you. Did you really never realize that?

Even after he made Annie and Bertholdt promise not to lay a hand on you during their countless fights with the survey corps, even after all the times he put your saftey before his own mission, was it still never enough?

Even when he left you behind, did you really never consider the fact that he could’ve been doing it because he thought it’s what’s best for you?

You would’ve never been safe with someone like him, so he spared you from that danger by leaving.

Even though he caused you much pain by doing so, did you still never put that together?

“I understand if you don’t believe me when I say this,” Reiner began, “But I never stopped loving you.”

Even before any words left your lips, the doubtful look stringing along your face was enough to tell Reiner that you didn’t believe him; or were highly skeptical at the very least.

“If that’s true, then why wasn’t that enough for you to stay?”

He’d asked himself the same question so many times before. Why didn’t he just give up on his mission and stay with you? It’s not like he wouldn’t have preferred that option in comparison to the one he chose.

Why didn’t he just let the Marleyans presume him dead, forgetting his life in Marley and starting a new one with you on Paradis?

He wanted to, he considered it even. But there was one factor he was forgetting that made all the difference; one tiny reminder that convinced him to abandon that option in the end: you deserved better.

If he stayed behind like you would’ve wanted him to, like he would’ve wanted to, then he would’ve been living a lie; deception would’ve been rooted at the heart of your relationship.

He would’ve never been able to fully open up to you because doing so would mean he told you the truth about his past, about where he’s from and why he came here in the first place. He’d have to fabricate every detail about his life up until this point; tricking you into believing he was born inside the walls just like you. He’d need to have an excuse for everything: why his parents weren’t around, where he was born, what his home life was like, everything.

Nothing about his life would be real anymore, from the moment he’d wake up, to the second he drifted off to sleep at night, he’d be living a lie.

Every time he’d look at your innocent expression he’d be reminded of the secrets he was keeping from you, the lies he was tricking you with; and he couldn’t live like that. He refused to live like that.

“Staying would’ve only put you in danger, so I left, taking the danger with me.”

“I see.” Your voice was strained, as if you were having trouble processing everything. The shock from seeing him again so unexpectedly still hadn’t exactly worn off yet, and with the addition of all this new information piled on top, you didn’t necessarily know what to say; or how to react.

So, instead, you remained silent, hoping some ideas might materialize inside your head as you waited.

However, you weren’t kept waiting for long because Reiner quickly took an initiative to speak once again, asking something that left you stunned,

“Is it okay if I kiss you?”

Your head quickly flung upwards to look at him, contemplating whether or not you heard him right.

“What??” You asked, aghastly, desperately hoping you misheard his question.

“Is it okay if I kiss you?” He repeated, unfortunately proving that your ears were working just fine, and that you did in fact hear him correctly the first time.

He only meant it as a farewell, nothing more.

He knew this might very well be the last time he ever saw you again, so, with that in mind, he wanted to leave you with something pleasant to remember him by.

He had every intention of letting you go, he’d walk away and you’d never have to see him again afterward.

Just one last memory with you, that’s all he wanted. One last moment to reminisce on the merriment of his past before he let you go for good.

That’s what he wanted at least, but, when you finally uttered a response, he realized it might’ve been too much to ask for.

“I’m with someone else now, Reiner.”

Part One | Part Three | Masterlist | Blog Home | Aot Masterlist

(YES THERE WILL BE A PART THREE. So comment below if you want to be tagged).

Tags : @thebadbatch @mvteria @nervouslad @ah-finally @usagikookiejams

This fic, and everything else I’ve written on my blog, is mine and only mine. I work very hard on everything I write so do not, under any circumstances, modify, copy, or steal my work.

Keep in mind that commenting to tell me what you liked, what you don’t, how I can improve, and any suggestions you have helps me A LOT more than simply liking my posts. If you’ve had the time to read my story, how much longer does it take to leave me some feedback on it? 😊

#reiner braun x you #reiner braun x reader #reiner braun x y/n #reiner braun angst #reiner braun #aot x you #aot x reader #aot x y/n #aot x female reader #aot angst #aot reader insert #reiner aot #aot reiner #attack on titan x female reader #attack on titan fanfiction #reiner braun fluff #attack on titan #attack on titan reiner #attack on titan x you #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan fic #attack on titan angst

[lesinquietes]

P-possessive Reiner smut for your consumption, kind patron? 🥺

Tw; domestic dubcon yandere smut // Yandere!Reiner x reader

—

“Hey sweetheart. I missed you today.”

Reiner is a kind boyfriend when you two are out and about. Your home life is calm, too. It consists of him going to work and you staying at home. The life of a warrior isn’t easy, so your duty is to ensure he can keep a peaceful mind on his off time.

Although initially intimidated, by now, you’ve fallen into your tasks. You cook. You clean. You do his laundry, washing his blood-stained and ripped clothes so he doesn’t have to relive his battles. And he appreciates the work you do. He likes coming home to a kept house. On occasion, he even helps you with the chores — if he’s not too exhausted.

“Hey… lemme help with those.”

When you find yourself with little to do, you sit by the window with a book. As soon as you moved in, he bought you a whole shelf full of them. He likes it when you exercise your brain. Being cooped up all the time can’t be good for you. He wishes that he could let you out for a bit of fresh air — that he could trust you to be safe on your own. He can’t, though; not with the state of Marley. Your existence here is tranquil, especially when compared to the lives of others Eldians. He wants to keep you protected.

But that’s the downside of Reiner. He’s too goddamn possessive. You grew up in Marley all your life. You were good and keeping your head down and hovering beneath the radar. Since Reiner took you as his, you understand there are more challenges to your survival. There are people here who want to hurt your boyfriend and his colleagues; you’re positive they would harm you to get to him if they had to. You don’t think that doesn’t mean you should have to compromise your way of being.

“Please don’t be upset with me, baby. I’m doing this for you — for us. I couldn’t keep living if something happened to you.”

The hulking blonde does take you out of the house on occasion. It’s usually when you’ve cried and begged for long enough, or dropped the “u” word — unhappy. He gets frantic when he hears that. He knows you don’t have the capacity to leave; nonetheless, he doesn’t want you to feel forced to be with him, either. He wants your organic love, even though it was never natural to begin with. You two were newly acquainted when the government announced his request and had you move in.

When he brings you into the public sphere, people understandably stare. It’s not necessarily because they’re attracted to you; it could also be due to you being a novelty appearance. Unfortunately, he doesn’t see it like that. He inevitably sees it as others trying to steal what’s his.

“Keep close to me. Less stares that way. And don’t leave my arm. I don’t trust those fuckers by the store.”

Everyone is a threat to his happiness. He’s never at ease. He’s constantly on edge from having to defend you from opponents that don’t exist. You feel his fist tighten around your smaller hand when he stops to chat with a colleague and they gawk at you for a bit too long. Porco is a fine example of this. You suppose he only does it to get under Reiner’s skin, but he tends to make you uncomfortable with his prying eyes, too. The blonde actively tries to avoid the shorter male when he brings you around these days.

And no matter how many times you tell your possessive boyfriend that you’re not a trophy to be won, or goods to be accumulated, he reacts the same way.

“You know I don’t mean it like that, sweetheart. You’re just so fucking special to me.”

That’s why he fucks you so hard when you two get home, pent up and frustrated that people have the audacity to ogle his piece of heaven. He’s a soldier, for fuck’s safe; he puts his life on the line for these bastards, and they dare trace their hungry glares up and down your figure. He wants to teach them a thing or two, and he fucking hates it. He shouldn’t be so brazen with his protectiveness — you shouldn’t make him want to maim everyone who looks at you.

His teeth sink into your flesh, leaving marks on your neck, shoulders, and breasts. It doesn’t matter how light or dark your skin is, he finds a way to leave the deepest, darkest blemishes on your body. Subtle, perhaps; but not to those exploring what you have to offer. The next time he takes you out, he’ll make you wear outfits that show them off. With his arm around your waist, keeping you glued firmly to his side, there’s no room for ambiguity. You’re very much his, and that will never change.

“Want you forever honey… oh fuck… wanna stay inside you forever.”

You claw his back as he slides deeper into your hole. He doesn’t slow his pace. He doesn’t retreat to a shallower length. He continues to pound you until you’re begging him to have mercy. And he does; he does! It just takes him a moment to process what you said.

He doesn’t intend to harm you, he merely gets lost in his mind sometimes, when he’s super stressed. You understand, right? Of course you do. He kisses and licks on you until it makes sense, until you recognize that he loves you, until you know — without a shadow of a doubt — how much you mean to him. Even if you had concerns prior to him making you cum, you don’t after.

#tw dubcon #yandere reiner x reader #reiner x reader #reiner smut #yandere aot

[marsbutterfly]

Oh, What A View

Summary: After the war is over, you are left to tend for the poor soldiers whose minds got broken in the process. One specific man catches your attention.

Warnings: unprotected, vaginal sex, creampie, cum leaking, oral sex (m! receiving), titty fucking, cum play, accidental voyeurism. | a/n: Hobo!Eren and Nurse! Reader concepts are originally aleks' (@princess-jaeger) <3

Wattpad! | Ao3! | Hobo! Eren Yeager x Nurse! Reader

“They did it!” The news broke loose not long after the event actually happened. All the newspapers, radio stations, and gossipers were talking about it, the end of the four-year-long war between Marley and the Mid-East forces had finally come to an end when a peace treaty was signed after the military destroyed their fleet.

Information traveled so fast that you were barely able to tell what was true and what wasn’t. The only concrete information you had was that Marley’s win was a real achievement and hundreds of mentally and physically scarred soldiers were on their way to your care.

It would take them a few days to get back from Fort Slava and, in the meantime, you find yourself preparing extra beds and blankets to care for those in need.

When the time goes by and the soldiers finally arrive, you watch closely as one of the warrior candidates assists a man who has been scared by the guard leading them towards the hospital, “ugh, typical,” you think to yourself, annoyed by the way those poor people are being treated. Not that there is anything you can do about it.

A week passes and, during those seven days, not a lot happens amidst the broken soldiers. It is a day like any other, medicine rounds begin going around and, with each passing patient, you mark an x next to their name. With the assistance of the other nurses, you get around pretty quickly.

“Has bed five B gotten her medication yet?” You ask one of the other nurses as you flip over the pages on your clipboard, not fully paying attention to what it is that they are currently talking about. If it didn’t involve the patients in your care, you wouldn’t give it a second thought.

“Yeah,” the short-haired nurse responds, dipping two of her fingers into the bag of chips. She brings the wavy food into her mouth before rubbing her fingers together, getting rid of the dust. It is more than clear to you that she doesn’t take her job very seriously, “The only one left is bed fourteen A.”

“Mr. Kruger?” You inquire, bringing the board close to your chest. The other woman shrugs, licking the orange powder off of her fingertips.

“He’s only willing to cooperate when you are the one doing his care,” she says and you can’t help but look away, a deep blush taking over your cheeks as you now stare at the ground. You had indeed been exchanging a few glances here and there with the man, but you wouldn’t think he would go as far as to refuse treatment from anyone but yourself.

Clearing your throat, you nod. With one hand, you bring the clipboard down towards your thigh, and with the other, you reach for a small cup containing a couple of pain pills, one antipsychotic and one antidepressant. It’s a decent cocktail, enough to cause a grown adult to relax.

The sound of your heels colliding with the floor fills the nearly empty hallway, the only exceptions being a few soldiers who sit in their designated wheelchairs, one of them with a book in hand as he reads the words on the page carefully and the other one slamming his head against the wall.

Your hand trembles, a nervous sweat dripping down the side of your head as you touch the handle on the door. The patient himself has never been anything but a gentleman but it is the people around him that worry you, after all, no more than a week has gone by since the military dumped the broken soldiers into the hospital.

With a deep breath, you enter the room without knocking. A small tv plays the same program it did the day before and the men and women sit around it like flies attracted to the light. A couple of them sit on a broken table, marked cards in their hands as they play a game similar to poker, though you can’t decipher what it is.

One woman, in particular, draws the same symbol over and over again with barely usable markers, mumbling words that feel like an incantation based on the number of times she has told you she is a witch. She is harmless overall, though can still be quite difficult when it comes the time to take her medicine.

With one glance around the room, you come to the conclusion that the patient you are searching for is nowhere to be seen inside the small room and it means that he could either be sitting on the bench outside or simply lying in bed in his room.

Making sure not to touch anyone, you make your way towards the massive window, eyes searching for the long-haired man in question. Once you realize that you can’t find him, you decide that it is time to look in the very last place and, if he wasn’t there, you would have to call the guards.

So you rush up the stairs towards the last room on the third floor, where all the physically disabled patients were being kept. It seemed like extremely poor management, considering that most of them weren’t able to walk down the stairs, but it is not like the Marleyan government cared about these men too much.

From underneath the door, you see a shadow hopping around on crutches and it could only mean that he is awake. Unlike the other nurses, you like to knock on the door, making sure that they understand how valuable their privacy is to you. 

Inside the room, a low, husky voice speaks as the shadow is now facing towards the wooden surface, “Come on in.” Your heart skips a beat for a second, the tone of his voice is deep and you can feel a dreamy sigh exhaling from your body as you twist the doorknob.

“Mr. Kruger?” You inquire, peaking your head inside the room, the hand that holds the medicine cup also bringing the clipboard closer to your body. His emerald green eye pierces right through you and a warmth grows on your face, even if there is absolutely no light to them, “I’m passing around medication.”

“Ah, I see,” the man exhales a response, extending the hand that does not hold the crutch forward to take it out of your hands. You wish you could offer him some juice or even water to drink the medication with but such luxuries were forbidden. It doesn’t seem to bother him in the slightest, however. 

He takes a deep breath before swinging his head and the cup backward. You can see the movement of his neck as he swallows the pills with amusing ease. Once he is done, his tongue brushes through chapped lips, moisturizing the area as best as he possibly can.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he says in that exact same low voice, not shifting it in the slightest. You can feel as his eyes go through your body, taking in the full image of your silhouette and you can’t help but tug at the edge of your skirt, pulling it down in hopes of calming yourself down.

He begins to take a few steps closer and you feel as your legs gain a life of their own, backing your body against the door as you use your free hand to search for the handle, desperately looking for an out. Before you have time to fully take in what is happening, the man is standing before you, his hand touching the wood a little off to the side as he traps you in the space between the door and his body.

The man doesn’t say anything, he simply stands there. His breath is warm and there is a familiar scent to it though you can’t fully identify what it is. One of his eyes is bandaged up and you bring your hand to his face, your thumb brushing against the cloth gently so as not to hurt him.

“Does it hurt?” You ask, cursing yourself for saying it out loud and he shrugs.

“I have gotten used to it at this point,” is all he replies with. He eventually lets go of the crutch, now using your body to balance himself up. His grip on your waist is tight as his fingernails dig through your skin through the cloth of your clothes, but you don’t complain. In fact, it feels good to have him touch you.

You can’t help but exhale loudly, dropping the clipboard in your hand to the ground. When it collides with the surface, it makes a loud sound and immediately the man brings his index finger over your lips, telling you to shush, even if he knows that nobody would care about it, not the nurses and not the broken soldiers.

His lips ghost above yours, so close that you can already taste them, though he doesn’t give in so easily, he wants you to speak, he likes to hear your voice, “Tell me something you have never told anyone,” he requests.

It takes you a second to think and, in that time, he has lifted the edge of your dress, fingers brushing through the silk of your underwear as he carefully watches as the fabric makes its way past your thighs. He doesn’t stop until he can see your belly button, that’s when he shifts his focus to opening the front of your uniform.

You can’t find any words seeing as your brain betrays you, all of your thoughts are targeted at the man’s touch. His vision is focused on you and, without breaking eye contact, his mouth closes on your right nipple. Eren sucks on the hardened bud while your eyes are closed shut in pleasure. 

He lets go of the nipple with a pop, then proceeds to bite down, blow a bit of cool air, and watch it as it becomes erect, then goes back to sucking on the bug. Licking, biting, sucking. It goes on. You couldn’t help the erotic sounds that come from deep within your throat.

Lust exploded from a place inside his chest and he couldn’t help but let it take over his actions. You cradle his head against yours; keeping him in place. Letting go of your nipple, he moves on to your left breast to give it the same attention. 

Though before he resumes the activity, he asks you the question again, a firmer tone this time and a threat of stopping if you didn’t respond quickly. You scramble to find something inside of your nearly empty mind but finally, something comes up.

“I have a collection of sex toys,” you whisper underneath your breath, afraid that anyone but him would hear your confession. He smiles, bringing his lips around your nipple once more before giving it the attention you so desperately craved. With every flick of his tongue, you could feel the wetness as it pooled in your underwear. “Now will you tell me your first name?”

You puff out your chest, giving him better access to your previously hidden breast. Your arms are pressed against the wall, hands balled into fists as you try and turn your head away from the scene in embarrassment. 

The man pulls your body towards him but before you have a chance to collapse against his chest, he is pressing you against the window, your cheeks against the glass as he pulls your underwear to the side, wanting to make this nothing more than a quickie, “Eren, Eren Kruger.”

You feel the head of his cock bumping between your legs, seeking for the entrance to your aching core. Closely after, it began to push slowly into you. The sensation as he filled your cunt wasn't one you had felt in a while, not even on those private, lonely occasions when you’d lay in bed, thinking about him and the encounters you have shared in the past.

You brace yourself against the window as the man buries his length all the way inside of you. Your fantasies seemed so pathetic now, the idea that he would be gentle? Nothing more than a distant dream as Mr. Kruger was known, by you specifically, to be quite rough when he is fucking you.

It isn’t his fault, he would say, there is just something about your juicy, puffy pussy that would make all of his senses go out of the window and he would only be able to think with the head of his cock.

Your breath caught in your throat. The pleasure was gathering inside of you. Every thrust drove you further toward ecstasy. You mouthed something incoherent at the streetlights on the wide road below. His hands on your hip pulled and pushed you as he slammed his cock into you, again and again, fucking you careless of your comfort, like you were just a thing, a doll.

Your breasts are pressed against the window, hands gripping at the curtains as tightly as you can while supporting both of your bodies, he holds you up by wrapping his arms underneath your knees and his cock never leaves the warmth of your cunt, not even for a second.

“People might see us,” you say, drool pooling on the corner of your lips. Wetness drips down your pussy, coating not only his member but the back of your thighs. He is rough, rougher than usual but at every step, no matter how tough his words are, he makes sure that you are ok.

“Then let them see,” he hisses, pumping his hips forward while lowering your body on his cock, allowing more of his length to enter your aching cunt and you gasp, eyes rolling to the back of your head in pleasure, “Let them see what a slut you are.”

“Mr. Kruger,” you moan his name quietly, trying to attract as little attention to you as possible, “It feels so good.” Your underwear is still pulled to the side but the fabric now comes in contact with your throbbing clit, rubbing the area ever so gently with his every thrust. A heartbeat passes and you correct yourself, “Eren.”

“I know what you like,” he says and you can tell he has a shit-eating grin on his face just by the way his voice sounded. You open your eyes to make sure nobody is watching the two of you, gripping the curtains hard in the process before allowing your head to fall backward.

A part of you secretly wishes that somebody would walk in, that somebody would catch the two of you in the most embarrassing of situations and you would have to acknowledge that you were having filthy sex with one of your patients, but you would rather live in denial.

He shifts ever so gently and finally hits the spot he was so desperately searching for, you have to bite down on your lip not to let out a loud gasp. You clench your butthole tightly, squeezing your muscles around him and he giggles, an amused laugh as he continues to pound into you, “Here, huh?” He teases.

You want to respond with an insult, something to wipe that smug smirk off of his lips but your vocal cords and your brain betray you at that moment and all you can think about is how delicious it feels to be fucked by him. 

The man proceeds to place the tip of your toes onto the window’s sill, spreading your folds apart and giving the passing people on the outside of the facility a perfect view of your stuffed pussy. It’s embarrassing and you can’t help but blush, but not a single part of you wishes to stop.

The man’s long hair sticks to the side of his neck, sweat exhaling from his pores with every thrust of his unstable hips, his mustache is coated in a layer of fluids and he readjusts for a second, pressing your body even further up against the window, your nipples becoming hard as they come in contact with the cold glass.

He brings his lips towards your neck, his tongue generously going through every inch of skin available, the bun on your hair, once elegant and now messy, threatens to fall and if it wasn’t for the lack of one of his legs, Eren would have already used his hand to take it down.

Your nails are rough and so is he, gravity leaving you bouncing on his cock harder and deeper than usual. Suddenly you don’t care that people outside might see you, you don’t care about anything but the angling of your lover’s hips and his ragged breaths against your neck.

“Keep moving just like that, baby,” he whispers against your skin and you take his words as an incentive to continue moving yourself on his cock.

You wrap an arm around his shoulder as you feel yourself unraveling and you moan into the glass. You are still trembling when he lowers you down, gripping one hand to your waist. Even though his pace now is faster than before, a hard thrust that shoves you forward into the window, and bracing your hand against the glass, you beg him for more. You need him now, need him closer than it is possible for two people to be.

“You’re going to make me come, Eren,” you say and he presses your body further against the window with a thudding sound, while the ripping of your underwear can also be heard. The cloth simply falls to the ground.

“Then come for me baby,” when finally you feel yourself tightening around his cock, a wave of an intense orgasm washing over you, you rock your hips against him, Eren moaning with you at the feel of your quivering muscles. You want people to see you now, to see them gasping in jealousy.

He witches, holding you perfectly in place for a few seconds, and his warm cum begins to flow inside of you, filling your body with sensations you could never grow too used to. So much comes out that eventually, you felt as the warmth began to squirt onto the glass and down your thighs.

Not a word leaves his lips so you are the first one to break the silence, “You made a mess, Mr. Kruger. Would you like me to clean it up?” A devious smile curls into his lips, though you cannot see it for he is hiding his face on the back of your neck, but you can feel as the corners twitch in excitement.

Slowly and carefully, he raises your body one more time, pulling his cock out from its newly found home inside of you. Your toes touch the ground, finding footing enough for the rest of your feet. It’s a slow process but, soon enough, you find yourself kneeling before him.

You raise his shirt and begin to kiss his stomach, starting just above the belly button. His body collides with the window, one hand searching for balance as he holds onto the ledge while the other is tangled around the back of your head, playing with your hair in a desperate attempt to show you what he has in mind. You cooperate slowly, letting him guide you down. It takes less than a minute before your mouth gets to the happy trail above his pubes.

His cock is right there, inches from your face. You hesitate for a second, wondering if a blowjob would be the best way to reward him. You decide on something better but, to prepare him for it, you run your tongue along the shaft, getting it wet with your saliva and you can taste the mixture of your juices and his, it’s still warm and quite salty.

It’s difficult and messy to navigate with just your mouth, but you do the best you can. Starting with kitten licks along his slit. The taste of his cum floods your tongue making you salivate.

You meet his eyes to find him still smiling, the corner of his mouth pulling up more into a smirk. He knows what he is doing to you. So you continue your motions down his shaft. Licking lightly along veins, drool escaping as you do. 

Clearly, this was the wrong choice, everything about this situation seemed wrong. As soon as you are halfway down, he begins to set the pace and it is relentless. Using you a hole more than a person.

You remove him from your mouth and move your hands towards your chest, unbuttoning the uniform you wear. Your hard nipples tingle in the cool air. You move up again, breasts large enough to cover his entire cock. He looked down at you in shock, but the devious smirk on his lips never ceased.

"I want you to cum between my tits,” you announce to him, knowing that is exactly the kind of stuff he wants to hear you say.

He simply moans as he thrust up against you. You respond by moaning as well, your breasts have always been sensitive, and react to his hips being pushed against them quite well. His hands come down, joining yours in squeezing your breasts around his cock. "Oh, shit." He hisses, his thrusting speeding up as he finds a rhythm, "You feel amazing."

You smile up at him. He doesn’t look like he'd last much longer, "That's it, baby, fuck my tits. Cum all over them."

"Uh... ohh fuck..." that is all he manages to say as a warning, his fingers begin digging onto the soft skin of your breasts, and his cock starts pulsing in its place between your boobs. You can feel wetness spreading, most of it being squeezed out and forming in a pool on your cleavage.

You continue to rub the shaft, looking at the mess he made. You can’t control yourself and your mind slowly slips away, rubbing his warm cum all over. There was enough to cover your breasts in his cum and have left over on your fingers. "There is so much, baby, and you just came not too long ago.”

“You’re just so fucking hot,” he pants, removing his hand from your breast to bring his cum coated fingers towards your lips. He pushes through gently, silently asking for permission before you open wide to receive him.

Your tongue swirls around his digits, fully taking in the flavors he is offering you. The viscous liquid drips against your taste buds and you continue to do so until his fingers are removed from your mouth completely clear, the only thing still coating them is a thick layer of your saliva.

As he places his cock back into his pants, Eren shakes his head, removing the hair from his eye. You are still on your knees, searching in your pockets for something that could be used as a tissue to clean the cum off of your bare chest.

“No,” Eren says, his voice is firm and it echoes through the almost completely empty room. You pause your movements for a second, wondering what he is talking about before he continues, “I want you to have my cum on your chest until you go home. A little reminder of me.”

“But, Mr. Kruger,” you try to reason with him, watching as he extends you a hand in the hopes of assisting you as you get up, “People will know.”

“After the little show we just gave them,” he smirks, buttoning up the top and covering your cum soaked cleavage, “I doubt many people don’t know about it already.”

You can’t help but blush in embarrassment, flustered cheeks facing away from him as you try to hide your emotions from him. You didn’t know what came over you, a public display such as the one you just experienced, and with an eldian no less, oh what the marleyan government would do to you if they figured it out.

A thousand thoughts go through your head in the span of a minute or so. Unconsciously, you begin to gather around your clipboard and the papers that fell out of it while you were busy being kissed by the man, and, before you have time to realize it, he has already walked out of the door and is on his way out of the courtyard.

You wipe away the steam off the window to find him sitting on the bench, he props his body up on the crutches as he speaks with one of the clinically insane patients. It takes a second for you to realize it is one of your patients, so you begin to make your way down the stairs, carefully enough not to fall but moving your feet at an incredibly quick pace.

Once you are finally there, you speak to him again, “I’m sorry, I looked away for two seconds,” you say, though your voice trembles with the thoughts of how the two of you were linked together mere moments ago. He shrugs, no light in his eyes.

“I don’t care,” he says, pretending not to know you. You knew how little you meant to him but still, to hear not a shred of empathy in his voice was enough to cause your heart to break. So you simply sigh, putting on a fake smile.

As you walk away, arm wrapped around your patient, you feel a cold breeze down against your free pubes and you finally realize that nothing is protecting your cunt, “Where are my panties?” You ask yourself silently, looking back at the man with a desperate look on your face, only to realize he has the cloth attached to his nostril, taking in a deep whiff out of it before placing it into his pocket, a smile on his face. That man was truly a devil.

#attack on titan #aot #snk #eren aot x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren jaeger #eren x reader #eren x fem!reader #eren yeager & reader #eren yeager x you #eren yeager x y/n #aot smut #eren yeager smut #eren jaeger x y/n #eren jaeger x you #eren jaeger smut #attack on titan x reader #aot x reader #snk x reader #aot fanfic #aot fanfiction #snk fanfic #snk fanfiction #attack on titan fanfic #attack on titan fanfiction #jfbl

[ackerifle]

Okay but what about those AU’s with Levi being a Marleyan Warrior? I’m curious what your take on that kind of yan Levi would be like. Especially if like maybe he has a s/o who was kinda like in a situation like Annie (being used by a parental figure for status but like unlike Annie she wasn’t good enough to become a Warrior so maybe marrying her off to one would be the next best thing?)

homecoming!

yan. honorary marleyan levi ackerman x fem warrior candidate. reader

+ CW. — au: canon reversal & arranged marriage, abuse of power & authority, coercion, darling lowk has an inferiority complex, implied: past parental abuse, extortion, statutory rape & non-con; i apologize this req has been completed so late, but i do love this concept; not proof-read.

it was rare for the intermittent zone to be busy, and even rarer for its streets to be overcrowded with civilians. the bustling sound of lively cheers, applause, and other such joyous ovations could be heard throughout the city of otherwise gloomy vacant side streets and industrial buildings. men and women gathered in large for the occasion, with their hands reaching towards the heavenly sky, and their hats and coats being tossed into the air. some children could be seen sitting on the back of their father’s neck to gain a better view, and some children could be seen holding onto their mother’s hands as they pointed towards the center of attention, innocently claiming how they wanted to ‘grow up to be like them!’ one day.

the open horse-drawn carriage eased its way down the road, in no particular hurry, as the citizens of the liberio intermittent zone celebrated in the soldier’s stead. there were four of them sitting on the carriage, four honorary marleyan’s who waved cordially and offered charming smiles to their grand audience. each of them; erwin, hange, mike, and levi, were undeniably brilliant, talented and exceptional— even during their grueling training years, gifted even. their graduation was well-deserved, and perhaps they were owed even more for their sheer importance to such a crucial advancement for the populace of marley’s eldian’s. they were great, but none of them were you.

you had made the cut for warrior candidate, but not for honorary marleyan. it was devastating, really, but not as devastating as it was for your parents. even if you had truly given it your all, it wasn’t good enough, much to their dismay and disappointment. when the first official advertisement from the marleyan government had been released, entailing a recruitment that would reward honorary marleyan citizenship (at the cost of eldian youths being indentured into the military), your parents were quick to enlist you.

hard work was nearly never paid off, the more you pushed, the more they expected; and you could only ever recall them feeling an ounce of satisfaction when you had informed them you had become a warrior candidate. training was not solely done under the marleyan government’s surveillance, your parents had played quite an involved role in your betterment. and honestly, the feeling of being hit by one of them was much worse than any marleyan commandant could ever hope to achieve.

“hey— hello, hey!” the familiar voice struck you out of your bitterly reminiscent trance, eyes set on the sight before you. the carriage had come down far enough to fill the space in the street in front of your section. even though you stood behind quite a few people, lined up like a sardine as you were shoulder to shoulder with those around you, hange still managed to spot you. you wonder if they were looking for you, “hi~!”

their voice was obnoxiously loud as they drew out the high-pitched greeting. the brunet grabbed a hold of erwin’s shoulder, who sat to the right of them, and aggressively shook him to the point you feared his brain may have hit contact with his skull, and he would fall unconscious. when he steadied himself, they pointed in your direction, and the commotion caused the other two honorary marleyan’s to look your way as well. raising their hands, both out of respect and peer pressure from their enthusiastic peer, they offer polite waves. and upon doing so, the people standing around you clamored with much more ferocity than beforehand, followed by more tumultuous hollers, even waving back to them, but you knew they were all waving at you.

hesitantly and undecidedly, you lift a shy hand to wave back, ultimately determining it would be rude to ignore them, especially after hange had gone out of their way to scout you out. an enviously curt smile creeps it’s way onto your lips, eyes first landing on erwin, the apple of the marleyan government’s eye, and moving onto hange who was still energetically waving their hands, then to mike who acknowledged you with a faint salute, and lastly to levi. he sat at the left end of the carriage, closest to the road where you stood. he made no effort to wave to you, to smile like the other honorary marleyan’s — even if they were evidently fake — but he simply stared. you felt small under his scrutinizing gaze, that is until you observed that he wasn’t making eye contact with you at all. it was your hand, or rather, the ring that sat prettily on it.

and in an instant, you covered your fingers with your other hand, grabbing the ringed hand and lowering it with a resentful leer. the corners of levi’s lips pulled into the start of a grin, but he had enough self control to not showcase such a foolish smile to such an enormous crowd. tersely turning your heel, dropping your head with a raging combination of shame, embarrassment, and jealousy, you stormed through the mass of liberio’s residents.

“don’t take it to heart surname, it’s nothing personal.” as the ship awaited the honorary marleyan’s arrival down to the docks, you found yourself in conversation with commander shadis. there is a part of you that hates him for not promoting you, it is humiliating to be the only warrior candidate of a crew of five that wasn’t selected. even if you know you’re responsible for your own shortcomings, including the ones that can’t be helped, “i don’t.” you lie.

shadis looks down upon you, discerning whether or not you mean what you say. he watches only briefly, your focus is elsewhere. eyebrows knitted and lips pursed, you study the ship floating peacefully atop the relaxed waves. this would be the vessel that delivers marley’s finest eldian warriors to heaven, and you could only have the privilege to see it depart. turning towards shadis, you open your mouth to speak, but his eyes just barely look past you, and he raises a palm. the commander promptly steps beside you, avoiding you like you’re a nuisance, and you follow his direction, turning around before your eyes fall onto the blond honorary marleyan standing only a few steps away with his arms courteously folded behind his back. eyeing shadis as he places a welcoming hand on erwin’s shoulder and leads him down the docks without so much as a goodbye, you sneer with green eyes.

“hey, name! name!” you stumble forward as the sudden force of someone’s body engulfing yours from behind overwhelms your sense of stability. an arm slithers around your own shoulder, lodging an arm in the forefront of your neck, dangerously close to your throat. their other arm makes its way around your torso, squeezing playfully before shaking you violently. it makes for an awkward hug, and there is only one person who does this, “hange, you’ll kill her.”

turning your head to the left and being met with hange’s face concerningly close to yours, you lightly push them back by the bridge of their glasses. they cry out something about how you’re too cruel to reject their sappy farewell, pulling you closer every time you push them further away, holding you like a rag doll. peering down at you, to your right is mike, and you only truly pay him mind when he roughly pats you on the back once hange detaches themselves from your body, likely with more force than he initially intended, “don’t you two have a mission to go on?” you mutter under your breath, sucking your teeth and looking up at mike with a raised brow.

“that we do.” he nods in agreement, closing his eyes with a sigh, and prying hange’s limbs from yours. they exaggeratedly whine and complain about how the operation won’t be the same without you there, ruffling your hair until it’s unfixably messy, to which you stare blankly at them, “we’ll miss you.” hange speaks seriously, holding their head in their palm with their other hand secured to their hips. mike, once again, bobs his head in agreement, but gives you a knowing look. you think they pity you, but you pity them more.

“i’ll miss you guys too.” wincing at how your voice wavered with uncertainty, you avert your gaze, and avoid looking them both in the eye. when the silence lingers for two seconds too long, your eyes curiously sweeps towards them, and they’re both already looking at you. hange’s grin grows wider, and you’re lucky enough to dodge their arms this time, reaching out to pull you into one more embrace. you swivel them around by the shoulders, retracting your hands for only a moment before placing them on hange’s back and shoving them into mike, “ugh, go! go! before i seriously start crying or some shit.” the latter part of your sentence turns into a whisper, but it does not go unnoticed by hange, nor mike.

howling and cackling all the way down the incline from the pavement to the docks, hange yells out a— “he’s really rubbing off on you!” over their shoulder. pinching the bridge of your nose and despondently shaking your head, you avoid dwelling on the mention and focus on hange and mike’s figures that fade as they board the ship. once you’re content enough to take your eyes off of them (and allow your poor heart to stop beating), you make your leave.

“and to think you wouldn’t say so much as a ‘goodbye’ to your husband.” blinking owlishly, you’re torn on how to greet levi. you may have seen him throughout the day, but you hadn’t properly spoken to him since the two of you had been wed. and quite frankly, you don’t believe he deserves a farewell, not after what he had done during your wedding night. dissociative memories and unsavory imagery flashes in your mind, causing you to frown; and you are still unsure how you will civilly converse with him now. you’re indecisive, but that’s okay, because levi is not.

draping his arms over your shoulders and wrapping them behind your neck, his left hand drops to your upper back while his right hand supports the crown of your head until you’ve been angled perfectly for him. and he kisses you, hard. you go limp in his arms, refusing to reciprocate the kiss with your eyes wide, and painfully self aware of the people ogling and gawking at you two. levi nips and bites at your bottom lip, like a needy cat, and you press your lips together, sealing them shut, and instinctively, your eyes follow, screwing shut as well. he is displeased with how stiff you are, drawing back entirely, only for him to harshly place a hand on either side of your face and yank you towards him. and despite how brutish and difficult he is being this time around, levi kisses you softly. he’s being gentle, he’s being sweet.

and you are weak to this kind of love, and he knows. so inevitably, you give in, you give him what he wants, momentarily leaning in to return the kiss before pulling away. levi allows his hands to rest on your cheeks for a while longer, studying you intensely. his eyes make you nervous, always had, and continue to, and you nervously bring one hand to sit atop his own, slightly leaning into his touch. levi’s eyes follow your movement, and he is no longer cupping your face, but rather, holding onto your hand and bringing it to his lips. he places a chaste kiss to the ring on your finger, before lifting his head and kissing you one last time, but he does not let go of your hand.

“i love you.” your gut wrenches and heart tightens, constricts even, “i know.” perhaps if you had met levi under a different pretense, one where you and him were not deployed as soldiers before the two of you had even turned ten, and you were not in the midst of a war that threatened your family and nation, you would have found his love romantic. would have liked it, even. because you believe he wouldn’t behave like this, in a way that you don’t like.

“i will come back for you, so take care of yourself and don’t do anything stupid.” he glares at you almost accusingly, like you had done something wrong, like whatever levi had been thinking of at that moment had come true. you only nod, and levi sets his hands on your shoulders and reels you in until his mouth hovers beside your ear, “and don’t you dare think of cheating on me, i’ll do unspeakable things to you.” intimidation, levi’s personal favorite way to remind you of your tight leash. but unlike many fraudulent men who attempt to keep their wives from leaving them, levi has the strength to back up his claims. and you would prefer a marriage without broken bones.

swallowing thickly, you let out a shaky exhale, “of course not, i would never.”

and you don’t, not for the five years that levi had been away were you involved with another man, not once. although you admit, you would have been unfaithful had it not been for his psychotic uncle breathing down your neck all the time (you still wonder what levi desperate measures and what leverage he persuaded him with considering what low regards levi held kenny to), and his absolute godsend of a mother who you had been insistent on taking care of. the latter of the two was the ackerman who you found yourself interacting with the most, kenny wanted little to do with you, lest he suspected you of cheating— which led you to believe he was keeping frequent tabs on you with how often he would abruptly appear on your doorstep to confront you once kuchel had gone to bed. but kuchel, kuchel was an angel.

her circumstances were unfortunate, often bedridden due to her illness and age, but she was so caring. you had known her for a long time, prior to becoming a warrior candidate, when you had first enlisted. you felt envious even back then, when you watched your fellow trainee’s go home with their families. but kuchel was memorable, when she noticed you had been walking down the streets of liberio’s intermittent zone by yourself, she approached you with her hand in younger levi’s, and asked where your parents were. naïve as you were, as any child was, you were honest, and she was mortified.

thus, kuchel would walk you to your home every evening when she came to pick up levi, and she was surprised that levi not once opposed your presence. if she didn’t know any better, she would have presumed he actually looked forward to it. and over the years you had stopped seeing her, she had fallen more ill, and it had turned into only levi walking you home.

it was blatantly obvious what was going on, and kuchel has a difficult time looking you in the eyes these days. you speculate that maybe she feels guilty for letting her son have his way with you, for allowing it to go on for so long and ignoring the telltale signs (giving you half-withered flowers he found, following you when you told him not to, darkly confessing his pre-planned future with you to her). but in reality, sometimes, she doesn’t believe she deserves your care. but you’ve forgiven her, she knows because you stay, and she is forever grateful for you.

that is why she doesn’t stop you when you badmouth her brother in her presence, why she doesn’t stop you when you throw out every item that reminds you of her son, why she doesn’t stop you when you cry and scream about how you hate to be here, how you’ll find a way to legally unbind yourself from this unwanted marriage. but that is also why she doesn’t tell you that the ship has docked at the moor five years later. the honorary marleyan’s had returned, or rather, he returned. only him. you come to find out that levi had been the sole survivor of the four warriors, that erwin, hange, and mike had all passed along the way. and you don’t know who you feel more sorry for, for yourself, or for him.

“i missed you.” you know, you know levi’s missed you with the way he marks you. and you think you’re going to pass out. it’s hot, and you think he’s trying to kill you, suffocating you under his weight as he slams his body down onto yours when you try to crawl away. like he’s attempting to become one with you, levi’s hand holds yours, and he pushes onto your palm with such force, it feels like your wrist will snap. but the worst part is when he leaves marks all over. your lips are swollen and bloody, but so is your neck, and your breasts, your stomach, and your thighs. they aren’t sweet, they blemishes are full of teeth indents and blood, they’re red and sore, and they’re certain to bruise.

levi sighs quietly, “won’t you say something?” gasping for air, you weakly shake your head. but through the delirium and euphoria, levi notices. he takes his hand from yours, and cups your face, lightly grazing his thumb — that was hazardously close to your eye — across your cheek. and although his lips have ravaged and conquered every bit of your exposed skin, he continues to kiss you. but this time, he’s nicer, he’s merciful. first it’s your cheek, then your nose, your jaw, your forehead, your cheekbones, your other cheek; “please, i want you.”

you squirm beneath him when he persists. you place your palm flat against his bare chest, and his heart drums against your touch, “you do— hah, you have me.” levi collapses onto you but doesn’t stop, and you catch your breath, panting in hopes your chest will stop aching. you know you can’t give him anything more, not when he’s already relentlessly taken from you, “i know, i just… i needed you to say it.”

#ackerifle #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere attack on titan #yandere aot #yandere aot x reader #yandere levi ackerman #yandere levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x reader

[anystalker707]

Behind locked doors (1/2)

Pairing: Reiner Braun x [gender neutral] Tybur! Reader Summary: You just want to have fun with that damn hot soldier. Tags: Forbidden relationship kinda thing / Penetration (no gendered description) / Choking / Harsh / One line of dirty talk

MASTERLIST

          Reiner quietly watched you walk around with your older brother and a few other military officers trailing behind you while the commander seemed to lead the way. He cleaned his throat, adjusting his uniform as the talk among the others faded, substituted by attempts to fix their hair or their posture. This nervousness hung in the air and crawled under their skin, making them tense up with each step you and the others took closer.

“Now,” Commander Magath said, but it was directed to you and your brother. “I want you to meet who fights for our motherland right now. I’m sure you only knew their predecessors.”

Having the Tyburs in Marley during such a moment of uncertainty and agitation was like having the hand of a deity reaching out to fix Marley’s wounds—this time, it wasn’t just a palliative and the Tybur family there for their occasional appearances to put pressure on the military and appease the population. The new agitation in Paradis was enough to have Willy Tybur bringing the War Hammer Titan into the show, and even the highest ranks in the military had no idea of their identity. As of what seemed, anyone in the present part of the family could have the titan.

Despite Willy being the head of the family, you were there, too, tagging along with your older brother everywhere. Could you be the shifter? Probably not. They wouldn’t risk you, then. Whatever your function was, no one ever provided any explanation.

Opposite to the friendly—and probably fake—smile on Willy’s face, you instead had that cold gaze. You looked all the soldiers up and down, scanning all of them. Were you also one of those people who despised Eldians? That’d be quite hypocritical, but anyone was far from caring about that.

When your gaze fell upon him, Reiner felt his breath stop in his throat, freezing at the way your eyes scanned his uniform until meeting his own. There was something in your gaze that he couldn’t quite decipher, but still made something stir inside him.

As the others talked, you kept looking around, stepping away, and darting off until Reiner felt a hand on his forearm.

“Could you perhaps show me around?” Your voice was quiet as you looked at him from under your lashes with such a gaze.

Reiner needed a couple of seconds to make sure he still had himself together before he nodded and took a step, confirming you were coming along before he started walking.

Sun shone down on the quarters and, like usual, the kids were being trained and yelled at by the instructors as they raced with all that heavy equipment, but still had unwavering determination. The voices started becoming evident according to how the two of you approached them, the screams and cheers turning into actual words.

“I see there’s a training going on.” You observed the kids, eyebrows knitted together.

“They’re the candidates to be the next warriors for Marley,” Reiner explained plainly as he walked a few steps after you, his hands clasped behind his back. “They’ve been on intense training ever since being chosen.”

“I see,” you mumbled, raising your eyebrows and resuming the blank face you had on now and then. It wasn’t easy to read. Still, Reiner didn’t try to think too much about it, only following as you made your way around a building, heading over to the back of it.

A few trees littered the area, which had a wall limiting it. There weren’t even windows on the back of the quarters; there was nothing to see, hence it wasn’t even a guarded place, really, only with occasional rounds. Reiner was about to let you know about it when the words died on his tongue and his back met the wall, knocking some air from his lungs.

Reiner’s eyes widened as he looked at you, your hands tight around the lapel of his uniform jacket’s lapel as you pinned him to the wall. Your eyes observed him with a new air now, with actual interest.

“You’re a strong guy, Mr soldier,” you mumbled, “nothing that one wouldn’t expect from the Armor himself. Also, quite...” The words trailed into silence as your eyes went from his face to his chest and down.

Reiner wanted to say something, but the most he could do was clean his throat and inhale.

“You don’t have that pride the others have.” You blinked, that piercing gaze finding out more than he wished to let anyone else know. Whatever you muttered next sounded too unclear, but it didn’t matter once your lips pressed to his.

          The dinner with the Tyburs meant reinforced guard. Reiner and Galliard were around just in case. Galliard was outside, but Reiner continued in the dining room because he ‘had a feeling’, standing there with the other guards as he observed all those people sit and eat as if they were worth something more than him and his comrades just because of the blood that ran in their veins.

Unlike Willy, you didn’t talk a lot, only making additional comments whenever you considered needed, but your voice was still too quiet for Reiner to catch on anything, as much as he tried to. Why did he care, anyways?

Reiner left the dining room after all of those people did. If it were a while ago, he would be mentally judging their careless manners while watching their back, but now, things were just so confusing after being confronted with everything he had learned in Paradis that his mind was just blank. He only kept absentmindedly walking until suddenly pulled into a room.

Fuck, was Eren there to get his hands on the Marley Titans? Reiner couldn’t see anything in the darkness, but he knew full well that the soft hand that rested upon his lips preventing him from screaming was too soft to be from an officer or any sort of fighter in general, so it couldn’t be that bad, right?

The hand slowly slipped off Reiner once he relaxed his shoulders, and the only stripe of light that entered the room slowly vanished into nothing once the door closed and the lock clicked. His breath was slow as he observed it, but it caught in his throat again the moment the lights turned on and he saw you standing there in that office that even he didn’t know who it belonged to. You observed Reiner up and down, and just that was enough to send a shiver down his body.

Were you expecting him to say something? Did Reiner need to do anything right now?

“I didn’t think you would...” Reiner’s voice sounded too loud in that small room.

You just pushed yourself back, sitting on top of the desk, pushing some stuff to the side to open some space. “It’s rare finding some guy like you. Good looking, tall, strong...” You mumbled, scanning Reiner again, and bit down on your lip. “Hot. And I always have my family on my tail preventing me from having whatever I want because ‘a Tybur can’t risk anything in this world’. What’s wrong with me having fun right now that they’re not so focused on me?”

A smile showed up on your face as you spread your legs and Reiner immediately took that as an invitation, stepping closer to stand between them. His breath hitched in his throat a little when your arms wrapped around his neck, your face just centimeters away from his, again.

Reiner’s heart was beating so loud that he wondered if you could hear it, in that small, muffled room.

“Come on, soldier,” you whispered, pulling Reiner closer. “You got all that size for nothing?”

          Reiner’s hand was clasped over your mouth to try and prevent the sounds from escaping it every time his hips would meet your ass, slamming inside you just deliciously as he had you bent over that office’s table. Your knuckles were white around the table’s edge and some stuff that previously rested on it was now scattered on the ground.

The hand Reiner had around your hip sank deeply into the skin, holding firmly enough to make you believe you’d have bruises to hide later.

“Can you imagine... if someone saw us right now?” Reiner breathed in your ear, adjusting his hand over your mouth—the way you drooled had made it damp. “A spoiled Tybur being fucked like this by a filthy Eldian and enjoying it?” He breathed a chuckle then moaned when a specific thrust reached just the right spot inside you, making your eyes roll back into your head as you clenched tightly around him.

The idea Reiner put in your mind stirred something inside you, making you quiver under him and become whinier, all summed up to the way he kept thrusting exactly in that angle that made you clench and go weak. You could feel your release approaching but you doubted he would stop just because of an orgasm since he had made sure to already give you one while only preparing you.

“Damn,” Reiner’s breath was hot against your neck, as hot as his body pressing to yours just fine, his chest pressed to your back and brushing against it as he moved. The same chest you had your mouth all over just a while ago.

Reiner’s hand went from your hip to your ass, squeezing the skin as if testing it before his palm met it in a sharp slap that snatched a high-pitched sound from your lips, muffled into his fingers. He groaned, trailing down to grope on your thigh as he kept thrusting, only making a brief pause so he could hook his hand under your knee to bring your leg up; his other hand let go of your face so he could wrap his arm around your torso instead, keeping you bend over the desk.

The new position created a different frame for him to fuck into, allowing Reiner to reach that same spot easier, and it just snatched that orgasm from you in a matter of seconds. Reiner’s name among other babbling spilled from your lips in a string of moans as he hissed, trying to contain himself while keeping moving his hips, feeling you throb around him so nice and good.

“Ah, fuck,” Reiner cursed. He pulled away, ignoring your whine at the emptiness as he helped you turn over to lie with your back on the desk, practically manhandling you.

You were barely used to it when Reiner already had a hand holding your leg up by your thigh to push back into you, cock throbbing as it met that delicious warmth and tightness of your insides once again. He looked at you and the light makeup that once decorated your eyes was now smudged, leaving behind the trails that the tears made—and kept making—on your face due to simply how good he was able to make you feel.

Reiner couldn’t handle it, taking a deep breath as his hand took hold of your neck, holding around it just enough to give you that extra sparkle of pleasure, and he just couldn’t hold it back anymore. He gave his best in those last thrusts, not caring about how the desk under the two of you even rocked a little with his movements. His index finger and thumb sank under your jaw by each side of it to keep your head down and give him the best look of your face when you felt him finishing inside you, his thrusts turning shallow as he rode down from his high.

No disgust laced your face, no—you pressed your eyes shut and bit on your lip while muffling a groan. “Ah, shit,” you mumbled, voice still weak, your moan coming out high-pitched when Reiner slowly pulled off you. He clicked his tongue, observing the cum drip out of your hole while he muttered something under his breath.

Reiner took hold of your jaw, turning your head towards his so he could give you another kiss, slowly easing you down as well. His thumb ran along your cheek in a light touch, hand eventually going down to caress the back of your neck in a soothing motion.

“You good?” Reiner whispered between kisses, still a little out of breath.

You could just nod in response, eyes barely open as you observed him. He smiled a little bit, sighing as he held onto your waist; his touch was now light and comforting, almost as if he weren’t the same person who was deep into you seconds ago. That was exactly what you needed, whatsoever.

“Very,” you finally muttered in response as your arms snaked around his neck.

⋆｡‧₊°꧁ ༺𓆩❦︎𓆪༻ ꧂‧₊˚.⋆

PART TWO

#shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #reiner braun #x male reader #x female reader #gender neutral #smut #imagine #oneshot #eren yaeger #jean kirschstein #fan fic #fan fiction #reiner x reader

[marswritesstuff]

a blessing, a curse

tw: hurt no comfort, death, mentions of cannibalism (it’s aot yall), slight age gap (reader is 3 years younger)

a/n: mostly canon compliant but like i can’t be assed to make sure it’s 100%, jaw!porco x warrior candidate!reader, i have decided that people is marley are adults (aka can marry and move out) at 16 :P

summary: At 14, you meet the love of your life. At 15, you fall for him. At 16, it all comes crashing down.

You don’t talk about it.

Two weeks after you started dating, Porco brushed your hair out of your face when he thought you were asleep and whispered, “I’d die for you.”

And he would.

As the top candidate to inherit the jaw titan, it wasn’t surprising that Porco had introduced himself. You were around his age, 14 while he was 17. It wasn’t common for warrior candidates to be so old when they inherited, but not unheard of- Zeke’d been 16 when he’d inherited the beast, and he was one of their strongest still, and Colt was set to inherit the beast at 17. It would still be years until you took up the jaws, if everything went to plan- Porco should still have eleven years, if all went well, but Marley didn’t want to give up such a talented candidate as you just because you wouldn’t be quite as young as the rest of the candidates.

When Porco first introduced himself as the jaw, you already knew who he was. Your class of warrior candidates had only been a few years after his, and you’d seen him hanging around the base, waiting five years for news of his brother who would never come back. An older soldier had taken pity on you and explained he was the younger brother of the current jaw (although neither of you knew that Marcel was no longer the jaw at the time), and he stuck around as a candidate.

Neither of you said that he was kept around because Marley needed someone they had leverage over to inherit the founding.

You’d never spoken to Porco, though, when he introduced himself. It had been two years since the warriors sent to the island returned, and he’d adjusted well to the news that his brother was dead and he was the new jaw over the last few years. You’d just been named his official successor.

“Hey, kid. I’m Porco, and I guess we should get to know each other- seeing as you’re set to eat me someday, you know.”

You laughed and introduced yourself too. Consuming Porco and inheriting the jaws was still a blessing then, a privilege to serve Marley and prove that you were a good Eldian.

Not anymore.

Not many months later Porco finally asked you out. Pieck had been teasing him about his obvious crush whenever you weren’t around for months, and he’d gotten tired of it, deciding to just let you reject him and get it over with.

He didn’t expect you to grin at him and loop an arm around his shoulders.

“Took you long enough, Pock! How about coffee?”

At 15, you fell in love. At 15, Porco promised you he would die for you. And at 15, you knew that being the one to fulfill that promise was no blessing at all.

You would always talk like you had forever. Endless conversations of “someday”- someday you’d move in together, get married. Someday he’d retire- you almost laughed out loud the first time he said that- and you’d follow, and you’d run off to the countryside and Marley wouldn’t follow you.

Porco knew he couldn’t fulfill every promise he made to you, but on your sixteenth birthday, he gave you a key with a tiny bow wrapped around it, and asked you to move in with him. Within a week, you were moved into his apartment, spending every night in the same bed and every morning making breakfast together. Most of the time Porco was deployed you would be too, but during the occasional solo mission or titan-only operation, you would spend nights cuddled up with his pillow, reminding yourself that your boyfriend is smart and strong and would never let himself die without you.

When Liberio was attacked, Zeke turned traitor, and all the rest of the warrior candidates were killed or missing, you were reminded just how dangerous your job was. You’d signed up for this- you could die at any time, and you’d agreed to that, so why was it hitting you so hard now?

Maybe it was watching the love of your life be forced to crush a human between his jaws, watching a devil squeeze down on his head until his powerful mouth snapped shut and sealed the war hammer’s fate. Maybe it was the lifeless bodies of Udo and Zofia and countless other soldiers snuffed out. Maybe it was the way Porco trembled in your arms, telling you about listening to fighting from the bottom of a pit, helpless to do more than hear his comrades die.

You spent hours that night just holding your boyfriend, rubbing his back gently and mumbling, “shhh, it’s alright, Pock, you’re here now. You’re here, with me, everything’s okay.”

Minutes from the break of dawn, Porco confessed to you that feeling the floor let out under him had made him think of his brother. He’d sat at the bottom of the pit, remembering his brother’s memories of a moment of weightlessness being lifted to the mouth of a titan, seconds before his death.

When Porco finally fell into a fitful sleep, you called in to inform your superiors that you and Porco wouldn’t be attending training that day. They didn’t ask for elaboration.

Not long after, when the warriors were deployed to retake the founder once again, Porco sat next to you on the aircraft, letting you huddle into his side and whispering sweet nothings against your forehead.

“Listen, honey,” he tilted your head up to look in his eyes. “This is gonna be a tough mission. So, I wanted to make this special, but more than anything I wanna do it.”

He pulled a small box out of his pocket and opened it, letting your hand wrap around his around the box. Inside was a simple ring, a golden band with one small diamond inlaid into it.

Tears were streaming from your eyes, soaking into Porco’s shirt where your chin rested against it. “Pock, you dick,” you whined, pressing your forehead to his cheek. “Don’t act like you’re leaving me. You’re gonna be okay.”

Even as you murmured gentle affirmations to the both of you, you tugged the ring out of the box and let Porco gently guide it onto your ring finger.

Two long weeks you spent staking out with the rest of the soldiers while Porco and Pieck infiltrated the military. Your days were spent preparing weapons and plans, and your nights were spent huddled together with Reiner and Colt, all trying to catch sleep while you could instead of worrying over your people in the walls.

The attack was a blur, but it went something like this: you, Colt, and Reiner shared a final hug before you boarded the aircrafts, you dropped out and deployed your parachute, you watched Reiner transform and attack the holder of the founder, your eyes caught Porco, in titan form, go barreling into the battle. After that, when you landed and started shooting, minutes and hours started to blend together. The amount of smoke and dust in the air meant you couldn’t get your eyes on Porco, which was probably for the best- you both needed to focus.

What you do remember clearly was the lightning. Hundreds of flashes across the city, some frighteningly close to you, and then hundreds of titans rising up. Marleyan soldiers dying all around you, as you sprinted across the rooftops, focusing completely on not being caught in a titan’s grip.

You registered the walls falling and releasing the titans like a faint ringing in your head- clearly something wrong, but not even close to your main concern.

Dead and dying soldiers littered the rooftops, and at one horrifying point, a mutilated and bloodied soldier’s hand caught your ankle, tripping you on the shingles.

“Help-” the soldier managed to choke out before your free foot kicked him away. No remorse filled your mind as you scrambled up and kept running.

The ring felt like a thousand pounds. Porco was okay. He had to be. You wouldn’t consider another option.

After what felt like an eternity of running and dodging titans, an Eldian soldier flew by, and you seized the chance.

“Help! Help me!” You yelled out, waving your arms. Devil or not, nothing mattered right now except survival. You would live to see Porco another day, if it was the last thing you did.

The soldier dropped onto the rooftop several paces away from you.

“Marleyan,” he spat, clearly not pleased that you’d survived the titan attack.

“Please, I mean you no harm! I am a subject of Ymir within the Marleyan military- all I want is to survive and find my fiancée!”

The soldier’s face softened, and he held out an arm slowly. “I can take you to the large building up there. Other survivors have gathered there, and most of the titans have been killed. I can’t guarantee your safety upon arrival.”

“I’ll take it,” you replied easily, moving closer to the solider slowly until he turned and let you clamber onto his back. With his mobility gear he started taking the both of you towards the building, and your eyes were drawn down the trail of wreckage of a titan fight. Your eyes snagged on a quickly evaporating jaw titan skeleton, and you forced yourself to look forward. He’d survived. He had to. Porco was smart and strong. He had to survive.

The soldier brought you to the building before flying off again, and you started searching through the hallways. If you could find Porco, or even Pieck, everything would be okay-

You pushed open a door and the group of people inside startled and looked at you.

“… Gabi?”

The young girl gasped and ran at you, jumping and nearly tackling you with an embrace. You held her up as she choked out tearless sobs.

No more than a minute later, she pulled herself back from you and started bumbling.

“He- he’s gone, they took him, they took Falco- I don’t- I don’t know what to do!”

“Gabi.” You set your hands on her shoulders and waited for her to look you in the eyes. “What happened?”

Gabi took a few steadying breaths and whimpered, “I’m sorry. I- Falco accidentally drank Zeke’s spinal fluid, and when the titans turned, he- he became one! And Colt was holding on to him and he’s gone- and he went after Reiner, he tried to take the armor, but…” She trailed off and her eyes dropped to the floor. “Porco had taken a hit, and his real body was badly hurt, and he… he made Falco eat him instead.” Gabi’s breath hitched, but you barely heard it.

There was a ringing in your ears that you could only hear a little past. Porco was gone. He hadn’t lost, but he’d ensured the jaws lived on- by sacrificing himself.

If nothing else, it was definitely a Porco way to go out- stubborn until the end.

You shook your head, blinking the fuzziness out of your eyes and forcing yourself to refocus.

“Go, Gabi. Get Falco back. If anyone but me has to inherit the jaws, he was the best candidate. He’s strong and smart, and he deserves to live, and I know you know that too. So go bring him back for us, okay?”

“He said he was in love with me,” Gabi mumbled as the other people in the room spurred back into motion, clearly preparing to set out in pursuit of Falco and whoever had taken him.

You chuckled wetly, holding back tears of your own. “Well, I suppose he had to say it eventually. For what it’s worth, the rest of us knew.”

Gabi flushed and shoved you lightly. “Of course you did.”

Within minutes, Gabi and one of the Eldian soldiers set off on horseback. The rest of the Eldian soldiers gave you a wide berth, sensing you were upset.

You found yourself a small empty corner with a window. Gazing at the thousands of titans passing outside, you let your mind wander back to the new information you had.

Porco was dead. It felt fake, like the kind of thing you’d have nightmares about. In fact, you’d had almost this exact nightmare several times over the past two weeks. Porco was dead and gone. He’d promised you that he’d die for you, and you’d always thought the worst thing in the world was that you’d have to eat him, watch him die at your own hands. Now you knew it could be much worse. Porco had died away from you. You hadn’t so much as touched him in two weeks, and now, with his body somewhere in Falco’s digestion, you’d never get to again.

There wouldn’t even be a body to bury. The ring on your finger was the only thing left of your fiancée. He could’ve been so much more- he could’ve been your husband, your soulmate, your forever, and instead he was gone.

The tears you’d been holding back finally spilled over your cheeks as you hugged your knees.

At fourteen, you’d met your soulmate. At fifteen, you fell in love with him. And at sixteen, you lost him forever.

Thousands of killing machines passed by the window, making straight for your home in Marley. But it didn’t matter. Everything that had truly mattered to you was now gone forever.

#aot x reader #snk x reader #aot #snk #porco galliard #porco x reader #porco galliard x reader #porco galliard x you #aot angst #porco angst #porco galliard angst #tw death #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin

[wttcsms]

daylight [pt. ii] ; colt grice.

pairing colt grice x f!reader word count 19.2k synopsis colt grice's life has never been easy, and it's about to get a hell of a lot worse. content contains sw!reader, canon discrimination against eldians, derogatory terms towards women author's notes if you count part one, it took nearly 32k words for them to share their first kiss. who says the pwp writer can't have range? also, i'm always in a constant state of thanks to @mochalate, who constantly motivates me to work on this fic <3

part two: no kissing 

Colt Grice’s first kiss catches him off guard. 

He’s sixteen, and the positives that come from puberty are finally showing up. Now, instead of waking up with achy bones and joint pain, he’s nearly six feet tall. All traces of boyhood have been shredded, and in its place is a face with sharp features and nice bone structure that has spent years being hidden under baby fat. Like every other hopeless case living in Liberio, Colt enlists in the military because there aren’t many other options for him out there. He joins later than the others because up until he was fourteen, he wasn’t a hopeless case.

Then, Dad got sick. Bills needed to be paid. Colt was more than ready to sign up for the Marleyan military considering the fact that the average starting age is twelve — for “late bloomers,” that is. It had been this whole entire embarrassing ordeal, really. He stood out from his first bunkmates, all gangly bones and a less-than-sunny disposition on the world and its current state affairs compared to the hopefulness his younger fellow cadets all seemed to harbor. 

Colt doesn’t want Marley to go to war. He doesn’t want to die; he only enlisted because his family needed him to, even if they begged and pleaded with him not to. His paychecks get sent directly to his family, by his request. 

The uniform fits him awkwardly, too, at first. He thinks this is why he probably wasn’t on the receiving end of positive female attention. He sticks out like a sore thumb during mandatory lineup because he’s a whole head taller and several years older than everyone else who’s getting in formation. His pants fit weird, stopping at an odd point that’s an inch too high above his ankles, and the strap on his helmet is too tight and digs into the skin of his chin, resulting in him walking around with a constant red impression on the bottom of his face. He gets promoted quickly because of his test scores and ends up surpassing all his peers in his proper age bracket, too. It’s around this time that he starts taking charge, too used to having to play big brother for his original cadet class (with their chubby faces and short statures, they reminded him all too much of Falco and what he had to leave behind; settling into this role came too naturally). At this point, the uniform fits perfectly. 

The yellow armband he’s rewarded with fits just right, too.

At age sixteen, Colt Grice is officially transferred to the Warrior Unit as a Candidate. He has to prove his devotion to the cause; this means choking down more propaganda to the point where everything that comes out of his mouth is coated in Marleyan ideals, and it’s this whole entire thing where he stands up and does an oath, swearing his eternal, unwavering allegiance to Marley. It’s a public affair. The Unit makes him out to be a role model, the poster boy of sorts, for the Warrior Unit. To show the world that while being an Eldian makes you equivalent to cannon fodder, that doesn’t mean you can’t be thankful. 

He’s the closest thing this shithole has to a success story. 

Armed with what can be considered a Marleyan stamp of approval, and the fact that Colt now fills out his uniform quite nicely, in that primitive, hyper-masculine way that makes the female hindbrain go buckwild at the sight of him in it, he gains an insane amount of popularity. 

Colt isn’t a stranger to having so many admirers, now, but sometimes he still feels like that awkward fourteen year old boy playing at being a man. It’s why he’s so shocked when the girls who pursue him turn out to be very forward.

He doesn’t even expect the kiss. He’s back in the internment zone for a holiday break, and Susie had asked him to pretty please meet her behind the old schoolhouse. Colt doesn’t suspect anything will happen, but he does mentally prepare himself to give the usual response that he gives to all the confessions he receives: you’re a very nice girl, but I can’t give you the time and care you deserve; my current and only devotion lies with the military.

Susie is a very nice girl. With her short, curly brown hair and hazel-colored eyes, Colt is certain that there are plenty of boys who wouldn’t mind a love confession from her. She was one of the most popular girls back in school, or at least, Colt thinks she was. And her parents are one of the more well-off Eldians in the area; her dad’s a doctor. Her dad is Dad’s doctor, the recipient of a fourteen year old Colt’s meager military stipends. He wonders if she knows this, if she cares, if it would make a difference.

She doesn’t say anything to warn him that the kiss is coming. She rounds the corner, spots him in her line of vision, and heads straight towards him. He thinks she’ll stop at the last second, but she doesn’t, and by the time she’s too close for comfort, it’s too late.

Her lips press against his, and her eyes are closed. He knows her eyes are closed because his are wide open from shock. It lasts for two seconds, and it’s because that’s how long it took for him to regain control of his body and pull back. 

Then he apologizes and tells her that that wasn’t supposed to happen, and he can’t be with anyone right now. Shock is still clearly in his system because without even thinking too hard about it, Colt immediately turns his back on her and runs straight home. To this day, he feels bad about how he handled the situation, but last he’s heard is that Susie is married now. 

He licks his lips reflexively as he stares up at the ceiling. He wonders what your first kiss was like. He hopes for your sake that it was good, or as good as a first kiss can be. Then, he feels an unfamiliar, uncomfortable pit in his stomach at the idea of you kissing some nameless, faceless stranger. It gets even worse when he imagines that the kiss is good, that it’s something you enjoy. And then he just feels pathetic when he realizes that it’s jealousy he’s experiencing. 

It’s unfair of him to be envious of any of your past partners because Colt knows that he does not have a claim on you. He does not own you, nor does he believe that you are a possession, that you’re something to be owned. He is well aware that you are your own person, with your own experiences, and a whole lifetime lived before and without him. For all he knows, he’s just a footnote in the story of your life.

This thought makes him sad.

Fuck. He wants to turn his body and plant his face into his pillow and scream. He won’t do that because he’s nothing but courteous to his bunkmates, but this has been such a recurring urge lately that Colt is wary that this is going to be a problem if he doesn’t get his shit together, and fast. 

He finds himself thinking about you — he wouldn’t dare to go so far as to describe it as being “more often than he would like” because the fact of the matter is that he enjoys thinking about you, doesn’t mind you being the one singular thought that remains on his mind — and that’s the core of the issue. 

He repeats your name in his head like a mantra, until he’s certain that he can formulate sentences using your name as the only word. He says it in his head with different cadences, stresses the syllables in a different way every time, wonders if you ever think about him in a similar manner. 

It’s been a week since he last saw you. The bruises on his face have healed up quite nicely, and the cut isn’t even going to leave a scar, according to one of the nurses. As a result of falling asleep in your bed and having to limp back to base at the crack of dawn, Colt’s punishment is that he isn’t allowed to leave the grounds for the next two weeks. 

“What the hell were you doing, boy?” Commander Magath has the type of voice that is always booming. He is consistently loud, and Colt has long since discovered that that’s just simply how Magath sounds. Colt recalls flinching at his commanding officer’s question (re: he’s still recovering from a mild concussion, and Magath’s loudness isn’t helping much in the healing process), and, because Colt happens to come back at the odd period of time where the soldiers on watch are doing their shift changes, there’s an audience. 

Colt knows he’s stuck in between a rock and a hard place. He would rather run one hundred laps around base than ever admit he missed curfew because he was at a brothel. He also knows that he doesn’t have it in him to directly lie to an authority figure, especially when it’s a Marleyan officer. Looks like indoctrinating children really does have some lasting side effects. 

“I fell asleep, sir.” 

“Well, no shit!” 

Colt attempts not to wince when some tiny droplets of spit fly out of Magath’s mouth and land on his cheeks. He thinks it would only piss off the commander some more.

“I think it’s because of the concussion, sir. I thought going into town would help clear my head, but I ended up knocking out before I could even remember to head back to base.” Not a lie. Colt would never willingly fall asleep on you because he knows most of his time with you is limited. He has to make the most of it. 

At the mention of the injuries sustained, Colt thinks Magath’s expression somewhat softens. It must be a trick of the light, though, or maybe his head got more banged up than he realized because Magath is back to berating him, saying that he would expect this dumbass behavior from anyone else in the Warrior Unit but him — which could be taken as a sort of compliment, if only he didn’t follow it up with a reminder that everyone in said unit is such a breed of stupid that a common idiot off the street could be considered a genius compared to them. Well, idiot or not, Colt’s well aware that Magath’s definitely insulting him and his peers.

But when his only punishment is to remain confined to the base, he knows better than to try to argue his way to a lighter sentence. 

On nights like these, nights where he can’t seem to fall asleep because every slumber pales in comparison to the one he spent with you, he stares up at the ceiling of his bedroom and prays to every power in the universe that you are having a good night. 

As far as bad nights go, you think this one might top the list. At minimum, it ranks somewhere in the top ten worst nights of your life. 

Ramzi is sick. You would think that being exposed to the elements on a daily basis and eating food well past its prime date for consumption would make Ramzi immune to most common ailments, but if anything, it makes him even more susceptible to sickness. While he’s plenty grown up now, being sick seems to make Ramzi revert back to a little kid, to indulge in the boyhood he never had the luxury of enjoying. 

“You can’t leave me! I don’t feel well!” 

Even with a runny nose, a persistent cough, and his ongoing battle against his body’s fluctuating temperatures (he’ll throw off his blankets because he’s overheating only to be shivering not even five minutes later), he still has just enough strength to test his luck and see if his complaints will be enough to get you to stay home. 

His antics, while proof of his love for you, are starting to get on your nerves. The time you spend running around, trying to get him situated when his one goal in life is to act like he’s unbearably uncomfortable so you keep tending to him, is making you late. The other girls who live in this camp had stopped by earlier, asking if you were ready to leave. At that point, you had been in the process of bundling Ramzi up in several blankets (he frees himself ten minutes later, complaining that he was getting “too hot”) and told them to go along without you.

Now, you realize you’re going to be late to your first scheduled appointment of the night. 

Fuck.

If you leave now and run like the hounds of hell are nipping at your heels, you could probably make it to the brothel at a decent enough time to where Willa wouldn’t have to intervene on your behalf. You know things are bad if Willa gets involved. 

Before you lose your patience and snap at Ramzi, the opening of your tent is being pulled back. 

“No work tonight?” Malik asks. 

“I wish.” And then, “Did you need something?” The I’m kind of busy goes unsaid, but it’s clear in the agitated tone of your voice. 

“Just wanted to stop by and check up on you two. It’s been a while.” 

Malik doesn’t apologize. Probably on account of the toxic masculinity that seems to run rampant around this camp — this whole society, really — but he means well. Most of the time. From what you can see, at least. 

You know him stopping by and saying this is his idea of extending an olive branch to you. Usually, you would tease him at this point, ask him if he forgot how to say the words “I’m sorry.” All you can think about, though, is that he has the worst fucking timing. 

“Yeah, I guess it has been.” You tell him, opening up your trunk and pulling out the pair of socks Colt had gifted to you. In the box containing all of your meager possessions, the ointment lays on top of everything. You’re not facing Malik, anymore; instead, you pull on this pair of socks before slipping into your shoes. 

The stark whiteness of the cotton stands out from the usual colorful swaths of fabric prevalent in the camp. It’s too bright, too squeaky clean, to properly fit in your life of once-grand clothes that have retained only a fraction of the beauty and boldness it once held.  Malik innocently asks you where you got the socks from. 

“A customer.” You answer, and this shuts him up for now. If there is anything in this world that Malik hates more than admitting his fault and apologizing, it is any discussion of what you do for work. It’s an unspoken rule that the two of you don’t talk about your time at the brothel. For once, you’re glad about it. 

“I’m about to go to work right now. Could you do me a favor and watch over Ramzi for the time being? He’s sick, and I’m worried how he’s going to feel later on in the night.” Minding your manners, you look Malik in the eyes and tack on a please at the end of your request.

“You know I don’t mind.” He doesn’t break eye contact with you. You think you detect something different in the intensity of the stare he’s giving you; more serious, with an almost broody concern evident in those dark eyes of his. “I’ll be waiting here when you get back. We’ll talk more then, okay?” 

You’re already running horribly late. You don’t have time to argue, to remind him that the last thing you’re in the mood for is a conversation you’re unprepared for, especially after a long shift. Instead, you give a slight nod in acknowledgment, and practically sprint out of the tent. 

The cold wind whips you in the face as you make your way to the red light district. Usually, the sun is just barely starting to set when you make your journey; it’s jarring to see how different the walk feels when you’re by yourself, and it’s starting to get dark out. 

The closer you get to the district, the more the fact that you are a woman, alone, in a more dangerous, more lawless area of the city, starts to loom over you. You tighten your coat around your body, practically hugging yourself as you try to quicken your pace. The cold air bites through the fabric of your clothes, chills you to your bones, leaves goosebumps all over your flesh. 

The streetlights are dim, the pavement cracked, and you are well aware that the cold soaking through your skin right now isn’t just from the weather, but from the lecherous stares of the men walking down the street. This is the same path you’ve taken for years now, but tonight, it is entirely too different. You never noticed just how tiny you are compared to the heavyset frames of the men standing outside, with their burly shoulders that could easily knock you down if they were to accidentally run into you. 

Even the scenery feels different. You’ve walked down this street enough times to recognize where the deep potholes in the road are, and usually the buildings lining the district are a source of odd comfort to you. There’s a familiar bar, but its usual warm glow of light emitting from within doesn’t serve as a means of brightness anymore. Now, the lighting from inside casts weird shadows on the faces of the passerby, distorts their features, gives your paranoia something to feed off of. 

“Hey, girlie,” a raspy voice startles you. It’s been so long since you’ve had to worry about yourself — always choosing to focus on the surroundings for the sake of the other girls, always never having to because girls develop a sort of stupid invincibility when they link arms and take the town together — that you’re caught off guard by the sudden feel of a man’s hand on your shoulder. 

Fight or flight. 

You choose the weakest of the options: freeze. 

You realize that you’re scared to look at the man. Your eyes dart nervously down the street, taking in the surrounding buildings, but you realize that there is no one here who will be able to rescue you. Survival instincts kick in, and you find yourself able to back away from him, but his hand grips down on your shoulder even harder. Like a claw, like a shackle. 

“You one of those streetwalkers?” His words come out like a croak. You reason that it doesn’t matter what exactly he says; as long as it comes out of his mouth, with his dry, thirsty, cracked lips, spitting out sentences in between yellowing and rotting teeth, the words are going to sound disgusting regardless. 

“Or ya just a whore for free?” 

You take another step back. With what little light that shines from the streetlamps (that have certainly seen better days), you’re hyper aware of more figures approaching. Sometimes, there are other women who stand outside, some women who are the “streetwalkers” the man has accused you of being, but you know that they cannot come to your rescue. If they were to witness this scene right now, a scene that they’ve probably endured every night out here, they might not even recognize your plight. 

“What’s going on here?” An authoritative voice cuts through your panic, and in the low lighting, you almost think it’s Colt that’s approaching this scene. 

Wishful thinking is a silent killer. Like drugs and alcohol, the high you get from it, the relief, only lasts for so long. Coming down is even harder. 

You know you shouldn’t feel disappointed at the sight of your savior, but this soldier is clearly Marleyan. For all you know, he’s just gotten done with a session with one of the girls you patch up every night. 

He grips the man’s wrist, yanking it from your shoulder and assessing him. 

“I asked you a question.” This blond-haired soldier shoots such a sharp, disgusted look at the man that you’re certain the effect would be similar to how it feels when a blade pierces through one’s intestines. 

“Look, I don’t want no trouble.” The man snarls, pointing a grimy finger at you. “She’s the one solicitin’ people for cheap sex. Go arrest her, officer.” The way he spits out the title shows he harbors the same amount of respect for prostitutes and the police. The only thing stopping him from putting his hands on this soldier is probably the high chance that he’s got a weapon on him. 

“Big fan of the law, are you? Should I take you both down to the station with me, then? We can file a report together, and you can tell my superiors what exactly your business being down here is.” 

“Fuck you.” 

You’re debating if you should test your luck and run. There’s a chance that the soldier would rather chase after you than deal with this man’s verbal assault and hair-pin trigger temper. However, the last thing you want is to get indicted for prostitution. Not because it’ll go on your record; you couldn’t care less about that. It just sounds like filing an official report would take a long time, possibly the whole night, and you can already picture all the money you’re losing by standing here instead of being in your room, ready to greet guests. 

As if sensing your agitation, the soldier glances at you and then claps the man on the shoulder, guiding his hand upwards until it’s circled around the back of the man’s neck. He pulls the man closer to him, and because of the soldier’s height, he has to lean down slightly to get eye-level with your harasser. 

Silence. You can feel the fear radiating off of the man, undercut with his drunken defiance. If there’s anything men have in common, no matter what race or class, it’s certainly audacity. 

“Y’know what, I thought you had a bit more fire in you. ‘Fuck you’, seriously?” The soldier turns his head and looks at you, making a face as if trying to ask you can you believe this guy? “I know you can do better than that.” He takes his hand and pats the back of the man’s head. “Tell you what. I’m going to walk this lovely lady home, who was certainly not soliciting you, and then I’m going to come right back here. By the time I come back, you better come up with some better insults, or I’m going to be very disappointed.” Straightening himself up, he extends a hand to you; thankfully, not the hand that has touched that man. 

What else are you supposed to do in this situation other than take it?

The longer you walk with this man, the more you study him. The more you study him, the more you realize that it was foolish to believe even for a second that he was Colt. They have similar builds, but Colt has a leaner figure, lighter hair, soft brown eyes. The way they carry themselves is different, too. This man walks with his arms swinging by his side, and while the first glance of him can fool people into thinking he’s a perfect soldier, upon closer inspection, you realize that his uniform is missing a button, his pants are slightly wrinkled, and there’s a strand of hair in the back that’s sticking up. 

“So, you work at the Gentleman’s Club.” It’s not a question. His tone is light enough, though, to where you’re not on edge. He had let go of your hand the second you two left the immediate vicinity of the man. 

“Yes.” There’s no point in lying. 

“Don’t suppose you’ve run into many of them there.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Gentlemen.” He clarifies. “I don’t think you’ve dealt with many gentlemen there, right?”

“The name’s all for marketing.”

“Hi, All For Marketing. Bit of a mouthful of a name.” 

You don’t laugh at his joke, but he does, and he does so in a manner that indicates that one, he doesn’t care if people laugh at his jokes or not, and two, he’s very accustomed to people not laughing with him. You can’t tell if you like him or not. 

“My name’s Michael.” He adds, after settling down. “Willa told me telling you my name would make you feel better.” 

“Willa told you that?” You narrow your eyes at him. “How do you know Willa?” Willa’s the reason why any of the girls feel remotely safe in the Club. She’s older than you, but only by a few years. With the life she’s led, you’re only surprised that she’s not older — or dead. 

“She kicked me in the nuts once, and I was a goner ever since.” 

You can’t tell if he’s joking or not, and he doesn’t clarify. Instead, he drops you off at the front of the brothel, not even saying goodbye. He just turns right on his heels and starts to whistle an unfamiliar tune. You don’t tell him that this part of town isn’t the area where you want to whistle as you skip down the street, but considering the fact that you hadn’t felt any more slimy stares directed at you as you walked with him, maybe he can handle himself just fine. 

“Is everything okay?” Willa rarely calls anyone to her office. Tucked away in an odd corner of the brothel, it’s almost as if she doesn’t want anyone to know where her office is. The first and only time you’ve been in here had been on your first day of work, when she made you tea and told you that this is going to be a horrible experience, and that her job isn’t to ensure the girls’ comfort but rather their survival.

She’s the first person to truly ingrain this idea into your head: survival over everything. She’s the only other person who will continuously remind these girls that there are worse things to be in life than uncomfortable. 

The three jagged scars running down her face, starting from an inch below her left eye, down her cheek, traveling all the way to her throat, surely must have been more than just an uncomfortable ordeal. But here she is now, standing tall, pouring hot water into cups. The smell of tea brewing fills the small room. 

“Yes, of course.” You tell her, not sure why she had been waiting for you in the lobby, only to usher you into her office. 

“Hmm.” Her back is still turned to you. Her desk isn’t spotless like you would imagine it to be; she runs such a tight ship in this brothel, you envisioned that every other aspect of her life must be dictated by her militant extremes. There are papers covering every surface, pinned to the walls, even, and books stacked on the floor. You can’t imagine finding anything in this mess. Anything of importance would most likely be hidden in plain sight.

“Is this about the two appointments I missed? Willa, I—”

“Already handled it.” She turns to face you, offering you a teacup. The warmth travels from your hand and spreads to the rest of your body. You didn’t even realize just how cold you are.

“Are you going to fire me now?” The newfound warmth in your body immediately dissipates. You’re not above begging. If it comes down to it, you’ll do anything to keep this job. The sounds of Ramzi’s coughs fill your mind as you continue speaking, “Willa, I have never been late before this—”

“I’m not going to fire you.” She takes a seat on the edge of her desk, some papers falling to the ground as a result. “I just wanted to talk.” 

“About?” 

She shrugs, placidly, but you’re certain it’s just an act. She’s sitting too rigidly on her desk, and Willa is not the type of person to waste time (time is money, after all), especially just to shoot the shit. Finally, after the protracted silence, she sighs.

“Don’t you wish you could hop on a ship and leave this shithole? Sounds pretty nice, right?” 

You allow yourself three seconds of some more wishful thinking, but the idea of ever leaving Marley and having a life that’s better than the one you’re currently living right now seems so out of reach, your mind can’t even wrap around such an idea. 

“Wherever I go, I’d still be me.” 

“It’s a total hypothetical, [Name]. What if you ran away and had a whole new identity?” Her green eyes are very sharp. Actually, every feature of Willa is pointed and sharp. Depending on the lighting, she either looks delicate like a doll or downright dangerous. 

“What’s the point? What’s the point of living if you’re not yourself?” 

She smiles at you, almost like the two of you are sharing some intimate secret.

“I should probably go.” You tell her. You didn’t make this trip just to leave the brothel with empty pockets. There’s only so many hours left in the night. “Thanks for the tea.” 

You set the cup back on the small table crammed in the corner of her office. You didn’t even take a single sip.

Your hair is a matted, tangled mess, some strands sticking to your sweaty face. Regular customers range from the dregs of society to silent men who like to think themselves unemotional and cold but fuck with a vigor and passion that has them grunting out the name of the woman they truly wished was under them. For the most part, you don’t mind the men who fuck you with this sort of detached lust. 

Some nights, it’s even mildly entertaining. 

Tonight, it just hurts.

It’s like every man who stumbles into your room tonight has a lover in his head. Lover might be too sweet of a word, though. You can’t picture any of these men being loving, but sometimes, you can hear it in their distressed groans. Something animalistic and wounded, filled with want and desire. 

You wonder what the big fucking deal is. If you’re infatuated — even foolish enough to think yourself in love — with somebody, why are you paying to have sex with someone else? What’s stopping them from pursuing these women freely? The fact that they’re losers?

Your pessimistic thoughts give way to something more personal, though. When you’re left to sit in the silence after hearing the nonstop exclamations of every woman’s name but your own — each of them said in such a desperate, longing manner, it was probably a love confession — you realize that only a select few people outside the refugee camp know your name. 

You stare at your door, willing it to open. 

Hoping. Wanting. Waiting. 

Just like every other night this past week, just like every other night that followed after you acted just as foolish as these men and whispered your name to him, he doesn’t show up. 

You sink into your mattress. 

Hope’s going to kill you before anything else gets the chance. 

Colt stares at his reflection in the barracks’ bathroom. There’s a tiny crack running down the mirror that hangs over the sink he used to wet his toothbrush and rinse his mouth — the one with the perpetual leaky faucet — and the constant drip drip drip of water slowly plopping down in the discolored porcelain does nothing to ease his nerves.

Tonight is his first night of renewed freedom. 

There’s little to no trace of the sparring match from two weeks ago. Claire had been right in her assessment: there is no lasting scar from the cut. He feels himself tracing the areas on his cheek where the bruises formed. There’s nothing left of them, now, but he can trick himself into feeling the ghost of your touch when he does this.

The only good thing to come out of not seeing you for two weeks is that he has considerably much more money saved up, allowing him to purchase more of your time. 

The crack in the mirror travels from the upper-right hand edge down to the lower left-hand corner. It’s jagged, but faint; just enough to distort his reflection, make it look like he’s some messed up puzzle where the two pieces aren’t aligned right yet. His haircut came courtesy of his enlistment, so it’s no surprise to him when he finds he can’t style it in any other way besides the military guideline approved gelled parting. It usually doesn’t matter, considering he’s either on base or hiding his hair underneath a helmet, but now he’s standing in this cold bathroom, hyper aware of his looks.

He knows that he’s considered to be handsome. Handsome in a rather generic way, he thinks. He holds none of the rugged appeal some of the girls claim Porco possesses, nor does he hold the same amount of inviting charm Michael seems to waste, since every time he manages to attract a girl, he opens his mouth and they start running in the other direction. His looks are nothing special. This realization wouldn’t bother him on any other day, but when he’s spent two weeks thinking about reuniting with you, in all his plain glory, he feels like heading back to his room and never seeing the light of day again. 

But he’s a soldier, a Warrior Candidate, the next inheritor of the Beast Titan. He brought pride to his family, proved to everyone that he was at least someone worth giving a damn about, and—

—he wants to see you again.

Wanting is proof that he is human. Animals survive on a basis of need. They eat the food that they can hunt because they need to survive. They burrow into holes in the ground or sleep on rocks because they need to survive. They claw at each other, spitting mad, snarling, sharp teeth, bloody paws, all because they need to survive. A textbook from his childhood, a textbook still included in Falco’s curriculum, states that Eldians are more animal than human.

Colt is aware that he’s done lots of things for the sake of survival, out of need, but there is something wonderfully human that continues to live inside of him, an ache in his body that can only be relieved by giving into his wants. 

He thinks back to earlier this week, when Zeke calls for him so they can toss a baseball back and forth to each other. Colt always gets the feeling that Zeke is in a perpetual state of holding back. He’ll talk to Colt and make the occasional joke, drops an insignificant anecdote from his earlier years, all of which are scraps that Colt clings to because it won’t be long until Zeke isn’t here anymore. He’s well aware of how morbid it sounds, but Colt doesn’t view death in the disgusting, grotesque way most people do. He’s sappy. He softens it, like how he softens most things. He likens it to a well-earned rest.

He collects these little bits and pieces of information from Zeke so that at least his memory won’t be buried in the grave with him. He accidentally lets this slip out when they’re done tossing the baseball, and they’re just leaning against the brick ball, enjoying a break away from the other soldiers. 

Zeke had asked him why he cares so much, and after getting his answer, Zeke fumbles around in his front pocket, procuring a lighter and a cigarette. 

After lighting it and taking a long drag, he tells Colt, “You’re a good person, you know.” 

Zeke isn’t the type of guy who says things just to flatter people. In fact, most of the Warriors seem to go out of their way to push their luck and see what types of out of pocket things they can get away with saying. Porco tops all of them, easily. 

“Thank you,” Colt isn’t good at dealing with praise. Most of the superior officers here aren’t keen on giving compliments to Eldian soldiers, and so Colt gets used to savoring the silence in between insults.

“But, you know that memories get inherited, too, right? Can’t remember if they wrote it in the damn textbook or if I mentioned it to you before.” 

“Both.” Colt answers. He remembers, because the camaraderie of it all had sounded so appealing to a young Colt. Later, he realizes that it’s because all blessings come attached with a curse; unimaginable power and a means to do right by the people you love and your state, but you die shortly after. Maybe it’s only fair that memories get passed down, to make up for all the memories you won’t ever get to make. 

“So, what’s the point in trying to remember all the stuff I tell you?” 

The rough exterior of the bricks digs into Colt’s back. “What if not all memories get transferred over? Maybe the ones I remember on your behalf don’t pass over, but since I know them, they get to live on.” 

Zeke appears to be thoughtful for a minute, letting the words sink in, soak him straight to the bone. “Can’t argue with that.” Zeke can actually argue quite well; Colt knows this. What Zeke means to say is that he doesn’t want to argue. Zeke digs into his pocket, pulls out a carton, and offers it up to Colt. 

“I don’t smoke.” 

“Good for you. Don’t start.” The advice seems insincere, since Zeke tosses the butt of his cigarette to the ground and immediately lights up another one. 

Maybe if he had regenerative abilities and didn’t have to worry about black lungs, Colt would also try out smoking. Probably not. His mother is always reminding him to take care of himself and taking up Zeke on his offer of cigarettes would feel like a betrayal to her. 

Zeke is no stranger to smoking. Colt would go so far as to call it an addiction, what with the way his fingers seem to always naturally find their way to a lighter and a cigarette. The smell of smoke clings to his jacket, and you can occasionally see him reflexively twitch his fingers when he’s gone too long without a smoke. 

Colt wonders what would happen if he goes too long without seeing you again. Would his knee bounce anxiously? Would his hands clench and unclench, just from the strain of having to resist the urge to run to your side? He’s not familiar with such a concept; it feels insane to be reduced to nothing but his wants. 

“Do you regret starting?” Colt nods to the cigarette burning in Zeke’s hand. 

“Not really, no.” 

The crunch of gravel being grinded underneath his boots, the way the tiny embers of a persistent flame clinging to the cigarette are immediately extinguished, just from one well-aimed stomp from Zeke, had Colt excusing himself to prepare for his meeting with you.

Thinking back on this, thinking about how Zeke showed no regret over his addiction, his reliance, his sole source of relief, Colt finds the courage to walk out the bathroom and head to the red light district.

“And then he fucking coughed on me!” Alize is an animated storyteller. You can see the disgusted look on her face, almost as if she’s reliving the very scene she’s describing in horrifying detail for you all. As one of the only Eldians working here, Alize gets some of the worst clients. The type to fetishize her for the armband she’s mandated to wear. 

“No!” Margaret gasps, like she is oh-so shocked at such a thing happening, even though this is a very tame thing in comparison to a lot of the situations everyone encounters. All the girls sitting in the circle are laughing, and it feels good, truly, to have a chance to gather like this and rehash traumatic events together like girls gossiping at a sleepover. If you can’t make fun of it, what’s the point of enduring it? 

Nadia is sitting next to you, back slightly hunched, knees pulled up to her chest so her little chin can rest atop them. She’s not laughing, and she’s not sharing her own stories. 

“Why don’t we ever share any good stories?” You ask, and that brings up another round of laughter. Good? In this place? Get real.

But when you’re surrounded by these girls, sitting close together, enjoying each other’s company, it’s almost easy to forget that anything bad has happened here. You want Nadia to see that. 

“I’m being serious, come on. All of us can remember at least one good story.”

“Well, there was that one guy who used to come in and dress me up in lingerie. Brand new panties and bras every week; the good stuff, too. I’m talking lace.” Margaret leans in to the circle when she says this, and everyone’s hooked. Lacy lingerie? That’s a luxury. 

“Mags, that’s not a good story! His wife caught him spending all his paychecks on playing dirty dress-up with you, and she came down here, causing an absolute ruckus!” Delia feels most passionately about this because she happened to be in the lobby when the man’s wife came around, and then got accused of being “that whore.” Delia never lets Margaret forget that she took a slap to the face for her; as if Margaret would ever forget that.

“You know what I’m not hearing? Anything good.” You point out. 

“What are you looking for? A fucking love story?” Alize snickers, before you make eye contact with her, subtly letting your eyes flicker to a hopeless looking Nadia. Alize understands immediately. 

“You know, there is that rumor about that one girl who met her husband here.” Alize starts but is immediately met with interjections.

“Not this again—”

“Get real, Ali—”

“Shut up! I’m telling the story, here, aren’t I?” Alize gives everyone in the circle a warning stare before continuing. “He was a businessman.”

“Okay, businessmen are the worst, I don’t—” You knock your body against Margaret’s, effectively getting her to quiet down so Alize can actually finish her story before you all have to head to your separate rooms to get to work. 

“And he wasn’t looking for love, by the way. Don’t get it twisted, girls. It shouldn’t come as a surprise that men don’t come to girls like us with the game plan of meeting their one true love. Got it?” The reminder seems to be aimed at Nadia, who begins to peek out of her shell at the word “love.” 

“So, this businessman, he ends up at this place because he’s new to the area and some cab driver totally screwed him over. Pulled right outside our lovely little area of the city and robbed him! Now, he’s broke, but looks way too good to be in an area like this. And our girl, Nadia—” The name of the girl who gets the happy ending always changes. No one has any idea how this rumor started; apparently, it always happens to be right before the time the oldest girl at the brothel started. By the time people start requesting for someone to tell this story, it’s usually not for their sake, but for pulling out some other girl from the darkness of this place. Nadia is definitely latching on, allowing herself to be rescued. Even if the story is just a fantasy, it’s still better than wallowing in a pit of despair.

“—she spots him. She’s about to head to our little club here until she spots him. He looked so out of place and like easy pickings. If she didn’t approach him, who knows where he’d be?” 

“Dead in a ditch, probably,” A voice pipes up, followed by quiet giggles.

“Naked, too. You know they would’ve robbed him for anything he had.” Margaret adds in, resulting in another round of laughter. You smile at her response; she’s not wrong.

“Well, isn’t he just so lucky to have met Nadia, then! Anyway, Nadia finds this hopeless case of a man and is like, ‘you’re not from around here, are you?’ and he goes, ‘what gave it away?’, and she says, ‘you’re not unzipping your pants at the sight of me.’ Oh, Nadia. What a class act she was.” Alize sighs. “She takes him to the brothel and lets him go straight to her room, and she tells him, ‘you can spend the night here.’ Of course, he’s a businessman. He knows nothing in life is free. So he asks her, ‘what’ll it cost me?’ And she tells him a price that’s worth three nights of work! He agrees to it, but tells her he doesn’t have any money to pay her right away. Now, Nadia is a little risk taker, because me personally? I’m not doing a damn thing for a broke man under this roof. But she trusts him! Guess he had that type of straight and narrow look about him. Only, instead of sleeping, he strikes up a conversation with her!”

“Now that’s unrealistic.” Delia mutters under her breath. “What kind of a man just wants to talk?”

“And they stayed up all night just talking, and the businessman and Nadia both have never felt so seen by someone else. So, she sends back to the nice side of town, and he comes back during the night with twice as much money as he promised. He starts visiting her every night, bringing her gifts and whatnot, and on the last day he’s about to leave town, he shows up with a ring and, well… It’s a good story. We all know how it ends.” Alize waves her hand in the air like she can’t be bothered to tell the rest. “Clearly there’s hope for us all. Especially you.” Alize reaches over to gently poke Nadia’s leg. “Maybe our little Nadia will meet a nice businessman.” 

She no longer looks like she wants the ground to swallow her up, but it’s not a fairytale from Alize that Nadia is searching for. She looks up at you, searching hard for any dishonesty when she asks you, “Has anything good happened to you here?”

You’ve come to terms with the fact that Colt is never coming back. Even thinking about his name fills you with regret because you gave up a part of yourself that was supposed to remain forever locked away in your ribcage. You haven’t thrown out the ointment or the socks yet; not because you’re sentimental, but because you’re not wasteful. Both items are kept buried in your trunk, though, underneath piles of your more familiar, more worn out pieces of clothing. Pretending that Colt has never walked into your life would protect your heart and state of mind. Admitting to the kindness he showed you would keep Nadia going. You already know what you’re going to say. 

“There used to be a soldier who would visit me and all we would ever do is talk. He didn’t even want to lay in bed.” You can hear surprised whispers from the other girls, but you focus only on Nadia. “He brought me socks and ointment for a bruise I didn’t even tell him I had. He just…had a way of noticing things.”

Nadia is raised within the same cultural environment as your own. Her eyes only further widen at the mention of the gifts he brought you. “And food? Did he bring you food?” 

It sounds silly to the Eldian girls in the room, but you can feel the watchful eyes of your neighbors. You shake your head. “No.” 

“Not yet.” This is the most certain Nadia has ever sounded about anything. “But he will. I know he will.” 

“Get ready, girls!” Willa knocks on the door, signaling to them that the fun is over. It’s time to go to work.

Before everyone can file out, little Nadia grabs your wrist, making sure you stay to hear what she has to say. Everyone is trying to be polite, but they are noticeably crowding around the door but not actually exiting.

“So then the next story girls tell when they want to talk about love will be yours. At least it’ll be a real story this time, too.”

Willa doesn’t enter your room, but she does let you know that someone has booked you for the whole night. 

Pro: guaranteed money.

Con: only a real freak would do that.

You’re not sure what to expect, but you do prepare yourself for the worst. 

If you survived everything before this, you can survive this. 

You repeat the mantra in your head until you get sick of it, and by the time the door swings on its hinges, you are nothing but calm and collected. 

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. 

Fresh, clean, and looking even better than your memories cited him to be, Warrior Candidate Colt is standing in your room. 

“Hi, honey,” you greet him, same as you would anybody else. There’s a sadistic sort of satisfaction that settles in your system when you see a wounded expression on his healed-up face. The sad puppy dog eyes he unknowingly gives you is almost enough to shatter your resolve. 

Good stories don’t come from places like these. There is no man looking for love here. Don’t act like a child and hang on to some stupid hope. 

“Hi,” he says, and it sounds like how people who have their heads underwater for a prolonged period of time gasp for air the moment they’re able to have their head above the surface. Like he needs air, like life is being shot right back into his system. Like how the men from those nights before had groaned those women’s names.

“You plan on just standing there the whole night?” Like a good hostess, you pat down the empty space on the bed next to you. He swallows hard, eyeing the bed, staring at it like he’s remembering the last time he was in here with you. 

“If that’s what you want me to do.” 

There he goes again, with the wanting, with the letting you take control. You want to ask him why he left you alone for two weeks, but that still won’t account for why it hurt you so much. You want him to tell you that he’s sorry, but you know he doesn’t owe you an apology. He’s technically nothing to you, or at least, he should be. You want him to sit down on this bed so you can play with his perfect hair and admire his perfect face and play pretend that this is the type of good story where the man loves the woman, and everything ends happily. You want, you want, you want. 

But that’s not the role you decided on. You are not The Girl Who Wants. You’re a prostitute who calls people honey and doesn’t form any emotional attachments to the men who walk into this room. This character — she knows nothing about bruise ointment and thick socks, the fear of seeing his bruised face, the peacefulness of him sleeping soundly in the bed, the gentle way he whispered your name in the dark, half-asleep but determined to say it still. The curve of his lips, the smile on his features after he said it — none of that has happened to her.

“Oh, come on, honey. Don’t be shy.” You cock your head, looking at him and wishing to see nothing but a stranger in his place. “Don’t tell me it’s your first time?”

Oh, Colt realizes. So this is what it’s like to be stabbed. 

He wonders if he was so insignificant to you that he truly didn’t make a lasting impression. The faint memory of his hair being played with, the careful way you applied the ointment, everything, was all just a fleeting moment in time. What he has spent time savoring, clinging onto, reaching for, has meant nothing.

“I should go.” He blurts out, shoving his hands deep in his pockets. 

What would this character do? Let him go? Let him walk out and celebrate how you have a peaceful night to yourself and you’re getting paid? Tease him? 

“Um, before I do, I just wanted to give you this.” He pulls out a plain black box. When he walks over to hand it to you, you instantly feel the smoothness of the fabric. It’s velvet. Expensive, and it’s not even the gift, just the case it’s in. “If you don’t like it, I can always return it.” He cannot. The jeweler on base had been very adamant that he does not do returns. Kids in the military fancy the idea of marrying young, but if the jeweler accepted every returned ring and necklace that came his way, he wouldn’t have money, just refurbished jewelry. Who the hell wants to buy a returned engagement ring? The jeweler had asked him. Sounds like a fuckin’ curse.

Inside the case is a simple silver watch. It has a thin band, with a tiny face, but it’s shiny and pretty, and it looks way too nice. You hesitantly remove it from the case, only to realize that it has some weight to it, too. Clearly, this wasn’t cheap. 

You look up at him, shocked, surprised. You know you hurt him and if you felt bad for your treatment of him before, you feel infinitely worse now. 

“Time seems very important.” He explains, sometimes staring at his polished shoes as if he’s never seen them before, sometimes letting his eyes flicker up towards your face, almost like he wants to gauge your reaction. “I figured a watch would be useful. To track time. To make sure that no one wastes yours, or tries to claim that they spent less time than they actually did—”

“I love it.” You tell him. 

There’s that pleasant warm feeling he gets inside of him every time you praise him. You like — no, love — something he’s picked out for you! He wants to launch into the story of how he got it, tell you how he spent two hours in that store trying to get it just right, how he’s happy that you like it because he can’t return it. He doesn’t, though. He just gives you a small smile and is about to head back to base until you ask him,

“Why were you gone for so long?” 

You’re in a tiny room, and yet, you want to make your voice even tinier. You say the words like you’re scared they’re going to come alive and punch you in the face. If there is one person in the world who wouldn’t use how small you feel against you, it’s the soldier standing right in front of you.

He drops to his knees immediately. 

“Oh.” He looks like he wants to reach for you, to cradle your face. It’s a military feat, the type of self-restraint he possesses. All those years of depriving himself, of telling himself he’s not allowed to want, are suddenly paying off. “No, no, I swear to you I didn’t stop showing up because I didn’t want to see you anymore. After the last time I was here, I missed curfew, and my commanding officer wouldn’t give me permission to leave until today. Please, look at me.” The last sentence comes out all strangled and pained, like if you don’t, he might just do something stupid, like run out into traffic. 

It is an odd feeling to be the one who looks down on someone for once. He’s so tall, even on his knees and even with you sitting upright on the bed, his eyes are still practically level with your own. Sincere.

That’s what he is. 

You can tell just by looking into his eyes. He may stutter and choke on his words, but his eyes tell you enough. He is pleading with you, he is searching for forgiveness that he should have never needed in the first place, he is everything.

“Colt.” You remember thinking to yourself, how would it feel to hear someone say your name with such rampant desire? You should’ve been wondering, how does it feel to be the one who desires? 

You say his name, and he knows it means forgiveness. You say his name, and he knows it means want. You say his name, and he knows it means something, but he doesn’t dare to dream so big, not yet. 

“You forgive me?” 

It’s hard to say no to someone who looks like that. With the way he’s staring up at you, all hopeful and earnest, you realize that he truly has no idea of his effect on people. 

“Help me put this watch on, soldier. Pretty please?” You get to swing your feet a little, happily extending out your wrist so he can wrap the watch around it for you. 

“Too tight?” He asks you, brows furrowed, focused on the dainty piece. You’ve never realized just how big his hands are. One of these nights, you’re going to convince him to let you take a finger and trace the whole entire expanse of his broad hands. 

Colt handles things gently. You wonder if it’s hard to be so soft and caring all the time, especially when he so clearly has a soldier’s hand. All rough calluses and thick fingers. Maybe being soft and caring is just in his nature. His chemical makeup is all sugar. 

“Nope. It’s perfect as is.” 

He clasps it for you, a tiny, satisfying click locking it in place. He takes a seat next to you on the bed, and it creaks under his weight. 

“Did you really think I just left you?” He sounds hurt, and once again, the overwhelming feeling of not being a very nice person comes back to hit you in the face. 

You try to think of how to properly word it in a way that wouldn’t make him feel any worse.

“In my line of work, it’s usually the man that does the leaving. I’ll still always be here, so I guess that makes it easier to find me if they ever decide to come back.” You shrug, like it’s just that simple. Judging by the wounded look on his face, it’s clear that you weren’t successful in your task to not make him feel any worse. 

Colt normally doesn’t have an issue with speaking without thinking. He’s always been held to a much higher standard than any of his other peers, and he’s always used to treading carefully. But he can’t seem to help himself whenever he’s around you; you look at him, and all his carefully constructed self-restraint evaporates.

“I can’t imagine anyone wanting to leave you.” 

You think back to your group of giggling girls — sisters, or at least, the closest thing you will ever get — and how it’s in all of your instincts to look out for one another.

Be careful of the smooth talkers, Alize always warns you all. They seem like they’re the nicest men you’ll ever meet. They’ll fatten you up with sweet kisses and hope, only to let you down in the end. You’ll say, ‘but Alize! He would never hurt me in the same way all these other men do!’, and I’ll tell you right now, he might not hit you or choke you or even call you filthy names, but no matter what he does, he’s going to find a way to disappoint you. To reveal that he is not sweet. 

And that betrayal is going to hurt the worst.

Just a couple of days with Colt, and his absence left you desperate, lonely. Who’s to say that he just won’t leave you again? You search his eyes, looking for a hint of dishonesty, for uncertainty, for boredom — anything that will tell you that he doesn’t mean what he said. That he’s just talking. That this is all just a game, a soldier wanting to stir up a different kind of war. 

Survival instincts, a choice to be made: fight or flight. 

You’ve seen your fair share of handsome men. Believe it or not, attractive people frequent brothels too. You don’t normally make a habit of studying your clients, but Colt’s face is so close to your own, and the last time you had a chance to look at him in such close proximity, he had clearly just lost a fight. 

The tall bridge of his nose is slightly crooked, noticeable only when you stare at him too closely and for too long. It looks like it was broken and the doctor hadn’t cared to make sure he was even straightening the bone when he fixed it. The tips of his blond hair hang over his forehead, casting tiny shadows, adding dimension to his face. His eyes aren’t the plain brown they appear to be. There are tiny flecks of lighter hues, almost golden, little rays of sunlight filtering his point of view. 

You don’t want to go about life always in a constant state of survival. You want to live.

“And are you? Going to leave?” A challenge. A soldier pulling back the safety on her gun, hands shaking, but the barrel is still pointed straight at him. Finger on the trigger.

“Only if you want me to.” 

Disarmed.

Colt’s finishing up a retelling of his first kiss. You think it’s cute how he gets so easily embarrassed, and it doesn’t help that you keep asking questions he doesn’t anticipate, prolonging the story. 

“Was she cute?” You ask. You’re laying on your belly, body spread comfortably over the mattress. Colt resigns himself to the floor, sitting criss-cross applesauce. The floor must be cold and uncomfortable, but he doesn’t seem fazed in the slightest, and it makes you wonder about his training. 

You think about Colt’s life a lot. He’s the most open and honest person you’ve ever encountered, and sometimes, you forget that all you have to do is ask him, and he’ll tell you.

“She was considered to be pretty, yes.” 

“Diplomatic answer!” You point at him, laughing. Happy. “Did you think she was cute?”

“I did.” He says, looking down immediately after, playing absentmindedly with a piece of lint on the floor. 

“You did? Well, gee, what happened to her?” Colt doesn’t seem like the type to judge based on physical appearance. You think about Willa’s scars, and then picture them on your face. Would Colt still look at you the same way if your face’s flaws were staring back at him, head on?

“Nothing. She’s actually married now.” 

“Oh. So you don’t have a thing for married women?” That seems like the type of respectful mannerisms Colt would possess. The more time you spend with him, the more you realize that he truly is a good man. Not for glory, not for praise, but good for the sake of being good. 

“Sure.” He doesn’t tell you that no woman looks attractive to him after he’s seen you. It would sound sappy, or even worse, disingenuous. “Let’s go with that.” 

You narrow your pretty eyes at him, almost like you’re trying to appear stern, to get him to give in and tell you the full answer. Instead, you relax your face, the left side of your cheek pressed against your arm as you stare at him sideways. “I bet you’ve been with a lot of pretty girls.” It’s supposed to be a teasing remark, but to your ears, you are nervously aware of the hints of jealousy creeping in your tone. 

“My bunkmates will have you believing that.” It’s a running joke within the soldiers to make fun of Colt. One year, a list got exposed, where the girls in all the units voted on who they thought was the most handsome soldier. Colt had won by a pretty wide margin. A landslide victory. He had stayed hidden in his room, only leaving when absolutely necessary, for a whole week. 

“Tell me about your first girlfriend.” 

“I never had one.” Admitting it out loud to you makes him feel like a loser. 

“So you’re a—”

“No!” He’s blushing. “I—”

“You totally seduce women into warming your bed every night, and then you kick them out! You probably don’t even wait ‘til the morning! You make them leave right after you’re finished!” The exaggerated accusation makes you laugh, and you can’t stop because the horrified, distressed look on his face is so cute, it’s so obvious that what you said is far from the truth. The satisfaction you feel from Colt’s unchanging relationship status makes you feel gross, like you’re an awful person for taking pleasure in having him all to yourself.

You’re aware, of course, that the two of you haven’t even touched, save for your fingers on his face that one night. In the future, Colt is probably going to marry some beautiful, blushing bride, and he will have forgotten all about you. Foolishly, you cast aside those self-preserving thoughts, the ones that warn you not to get too attached. It’s been so long since you didn’t have to share with anyone else; who can blame you for wanting to take all of Colt’s attention? 

“I would never!” He exclaims, his indignation endearing.

As stoic as your soldier appears to be, you know the truth: Colt is a reactive person. You can read him from the way his brows are furrowed, or from the rush of blood and heat to his cheeks and ears, or even from the imperceptible movements of his fingers, of his hands. Colt is one hundred percent alive — full of life. Brimming with it. Overflowing with it, and sometimes, you get lucky, and you get to snatch up some of the excess, jar it, save it on the cold, dark nights where he can’t come and see you.

“I know.” You’re smiling at him. 

In fact, you would tell him that you’re damn near certain that he gets a big fat A-plus for aftercare. You can tell how  a man will treat you by how he handles everything else. Colt is careful with his hands, with sure and steady movements, and he treats fragile things gently. You think about how it felt to have the tips of his calloused fingers brush against the palm of your hand when he brought you the ointment, how it felt like a shot of adrenaline. 

Feeling pity for him, you toy with the threadbare sheet underneath your body. You want to look him in the eyes when you tell him this, so he knows you’re not just playing coy or teasing him. You want to fill him up with the same sincerity he seems to effortlessly give to you. 

Colt is deceptively cute; with his flushed expression and defensive stance on his character, it is too easy to overlook the fact that he’s a soldier, built for battle, bred for war.

Being honest is scary. You don’t know how he manages it every second of his life.

“I’ve never been kissed before.” 

Colt doesn’t know what to say to that. You don’t even know what you’re expecting him to say. 

“I hope it’s good. When you do get kissed.” He tells you. “You deserve to have it be good.” 

Oh. You didn’t know that this was what you wanted to hear until he went out and said it. 

“We’re going out for drinks tonight,” Pieck says, with her body draped all sorts of way across the couch. Lounging. Like a cat, Colt thinks. 

Porco pokes her back, and she shoots him a lazy, half-assed glare with no real venom behind it. “You’re takin’ up all the space on the couch.” 

“I just got back from an assignment. This feels comfortable.” As if doubling-down on her decision, Pieck shimmies her body, getting more settled in. Colt feels like she’ll sink into the cushions if they leave her unattended. 

Porco grumbles something, and then speaks up when he asks, “What’s the point of going out for drinks anyway?”

“It’ll boost morale.” Pieck says. “We captured an enemy port, and soldiers were sent back home. Might as well go out and celebrate.” 

“The port we captured was tiny and not worth a damn.” Porco points out. 

Pieck ignores this very factual statement. “All the Eldian units will be going out tonight. There’s no harm in attending.” 

“Whose idea was this, anyway? For all we know, this is a Marleyan officer’s ploy to get most of us too drunk off our asses to notice them ushering us into a navy ship so they can shoot us out of cannons.” 

At the beginning of the Mid-East War, Marleyan citizens were hopeful that this would be a conflict resolved swiftly and succinctly. With the two year anniversary and no end in sight, the effects of war are starting to settle in the country. More posters are being hung up about not wasting food or precious resources, more colorful pamphlets filled with propaganda are being delivered to schoolhouses, and every week, organizations are taking up donations to help cover military costs. If Porco doesn’t shut up, a Marleyan officer might hear and take him up on the offer; it’ll save on ammunition costs, at least.

Seeing Porco’s stance on the invitation (a pretty obvious rejection), Pieck turns her attention to Colt. “You know, there are some Eldian nurses who would like to meet you.” 

“He has a girlfriend. I told you this already!” Porco interjects. 

“Is that true?” She asks Colt. “You have a girlfriend?”

Now Porco’s staring at him. Colt feels very much like he’s being put on the spot, and he doesn’t enjoy this feeling one bit. 

“Well, she’s a girl. And I would say we’re friends.” 

Porco groans. “Don’t be so pathetic, Grice.”

If Pieck was feeling up to it, she would have slapped Porco on Colt’s behalf. Instead, she tosses him a lifeline. “You could bring her to the bar. Girlfriend or friend that’s a girl; whatever she is. It’ll probably help you out if your plan is to not get approached by girls tonight.” 

Colt latches on, grateful. “Sure. I’ll ask her.” 

He does ask you, albeit not as smoothly as he initially plans on. He wants to toss out the question, all casual-like, like no big deal, but I was wondering if you wanted to get drinks with my friends and fellow soldiers? 

What ends up happening is that he starts rambling. Somewhere between his nervous declaration that “it’s entirely your choice, and I don’t want you to feel obligated” and his speedrun of his relationship with everyone attending (“Porco only sounds like that, but he’s a nice guy when he tries, so just don’t take anything he says to heart”), you laugh.

He doesn’t know what it means to you, the fact that he doesn’t mind being seen with you. In front of, not just strangers, but people that he actually sees when the sun is up. 

“Well, with a business pitch like that, how could I say no? What night are you taking me?”

“It’s tonight.” Colt says, and you just stare at him, like he’s from a different planet. “Does tonight not work for you?” He knows that he bought all your time for tonight, just in the hopes that you would say yes. 

“I’m not dressed appropriately to go out to a bar and meet all your friends!” You point at your nightdress, the almost-translucent gown that would glow in the moonlight, if only you actually had a window in this room. The clothes that you wear on your way to the brothel are folded neatly in your dresser next to the bed, but somehow those feel like rags compared to what you’re sure his friends and their girlfriends are going to be wearing. 

“I could walk you home first, and you could change.” He suggests helpfully, but the idea of Colt stepping foot in your camp only serves to add to your panic.

“No!” You wince when you realize how loud you got, how harsh it sounds. “No, we can’t go to my place. My brother is probably sleeping, and I don’t want to bother him.” Again, it’s not a lie. But as the weeks go by, as months pass by, you are aware that you are falling deeper and deeper into Colt’s pull. Having him stand inside your home feels too intimate, like you’ll be past the point of no return if this were to happen. 

“That’s okay.” He tells you. “I don’t care what we do. I just want to spend time with you.” 

Right when you think he can’t pull you any deeper, he says something — says it so sincerely, too — that grabs you by your ankle and tugs you back to his side. You let yourself get pulled away.

“I have a change of clothes here.” You say, pulling open the dresser drawer. Colt looks like he’s about to say something, but then you start yanking your current nightgown over your head, and after taking it off yourself completely, you’re still only met with silence.

His back is turned to you. 

“Is something wrong?” You ask him, daring to step a couple steps towards him, even going so far as to brush your fingers against his shoulder, a silent plea for him to turn around.

“No.” The word comes out sounding tight and tense. 

“Colt, did I do something wrong?” 

He shuts his eyes even tighter, willing himself not to turn around. The ghost of your touch lingers on the surface of his shoulder, and the flash of skin he glimpsed at before he realized you were undressing lives rent-free in his mind. Are you still undressed right now? The thought of you being near naked, saying his name so sweetly, is torturous. 

“No. You didn’t do anything wrong at all.” He breathes out. He tries to focus on mundane things. He tries to think about the slop they served for lunch on base. He tries to think about tossing a baseball back and forth with Zeke. He thinks about Porco, who chews with his mouth open and burps without warning. 

“Then why aren’t you looking at me?” 

You do something to him. He doesn’t know what, isn’t sure if there’s a word in the dictionary that would properly describe it, but you do. 

“You’re getting undressed. It wouldn’t be…proper of me to look.” 

You didn’t think hearts could feel this way, with this tightness that surely isn’t good for your health. He says the silliest things sometimes, and it gives your tummy a nervous, fluttering feeling. All the men who have seen you naked don’t even know your name. Colt is standing here, knowing more about you than all of those men combined, and he won’t even look at your body. You wonder if he would turn around if you asked him to.

You wonder if you want him to.

Scared of what your answer might be, you’re quick to throw on the dress you originally left the house with, awkwardly smoothing it down even though you don’t think there are any wrinkles. 

“You can look now.” 

He turns around slowly, almost like he’s afraid that you’re tricking him, but then he takes you in. Takes in the faded yellowness of the dress, and the peek of white cotton that sticks out from your shoes because the socks stop right above your ankle. He likes seeing you dressed in colors, he decides. If this is how good you look in the dark, he can only imagine seeing you in the daylight. You’d have him frozen in the middle of the street with just a single glance, he reckons.

“You’re beautiful.” 

He says this, and it strips you naked. Not in a way that you’re used to, either. You feel seen, like he sees everything about you and still isn’t disgusted. You’ve been called a lot of things, but never beautiful. You think you could continue living in this wretched brothel for the rest of your life with just the memory of this high to keep you going. 

“So, you’re the girlfriend,” 

You know, instinctively, that this is the “Porco” Colt had attempted to warn you about. You adjust the thick jacket hanging on your shoulders. It’s a cold night and a long walk from the district to the bar; you don’t know how Colt didn’t freeze to death in just the thin long sleeve he wears underneath his military uniform. 

“Is that what he told you? That I’m his girlfriend?” 

“Not explicitly. But it was implied.” Porco does not mention that it was certainly not implied, but rather was an idea that he kept forcing upon Colt, and really, no one likes arguing with Porco. It’s best to just go along with whatever he says and hope he gets bored and leaves you alone. 

“It was not implied,” someone new enters the conversation, taking the stool next to Porco. She’s a very pretty girl. A flash of white-hot envy burns in your heart, sizzles down to your stomach, makes you hyper-aware of your body and sense of self. She’s sporting a red armband, same as Porco. 

“Hi.” She smiles at you, soft and incredibly friendly. “I’m Pieck.” 

You smile back, too afraid to open your mouth and accidentally say something wrong. Colt is on the other side of the bar, trying to calm down the rowdy soldiers who are all repeatedly screaming at him to take a shot. They had dragged him away from you the moment the two of you entered the bar together, and he shot you such a panicked look that you realized you would have to be the strong one and remain calm. 

As if feeling your gaze on him, he turns around. Locking eyes with him from so far away, in such a public space, makes this feel even more real. The weight of his jacket keeps you grounded, makes you not slip off the stool because you’ve never seen him look at you so intensely. 

“Shot! Shot! Shot!” Cheers erupt from the crowd of soldiers as they gleefully watch Colt finally take the damn shot. You watch the way he tips his head back, the way his angular jaw seems sharp enough to cut, the way you can see him swallow down the alcohol. The small glass looks impossibly tinier when it’s being held in his hand. 

You don’t realize how hard you’re watching him until loud laughter breaks your concentration.

“I can’t believe it! Grice really does have a girlfriend. Or, at least a girl who likes him.” Porco wipes at the corner of his eyes, as if he’s been laughing so hard, tears sprang up. Pieck rolls her eyes at her friend’s antics, mouthing out an I’m sorry, before tugging on Porco’s arm. 

“Let’s go. You’re being annoying.” She shoots you an apologetic look. “He’s drunk. And probably jealous. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but he doesn’t exactly get as much attention as Colt.” 

“Hey, I’m still here!” He grumbles. 

“It was really nice meeting you. I hope we’ll get a chance to meet again.” As she drags Porco away, you catch snippets of their conversation. Mainly from Porco, whose loud voice seems to boom over every other loud noise in this bar. 

“She’s not Eldian. What the hell is Grice thinking?”

The warm buzz of happiness from tonight dissipates. Porco isn’t wrong; you aren’t Eldian. This hadn’t seemed like such a major issue up until now, and before you can get up to try and get some fresh air, to regroup and think about what your next move should be, Colt appears. 

“Hi.” He says, cheeks pink. He’s been drinking some more. If the soldiers put as much effort into fighting as they do in goading Colt Grice to drink his weight in alcohol, the Mid-East War would have been over a year ago. 

“Hi.” 

“How are we doin’?” His words come out a little slurred, sliding off his tongue but getting jumbled up together in the process. 

“I’m doing fine. I’m not so sure about you, though.” You poke his stomach, but are only met with the feel of hard, taut muscle underneath the fabric of his shirt. 

He frowns. “I’m happy you’re here, y’know. But us — how are we doing?” 

“I think we’re doing just fine, too.” You gesture to the stool next to you. “Take a seat, soldier. You look like you’re going to fall over any second now.”

He ignores your suggestion, still frowning. “You’re lyin’. What happened?” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about right now.” 

“Every time something’s wrong with us, you make that face.” He shakes his head. “I like everything about your face, don’t get me wrong, but it’s this look you give me. Like you hate starin’ at me, like it makes you sad. And every time you give me that look, you say something, like callin’ me ‘honey.’” 

You thought men were supposed to be oblivious creatures. You feel like Colt Grice is the first person to notice everything about you, and you thought you would hate it, the feeling of being utterly exposed, and maybe it would be, if it were anyone else. But it’s Colt. For a soldier, he hasn’t turned anything into a weapon against you yet, and you’re starting to think that maybe he never will. 

You decide to be just as unfiltered as he is. 

“I’m not Eldian. Your friend pointed it out.” 

“Who did?” And then Colt turns around, his movements loose and a bit unsteady. “Who said that to you?”

“It wasn’t an insult, Colt.” You play with the sleeve of his jacket. “He was probably just being realistic.” 

“Porco.” Colt says this flatly. “Porco told you that.” 

“No, he told it to Pieck when she was dragging him away. I don’t think I was supposed to hear.” 

“But you did. And now you’re having second thoughts.” 

“I’m not, it’s just—” You tighten his jacket around your shoulders once more, breathing in the familiar scent of the soap he uses. “I wouldn’t fit into your perfect life. I know you’re popular around here, that girls are lining up to date you.” Your sentences come out shaky. Vulnerability sucks. You never want to grapple with it ever again. 

“Hey,” he says softly. His hand reaches up to cradle your face. You can feel the warmth of his hand pressed against you, gently tilting your head until you’re staring up at him. His thumb caresses the top of your cheekbone. He thinks you feel softer than you look, and he doesn’t think it’s possible for you to be made out of flesh and bone, like a regular human. He thinks you’re made of something softer, sweeter, otherworldly. Like a cloud, or cotton-candy. He’s so, so scared that he’s going to blink, and you’re going to disappear. 

The overwhelming urge of want kicks him right in the stomach. He wants to kiss you, wants to feel the shape of your lips and see how they align with his. He wants to bundle you up in his clothes, this senseless want making his brain act all possessive over you. 

“Here I am, thinking I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you.” His thumb traces your cheek. 

You think he’s going to kiss you now. You think you’re not going to stop him. 

A loud crash comes from nearby. Two men sitting further down the bar are getting into it now, and as if his body forgets that he’s drunk, Colt moves quickly. He instinctively moves his body in front of yours, shielding you from any potential danger. He assesses the situation, eyes narrowing at how more people seem to want to pile on top of the men. 

“I think it’s time we called it a night.” Colt mumbles, helping you off the stool and pressing you to his side as he guides you to safety. 

“Do you want me to walk you home? Just to make sure you get there safely. I won’t interrupt your brother’s sleep, or anything.” He asks you, taking special care in making sure that you don’t accidentally trip on anything. It’s dark outside, after all. 

“You can just take me back to the brothel. I normally walk back home with the other girls.” You try to stifle your yawn, but of course he notices. 

“Let me know if you get too tired. I can carry you back.” 

If he kissed you, you would have definitely let him. You would have even kissed him back. 

You know it’s supposed to be a cold night, but with his jacket draped over your body, you don’t feel a single breeze.

“Ramzi! Stop throwing stuff around! I just cleaned.” You chastise your brother, refolding his blanket and placing it inside his trunk. 

“I don’t get it. Why are you cleaning so much?” He mumbles, crossing his arms and pouting at you. You’re in too good of a mood to let his attitude bother you. Instead, you pinch his cheek, already mourning his future loss of baby fat. 

“Because someone is coming over to visit.” 

Colt’s jacket is folded neatly, freshly washed and even ironed. The night he took you out to the bar seemed to have solidified your relationship with him, or at least, it eased any leftover doubts you had. Colt Grice is a good man.

And he wants you. You! It’s been a week since the night at the bar, and Colt keeps telling you that he doesn’t need the jacket back, that he doesn’t mind you wearing it, but you’ve been searching for an opportunity to see him again. Rather than just flat-out admitting to him that you want him — trust him enough — to finally see you in the comfort of your own home, you like to mastermind situations, just to test his receptivity. 

When you tell him, feigning a nonchalant attitude, that he can stop by the camp and pick up his jacket, you try to gauge his reaction. He can’t even contain his smile, which makes you drop the whole “cool” act and smile right back at him. 

Your fingers brushed against his as you passed him the piece of paper detailing where he could find you. Before Colt, you figure you could spend the rest of your life never being touched by another man again and be just fine. After feeling the contact of his skin touching your own, always innocently, always fleeting, all this want started building up in your body. You’re overflowing with yearning. The only consolation you have is knowing that he feels the same way. 

Porco is an opinionated person. Colt is well aware of that. Sometimes, it even feels like Porco goes out of his way to be as reactionary as possible, just because he likes to push people’s buttons. 

“Did you hear about the Eldian couple that went missing? Brass doesn’t even give a single shit. The officers assigned to the case are just dicking around.” 

Occasionally, though, Porco will have a point. The world is most likely ending when that happens. 

“I’m not too surprised. Some officers don’t take missing persons reports seriously.” The answer is about as opinionated as Colt dares to get. Ever since childhood, he’s had the sinking feeling that he’s always being watched. For all he knows, the whole entire base is bugged. 

Porco makes a disgusted face. “You mean when it comes to missing Eldians, they don’t take the reports seriously.” 

Colt doesn’t correct him, which in and of itself is a confirmation of Colt’s stance on the matter. Seeing that complaining about the situation isn’t going to change anything, Porco sighs before continuing to walk alongside him. 

“Where’re you going so early in the afternoon? You’re going to miss lunch. Heard it might actually be edible today.” 

“I’m visiting someone.” 

“The girl.” Porco shakes his head. “When are you gonna give her up, man? I’m not saying it to be an asshole—” That would be a first, Colt thinks. “—but get real. Are you seriously going to mess up everything for a Marleyan girl?” He at least has the decency to whisper the last part, lest the two of them get taken out back to get shot in the head. 

“Porco,” Colt says calmly, trying to hold in his laughter. “She’s not Marleyan. She’s a refugee.” 

“Well, fuck!” Porco whacks Colt’s shoulder. “Good for you, Grice. Knew you weren’t that stupid.” 

Colt certainly feels stupid. He looks over the note you gave him, but no matter how many times he rereads it, he still can’t find your tent. 

There are people outside, walking, laughing, kids running and playing make-believe. Honestly, it’s a similar scene as any other neighborhood in Liberio, Eldian or Marleyan. The only difference is that instead of pavement and sidewalks, it’s nothing but green grass and a sparkling lake in the distance. He knows that the living conditions might not be ideal, but taking in the camp and viewing it under the sun, it looks peaceful. Like home.

He can see why you wouldn’t trust just anyone to enter.

He ventures further into the camp, but all the tents seem to blur and blend in with each other. Most are mainly built with some type of white cloth, but the whole place seems to be bursting with color. Different colored curtains dot the landscape. He spots people rolling out intricately designed rugs. He smells spices sizzling in a pan. 

He’s acutely aware of the watchful eyes of everyone around him. Colt is no stranger to public scrutiny, but it feels different this time around. He doesn’t want to do anything that would make them hate him. You told him, once, that everyone here knows your name. He knows that that’s important to you, which means that these people are important to you.

Colt pauses, tries to take in his surroundings, ground himself. Maybe word will spread that there’s an idiotic soldier traipsing around people’s backyards, and hopefully it’ll reach your ears and you’ll halt the manhunt for him. A reasonable person would ask someone for help, but he’s aware of how he’s viewed. For all he knows, reaching out would do more harm than good. Believe it or not, he knows when people are scared of him. 

“Excuse me, are you looking for someone?” A tiny voice pipes up, and Colt looks down. There’s a girl speaking to him, with wide eyes and a long braid running down her back.

“I am, actually!” Colt places the paper back inside his pocket. “Do you think you can help me?” 

“You’re looking for a brothel worker, right?” 

Colt wonders if you’ve ever spoken about him to anyone else. He doesn’t need to wonder why he likes the idea of that. 

“I am.” 

The stares get more intense when he has this girl skipping by his side. She tells him her name, Nadia. He tells her that’s a very nice name, and he means it.

“Did you bring her food?” She asks, sounding eager. 

He didn’t, but now he’s thinking he should have. Are you hungry? Is he supposed to bring you food? He had been so excited at the prospect of seeing you, of getting to be with during the day, that he didn’t think much about anything else. 

Before he can answer, you’re sticking your head out the tent, smiling brightly.

“Colt!” 

Breathless. That’s how he feels. 

He thinks you were made to be seen in the sun. 

“You found me!” Your smiles come easily when you’re at home. He wants so badly for you to always be like this: happy and carefree. 

“Nadia helped.” He nods to where the girl should be standing, but she had already sneaked off the moment she saw you come out. “Should I have brought food?”

“Oh, that’s just… It’s a cultural thing. From our country. Don’t worry about it.” You grab his hand, tugging gently. “Come in, I’ll give you a house tour!” 

He follows you, but he’s thinking over your words. Since you told him to specifically not worry about it, Colt knows that he is going to spend many restless nights doing the exact opposite of your request. 

The tent is spacious. The way it’s arranged, it’s comfortable to stand in, even without fear of your head hitting the ceiling. The carpet cushions the hard packed earth underneath, and there’s a wooden table in the middle. You’re watching him closely, trying to catch the first signs of disappointment or disgust, but all you see is pure curiosity. 

“Well, one thing ruins the whole place.” He says, shaking his head like he’s sad he has to say this. “It’s so ugly, I can’t believe you left it in here.” He picks up his jacket, wrinkling his nose. “Seriously, I’m surprised you didn’t toss this outside.”

You laugh, relief flooding through your veins. “You’re the most unserious soldier I’ve ever met.” 

“I don’t believe that. I’ve seen the state of our military.” He slings his spare jacket over one shoulder. He’s not sure what you had planned for today, but he’s hoping you want to spend it with him.

“They should make you their leader, then. I think you’d straighten them all out.” Reaching for his hand comes naturally to you, and he doesn’t ever say anything when you slip your fingers in between his. Walking back out to camp, Ramzi comes barreling towards the two of you.

“Ramzi, what’s wrong?” You immediately crouch down to hug your brother, who’s gasping and panting for breath. 

“You can’t marry this soldier! You can’t!” Peeking his head out from the embrace you have him in, Ramzi’s eyes narrow at Colt. 

“Ramzi!” You pull back, shocked. You’re clearly embarrassed, and Colt wants to tell you that there’s nothing to be embarrassed about, but he’s not sure if that would actually help. “Why would you say that?”

“You promised Malik you would marry him!”

“I— Ramzi, go inside. Now.” Your voice is shaking. Nerves. Anger. Panic. You know that Ramzi looks up to Malik. The minute you told Ramzi that a friend, a Warrior Unit soldier, would be coming, he had been excited. He ran out, in search of the toy soldier figurines he let some other children borrow because he wanted to present them to Colt. 

You’re not sure when discussions of marriage came up.

It’s true that Malik intends on proposing. For a while, you even accepted it, resigned to your fate. Nothing was ever official, but he had been the one to make sure that you and Ramzi were taken care of when you first landed in Marley. He brought you food during times when there wasn’t even enough for his own family to eat, and before you started at the brothel, he always took care in securing you clothes and blankets. He watches over Ramzi, just like he would his own little brothers. You don’t think you’re capable of love, not in the romantic sense, and you’re fine with that. True love is a rare commodity, and you’ve been living in survival mode for so long, you didn’t even see the point in searching for it.

Besides, you could do much worse than Malik. 

On the night when Ramzi was sick and the sounds of his sniffles started mixing in with the memories of those men and their groans of those unreachable women’s names, you weren’t in the mood to talk. Malik had been sitting on the ground, tea cups sitting on the table. He stayed up, watching over Ramzi, as promised, but also to make sure you would make it home and so he could have a chat with you, as promised.

You sit across from him, tucking your feet underneath you. The tea brewed at the camp isn’t as strong as Willa’s, and you regret not drinking what she offered you. The cup Malik slides over to you pales in comparison. It’s cold, you realize dejectedly, when you take a sip. It’s cold, and bitter.

“We’ve known each other for a long time now.” He clears his throat, looks you in the eyes. “You must know my intentions?” 

“What intentions?” 

You’re not blind. You know Malik is handsome, with his tanned skin and dark curls. He fills out his shirts well, from all the manual labor he does around the town, twelve to fourteen hour work days depending on how fast it gets dark outside. As far as options go, Malik might be the best person to shack up with.

“I would like for us to get married.”

Colt had been gone. The bad part about having someone take up space in your heart is that you realize what an empty organ it is when they disappear. At this moment, you’re exhausted, and cold, and you don’t want to talk anymore. You want to curl up next to Ramzi, and sleep this whole entire year off, and maybe, if you’re lucky, you won’t even wake up. 

“The proposal ritual. Are you saying you’re going to go through with that?” 

“There’s only one last thing to do, right?”

He says it in a way that makes you feel like a whore. You don’t waste your time daydreaming because there’s simply no point in it. Sometimes, though, you give in. Close your eyes. Picture a nameless, faceless man as your husband. When your husband fucks you, you think sex will be different. It’ll be making love, even. The euphemism always made you giggle; how corny, you would think to yourself. Call it what it is: fucking. 

But wouldn’t it be nice to want to feel someone’s touch and know that they love you? 

No. People in love are always the corniest people in existence. You think infatuation must cause some horrible imbalances in the body and brain or something, because the moment someone meets their One True Love, they start acting irrational. All the girls in the brothel made a pact: if one of you ever falls in love and starts acting a fool, you all have permission to slap the offending girl out of it.

In your culture, a man proposes through a series of tests. Considering the circumstances, the elders are willing to acknowledge the bare minimum. First, the man must present the girl with clothes and then food. It proves that he’s a provider. Then, the potential couple lays together. When she lets him in her bed, it’s her acceptance to the proposal. 

“Three months,” is what you tell Malik. “Three months, and I will give you my answer.”

The deadline for your answer is fast approaching. There’s barely three weeks for you to decide whether or not you allow Malik into your bed. Three months ago, you considered your answer to be a reluctant yes. What else could you say? No? You thought about it, thought about spending the rest of your life living on your charm and resilience. How much longer could you survive in the brothel? Youth and beauty sells — not old, damaged goods. Now, when you brush the grass stains from your skirt, you look at Colt and feel conflicted.

You need to give Malik an answer — and soon. Before Colt re-entered your life, you knew what you needed to do to ensure survival. Now, you know what you want in your life. Needing versus wanting. Surviving versus living. 

“Want to walk me to an exit?” Colt offers a hand to help pull you up. You can’t read the expression on his face, and you realize it’s because he’s purposely working hard to shut you out. You can’t even be upset with him for it.

The two of you walk together in silence. 

“It’s not official.” You offer up, when you can’t take it anymore. You’re not a very talkative person, but it feels weird to have something hanging over the two of you, left unsaid. Even if he never wants to see you again, you want to lay it all out. 

“Your brother seems passionate about it.” Colt points out. 

“Ramzi doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” 

A beat.

“If it’s not official, there’s definitely something unofficial going on, though, right?” 

“I guess.” 

“Is he nice? The man giving you an unofficial proposal?” 

“He’s Malik.” You say flatly. “He is… The best option.” Your only option.

“But does he treat you well?” Colt presses. 

“What does it matter?” You snap, stopping so you can turn to face him. You will not cry. “Who cares if he’s nice?”

“It matters because it’s you! I care, I want to know that you are living well. That you get the life you deserve.” He doesn’t raise his voice, but the intensity of his words wraps around you, squeezes you tight. 

That’s the issue with Colt, you think to yourself. He makes it so damn hard to hate him. 

“Maybe I do deserve this. Maybe this is as good as it gets for me in this life.”

You turn your back on him, heading right back to your tent. You will not cry. Colt is so stupid. He probably thinks marriage is built on silly things, like love. You will not cry.

Putting one foot in front of the other takes a tremendous amount of effort, but you make progress. When you think you’re a far enough distance to not run immediately back to his side, you dare to turn around.

He’s still rooted in the same spot you left him, staring at you with the most wounded, tortured look you’ve ever seen on a person.

When you’re so far that your figure becomes a tiny speck in the distance, and then that tiny speck disappears, only then does Colt move from his position. He continues to walk, hands shoved in his pockets, staring at the ground. He only looks up when he feels a presence.

“Did she say no?” Nadia asks him. 

“Didn’t even stand a chance.” He smiles sadly at her. It makes sense that you would have suitors lining up to propose to you. Official or not, Ramzi seems certain that it’s a sure thing between you and Malik. Colt feels the pressure of his armband on his bicep. Who was he trying to fool, anyway? It was stupid of him to even bother in the first place. He kicks a rock, watches it skip down the slope of the land. 

“I don’t believe that.” She says. “I think she likes you a lot.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Nadia.”

“I’m not just making things up! I know if you proposed, she would marry you. She would pick you over any other man in the world!” She pauses. “It’s because you didn’t bring any food.”

“She’s upset with me because I didn’t give her any food?” Colt raises an eyebrow. You didn’t seem hangry. Nadia’s childlike conclusion is refreshing, though. If only things were that simple. He would bring you dinner, and everything would be settled. 

“You gave her socks, and I saw her wear your jacket.” Nadia points to the one slung over his shoulder. “Now, you bring her a big meal to prove that you can provide for her and keep her well-fed, and then she invites you to bed.”

“She doesn’t have to invite me to her bed.” Colt quickly looks at everything but Nadia’s earnest expression. 

“You would do all that for her for nothing?” She shakes her head, like she thinks he’s an idiot. Maybe he is. “That’s how you propose. You provide, and then you show her your devotion in her bed, and then she decides if she wants to spend her whole life with you.” Nadia eyes him up and down. “I think she would like your devotion very much.” 

Colt has no answer to that.

“Were you burning something?” He asks instead, nodding to the large bonfire that has fizzled out. All the remains are burnt pieces of wood and ashes. 

“Oh, no!” Nadia gasps, rushing to it. She grabs a stick and pokes at the pile, but nothing happens. “This isn’t supposed to happen!”

“What’s the matter?” 

“Usually, there’s a roaring fire here, so people can gather here and try to warm up during the night. It was harder to get wood these past few days, and they keep sending the men out to work earlier and earlier. I guess the fire was built too fast, and now it’s gone.” She tosses the stick to the ground. “By the time the men get back, it’ll be too dark out to go to the woods and collect enough kindling to get a large enough fire starting.” 

Colt glances down at his watch, then looks up at the sun still hanging high in the sky. 

He’s got time.

By the time he hauls all the dead wood he can find, he’s well acquainted with both the campground and the surrounding woods. Nadia eventually gets a cart on wheels from one of the older ladies, and she brings it to him so he doesn’t have to constantly walk back and forth for small hauls. 

Once he collects all the kindling necessary, he gets to work on starting the fire. He’s sweating, and he thinks Magath would be proud — or as proud as Magath can get, anyway. Today was supposed to be a free day, and here he is, tossing off his military jacket in an attempt to cool down. 

Wearing only his undershirt, Colt takes the ax Nadia offers him, and he begins to chop away at the logs. He wants a decent stash for them, so that way on the days they can’t collect wood, they’ll still have this stockpile. When he gets the fire going, a crowd has already started to form around them. They cheer when they watch the flames grow higher and higher, and for once, Colt almost forgets about you and Malik. 

And then he catches you in the crowd, and the pleasure he feels from not being hated or feared by the people in this camp evaporates. 

Women are approaching him. He catches snippets of their gratitude, their invitations to bring him to their tent, the not-so subtle remarks on their unmarried daughters. He smiles at them, but he doesn’t stop moving until he’s standing in front of you. He didn’t even consciously think about it; his feet just guided him there.

“If I marry him, I won’t work at the brothel anymore.” You tell him. 

As if sensing this is a private moment, the crowd disperses. It’s all an act, though. They’re clearly trying to eavesdrop. Neither of you seem to care.

“That makes sense.”

“If I don’t work at the brothel anymore, I won’t ever see you again.” 

“So this is goodbye, then?”

“That’s not what I’m saying.” 

“But we’re never going to see each other again.” He points out.

“If I marry him.” You point that right back at him.

“Are you going to marry him?” 

This seems to be the direction you planned the conversation on heading towards. He’s never seen you so shy, so demure. This nervous silence, the reluctance, it doesn’t suit you. He wants you to confront him head-on, in your usual bold manner.

“Do you see a future with me? One where I’m not the girl who you have to pay to meet in the shady part of town?” His answer determines your answer to Malik. 

“I already don’t see you in that way. You’ve never been just the girl I pay to see.” A glint of silver catches his eye. It brings him back to the sparring match, the one with the Marleyan boy who brought the knife to his face. It’s not a blade, but something on your wrist.

The watch. You’re wearing the watch he gave you. 

“But a future.” You press. “Do you see a realistic future for us?”

Colt’s never given much thought to the immediate future. Most of the time, it feels like his life has been planned for him since the beginning. The cards he’s been dealt with aren’t the greatest hand, but he feels like he makes it work. He doesn’t complain, doesn’t wince, doesn’t go insane. He doesn’t even ask the universe for much. Even when he does make a wish, it’s always for the benefit of others.

If he closes his eyes and pictures a future with you, what does he see? Church bells, and you dressed in white? Kids? No more barriers between the two of you, no more fronts. In an ideal future, you are happy, and you want him by your side. 

Things can’t ever be that simple, but damn it, he at least has to try.

“Yes.” He takes a step forward. The setting sun causes a warm glow to be cast on your face; it envelopes your whole body, actually. You are radiant. He thinks he should tell you that and then wonders if that sounds corny. Probably. He figures he’s said plenty of dumb, cheesy stuff already, and you’re not backing away from him. 

“Radiant?” You repeat, giggling softly. 

You wonder what you look like from his point of view. Colt Grice stares at you in a way no one’s done before, and his refusal to look at you when you’re half-naked comes to mind. He looks at you, and he undresses you, but it’s not clothes he’s trying to take off. He’s peeling layers of your masks, making you shed your faux skins all over the place, in some insignificant corner. Colt Grice stares at you, and he sees you, and it makes you feel special. You’ve spent a majority of your life feeling like gum stuck on the bottom of someone’s shoe, only worth their time when they’re scraping you off, swearing at what an inconvenience you are. 

You notice the watch on his wrist, and you’re pleased to realize that it looks similar to your own, just wider. More masculine. Like “his and her” goods. The feeling of being special only grows. 

“Colt.” You’re going to do something very stupid now. You’ve been feeling it for weeks now, that feeling of him pulling you past the point of no return. If you do this, you know that you’re never going to be able to give him up. Everything will change afterwards. Somehow, the thought of that doesn’t seem as scary or daunting as before. “Can I kiss you, please?” 

This is a real shining moment, Colt thinks. He’ll remember this forever, and when he inherits the Beast, he hopes that this memory gets passed down for all generations. Even if nothing else gets remembered, this certainly will leave its mark on history. 

Your lips are soft, and he tastes something sweet, and he wants to savor it, savor you. He keeps himself in check, forcing himself to not deepen the kiss, and then you’re pulling back from him. 

So this is what kissing is all about, you think to yourself, touching your lips. 

Confession time: sometimes you feel like you don’t know how to be human. You think you spent so long always on edge, always afraid, that you’re starting to forget the fun stuff about being alive. Your job is to do what people are supposed to consider the most ultimate act of intimacy, and you spend all your time disgusted by it. Dissociating from it. Perfecting the art of detachment. 

You give him nothing more than a simple, chaste kiss on the lips. Not even a second (you would know; you feel for the tick of the watch against your wrist). But it’s enough to charge you, leaves you feeling wired, electrified. 

Alive.

You’re aware of your neighbors witnessing this scene. You almost forgot about them, too focused on the man standing in front of you. You watched him, the flex of his muscles and the way he selflessly spent his time to help out the camp. He didn’t have to do that; he doesn’t owe them anything. You think you broke him for a second, turning your back and leaving him like he was nothing. He had every right to just walk out of here and be done with this camp for good. 

But he didn’t. And if he can do that, you can put a stop to Malik’s proposal ritual. You won’t let him in your bed. You won’t let him in your heart. You won’t let anyone in. 

The lingering effects of the kiss still rests on your lips. You don’t realize how hungry you are until you get a tiny taste to whet your appetite. You like kissing, you decide. You wonder why the hell you haven’t done it before.

Colt’s grin is so wide, it makes it hard for you to not try to mimic that happiness. Smiling comes easy when you’re with Colt. It’s like his shiny disposition is infectious, contagious. 

No. You know why you’ve been saving your kiss, your name, the space inside your life, all of it—

—all of it was reserved for this golden soldier.

Colt is still riding the high of the kiss — of the kisses — you gave him. 

Maybe this is finally the universe turning his luck around. Good karma. Every ounce of good he’s done in this lifetime, and he’s finally cashing out. You kissed him. You kissed him. You kissed him.

He can’t even wipe the dopey grin off his face as he checks back into base. He feels like Michael, like he wants to swing his arms and whistle silly tunes. He thinks he could get punched in the face right now, and not even feel a thing. The next time he sees you, Colt decides, he’s going to bring you a feast, and then he’s going to kiss you like a man going off to war.

His spirits are still high as he enters his bedroom, ready to lay down on his bed and relive those kisses over and over again until exhaustion takes control of his body, but he pauses when he sees the thick cardstock folded on his bed. 

It’s closed, sealed with wax that has the Marleyan military coat of arms imprinted on it. He rips into the paper, eyes scanning over the letter quickly. He sees what he’s searching for, letting the paper drop to the ground. 

Fuck. So much for good karma.

This letter serves as your official deployment orders from the Marleyan Military. You are hereby directed to join the offensive operation aimed at capturing Fort Helena. Upon receipt of this letter, you are to report to the designated assembly point where you will receive further instructions and join your assigned unit. Your role in this operation will be briefed in detail upon your arrival.

It is imperative that you prepare for immediate deployment. Ensure your personal affairs are in order, and report with full combat readiness.

#colt grice x reader #colt grice x you #aot x reader #snk x reader #fluff #angst #smut

[chosoluv]

Number 88

Reiner Braun x Reader | Smau | Fame au | Sports au

Pairings: Reiner Braun x Reader, maybe more?

Contains: Fluff, Angst?, Curse Words

Taglist: Wide Open 😍

After a “thirst” tweet at a certain number 88 goes viral y/n is thrown into a “forbidden” romance with her closest friends “enemy”.

Or

A silly sports romance between y/n, a very popular beauty influencer, and the Marley Warriors star tight end.

TW :

Ongoing

Started: 07/23/23

Latest update : 08/05/23

———————————————————————————

Profiles

Yn + Friends - Reiner + Friends

———————————————————————————

Chapters

Zero - the accident

One - “hey haha”

Two - “what’s the worst she can say?”

Three - “thanks ☺️”

Four - “old people emojis”

Five - “balance is restored”

Six - “someone humble him”

Seven - soft launch?

Tba

———————————————————————————

Taglist (ask or dm to be added)

: @quiveringdeer @0mint-chocolate0 @tacobellfreshavocado @hanjiii914 @ncentic @soraya-daydreams

Bold cannot be tagged

Masterlist

#attack on titan #aot fanfiction #aot #aot smau #attack on titan smau #attack on titan fanfiction #attack on titan reiner #reiner x y/n #reiner braun #reiner x reader #reiner fanfic

[marofdawn]

Hi!

I’m currently writing a Levi Ackerman x Reader fanfic if anyone is interested in reading :). I post on AO3 and just recently published on Wattpad. I’m trying to become more active on other platforms, so if you’re interested, I’ve attached the links :)

Title: In Another Life

Summary:

"Maybe things could have gone differently between us in another life."

You were an Eldian born and raised in Marley to become a warrior. Becoming one of the strongest warriors in the Eldian Warrior Unit, you were given the chance to become a titan inheritor, that was, until one mistake caused you to lose the opportunity and tarnished your family name. In order to redeem yourself and bring honor back to your family name, you were given one very important task...

To kill Levi Ackerman.

#levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x female reader #levi ackerman smut #attack on titan #aot #aot x reader #levi aot #shingeki no kyojin #Levi

[love-fictional-ppl]

Helloooooo

She's not on your masterlist but I was wondering if you could write for Pieck Finger ? 👉👈

Have a nice day/night. :D

Ofcc!! Tyyy for the request babes!!! Idk if you had anything specific in mind so I’m just going to write headcanons. If you wanted something else pls lmk and I will write it🙏🏻🙏🏻

Being in a relationship w/ Pieck Finger

Summary: the title😭

Pairings: Pieck Finger x gn!reader

Warnings: anything Marley needs a warning, mention of marriage and children, inequality (it’s Marley what do you expect)

She love taking naps on your chest, it doesn’t matter where you are if she’s tired and your chest is available.

Forgets she’s not in titan form a lot, so you have to remind her to walk on two feet

If you’re a Eldian civilian than she doesn’t like to tell you about her day as a warrior (she also would want you to marry her so you can be a honorary Marleyan)

If you are also a warrior than she probably breaks down to you more than if you were a civilian

Was super nervous to have you and her dad meet, not because she thought you wouldn’t get along but because you’re both the most important people in her life

Whenever she comes back from a mission you’re the first person she wants to see

If you’re a warrior than she will get super worried about you on missions and probably get distracted a bit

Honestly she would love cooking together I feel like, she would get a little smile on her face and laugh when she sees the mess you both made

The kids all want to be invited to your wedding

All the fellow warriors are super supportive of your relationship. Even commander Magath is supportive

He probably called you both eldian slurs

Porco will fight for the place of godfather over your possible future children

When she was in Paradis she wondered if you both could live a normal life like the people within the walls (as normal as it gets)

Loves when you both just lay together and talk about your future with eachother even if it’s a unrealistic one

When in town if she sees something she knows you like she will grab it for you, forget she grabbed it, and then give it to you

You both don’t argue often but when you do she wins the argument.

Overall Pieck is a 10/10 girlfriend and will beat somebody up for you

#attack on titan #pieck finger #aot #aot x reader #aot pieck #pieck finger x reader #attack on titan pieck #snk pieck #aot porco