#shingeki no kyojin fics

[blondeboyfriend]

𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐒 (𝐈𝐈)

[panel reads from right to left]

« Part 1 | Part 3 » [ PAIRING ] Zeke Yeager x f!reader [ SYNOPSIS ] Zeke loses his mind because monarch butterflies have taken roost in the trees by his house and he is tasked with keeping an eye on his little brother. You lose your mind because your crush on him is becoming too much to bear. [ WORD COUNT ] 2.6k [ CONTENT ] High school AU, butterflies, Eren being a menace but in a cute way, snow cones, a kiss, blue texts are from him + green are from you.

bugs, your opinion? what jind of bug? kind* a really cool jind you’ve never heard of stop. wHAT BUG? b u t t e r f l y that’s not a bug what’d you do? read about bugs last night? It’s pretty obvi that butterflies aren’t bugs

"So you're the bug expert now, huh? Queen of bugs? Should I call you if I see a weird one instead of asking strangers on Reddit?"

You stood in the middle of your bedroom, phone in hand, the wood flooring chill against your feet. At this point in your friendship it was typical Zeke behavior to send you a series of vague texts and subsequently accost you with an exasperated phone call. You were surprised he became so comfortable with you so fast. He seemed so elusive initially, so mysterious.

"Do you... Do you actually do that?"

There was a pregnant pause between the two of you. You heard him clear his throat on the other end of the line.

"Listen I do a lot of shit on Reddit, kiddo. Also who the fuck says 'obvi' anymore?"

"Whatever. Why are you going off about butterflies?" you asked.

He mockingly gasped.

"You're joking, right?"

Your face grew warm. What could he be talking about? Was he going to ask you out? You shook your head, freeing yourself from the notion he'd pursue you in such a way. You were friends, pals, buds. You rode your bikes through the suburbs late at night. You hung out behind old churches, snacking on candy while he chain smoked. You talked about how dumb it was that people bought each other stars and how overrated the Catcher in the Rye was. Zeke's distaste for J.D. Salinger was unparalleled. It was awe inspiring in a "I just turned 18 and this is so deep" sense. You couldn't help but admire him.

"No," you conceded.

"I'm so disappointed in you."

"Ouch. My heart."

He sighed, realizing he was being a little shit. "The monarchs are hanging out in the eucalyptus trees by my house."

"What do you need me to do? Help you harvest and eat them?” you snickered.

“Gross, no. Open your door.”

A pebble thudded against your window. You peered out and saw Zeke standing there in his baseball uniform. You rarely saw him in normal clothes. He jumped up and down, and waved at you, nearly dropping his phone as he did so. His excitement was always palpable when he saw you.

You ran down the stairs and slid across the floor, gliding past the door. You groaned as you walked backwards to align yourself with it and turned the knob. The door barely opened before Zeke came bursting in.

"Harvest? Consume? You’re fuckin—Wait, is your mom home?"

You shook your head. Zeke liked to be on his best behavior when your mother was around. She wasn't particularly strict or judgmental, but he refused to swear in front of her. He compulsively ate mints and always made sure to come by with a half-dozen maple bars, her favorite doughnut.

"Are you insane? Do you know how incredible it is that this shit—" He pulled out his phone and showed you a picture of Eren running away from a monarch butterfly, "—is still around?" He handed over the pastel pink box. The smell of maple icing filled the room.

"You shouldn't talk about your brother that way," you said, pulling one out of the box much to Zeke's chagrin.

He snatched the box away from you.

“They’re usually gone by February. I don’t think I’ve ever seen them during the summer.” He glanced down at your shoeless feet. "You're so slow. They'll be dead before we get there."

"Oh my god. Hold on. You didn’t even give me a chance—”

You stuffed the doughnut in your mouth and grabbed a pair of sneakers. They were a rather old pair. The soles were worn down, the tread nonexistent. Once blindingly white now a dingy grey. You slipped them on with relative ease. They hugged your feet like a bodycon dress from the early 2010s.

"Of course you don't untie them," Zeke scoffed, as he grabbed your arm. His hand was heavy and callused, but still gentle.

"Let go of me, butterfly boy," you teased, not bothering to pull your arm away.

Across the street from Zeke's house was a grove of eucalyptus trees. Their astringent scent filled the air. The tide was high, hindering any sulfurous stench that could mar their clean aroma. They were tall, the tops barely visible. You marveled at their height even though you had certainly seen taller trees. The redwoods were frighteningly large with their colossal trunks. They seemed almost monstrous in comparison to the lanky eucalyptus trees that gracefully swayed. You and Zeke took a deep whiff while Eren complained in the background.

"It smells like pee."

"Eren," Zeke said calmly.

"Like yellow pee."

"Stop."

Zeke’s patience waned.

"Like you need to drink some water pee."

It didn’t take long for his patience to dissipate and be replaced with utter irritation.

"Eren!"

It was rare for Zeke to raise his voice. You'd only ever heard him do it when he was on the phone with his parents; though he mostly spoke to Carla in a polite manner. Eren pouted and walked off in the opposite direction, swinging a large eucalyptus branch. It whipped up dust in his wake.

"I hate yelling at him. I always feel like such a dick after."

"Well he was being annoying."

"Doesn't mean I have to yell."

You plopped down on the ground in the shade; Zeke joined you, resting his head on your shoulder. A coastal breeze swept through the trees. You stared up at the colony of monarch butterflies as they ebbed in the wind. They clung to the waxy, oblong leaves looking like little clumps of orange and black flowers.

You shivered and pulled your olive green windbreaker tight around you. You hated the random days in July that were tormented with clouds, the kind that dappled the blue sky like soot. Zeke draped an arm around you.

"I'm sure he'll be fine. I mean, look at him," you said.

You pointed over to Eren as he rolled around in the dirt, cackling like a maniac. He looked like a chinchilla taking a dust bath.

"Doesn't matter. That's not the kind of person I wanna be."

"What kind of person do you wanna be?"

Zeke went quiet for a few seconds, though to you they felt like hours. Had you asked the wrong question? Crossed a boundary? Finally, he spoke.

"Steve Buscemi."

"What?!"

Zeke avoided serious conversations by bringing up non sequiturs. Anytime you broached something too existential he misdirected you, anything to avoid talking about his lack of identity or his daddy issues.

"Why does sparkling water taste weird after it goes flat?"

"Do you know how easy it was to fly before September 11th?"

"I just poisoned us. The anecdote is listening to Macintosh Plus in my bedroom. Hurry!"

"You ever been to Pyongyang, kiddo?"

"Who's your favorite dude from the Kids in the Hall? The only answer is Bruce McCulloch."

Zeke was an open book, but with a few key pages ripped out.

You studied his face, desperate to find a crack in his facade. He turned his head towards you. His grey eyes cursed with despondency. They were a dead giveaway when he was conflicted. You fingered a rough eucalyptus seed and shoved it in your pocket. You figured why not avoid some fleas while you tried to navigate this conversation.

"Steve. Buscemi. Are you not familiar?" he asked, adjusting his glasses.

"I know who Steve Buscemi is."

"Prove it."

"He's the guy that gets fed into the wood chipper in Fargo."

"Precisely."

"Are you saying you wanna get fed into a wood chipper?" you questioned, voice weighed down with anxiety.

"Maybe. Would you miss me?”

"Wood chipper?!" Eren exclaimed.

Zeke sighed and stood up, mussing your hair. Eren leapt off the ground and brushed the dirt off his knees. He sprinted over and wrapped himself around Zeke's legs like a boa constrictor.

"Violence isn't the answer," Eren said, his voice muffled by Zeke's pants.

"That's funny coming from you, Mr. I Poured Kerosene Down an Ant Hill and Lit It On Fucking Fire."

"He did what?" you asked flatly.

You knew Eren was a little turd, but you didn't realize he was apt to commit crimes against bug humanity.

"They were coming into the house! Mom found one in her coffee and screeched." He looked up at you; his green eyes couldn't have been any bigger. "Screeeeeeeched!"

"Seems like overkill to be honest," you quipped.

"It's us or them," Eren lamented.

“Didn’t Carla just explain nuance to you?”

“Didn’t you talk to my mom about how to talk to gi—”

Zeke blushed and clutched Eren’s head to his leg, trying to muffle his voice.

“What did you talk to Carla about? Gills?” you asked, feigning ignorance.

“Hahah!” Zeke’s laugh was painfully staccato. “Yup!”

“Hm, bugs and gills. You’re a bit of a weirdo, Zekey Poo.”

You held your hand to your chin as if you were deep in thought. Zeke rolled his eyes and let go of Eren.

Eren stuck his tongue out. “Your pants taste like fabric.”

“I should fucking hope so.”

"Aw, you’re getting grumpy," Eren teased.

Zeke’s mouth was a thin line. He was stone-faced, almost like Rodin himself sculpted his visage. His eyes were dead, lifeless, the color of ash. Embarrassment and discontent had sucked any semblance of joy from them.

"Wait no, he's crumpy. Crabby and grumpy, just like dad."

You couldn't help but laugh much to Zeke's annoyance. You nudged him, hoping he'd lighten up but he remained as he was. A monarch butterfly lilted to the ground and twitched pathetically in the dirt.

"Alright, that was thoroughly depressing. Come on, you’re going back inside.”

Zeke trudged towards the house with Eren still clinging to his leg; you followed close behind. You wanted to think of something fun to do now that it was just going to be the two of you.

“Snow cones, Zeke. I want one.”

“I want one too!” Eren cheered.

Zeke gritted his teeth. “Maybe next time.”

“But I wanna get one with you guys now.”

“You should have thought about that before you started calling me made up words like crumpy.”

"I'll never eat anything blue raspberry. That looks radioactive," Zeke chastised.

The two of you sat at a mint green table on the boardwalk. You licked your neon blue snow cone. The syrup started to drip from the bottom of the cardboard, leaving your hand sticky with sugar.

"Oh, and green apple looks any less nuclear?"

"You ever hear about Cherenkov radiation?"

“I haven’t.”

“Well it’s—”

You interrupted him. “I don’t remember saying ‘Oh, Zeke, please tell me!’”

He held his arm at a strange angle, trying to avoid snow cone dripping down his sleeve.

“But I love telling you things without consent,” he said, voice almost cracking as the saccharine liquid made its way to his sleeve. “Oh, that’s perfect, just beautiful.”

You stifled a laugh. It occurred to you that openly laughing at a friend’s misfortune could be perceived as rude, or even malicious. You cleared your throat and cautiously bit into your snow cone.

“You’re lucky you’re cute when you do that, kiddo.”

“Bite into a snow cone?” you asked, chomping into yours.

The second your teeth made contact they stung pain, it reverberated throughout your head. You wailed as you were overtaken by brain freeze. Unlike you Zeke didn’t stifle his laughter. He guffawed openly, bringing unwanted attention to the situation. You sunk down into your seat, setting your snow cone on the table on its side. The agony stripped you of any sense; it didn’t even occur to you that your snow cone would leak all over. Zeke got up, tossed his snow cone in the trash, and quickly grabbed what seemed like a pound of napkins.

“Next time you suggest food I’m ignoring you. Or I’m gonna make you pick something less fucking drippy.”

“Fair enough,” you said, picking up your depressing mess of a snow cone. “I need to wash my hands.”

Zeke held his hands out in front of him. “Ugh. Me too.”

After ditching the messy snow cones the two of you wandered around, searching for a bathroom. It was a thankless task. Most places sold overpriced wares and demanded you purchase something to use the bathroom. It was understandable; the area was a tourist trap. There would be endless lines trailing out of the little cafes that dotted the streets if the businesses were more lax. Beachgoers who thought they were too good for the porta potties would coagulate in the entrances. A disaster in the making.

“I mean, like, I get it. But I also don’t wanna spend $7 on a single scone so I can wash my hands,” you said.

“Could go buy hand sanitizer,” Zeke suggested.

“It’s not the same,” you replied solemnly.

“You sound so wistful. It’s like you’re reminiscing about an old lover. Should I be jealous?”

You playfully kicked Zeke in the shin.

“Hardly. They’d never compare to you.”

“That’s… Uh, I—Oh, we could walk to the beach and use those shitty sinks!”

Zeke grabbed your hand, hoping to drag you towards the beach. But you yanked it away just as his fingers grazed your skin.

“Wait. I need to tell you something.”

He gulped.

“It’s bad, isn’t it?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Well, fuck, kiddo. Out with it then.”

“I like you.”

“Who?”

You nervously tugged at your hair. There was still time to backtrack. You could have said just kidding or by “you” I mean Steve Buscemi. But you froze, eyes were flooded with panic. You went to speak but nothing came out. The confession wasn’t supposed to happen like this. You had a plan! You wanted a late night drive up to the mountains. You wanted to stare up at the stars while you both lazed around on a blanket. Zeke would be smoking and talking about something dumb like lo-fi hip hop, and you were going to pluck the cigarette from his mouth and kiss him like they did in all those ridiculous teen movies. It was so cliché, but warm, summer nights were made for that kind of stuff.

However here you were, hands sticky with sugar standing on the sidewalk as tourists strutted by complaining about how packed the boardwalk was. The sun beat down on you, the clouds finally subsiding. You wanted to cry. How could you have managed to set yourself up for failure this bad? You wiped your eyes with your sleeve and tried to gain composure.

“Uh, no one,” you finally choked out.

Zeke rolled his eyes and pulled you towards him. He cupped your face with his hands and planted a kiss on your lips. He pulled away rather quickly.

“Holy shit. My bad. I, uh, should have asked. Fuck, why didn’t I ask?”

“It’s… I don’t care.”

A smile crept across your face which allowed a wave of relief to wash over Zeke.

“You don’t?” he asked.

“No… I mean, your hands left my face sticky which is absolutely disgusting but other than that I don’t give a fuck. No. Wait. I mean, I do. I do give a fuck because I, you know, like you… or whatever.”

You wrapped your arms around him and gave him a little peck on the neck.

“You’re going to wipe your hands on me, aren’t you?”

“I think I earned that right,” you said smugly, wiping them on his back.

He awkwardly kissed your forehead; his soft lips lingered.

“I suppose you did, kiddo. I suppose you did.”

#zeke yeager x reader #zeke jaeger x reader #zeke yeager fics #zeke jaeger fics #zeke yeager fluff #zeke jaeger fluff #aot fluff #snk fluff #attack on titan fluff #aot x reader #snk x reader #attack on titan fics #shingeki no kyojin fics #.fics #.aot #.zeke #x reader #reader insert

[misserikacourt]

Love Murder One

“O-oh, yeah…I’ve read it a million times. It’s one of my favorites, too,” the man answers, and Jean turns his attention back to the smaller as he speaks. That might have been a mistake on his part, though, because he’s completely captivated by the crystal blue eyes of this pretty stranger as soon as his meet them. “Are you looking for anything in particular?”

“Ah, just something spooky. ‘Tis the season, ya know?” Jean asks with a half-hearted chuckle. God, he’s so embarrassing.

“Yeah, October always gets me in that kind of mood, too. Are you looking for suggestions?” The blonde asks, and Jean raises his eyebrows. He’d thought that this man would cringe at his prior words and just move on. Stop talking to him altogether and find another section of the bookstore to browse until Jean left, but instead, he seemed more interested in speaking with him.

“Uh, sure. I’m open to any suggestions you might have. Um, I’m Jean, by the way. What’s your name?”

“I’m Armin. It’s nice to meet you, Jean,”

Read more on Ao3

Spooky season is in full swing, so have my attempt at a spooky Jearmin fic. It'll have multiple chapters, so hopefully, I can get it done before Halloween! Mind the tags! I'll be adding more as the story progresses!

#Jearmin #Jean Kirstein #Armin Arlert #Spooky #Halloween #Spooky Season #Erika Writes #My Fics #Serial Killer Armin #Multi-Chapter #Horror #Graphic Violence in Late Chapters #Mind the tags #Attack On Titan #AoT #Shingeki No Kyojin #SnK #Attack On Titan Fics #Shingeki No Kyojin Fics

[nelapanela94]

Your back is pressed to his chest, his face buried in your hair. Peaceful breaths brush past your lips, your shoulders rise and fall. Levi wakes up first, reluctant to peel off you. The white gown is crumpled on the floor, his bow tie hangs from the doorknob. With a light flush grazing his cheeks, he recalls the events of last night, curling toes, forehead to forehead, the exchange of afterglow kisses, the giggling and whispering until your eyes drifted close. This can’t be a dream.  You’re here, cocooned, and safe in his arms, the first thing he sees when he opens his eyes.  

He reaches for your hand under the blanket and the cold metal is the there, bracing your ring finger.

Wife.

His wife.

The only fool who’d take him as husband. The only one who could see through his eyes.

If only he could tell you. His vows dripped from him in a stutter and flustered mess.

He loves the finesse with which you do things; he loves your smile, your velvety laugh, the spark in your eyes when you talk about your dreams, your superpower to see the good in people.

You deserve the best of this life, everything, and he promised to give you all of himself so that you will never miss anything.

You stir in his arms, groaning as you hang from the end tail of your dreams. A weak chuckle bursts from him, and he nose-bumps you on the head, dropping I love you’s to your ear.

"It's too early."

"Go back to sleep." he coos.

"You're not leaving, are you?"

He holds you even tighter. "Never."

#levi ackerman #attack on titan #aot #levi attack on titan #snk #shingeki no kyojin #snk levi #levi aot #levi x you #levi x reader #Levi ackerman x you #Levi ackerman x y/n #levi fic #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman fluff

[ponury-grajek]

canon events

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #zevi #zeke jaeger #levi ackerman #I was reading a fic once where Levi treated him exactly that and I think it's hot af #also very canon

[i8ickygrl]

（⭒ ˘˘）ᵎ🖋️➞﹕size kink 🪷

featuring: character insert- imagine whoever you want! warnings: size kink, no protection, cumming inside, hickeys(?? idk lol), pet names (princess, baby, babe, pretty girl), lemme know if i missed anything proofread(?): kinda authors note: aaahhh first fic! this was supposed to be a drabble about reiner about but then i got carried away and couldn't choose who to make this for. leave a like or a reblog if you can. also, please leave requests! thank you for reading, lovey <3

“you’re so fucking pretty.” he runs his hand through your hair and gently pulls you away from the kiss. his lips and chin are shining softly from your lipgloss. you let out a small giggle in your blissed out state and wipe away the gloss on his lips. 

oblivious to you helping him, his hand, still placed in your hair, gently pulls your head to the side. he starts at your ear, licking a small stripe over it before kissing the lobe. his deep pants and moans never going unnoticed. his free hand softly pats your thigh, a signal you didn’t have to think twice about. you place both you hands on his shoulders and fix yourself to straddle his lap. 

your hands take time to explore his broad shoulders. you reveled in the contrast of your size as your small hands traced over the perfect dips of the muscles in his arms. you carefully snake your fingers underneath his white tank top, then taking the opportunity to feel his upper back. you suck part of your bottom lip between your teeth, the feeling of his chiseled form under your finger tips beyond aortic. 

his lips have made it to your neck now, pecking and licking over the skin as if he’s actually kissing you. his hand, preciously on your thigh, effortlessly wraps around you waist. you moan sweetly at the feeling of his body overtaking yours. you snake a hand behind his neck and into his hair, gently stroking your thumb over him.

you push his head impossibly closer to the skin of your neck while throwing your head back in pleasure. unlike your boyfriend, you hadn’t noticed the arch in your back and the slight grind in your hips, the thin fabric of his boxers doing little to hide the way his dick jumps.

“so needy for me, huh baby?” his voice alone sent shivers down your spine. his strong arm began guiding your waist to a smooth and sensual grind against him. you bring your head back down, level with his ear, and continue to grind against him. the kisses on your neck become more desperate now and his groans aren’t as quiet as before. 

“babe…”  the sultry moan is all he needs to understand exactly what you needed. he lifted his head from your neck, admiring the hickey he left there. he firmly grips your waist with one hand and cradles your head with the other before laying you on the pillows behind you. he adjusted his body above you, now on his knees with you laying in-between him, your legs on either side of his waist.

growing impatient, you lift your legs from around him and make quick work of sliding your cotton shorts off. with your legs in front of his face now, he takes hold of your ankles with one hand and moves your legs to the side so your face was now in view. he softly kisses at the skin on your ankle while his other hand smooths over you stomach and squeezes your breast, all while keeping eye contact. 

you throw your head back and sigh in pleasure, placing your hand on top of the one that was on your breast. when your head falls back down, your eyes take notice to the veins in his arm as his finger moves over your nipple. your eyes slowly move upward, making their way to his shoulder, watching the way his bicep flexes as he moves. you clench desperately around nothing and whimper, “s-stop teasing.”  

he chuckles darkly before letting go of your ankles and positioning them around his waist again. you place your hands on his knees and watch intently and his hands make their way to his boxers. the imprint alone making your pussy impossibly wetter. he gives himself a view tugs before pulling his boxers below his length. you watch as it slaps against his stomach and he lets out a quiet hiss, his hand goes to stroke the length again but you whine out a ‘wait’ and take it into your hand. he watches as your hand struggles to wrap around him, gently stroking up and down while flicking your wrist.

“gotta…prep you, baby.” he struggles to maintain his composure watching you pleasure him. 

he places his thumb over the fabric of your underwear, about to circle around your clit, before you protest with another whine. “’s gonna take too long. i can’t wait anymore.” you take you hands off of his length and bring them to his wrist, looking up him in through your lashes and pouting.

you watch him think for a second before he sighs in defeat.

“fine.” he agrees, not being able to say no to you. he moves his body so he’s properly positioned in missionary and your legs bend and open wider to make room for him. watching him move your underwear to the side and position his length to enter you, you know the stretch is gonna hurt. but it’ll be sooo worth it.

one hand on his dick and the other on your waist, he rubs himself over your pussy to gather all your wetness. when he feels there’s enough, he finally pushes his tip right against your entrance allowing it to inch slightly into you. before he can fully sink in he takes your hand and pins it next to your head, giving you something to hold onto. he leans forward slightly so your foreheads are almost touching and begins easing his length inside of you.

you both let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding as he slowly bottoms out inside of you. your face scrunches up from the sting and you suck in a breath, tightly gripping his hand. distracting yourself, you ogle at the way your clit pressed right up against his short patch of pubic hair leading up to his happy trail. with his cock pressing deliciously against the walls of your pussy, you grind against him to get the friction you desperately craved.

“ready for me, princess?” he questions, already knowing the answer. you shake your head yes in response and he gives you a small peck before beginning to grind into you. 

you wiggle you hand out of his grip and quickly move you hands to his broad shoulders, pulling him closer to you. his hand wrap around your waist and you arch off the bed in response. he tucks his head in the dip of your neck as his hips stuttered, finding the smooth pace he set hard maintain with how tightly you were squeezing him. he lifted his head over yours to see your eyes lolling shut as you writhed in pleasure. his name sounded like honey rolling off of your tongue in between moans and whines, your lips swollen from how long you’d been kissing before.

“fuck it.” he mumbled before grabbing your waist and pulling your hips to meet his thrusts. you screamed out in ecstasy as his dick rubbed right against your g-spot. he hissed as your nails dragged down his back, secretly loving the burn. the sound of your ass meeting his hips grew louder and quicker, competing with the sound of your moans.

“so big… ’s so big!” you rambled. he looked so fucking good right now. his eyebrows were knit together in concentration as bead of sweat began to form of his forehead. the feeling of his body fully towering over yours made you feel numb. you could feel the pit of your stomach twist, your orgasm threatening to come at any second. 

“gonna cum for me, pretty girl?” he could feel you pussy clenching him, trying to milk him for everything he could give. the only response you could give was a small nod, too occupied with feeling his arms flex underneath you hands and the filthy sound of your pussy gushing over his length.

“do it, baby. cum all over this dick.” your eyes closed as he continued to coax you to your climax. 

“show me how good i’m making you feel.”

“make a mess for me, baby.”

your legs shook violently as he gave a few more quick and deep thrusts before you finally came around him. he was right behind you, throwing his head back and moaning your name and he filled your pussy.

after a few moments for both of you to catch your breath, he looked between you both and slowly pulled himself out. he admired the ring of your slick around the base of his dick, before gently pushing on your lower stomach and watching his cum spill out of you and cursing under his breath.

“you’re so nasty” you giggle as you lay your arm over your eyes. 

“you know you love it.” he says simply, bending down to kiss one of your breasts.

#💌! lanis fics #attackontitan x reader #attackontitansmut #aot x reader #shingeki no kyojin #eren x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren x black y/n #eren x black reader #connie springer #connie x black reader #erwin smith #erwin smith x reader #erwinxreader #reiner x reader #reiner braun #reiner smut #aot onyankopon #ony x reader #onyankopon smut #onyankopon x black y/n #onyankopon x reader #jean kirstein #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirschtein smut #aot headcanons #jujutsukaisensmut #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #gojo x reader

[peachdues]

working on the Levi smut in Coalescence and godddd this man makes me feral.

Over the years, Levi had found one of the more irritating aspects of his time with the Survey Corps was just how starved its soldiers were for entertainment — for anything that would offer even the slightest moment of respite from the horrific violence of their often short lives. Often, that entertainment came in the form of gossip — who was fucking who, who’d fucked over who, and who was wanting to fuck whom.

Levi himself had been the subject of some of these rumors — thankfully, only the wishful ones, as he’d taken great care to not do anything that might give the little motormouths more gas to add to their fire of bullshit.

And even after his relationship with you had begun, the two of you had managed to avoid doing anything which could spark even a whisper of speculation among the other Scouts, and for a little more than a year, you’d been successful.

Until that shitty implant failed to do its job.

By now, the news of your pregnancy and the rumored father had probably spread to every single person in the Corps — likely the whole damn military by now.

So, fuck it.

If any doubt lingered as to whether the enigmatic Captain was truly the father of your child, he was happy to clarify it for them.

“Go on, Y/N,” Levi rasped, shoving his arms under your legs and pushing them up to his shoulders until your thighs pressed flush against his chest. Your eyes widened as the blunt head of his cock pushed deeper,

“Tell them,” he ordered. “Tell them all who you belong to.” He twisted his head to the side and planted a kiss just above your knee. “Tell them whose cock you beg for at night.”

“Tell them whose baby you’re carrying,” his balls tightened to the point of pain, but Levi resisted letting go, needing you to say what he’d so desperately long to hear from the very moment he’d laid eyes on you. “Let them know — let them all know.”

#attack on titan #levi ackerman #aot #aot x reader #attack on titan fic #aot smut #levi aot #snk levi #shingeki no kyojin #levi x reader

[humanitys-strongest-bamf]

Postwar Dadvi when??

#I'M OUTLINING THE FIC GUYS HOPEFULLY IT'LL COME OUT AT SOME POINT KSDJFKDJS #aot spoilers #snk spoilers #levi #levi ackerman #my gifs #my edits #levi heichou #captain levi #attack on titan #aot #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyoujin #snk

[sshirakumo]

Jeanpiku + Final Season

Dedicating this to my favorite Jeanpiku arist/amazing mutual, @zuzusexytiems - thanks for keeping this rarepair's fandom fed so well ♡

#if you’re not into this pair yet pls give them a chance bi4bi jpk is my everything #also pls check out una’s artwork and fics i beg of you <3 #jean kirstein #jean kirschtein #pieck finger #jeanpiku #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #snk #aot #animanga #h.gif #500

[chrollohearttags]

like a stallion • r. braun x black fem reader

reiner loves taking you to the rodeo. It’s one of the places that the two of you love frequenting in terms of spending quality time together.

cw: pervy reiner (honestly just simping for his wife), black fem chubby reader, car sex, oral sex, reverse cowgirl, squirting, spit play use of pet names and daddy, breeding, self indulgent bc I am a whore first and human second. This isn’t a full fic, just a drabble

📝: minors get the fuck off of my page, you are not welcomed.

reiner loves taking you to the rodeo. It’s one of the places that the two of you love frequenting in terms of spending quality time together. The different shows, the various stands selling food and souvenirs for first time attendees and all the other like minded country folk that you guys found yourselves mingling with. But his driving force behind dragging you along to these events? The outfits you wore! It wasn’t uncommon for him to catch you sporting something skimpy, sexy and revealing. A tight crop top with cowboy boots and a hat to match. Complimenting that curvy body, tiny little skirts that barely covered that thick ass as he dressed in his t-shirts, thin silver necklace with a cross dangling from the end, Wranglers and matching shoes that compliment yours. His six foot five, three hundred fifty pound frame standing starkly over yours as you two walked hand in hand through the bustling crowd. The Rodeo was always the highlight of many people’s year but for Reiner..the main attraction was always you. Oh yes, he could barely contain himself as the two of you settled into your seats, excited to watch the bull riding competition. That glowing, rich skin glistening in the sunlight..your complexion the prettiest thing he’d ever seen and only amplified by the glittery sun oil you slicked yourself up with. Big bouffant curls tucked up underneath that hat and your gorgeous face peering up at him in excitement. It’s enough to make his heart flutter and face burn red, as it got him every time. “Look, babe! Did you see that?” Your voice reigning him back in as he derailed his train of thought to those less than appropriate. He couldn’t be vexed to pay those damn animals any attention when he was too busy watching your big breasts nearly spill from that corset top. “Y-yeah. That was really cool.” Delectable and succulent like two ripe melons..ones he wanted to get his mouth on so badly he could taste it. Flicking his pink tongue around those brown nipples; his vision adverting to your thighs shortly thereafter. Seeing that thickness squished makes him only want to part them even more. So thick it was mere seconds from ripping your denim. Knowing what lies in the center and he’s practically salivating to sink his cock between it. And what really sends him over the edge? Is when you guys decide to check out the mechanical bull and he’s watching you bounce around, he can feel his pants become a tad bit tighter. The thought of him being underneath you instead getting him riled up. That body was like the finest thoroughbred..stacked like that of a stallion and it drove him crazy with every passing second.

so honestly, it comes as no surprise when it comes time for intermission and he can’t help but to whisk you away to his Ford F350 parked out on the grass lot. Propping your legs up on the dash and console as he ate your pussy right there in the front seat. He couldn’t even be bothered to get your clothes off fully; letting those tiny denim shorts dangle around your ankle and leaving your panties on as he sucked your clit through the thin material like a man unhinged. “Mmmm…Rei. Wait, baby! Fuck..” laughing as you had to all but push him away when you reached yet another orgasm thanks to his mouth. Sloppily devouring that dripping cunt and savoring every bit of the flavor. A smirk curdled across his lips as they were stained with your sticky nectar. “What f’r, darling? It didn’t seem like ya’ wanted me to stop from the way ya’ were moaning.” But you were afraid if he didn’t, you’d wet both his beard and his t-shirt up. But your husband didn’t seem to mind one bit! Especially when he sank those thick fingers of his into your tight little cunt and drew the liquid out, leaving you spasming on nothing more than air once you came. “Now look at that..best fucking show I’ve seen all day.” The excitement between you guys only grew tenfold when you practically whimpered; begging him to unfasten his big belt buckle and let you get a taste of your own. Wasting no time in grasping at his cock, pumping it in your palm..inhaling sharply through your teeth as he had awoken your salacious thoughts as well. It didn’t take long before he found himself engulfed..those plump, gloss slackened lips swallowing that dick in its entirety. Your desire to please and drain him dry all but apparent by your needy whimpers that hummed so gently against his shaft. The sounds of constant sloshing and sucking like heavenly melodies to his ears. Sloppily drenching all nine inches in a haze of saliva. Regardless of the gagging noises and cries you emitted. It wasn’t until you glared directly into his eyes, fixated on you as he watched his balls disappear between your jaws and that shaft enclosed between your acrylic fingertips. He had to all but pry you away; leaving that mouth a disheveled mess..one he added to by squeezing your cheeks together and spitting onto your tongue. “G-ahh..get on top of me, baby..right now.” Demanding in that deep southern drawl; breath shaky from being sucked off so fucking good. Allowing you to crawl onto his spread thighs, setting you atop his lap and fully erect dick. Pulsating the second it made contact with that fat pussy. “Put it in me, please Rei…” immediately after finding yourself filled to the brim and being bounced around on that cock..thrashing around inside of you with your breasts pressing the steering wheel. Reiner reclined the seats back, watching in a full blown trance as that round, thick ass ricocheting off of him; catching faint glimpses of that grip each time you slid up and down. That creamy slick puddling between your flesh each time you took him. “Yeah..ride that dick. You’re fuckin’ me so good, darling..making a mess all over me..”breath hitching as he struggled to form a coherent thought. Being ridden like this made anything else pale in comparison and what truly took it over the top were the sights of you only in your white boots and hat..something so sexy about it! You’d look back, tongue extended out and a toothy grin on your pretty face as you fucked him senseless. “Mmm…you know how wet this pussy gets for you, daddy… ‘wanna nut all over this dick.” Declaring as you cried out loudly. You didn’t give a fuck if anyone spotted or heard the two of you at this point. The tinted windows were already coated in a hazy fog and the frame began to rock from the outside. Causing a calamity of noise.. with the combination of nasty smacking sounds, thunderous clapping of skin and expletives being hurled back and forth at each other. You telling him to slap your ass and grab your neck..even commanding that he rub your clit with those fingerpads to him telling you how badly he wanted to nut inside of you.

no one had ever fucked him like this and vice versa…that pussy was his and he’d fill the entire womb whenever he felt like it. It was only shortly thereafter, among your exchange that he was only mere seconds from doing so. “Hold still..fuck!” Aggressively grunting in your ear as he grasped those hips and pounded up into that warmth. “Yeah! Fuck this pussy, daddy..fuck it..ahh shit!” Cursing as you clawed at the leather dash; whimpers choked out by his large hand around your neck. You could feel that shaft pulsating inside of you and before long, his strokes became erratic..to the point he couldn’t even maintain a rhythm and he emptied that hot, creamy load to the rim..with baited breath and quite honestly, bitch like cries. “Fuck..you came in me so hard..filled my little pussy..” that high pitched, dumbed out, dizzy voice making him twitch..you had successfully drained him everything he had to offer; the previous one residing in your throat and all over your tits. Needless to say, you guys had to cut your outing short but the night was far from done, as he plans to go for another round or two once he got you home…once he found the strength to get you guys there! But one thing he did know for sure..

“Yeah..that’s what you get f’r wearing that sexy ass outfit around me..ya’ know I can’t help myself..”

was that he’d never be able to resist you, no matter what.

#cherry’s drabbles🍒 #cherry’s fics 🍒 #aot x black reader #black fem reader #reiner brainrot #reiner x black fem reader #reiner x black y/n #reiner headcanons #reiner x reader smut #reiner x black reader smut #reiner x black reader #black reader #reiner braun x black reader #cowboy reiner #country boy reiner #black reader smut #reiner braun #shingeki no kyojin reiner #reiner smut #reiner aot #reiner snk #snk reiner #reiner x fem reader #reiner x y/n #reiner x reader #reiner braun headcanons #reiner braun smut #reiner braun imagine #reiner #black fanfiction

[ponderingmoonlight]

Heyyy, i love ur jjk fics so when u posted abt writing for aot i SCREAMED bc ik you'll do it justice 😩❤❤

Do u reckon u could do like a levi post rumbling fic bc i need the confort rn and SO DOES HE I NEED HAPPY LEVI PLSS ❤❤❤🙏🙏🙏

When I tell you I had to write this IMMEDIATELY <3 Please let me know if you like it, this is my first AOT fic EVER

Levi finally getting his happy end with (y/n) after the rumbling

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x fem!reader

Word Count: 2k

Synopsis: When he met you after first stepping a foot at Marley, Levi didn't forget you until the very end. But while he thought you died through the rumbling, he meets you again for his happy end.

Warnings: this is the comfort I needed, I actually had to cry while writing this, not proofread because I wanted to publish this asap

Tags: @sanicsmut begging on my knees, please I hope you like this

You’ve been on his mind ever since he met you on that fateful day at Marley. So gorgeous that he couldn’t take his eyes off you, a smile so sweet it could melt even metal. Yes, you were so different from what he expected to find across that ocean, a truly pleasant surprise to say the least.

“Oh, you are quite small for a grown man!” you commented, giggling so effortlessly that Levi wasn’t able to even react to your rude comment.

“But to be honest, I’m a little small myself. Well, not all of us can be tall, right? Where are you from, stranger?”

“None of your business.”

His voice sounded harsher that anticipated, making your joyful face drop in an instant. Why…Why the hell did it even bother him to see you like that, that sad glow that formed in your eyes?

“I’m not from here”, he added.

“Oh, I see! Don’t worry about it too much, it’s like everywhere else!”

Oh, if you only knew how wrong that statement was.

His eyes landed on your right arm and the star that covered the sleeve of your blouse. Why would you wear such a badge? Upon closer inspection, he noticed your shattered clothing, the hem of your earth coloured dress completely torn.  

Before Levi was even able to react two men ran into you, forcefully pushing your body into the dirt of the streets.

“Get out of the way, scum”, one of them hissed towards you.

Anger rose inside his veins immediately. You were just standing there, minding your own business. Why on earth did they push you?

“Watch your step”, his voice suddenly called towards the men.

“Please, it’s alright. Don’t get into trouble because of me.”

And then your hand rested against his shoulders, making his heart beat so loud that Levi swore you could hear it. What was this? Why did your little innocent touch turn him all flustered?

Something about you just seems different. No, despite the fact that it is so wrong, despite being here only for a mission, his mind wanders to you every free second.

Even though you might be dead by now.

“I will leave after tonight”, he announced into darkness, your moonlit features making it hard for him to focus on staying serious.

Your lip began to tremble, glossy eyes darting towards him.

“What? But why do you have to leave? You just arrived…”

“I came here because I have a mission to accomplish, (y/n).”

“But you will return when you’re done, right?”

The hopeful tone in your voice killed him from the inside. Oh, how much he wished he could just take you with him, how much he’d love to have more time with you. But this is simply not possible.

His cold eyes glared at you through the darkness, desperately trying to keep his composure.

“I might never return to this place, (y/n).”

You felt like someone pulled the ground from beneath your feet. Within the last few weeks, you learned that Levi’s hard façade isn’t more than a trick. No, in fact, he carries a character made of pure gold.

You started to like him.

“Then I’ll find you wherever you’ll go.”

And you did. You never missed to write him letters. Levi can’t help but wonder how you did that, your elegant handwriting following him through the darkness of the night, lighting up his mood despite the situation he’s in. Yes, he looked forward hearing from you every single day.

Until the rumbling started.

Until he didn’t receive any letters from you anymore.

It broke his heart, waking up from his coma with all that was on his mind being your stunning smile.

“Did I receive any letters from her?”

“You mean (y/n)? No, not until it all started. She lived in the northern area of Marley so it’s very likely that…”

His heart shattered into a million pieces, dead eyes staring into the distance. Your beautiful smile, that promise you gave him the night before he left. The thought of you getting trampled to death…

“Don’t say it.”

“Hey, maybe she did it somehow. (y/n) is a smart woman. I’m sure she found a way out.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, shitty four-eyes. She’s dead.”

He has seen it all, countless people died in front of his very own eyes. Why would it be different this time? Why shouldn’t you of all people be taken away from him? A little spark of luck, a minor ray of sunshine in this sheer darkness.   

He leans back in his wheelchair, darkness consuming him all over again. You deserved so much better, your whole life was still ahead of you. In a world that never wanted you, you always kept your smile as bright as the sun. Despite the fact that they treated you like the dirt underneath their feet, despite how poorly the circumstances were, your smile beamed brighter than anything else.

“What would it give me to burry myself in sadness? I only have this one life, why not making the best of it?”

The best…

“Fuck!” he cries out, slamming a nearby book against the wall in frustration.

Why you? Why out of all the people, you are the one who had to lost her precious life? He never had the chance to tell you how he feels, how you turned his world upside down, that he survived for you.

Dear captain Levi (I love to call you that),

How are you? I hope your mission is going well and that you’ll return soon. I have some exciting news to share with you! After working so much over the last few weeks, I was finally able to buy myself a new dress! Although I wanted to get a white one because I know you love the colour, I bought a dark green one in honour of you. When you come back, we’ll be matching!

I miss you and our conversations late at night. Please tell me you and the others are okay.

In love,

(y/n)

That dark green dress he never got so see, the joy you fuelled inside of him despite being hundreds of miles away from him. God, how much he misses you. How much he fucking misses talking to you through the darkness of the night, to hear from the world through the unwavering veil of your optimism. What would he give to stretch out his hands after you for once, holding you tightly against his chest? It truly kills him from the inside, knowing he will never be able to hold your hand or kiss your lips tenderly, that you’ll never tell him old fairy tales anymore.

You were special. An angel in a world full of devils. Your word alone should have been enough to end every war in the blink of an eye. It definitely was enough to end the war inside himself.

“Captain Levi, will you assist me?”

“Stop calling me that, Onyankopon”, Levi mumbles, silently following the taller man into the heart of the city.

The war made the remaining 20% realize how precious being alive is only after their lives hanging on a thread. While the others carried on with their lives, Levi himself got stuck in this cursed city, the city he last saw you in. Returning to Paradis would mean giving up on you, giving up on the spell you put on him. And he simply can’t take it. Even though the whole town got destroyed by the merciless feet of titans, despite numerous people telling him than no one was able to escape, he always looked out for that dark green dress you described to him.

“Thank you”, a little girl giggles at him, eyes widen at the delicious sight of the lollipop in her hands.

All he can do is stare at the ground in front of her tiny feet with empty eyes. How nice it must be to have something to hold onto in times like these, after losing everything and everyone.

“Hey, can I get another one?”

“Don’t get greedy, young lady!”

That voice, that angelic voice almost reminds him of you. How long has it been since you last spoke to him? So long that the sound of your speech slowly fades in the back of his mind.

But that woman, that woman almost sounds like you. His gaze wanders up her dirty shoes, the hem of her green dress…

A green dress. Dark green, to be exact.

“Levi?”

His eyes widen, his heart stops beating.

No, this can’t be. Is it a dream?

“Levi Ackerman? Is that you?”

His gaze darts towards your face, time stands still. Your facial features, your joyful eyes. It’s you, it has to be you. Without any doubt.

“(y/n)”

He can’t catch his breath, his orbs lingering over your delicate figure, your dark green dress.

That dark green dress.

Before he can stop himself, his eyes get glossy. It is really you. You’re standing in front of him, uninjured, just like you did before.

“Levi!”, you cry out.

In the matter of seconds, you kneel in front of him, hungry arms holding onto his frame for dear life. Oh god, how much you prayed to see that man again, how much you longed to finally be able to hold him in your arms.

“I never gave up hope. I always believed in your abilities and that you’ll return to me someday”, you mutter against his chest, your salty tears soaking through the fabric of his shirt.

“I thought you were dead.”

His voice isn’t more than a fade away whisper, hand running through your soft hair. He always wondered how it would feel against his fingertips. And now you’re here. In his arms, alive.

You are alive.

“I’m fine. I did leave this town just in time because I wanted to see you again. It was a close call, I almost got crushed but…I made it. I couldn’t leave after telling you the fairy tale about the fox and the rabbit, right?”

Silent tears stream down his face like a waterfall while you cry rivers against his chest. His whole life Levi was haunted by loss and grief. As if he was cursed, everyone around him seemed to die in front of his very eyes. Just after letting himself fall, after trusting someone, after gifting them his feelings…They just lost their lives like flies.

But you’re safe and sound, you look just like you did in his memory.

“I love you, (y/n). I should have told you this way sooner and I did all of this just to return to you.”

Your heart sinks in your chest, body overflowing with feelings. Without thinking twice, you press your lips against his scarred ones, letting yourself sink into his lap while your hands hold onto his face for dear life. This man right in front of you, the man who never left your mind, the man who risked his life to save yours. He survived. He survived and came back to you just like you always dreamed of.

“I love you too”, you shriek, smiling at him so widely with tears overflowing in your eyes that you make his world whole again.

“But as you see, I’m not the man you met back then…”, he begins, looking down his disabled body.

You shake your head vehemently, gently taking his hands into yours.

“All I see is the man I love and waited for”, you reply.

You wipe away your tears and a trail of snot in the most unladylike and precious way Levi ever witnessed before standing up and straighten your skirt with trembling hands.

“So now, what do you think? How do you like my now old new dress?” you croak.

You twirl around, making his life complete. This. This is exactly what he fought for, why he never gave up even after Hange dedicated her life. You standing in front of him in that dark green dress, smiling widely after he told you that he loves you.

This is all he ever wanted.

“You look lovely. Absolutely lovely, (y/n)”, he replies.

And for the first time since forever, a genuine smile is formed on his face.  

#aot #attack on titan #aot x reader #aot x y/n #aot x female reader #aot x you #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan x female reader #attack on titan x you #levi ackerman #levi x reader #levi aot #captain levi #aot fanfiction #aot fandom #levi fluff #levi fic #eren yeager #eren jaeger #shingeki no kyojin #hange zoë #saggy hangers #hange zoe

[blondeboyfriend]

𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐒𝐈𝐒

[ PAIRING ] Zeke Yeager x f!reader [ AUTHOR'S NOTE ] Another repost from 2021. I'll always have a soft spot for this fic. [ SYNOPSIS ] You're a talented, hot mess of a screenwriter. Zeke is a beloved actor/writer/director that seemingly has his shit together. What better way to repair your reputation than by fake dating him at the behest of your agent? [ WORD COUNT ] 8.8k [ CONTENT ] Film industry AU, fake dating, tall!reader, y/n has a personality, drug use, alcohol, sexual harassment (Don't fret! Zeke is not the harasser!), misogyny, depression, cigarettes, y/n is neurotic and doesn't like eating in front of people, existential angst, swimming pools, Floch is your agent, hungover!Zeke. [ PLAYLIST ] Here's the link.

A car barreled down the street, a puff of dark exhaust spewing out like a specter. The wind carried it off, now nothing more than a grey stain in the air. Still, the noxious smell made its way over to you and buried itself in your nose, seemingly singeing every hair. You sneezed and wiped your nose with the back of your hand, hoping no one saw you. In any other moment, you wouldn’t care.

But unfortunately today was a day different from the rest. You had to present and composed. Dignified. The exact opposite of how you were two weeks ago…

You’d been dragged to one of those gaudy industry parties: a grandiloquent​​ celebration for the cast and crew of a film you co-wrote.

You wore an understated, black sheath dress much too short for the occasion. On the model, the bottom hem rested gracefully above the knee, thighs mostly obscured by the cotton-polyester fabric. But you spent most of the night tugging on your dress and dissociating.

Your conversations were stilted. Your words tinged with uncertainty and distaste. Men licked their lips as they eyed your exposed thighs, occasionally winking if you caught them. The longer you stayed, the more your humiliation bloomed into an unspeakable rage.

Unable to contain yourself, you took to the stage and aired out your grievances. You pointed directly at a studio head, one that had been ogling you all night, and told him he probably had a “fucked-up looking, duck dick.”

It was no surprise the industry didn’t hold such high regard for your blatant disrespect. 

Proverbial water filled your lungs with every attempt to mend the situation. You nearly ruined a press junket with an impromptu apology, your hand gripping the microphone like a lifebuoy. Writers and script doctors, people you once considered friends, retreated and left you in their wake. You weren’t worthy of the insurance the studios had to take out to employ you. They’d rather watch you drown.

But for whatever reason your agency believed your talent was worth going through hell for.

“You can’t fuck this up!” your agent shouted through the phone. “Act normal. Smile or something. That’s not outside of your skill set, is it? ‘Cause if it is, you can go fuck off right now and continue ruining your career on your own dime.” His tone changed to a calmer fury. “Act like you are sociable and reliable. Please. For me.”

“Hate to break it to you, but I’m a writer. Acting’s definitely outta my skill set.”

“I am going to wring your little neck on our therapeutic, nature walk tomorrow. I swear to fucking god.”

You struggled to stifle a laugh as he berated you about how to position yourself in your chair and what food to order. He even told you what clothes to wear: a gauzy, light pink sundress that barely covered your ass and a trendy pair of chunky sandals. But instead you showed up at the restaurant in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. You looked positively pedestrian.

“Alright. Fine. I’ll be cordial.”

“For the love of—Act like you’re interested in him! You’re lucky he agreed to this. Flirt, be coy. ‘Oh wow, you look soooooo good.’”

“Is that how you woo the boys and girls?”

“Do you ever want to have a job again? Do you want opportunities?” 

“I mean… Duh.”

“Then make this believable. We need people to think you’re stable. And who knows? Maybe you’ll actually like him.”

You rolled your eyes. The idea of “dating” a man to make yourself seem even-keeled and hireable was laughable. Sure, he was rather popular with the masses and industry folk. A beloved actor. A clever screenwriter. A visionary director or some shit. And yeah, maybe he was one of the more dependable men to work with. He was seemingly the exact opposite of you.

He was the industry’s golden boy.

Floch seethed through the phone. “Listen. To. Me. You are going to act like you’re having the fucking time of your stupid life out there, got it? You’re going to ham it up for the paparazzi.”

“Why would they give a shit about this? We’re not A-listers.”

“I fucking hired them, that’s why. Also I’d argue Zeke’s pretty A-list; he’s just boring as fuck… Shit. My daughter’s teacher is telling me I’m making the other parents uncomfortable. I gotta go.”

“Wha—where are you?”

“A PTA meeting.”

And with that Floch hung up.

“Okay,” you muttered.

You stood outside the restaurant, waiting for this Zeke Yeager. Part of you considered running off and finding refuge in the cutlery store across the street. But no, that would make you even more unappealing. You were being watched after all. Suddenly you were suspicious of every person around. Every car, every pedestrian, could have been a paid pair of lingering eyes. In a panic you tried to call Floch only to get his voicemail.

“You’ve reached Floch Forster. I can’t answer the phone right now becau—Louisa quit biting your brother! Jesus fucking… Leave a message and I’ll get back to you when I feel like it.”

You opted not to leave a voicemail.

As aggressive as Floch could be, he always was your biggest cheerleader. When he took you on as a client he made it clear you were his main focus. The only other person he represented was a surrealist director from Chile he had never spoken to directly.

You sighed and looked at your phone, hoping you’d find solace in your barrage of notifications. But none of them were particularly interesting. Still, you scrolled mindlessly, entering some sort of trance. The smell of cigarette smoke was what brought you back to the trappings of reality. You turned around to see Zeke.

“I thought you’d be shorter,” he quipped, taking a drag. “I don’t know why; don’t ask.”

“Is this how you say hello to people?” you asked, voice bristling with irritation.

“Yeah. You want one?” He held out his pack of expensive, imported cigarettes.

“Nah. I quit years ago. The taste makes me nauseous now.”

“How tragic.” He narrowed his eyes and took another drag. “You know I think I’ve met you before.”

“I don’t think so. I’d remember that.”

He wore a dark green flannel with a few buttons undone, his blonde chest hair peeking out. His beard wasn’t as neat as it was on camera; it was a tad longer, a little bushier. You preferred it over the perfectly manicured one. His long legs were clothed in dark blue denim, with a sizable hole in the knee. It was a relief that he hadn’t dressed up either.

“No, no. I definitely have. It was at—what’s her name—Yelena’s. You were with all those coked out girls. I tried to introduce myself, but you ignored me.” He laughed nervously. “But it’s fine. Do you still run around with them?”

You rolled your eyes and sighed. That gaggle of starlets hadn’t crossed your mind in a year.

“No. I got sick of babysitting adult children with perpetual nosebleeds.”

“It does get old after a while. I knew I was done with that whole scene after I gave a guy naloxone behind a Scientology Celebrity Centre.”

“Can’t say I ever had something like that happen.”

“I don’t recommend it.”

He took a few steps closer and wrapped his arms around you, cigarette precariously resting between his fingers. He smelled like fresh laundry and tobacco. You swallowed hard, unable to recall the last time you let someone hug you. The only downside of it all was the potential of your hair getting singed.

“What the fuck, dude?” You asked, trying to act like you weren’t enjoying this.

“I’m supposed to be your boyfriend, aren’t I?”

“This just seems like a lot.”

“This is nothing,” he said.

He kissed your forehead and ruffled your hair. You hated him for taking on the role of your love interest with such ease. For you it was like putting a cat in a sweater.

“Relax,” he said, dropping his arms. “It’ll be over before you know it.”

You stared out into the street, over his shoulder. Your eyes followed a crowded bus as it puttered by. Anything to not look directly at Zeke. His whole person was overwhelming. You had seen him on the screen a handful of times and found him to be unremarkable, but seeing him in person was, again, a lot.

“Wish it was over now,” you muttered, finally stepping away from him. You immediately missed the warmth radiating from his body.

“We can make it fun. I promise.”

“Doubt it. Like don’t take it personally, but yeah. No.”

He grinned and tossed his cigarette out into the street, nearly missing a meter maid.

“What? You don’t trust me?”

“You’re an actor. Of course I don’t trust you.”

“Oh, come on.”

He opened the door to the restaurant. The smell of garlic and basil wafted into your nose.

“After you,” he said.

The restaurant was small. The walls were paneled with Pepto Bismol pink painted wood and decorated with aging photos of what appeared to be a sizable Italian family. Vases of wildflowers were scattered about. It was a level of hominess and familiarity that left you a little unnerved.

“I hate it here,” you whispered.

Zeke lightly elbowed you. “We haven’t even sat down yet.”

“Sometimes you just kn—”

“Wheredyawannasit?” a lackadaisical host asked.

“What?”

“By a window,” Zeke said coolly.

You hated how easily he navigated social situations. Granted he was an actor; it was basically in the job description.

“A window, huh?” you said, cocking an eyebrow.

The bastard winked at you.

You both took a seat. The table was covered with a powder blue tablecloth and a pane of glass, and it was right by a large window. You felt on display. A waiter traipsed by and wordlessly dropped menus on the table. Everything felt unnatural.

“I hate how easy this is for you,” you said, opening a menu.

“That’s only because I’m at least making an attempt to have a decent time.”

“You don’t find this humiliating?”

“Why would this be humiliating?” he asked. “We’re having lunch.”

Why? Because it made you feel vulnerable, like you were tearing open a wound. You were sick of putting yourself out there. So many years you spent with a smile plastered on your face, eager to please, and for what?

“Because I’m over this shit, okay? I’m sick of appeasing people.”

“You’re in the wrong business then.”

The waiter came by and placed two glasses of water on the table.

“You think I don’t know that?” you groaned. “I just wanna write. That’s all.”

“What’s stopping you from doing that?”

“My reputation. Misogyny. Capitalism. That time I accidentally stepped on a service dog at a premiere,” you exasperated.

He laughed. “You’re too hung up on the past.”

“I can’t help it.”

“Don’t think about it then. That’s what I do.”

“You say that like it’s so fuckin’ easy,” you hissed.

The waiter returned and took your orders. You were surprised and mildly disturbed to see that Zeke only ordered a cappuccino and some amaretto. He noticed the face you made and shrugged. You found yourself intrigued and repulsed by him. He managed to be disarming and utterly intimidating at the same time. It was disorienting.

“So why did you have your little tantrum?”

“Which one?” you scoffed.

“The one that made a very drunk Floch call me at two in the morning, begging me to make you look ‘normal.’”

Floch’s fascination with you coming off as normal amused you to no end.

“Oh, right… Uh, like, I was just over it. Like doing all that dumb shit. Smiling even though I wanna die. Wearing uncomfortable clothes to uncomfortable events. Being friends with people I despise, like those fuckin’ girls I used to hang out with. Not being taken seriously unless I co-wrote with someone else. I don’t know.”

“It got old.”

“Yeah. I used to be fine with it, going with the flow or whatever. But recently, I don’t know. I can’t be bothered. Like I straight up do not care. I spent way too much time giving a shit about what people thought about me. I’m done with that.”

You found yourself clenching your fists and took a deep breath to dull your rage.

“Fair enough,” he said nervously.

Your voice softened, hoping to put him at ease if only a little.

“I’m not really sure where it leaves me but… Fuck it. I’m past the point of caring,” you said before quickly shoving a piece of bread in your mouth.

The rest of the lunch was awkward and unremarkable. You hated how together Zeke’s life was. He was working on a short film inspired by his salad days filming skate videos. He played in a celebrity baseball tournament for charity. He planned on spending a few months in Aotearoa because he hated wintering in California. And he footed the bill even though you wanted to go halfsies.

“Alright. Well, this was weird. I’ll see you around I guess.”

You started to walk off, but he grabbed your wrist. His calloused hands revealed his past in the minor leagues. You turned to look at him and immediately regretted your decision. He looked so dreamy. His eyes exuded kindness. You didn’t deserve it.

“When can I see you again?”

You glanced to the side and tried to concoct an answer.

“I don’t know. Have your guy call Floch and they can set something up.”

“I—I’d rather us do the planning.”

“Why?”

This was a business transaction; there was no reason to make it personal.

“I want to get to know you without that guy up our asses.”

Zeke pointed out a paparazzo in an inconspicuous silver Tesla. He hauled ass down the street once he realized that Zeke spotted him.

He continued. “If you don’t want to, it’s fine.”

It was strange to see him so bashful. You desperately tried to recall the night you apparently blew him off, but that part of your life was a blur. A haze of cigarette smoke, maxed out credit cards, and ketamine. Too many nights spent flanked by socialites with fake voices and wannabe Kerouacs. That period of your life was one long night. A party you desperately wanted to leave. Something as angelic as him would have stood out amongst the filth and depravity you waded through. You would have followed him out of all that muck.

“I’ll think about it. DM me on Insta or something.”

You went to give him a hug goodbye, but he brushed you off.

“Guy’s gone. You don’t have to pretend anymore,” he said.

A sad, little smile had laid claim to his face.

“Oh, right. Anyway, I'll see ya.”

You turned away as he quietly said goodbye. You hated yourself for your vague cruelness, but this was humiliating. Here was this great guy who was willing to put his career on the line and be seen with you, and yet you were a total downer.

But you weren’t surprised. This was your modus operandi: torching bridges while they’re being built, you standing alone on the smoldering beams.

You were incredibly thankful for the “therapeutic, nature walk.” The morning was calm. The sun drifted through the window, painting your walls with a creamy orange. You sipped coffee, scrolled through your emails, and slowly prepared yourself for your jaunt in the woods. Floch picked you up at eight o’clock in the morning. The drive up was peaceful. You kept the window down and relished in the needley wind pricking your skin.

“He only ordered espresso and fucking booze?” Floch asked, helping you up a particularly steep hill.

“It was a cappuccino. But yeah. Not like I did much better though. I just slyly ate bread, didn’t even bother touching the tortellini I ordered.”

Once you crested the hill you were greeted by a sea of ponderosa pines. Nature had a way of calming your soul, quelling the disdain that seemed to permeate your being. You fantasized about leaving the city and losing yourself in the woods. The further you were removed from the industry the better you’d feel. Maybe you wouldn’t be so neurotic.

“Why?!” He exclaimed.

“I hate eating in public. Let alone in front of someone I don’t know and a guy with a camera. I did grab a bánh mì after.”

Floch sighed.

“I guess that makes sense, but it’s still fucking ridiculous. Think about the food waste.”

You rubbed your temples and took a deep breath. You weren’t in the mood for such a conversation. You were aware of how odd your behavior was and didn’t need to be reminded of its environmental ramifications.

“Are you going to see him again?” he asked, taking a seat on a stump.

“He mentioned wanting to meet up again but on our, like, own accord.”

“Oh, so fuck me then?”

“Exactly,” you laughed.

He rolled his eyes. “What’s the plan?”

You plopped down on the ground next to Floch.

“No idea. But probably something stupid and pretentious. He hasn’t reached out to me yet though. Maybe I scared him off.”

Floch flicked your temple with his thumb and middle finger.

“Stop overthinking it. Call him right now and make plans.”

You stuck your tongue out like a child. “Gross. I’ll just text him… Wait, do you have his number? I didn’t ask for it.”

“I thought you wanted to do this on your own accord,” he said, pulling out his phone.

“I’m adding a teeny addendum to that,” you snickered.

Getting a hold of Zeke ended up being more of a struggle than you anticipated. His voicemail was full and your texts were never read. The lack of response made a pit open up in your stomach. You tried to fill it with coffee and the occasional blunt, but nothing sufficed. He had no reason to get back to you anyway. You weren’t particularly friendly during your lunch.

That was always the worst part. The hangover from your behavior. You used to think nothing beat the shame of waking up after a night of binge drinking, cursed with only a vague recollection of the awful things you did. But when waking up stone cold sober there was nothing to hide behind.

It was a great relief when Zeke finally called you back. He apologized for being so busy, but his words felt rather hollow. You didn’t think he was lying, but you questioned how genuine he was being.

“Meet me at the skate park on 16th and Sequoia. I have some filming to take care of and I’m trying to work with natural lighting,” he rambled.

“Shots’ll look good,” you said, trying to sound knowledgeable even though you didn’t know much about filming.

You agreed to meet him on the grounds that he let you pay for coffee.

Once at the park you were greeted by a sea of teenagers and their cacophonous choir of expletives and shrieks. You waded through them until you found Zeke sitting on the floor, fiddling with a Sony Handycam.

“You seem a little old to be hangin’ with this crowd.”

“The whole point is that they’re young. Tell me, does that kid read late-2000s, maybe early 2010s?” he asked before standing up and grabbing a worn out board.

You stared at a boy dressed like an extra from an early Odd Future video.

“I guess. Please tell me you’re not gonna skate.”

“Of course I am! That’s how it’s done.”

“So I’m just supposed to sit here and watch you do this?”

He sighed. “When you say it like that, it’s going to sound boring. It’ll just be an hour and then we can get coffee.”

A kid interrupted your conversation by kicking Zeke in the shin.

The kid barked, “Is Eren coming?”

Zeke shook his head to the kid’s disappointment. They dejectedly skated off without a word.

“You should have hit me up later. I could be at home right now and diving into the depths of Vine compilations.”

You pantomimed diving into a pool much to Zeke’s amusement.

Zeke skated off and exchanged pleasantries with the pack of hormone-addled youths. One of the girls set off and he trailed after her. It was a rather boring experience as a spectator. Zeke skated alongside her, crouching on his board, camera angled at her feet.

“Impressive,” you called out as Zeke reviewed what he filmed.

“Please, that was nothing.”

“Do something cool then. Do a trick.”

What happened next should have been expected, but somehow ended up being a complete surprise. Zeke attempted what you later learned was a heel flip. All you saw was him skate past you and then suddenly he was a mess of tangled limbs on the concrete, his board rolling off into a bowl. You ran to him while the kids keeled over with laughter.

“Shit,” was all he could say.

“Are you okay?” you asked, knowing damn well he was not okay.

“Help,” he coughed.

He looked so pathetic and small on the ground. You reached out and hoisted him up. Now that he was upright the extent of his injuries seemed to be reduced to a few raspberries and torn jeans.

“I keep bandaids in my kånken,” he winced.

“Knew you’d have one of these fuckin’ stupid ass, expensive backpacks,” you muttered.

You tended to his scraped knee, borrowing some bactine wipes one of the teens had on her person. Dabbing Zeke’s knee you looked up and found him gazing down at you, eyes teeming with longing. You instinctively glared at him like an asocial idiot.

“You look like you're proposing to him,” a boy slurred.

It didn’t take much to clean Zeke up, but his ripped jeans revealed his hubris. The walk to the coffee shop was spent with him slightly limping with his arm around your shoulder. You wondered if there were any paparazzi around to document this sad sight. Though maybe Floch decided he had better things to spend money on. You were left with only a wisp of paranoia.

“This is what I get for trying to show off,” he said, easing himself down onto a bench.

You took a seat next to him and couldn’t help but laugh as he iced his knee with his cold brew.

“Is that actually helping?”

“Kind of?” he replied with an eyebrow raised.

“Well, like you said, it’s what you get for showing off.”

“Come on. I’m injured. You should be nice to me.”

“I don’t have to be anything to you.”

He gulped and quickly let out a nervous laugh. You took a long sip of your drink and shifted your eyes to the side, staring into a rose bush.

Zeke sighed. “I hate to use an idiom, but you really are a tough nut to crack.”

You shut your eyes tight and fought the urge to spill all your secrets. Something about Zeke lent himself to it. Or rather you were looking for the opportunity to let it all out and projecting it on him out of sheer convenience.

He continued. “I’m not saying you need to bare your soul to me, but I’d like to get to know you. I want to get to know you.”

“I’m not worth knowing,” you droned.

“You don’t get to decide that.”

“I can and I am. Like not to be super fuckin’ dramatic, but getting to know people, letting them in and shit… It’s not worth the hassle.”

“Hassle? I’m not asking you to do hard labor,” he laughed.

“You don’t get it. I can’t just ‘get to know people.’ I—if you get to know me it’s like I’ve torn myself open.”

“What if I told you I just wanted to know your favorite color?”

You gritted your teeth and seethed, “You’re not getting it.”

He turned to look at you. You cut your staring contest with the rose bush short and gathered as much false bravado as you could. Gazing into his grey eyes would weaken you. You knew it for a fact and had to be prepared.

“You’re not really giving me a chance to.”

Damn. It. There was no preparing yourself for his patience, his kindness, even if it seemed a little phony. You held his gaze for a while before finally breaking the silence.

“It's like a piece of me is being ripped away… when I let people in... It feels like a weight. Or a void. Or both? I don’t know. I try to talk about it, but I fuck it up every time. 99% of the time I say something cruel or like dumb.” You took a deep breath. “And it’s… it’s not like I can actually be there for people, if I were to let them know me or whatever the fuck. Like what do I do? I gore myself for these people and leave them with… what? Viscera and trash?” Your thoughts were growing hazy, your anger obscuring your thoughts. “I don’t know. I’m a disease. My heart is a worn down mountain. I’m nothing more than the smoking, smoldering mine under that fucked up town that inspired, uh, Silent Hill.”

Saliva pooled in your mouth. Your inability to explain yourself was making you ill.

“Your heart is an eroded landform. And also, somehow, Centralia, Pennsylvania.”

“That is so reductive.”

“Listen. You’re not making much sense, but I think I want to underst—”

“I don’t need to fucking make sense! I… I’m just so sick of feeling like shit and not knowing what to do. Do I keep shutting myself off? Acting like a fuckin’ demon hermit that shrivels in the spotlight? Spitting and hissing at my contemporaries? Or do I go back to painting my face like a whore clown? Do I go back to making people feel vaguely at ease?! Or do I keep pushing against it?! How many hands are gonna crawl up my skirt if I go back to smiling and acting like I’m proud of the fuckin’ Kate Hudson vehicle I co-wrote with five other people? I can’t do that shit anymore. I’d rather throw myself down a flight of stairs.”

“Okay, Zelda Fitzgerald, take a breather,” he consoled or rather attempted to.

His arm hovered around your shoulder before finally patting it with his weighty hand. A small but welcome gesture. You snorted and wiped away the tears that had been collecting in the corners of your eyes.

You knew nothing you spewed made sense, but it needed to be said. It had been festering inside you. You still felt terrible, but lighter. You didn’t feel like Atlas carrying a bounty of self loathing and misanthropy on your back. For once you exhaled and there was relief.

“It’s green,” you said quietly.

“What?”

You spoke up. “My favorite color. It’s green.”

“You seem in good spirits,” Floch noted. “It’s weird. Are you sure you’re not ill?”

“What?! No! I just, I don’t know, I feel decent.”

“Are you on drugs?”

“Ugh. No. I legit feel okay… esque.”

The park was crowded for a Wednesday morning. Usually your weekly walk around the lake was a calmer affair. Granted the park was dotted with everchanging oak trees and it was fall.

“All because of some guy. Wow.”

“That’s not why. But you know, he is pretty fun.”

“Uh huh.”

“Though maybe I only think that because he’s hot.”

You happened to glance at Floch and the cat-like grin on his face. Being embarrassed and saying “just kidding” crossed your mind, but it was true. You did find Zeke amusing and attractive.

“You like hiiiiiiiim,” he teased.

“I said he’s hot. That’s hardly… Shit. Fuck. Okay, maybe I like him a little.”

“This is great! Now all you have to do is make him fall in love with you and hopefully have that convince every stupid fucking studio to suck your figurative dick,” he cheered.

You frowned. You had momentarily forgotten about the transactional nature of this relationship. Floch immediately caught onto your disappointment.

“That doesn’t necessarily mean you can’t pursue this seriously. You could probably be his girlfriend or boyfriend or whatever.”

You froze, wide-eyed, letting a rogue jogger bump into you.

“I—I never said anything about that.”

“Your reaction just did the talking for you,” Floch said, punctuating his sentence with a smirk.

“It’s not like I stand a chance anyway.”

You didn’t consider yourself desirable, let alone Zeke’s type even though you honestly had no idea what that was. Your self confidence had been in shambles for months; anything was possible.

“Hm. Now that I think about it I don’t think I’ve ever heard of him dating anyone.”

“Hopefully his type is whatever all this is,” you sighed, looking down at your body.

“People seem to think you two are cute together.”

“Great, but what do the people that matter think?”

“Well… They kind of think a little less of him now that you two are dating.”

“Nothing ‘bout me though?” you asked flatly.

“Nada.”

“I mean that’s not too bad.”

“When are you seeing him next?”

“He invited me to some party at some guy’s house. All I know is there’s a pool and Zeke intends on pushing his brother into it.”

“Oh wow, sounds super romantic,” he snarked.

You stomped on a crunchy leaf. The party could end up being romantic if you tried. So far you made little attempt to impress Zeke and he was still drawn to you. If you actually did something, who knows what you could accomplish?

That night the driver Zeke hired to pick you up plucked you from your home and dropped you off at a glass windowed monstrosity nestled in the hills. It was owned by the editor of a marginally popular skateboarding magazine.

You were irked that he decided to go to the party early and not extend the invite. You hated shit like this and even more when you were forced to do it on your own.

You exhaled and your fist hovered parallel to the door.

“Just knock, dumb ass.”

Before you could the door was ripped open by a tanned, green-eyed man. He was wearing a red cut-off shirt, a pair of sweatpants, and checkerboard slip-ons.

“You’re not the weed guy,” he said, frowning.

“No. I mean, I have weed. Bu—but I’m not, like, the designated weed guy. I wish I was though. Like that’d be dope.”

He looked you up and down, and hollered over his shoulder, “False alarm.”

You heard a choir of groans and sighs from behind him.

“Uh… so, can I come in? Zeke invited me.”

You introduced yourself and quickly found out the man you were talking to was Eren, a professional skater and Zeke’s brother. He slid out of the way, granting you permission to enter. You stepped inside and stared up at the enormous foyer. A twinkling chandelier hung from the ceiling, illuminating the vacuous space. It was sterile and everything blindingly white.

He led you into a room filled to the brim with people. You found yourself wanting to cling to him even though he was as much a stranger as everyone else.

“So yeah, I don’t know where Zeke is but I’m sure you’ll find him. Let me know if you don’t!”

And with that Eren disappeared. You were happy to see no one looked particularly glamorous, but it did little to quell your nerves. A Yaeji song seemed to blare from every corner of the house; it was inescapable. Doing this shit sober was never your forte.

“Hey! Over here,” you heard a familiar voice emanate from the crowd.

You pushed through and found Zeke surrounded by actors. You plastered on a sickly grin and hoped no one could discern your disdain.

“Hiiiiiiiiiiii,” you sneered unintentionally.

Zeke slipped his arm around your waist, pulling you next to him. You wanted to puke.

“I’m glad you found your way here.”

“You had a dude come pick me up which, you know, made it pretty easy.”

He smiled at you like he didn’t even catch your snarkiness.

A guy you didn’t recognize asked, “You’ve always had a bit of a mouth on you, haven’t you?”

“I was literally born with one.”

“Do you know how to shut it?” he followed up.

“Nah, but I know how to shut yours.”

Zeke dug his fingers into your waist, his face still smiling. You held your tongue while the guy continued being an absolute asshole. This was the kind of nonsense you couldn’t stand. You zoned out, eyes looking outside at the pool. The voices around you melded into a singular drone you tuned out.

“Hey,” he said, snapping his fingers in front of your face. “I asked you a question.”

You looked at Zeke for reassurance and saw that his attention was elsewhere. Your stomach dropped. He may have been standing next to you but he felt miles away.

“What?” you finally replied.

“Did you really fuck Magath to get a writing credit for that Jennifer Aniston movie?”

Your skin felt like it was on fire. Holding back wasn’t an option.

“It was a Kate Hudson movie. Why the actual fuck would I sleep with someone to say I helped write a Kate Hudson movie? Are you stupid or just trying to start shit? Because if your only way to make me feel bad is by implying I slept with someone to further my mediocre career, you need to try again because that ain’t gonna cut it.”

You freed yourself from Zeke’s grasp and got in the guy’s face, towering over him. He gave you nothing but stunned silence.

“Let’s get some air,” Zeke said a little too cheerfully.

Once outside you held your head in your hands, fighting the urge to scream. You should have acted unbothered, but weren’t good at faking. You kicked the air in frustration.

“What was that back there?”

“What was what?” you spat out. “You mean the dumb fuck inside?”

You dug through your bag for a joint and a lighter, sighing in relief when you found them with ease. 

“You should have had my back,” you said, using the joint to point at Zeke.

“I didn’t even know what was going on,” he lied.

“You were right fucking there! You were literally right beside me,” you said, lighting the joint.

“What was I supposed to say?”

You took a hit and exhaled.

“Fucking anything,” you suggested. “Could’ve changed the subject. Could’ve said, like, ‘Go fuck yourself. Don’t talk to my fake girlfriend that way.’”

“Once that guy gets going there’s no stopping him.”

“You noncommittal piece of shit. You fucking Judas.”

“Don’t let something that inconsequential ruin your night.”

“Maybe it was inconsequential to you...” you said, taking another hit.

Zeke reached out for the joint, but you didn’t hand it over. He didn’t deserve it.

“But it wasn’t to me. Do you know how often I deal with shit like that?”

“You should be used to it then.”

You were rendered silent. You couldn’t even verbalize your rage. Words were incapable of capturing the essence of it.

So you opted to push him in the pool.

You stormed off back inside, lit joint hanging out of your mouth. The house felt like a maze, you could’ve sworn it got bigger, vaster. Everyone’s faces blended together. You felt like you were gradually traveling back in time, like you’d been here too many times before. This wasn’t the person you wanted to be. This wasn’t any better than the old you.

You glanced over your shoulder and saw a couple people tending to a soaking wet Zeke, briefly making eye contact with him. Instead of glaring at you he smiled. You were happy he didn’t seem to hate you but it was infuriating all the same. He never dropped his facade. For the longest time you admired this ability but now it was a glaring flaw.

The relief that washed over you once outside was immense. You found yourself sitting on the curb, finishing off your joint. It was a clear night, colder than anticipated. The stars made your discomfort worth it even if most were drowned out by civilization.

“You’re lucky I didn’t have anything important in my pockets.”

Zeke stood behind you, his wet clothes clinging to his body. He was shivering.

“Bummer. I was kinda hoping I’d fuck up your phone at least.”

He laughed and sat next to you.

“I realize I could have probably been a bit more sympathetic.”

“I didn’t want sympathy. I wanted you to have my back. Toss out a witty retort that defended my honor or some shit,” you replied dejectedly.

“You held your own though.”

“That’s not the point,” you called out in exasperation. “I know I can hold my own. But… fuck, I don’t know. I needed you!”

He cleared his throat, his nerves revealing themselves.

“I’m sorry. Next time I’ll—”

“Ugh. Please. I’d rather fucking die than have a next time. I cannot keep doing this shit.”

You looked at Zeke and his pathetic form. You took off your jacket and put it over his shoulders.

“It gets so exhausting. Defending myself. It’s almost as bad as pretending everything is fine, like nothing is wrong,” you said sadly. “I feel like I’m talking in circles sometimes. Don’t mind me.”

“I’m going to mind. You pushed me into a pool about it.”

You groaned and stared up at the night sky.

“All of my self worth used to come from how fuckable I was because I thought that’s all I had to offer. I was made to believe that was the extent of my purpose. The writing was auxiliary. A nice surprise. And I cultivated that notion because I bought into it.” You felt yourself getting frustrated. “Do you know what that’s like?”

“No. I never had to concern myself with something like that.” He paused. “I suspect that was a rhetorical question.”

“It was, but I appreciate you being honest.”

“I wouldn’t lie to you. I’m too afraid to,” he laughed.

You rolled your eyes. “I am not that scary.”

“That guy nearly shit his pants when you got in his face.”

“Oh my god! I hardly got in his face.”

“Just own up to it. You’re a little intense. It’s par for the course in this industry. Nothing wrong with it.”

“Fuck. Fine. Whatever. I’m a little intense.”

Both of you fell silent. You scooched closer to Zeke, hoping maybe your body would warm him. You wanted to make up for acting so childish.

“I could never be like that,” he muttered. “Though I'd like to be.”

“There’s nothing stopping you.”

He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“It’s just not my nature.”

“Ah yes, I forgot you’re such a gentle boy,” you teased.

He grinned. “Exactly. I’m too delicate.”

You hated how cute he was when he smiled; you wanted to kiss his crow’s feet.

“Do you need a ride?” he asked smoothly.

“Yeah,” you mumbled.

Zeke drove you home in his black Polestar 2. He cranked the heater as he sped down the freeway, still shivering. He tried to keep the conversation light by asking if you had been working on anything.

“I can’t even remember the last time I wrote.”

The realization made you nauseous.

“Why haven’t you been writing?”

You hung your head and struggled to articulate your vague, creative block. “I don’t know. Like why bother if no one wants to work with me?”

“Don’t you enjoy doing it?”

“Yeah…”

“There’s a reason to bother.”

“... True. It’s not like I need permission from anyone.”

“Just yourself.”

He had a point. Whether you wrote or not was one of the things in your life you controlled. There was no reason to hold your ideas hostage. You had every right to free them and let them wander the page.

When you finally reached your home you hesitated to get out of the car. For whatever reason you wanted to remain around the damp man beside you. The hearty yawn he let out though helped you make your exit.

You took your seatbelt off and turned to face him.

“Thanks for the ride. I would not have been as kind to you had you pushed me into a… pool.”

“I know,” he said wistfully.

“Well, uh, get home safe.”

“I’ll try. I hope you feel better.”

“Me too,” you sighed, stepping out of his car.

“When can I see you next?” he asked dreamily, his rough hand latching onto your wrist.

“I don’t know.”

“Ballpark it for me.”

His grey eyes were trained on your lips.

“Soon I guess. Go home, sleepyhead. You look damp and miserable.”

Zeke bid you a weak farewell before driving off. You couldn’t figure out why he put up with you. Why did he want to see you again? You, who had dented his reputation with such ease. All you seemed to do was make his life worse. And yet he kept coming back.

Floch wanted to wring your neck for the pool incident. Someone managed to film it and the footage went viral. The narrative surrounding it all was that Zeke tried to dump you and you simply could not cope with it. You were painted as a hysterical, scorned lover that couldn’t take a hint.

You had to laugh. You wished it was that simple

“You ruined everything. It’s fine. I don’t care, but I need you to know that,” he said over the phone.

Hanging up on him crossed your mind but you wanted to be mature.

“Yeah, yeah. I know. I fucked it all up. But it can’t get any worse.”

“Don’t! It absolutely can!”

“Fine. I don’t think I can feel any worse. I think I had a breakthrough honestly.”

“Oh, thank goodness! Will this breakthrough translate into people trusting you?”

“Nah. But it did make me realize, like, I don’t have to do studio shit. I can just write whatever I want. Fuck my reputation. I mean, I know I won’t make money, but I’ll figure that out later.”

“As your friend, I’m happy for you. That’s fabulous. But as your agent, are you kidding me?!”

“Nope!”

Floch groaned and muttered a few indecipherable expletives before saying, “If this is what you really want, I’m up for it.”

“Really?”

“Mhm. I think you got the talent to pull it off. I would have kicked your sorry ass to the curb if I thought otherwise.”

“Wasn’t expecting you to be so accepting,” you demurred.

“Listen I may be a fucking bastard, but I believe in you. I always have. If you don’t fuck around and get your head out of your ass, you can do it. I know you can.”

Elation couldn’t even begin to describe how you felt. All the unnecessary pressure you put on yourself dissipated. You were free, lighter than a feather. You looked out your window at the soft, warm light of the moon. The oak trees’ autumnal leaves ebbed as a cold wind swept through them.

“Th—that really means a lot to me.”

“Alright, alright. I gotta go. Louisa and Reed are running around like wild animals when they were supposed to be in bed at 9pm which was… Three fucking hours ago?!”

He hung up before you could say anything.

“Dude has no phone etiquette.”

Just as you went to set your phone down you received another call. This time from Zeke. You couldn’t imagine why he’d be calling you at such an hour.

“What’s good?” you asked.

“Can I come over?!” he bellowed through the phone.

“You don’t need to yell.”

“I’m sorry. Can I come over?” he slurred.

“It’s a little late. I was gonna crawl into bed.”

“Ah, fuck. Well, I’m already here.”

You peeked out your window and saw him swaying in front of your home. He was drunk, practically wasted.

“Yeah, I see you. Uh… Hold on,” you said before hanging up.

You threw on a robe and greeted him at the door.

“How did you get here?”

“Whoa, whoa. One question at a time,” he leaned against the door frame, “cutie pie.”

“... How did you get he—”

“Caaaaab. Old school. Called ‘em up. That’s how I’m doin’ shit now. New year, new me.”

“It’s… It’s November.”

“I’m pregaming. Can I come in? You owe me.”

“Yeah, c’mon in.”

You let him inside, stifling a laugh as he stumbled through the door.

“I meant to do that.”

“Sure you did,” you replied, patting him on the back.

You led him into your living room and gestured for him to sit on your couch. He happily collapsed face down on it. You winced and decided to get him a glass of water. When you returned he was sitting up, his forehead a little pink from where it made contact with the cushion.

“Can I be honest with you?” he asked, now holding his head in his hands.

“Yeah, dude.”

“You hurt my feelings.”

“Is this about the pool? See, I knew you were fuckin’ mad at me!”

“What? No. I don’t care about that.” He stared up at you over his glasses. “That party. The one where I tried to introduce myself. And you blew me off.”

You held the glass of water out to him. He snatched it out of your hands like a little gremlin.

“I don’t even remember that. Are you sure it was even me?”

He took a sip of water. “You’re very hard to forget for better or worse.”

“Oh.”

“Why do you think I agreed to do any of this shit anyway? My agent’s been on me about dive bombing my career, which that’s him being a drama queen, but that’s not my point. I, fuck… I like you so much. And I want you to like me too, but I get that you don’t and that’s fine. I don’t like me either. I’m fake.”

“You’re not fake,” you said, taking a seat next to him. “You’re not like… the most genuine person, but I wouldn’t say you’re fake.”

“No. Don’t. I’m a phony.”

“Oh my god.”

He groaned and took another sip of water.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he whined. “I just… I hate that I can’t find it in me to be like you. You refuse to take anyone’s shit and have no problem sticking up for yourself. A director literally told me to ‘get the stick out of my himbo ass’ when I said he should treat his cinematographer with more respect. And you know what I did? I fucking did it… Not… No, I didn’t pull a stick out of my ass.”

“I figured,” you snorted.

“But I smiled and said, ‘I guess it’s not my place.’ Not a hint of sarcasm. I rolled over, showed that man my belly, and begged him to slice me open as a way to repent.”

“Belly? What belly? You mean your abs? Come the fuck on. Belly? Ha.”

Zeke lifted his shirt and examined his abdominal muscles. He shrugged.

“You know what I mean,” he said, pathetically leaning over and resting his head on your shoulder. “You wouldn’t have done that. You would’ve been said, ‘I’m about to pull the stick out of my ass and beat you with it if you don’t start treating them better.’”

“You’re not allowed to do that good of an impersonation of me. Not this early in our fake relationship.”

It was hard to hear Zeke being so drunk and vulnerable. You didn’t know how to handle him. Jokes and asides seemed to be the only thing flowing from your mouth.

“You are on my mind a lot,” he lamented.

“Trust me. I’m not exactly someone to admire.”

“Stop. You don’t get to decide that for me. You don’t get to decide if you’re worth knowing, or worth admiring, or worth loving. I get to. Not you.”

“Okay,” you mumbled.

Zeke exhaled deeply.

“I’m not saying I’m in love with you. I’m not that delusional, but… Fuck, just let me like you? Let me get to know you? I need to be close to you.”

His drunk ramblings were bathed in anguish with a tinge of hilarity. You felt bad for him, but it was an unexpected surprise for him to be so forthcoming about his pining. Never before had you considered anyone aching over your perceived indifference. You had to admit it boosted your ego a little bit.

“You’re practically sitting on me right now so we’ve crossed that bridge.”

He sniffled.

You kept speaking. “I’m gonna be real. I’m not exactly used to, uh, hearing shit like this so I don’t know how to—”

Zeke grabbed ahold of your face and kissed you; it was ripe with desperation. You momentarily reciprocated the kiss, leaning into him and his embrace. He tasted like tequila and cigarettes. His teeth clinking against yours pulled you out of the moment, letting you assess the situation. You pulled away and cleared your throat.

He was wasted and, as much as you wanted to kiss him, he was in no position to be doing anything of the sort.

“You’re drunk, Zeke.”

“I know. I should go. Do—don’t tell me about anything I said tonight.”

He tried to stand up before quickly resuming his previous position.

“Stay the night. We can get you home in the morning, alright?”

“Yeah?” he asked, taking off his glasses and rubbing his red rimmed eyes.

You nodded. “You can even sleep in my bed as long as you don’t act like a fuckin’ weird ass.”

“I assure you I will not be a fucking weird ass. I’m very anti-weird ass.”

“Good.”

“I’d—I would even say I’m bigoted towards them,” he slurred as you helped him up. “Weird asses have too many rights. We let them out in the world? They’re just skittering around, weird assing it up?!”

You started to crack up. He sounded so serious and intense. It was like he got possessed by Daniel Day-Lewis for a brief moment.

“Hush. Don’t get yourself all riled up.”

A faint smile crossed his face. It was markedly different from the ones he had worn before.

You couldn’t help but ask, “Are you smiling because you’re happy or are you compulsively masking your feelings again?”

“It’s a real one,” he said, his words all melting into one.

Regardless of their decipherability, you liked having verbal proof that Zeke genuinely smiled in front of you. The second you got him into bed he passed out. You crawled in on the other side, careful to keep some distance between your bodies.

When you woke up the next morning you found him cuddled up next to you. You slept on your back so you wouldn’t have felt compelled to curl up next to Zeke. But somehow in the middle of the night he managed to embrace you. His head rested on your shoulder and his arm was lazily draped across your chest.

You ruffled his hair and gently sang his name. He groaned and held you closer.

“Hungover?” you asked.

He yawned. “Just a tad.”

He rolled over onto his back and slowly sat up, his shoulders slumping forward. His eyes were barely open, protecting themselves from the harsh, autumn sun.

“Is your career really tanking because you traipse around with my dumb ass?”

His shoulders heaved as he gruffly chuckled.

“If I were a hyperbolic man, I’d say yes. Alas, I am but a normal guy so no.” He was interrupted by a hearty yawn. “People give me shit about it, but that’s hardly an issue. And, hypothetically, if chasing after you did take a massive shit on my career, I don’t think I’d care. Or I’d at least try really hard not to.”

“I guess that’s… admirable.”

“You know what would be admirable?” he asked flirtatiously.

He glanced over at you, clearly admiring your sprawled out limbs as the sunlight danced along your skin.

“What?”

Zeke’s face fell into despair. He froze and swallowed hard. His pallor took on a sickly greenish hue.

“I was going to say you should kiss me, but I don’t feel good at the moment.”

“Fuck. That’s so sexy,” you teased.

He gave you a wink before softly moaning as waves of nausea overtook him

“So, uh, now that you’re not wasted…”

Your words struggled to form sentences. You wanted to make sure Zeke meant the shit he said last night.

“Can I… Am I still worth loving? Wait! Or knowing or whatever you said? I can’t remember.”

You remembered everything. There was no use in pretending.

Zeke was quiet for a moment before a sly grin crept across his face. He fixed his gaze on you and simply said, “Absolutely.”

“Really?” you croaked out.

“Yes. I have one request though. I don’t want our agents involved or any industry people. We do this on our terms,” he orated.

You nodded and poked his cheek much to his chagrin. “Got it. We do it for us.”

He laid back down next to you, resting his head on your chest.

 “Exactly. For us,” he replied softly.

#zeke yeager x reader #zeke jaeger x reader #zeke yeager fics #zeke jaeger fics #aot fics #snk fics #attack on titan fics #shingeki no kyojin fics #.fics #.aot #.zeke #x reader #reader insert

[kooruphobic]

WILL YOU BE MY VALENTINE? — armin arlert/reader

𓆩♡𓆪 tags : sub!armin, tease!reader, armin has a crush (on you), and is definitely helplessly in love, kissing, begging (slightly), vaginal sex, jean kirstein is a bitch, armin thinks about voueyrism(?), smut

𓆩♡𓆪 word count : 2.7k

𓆩♡𓆪 summary : armin has been pining after you for years. when the two of you end up alone in his room, he finally works up the courage to ask you to be his valentine. but in the end, he gets a little more than what he asked for.

Armin likes you. Everyone knows—Eren, Mikasa, Jean, Connie, Sasha—it’s a universal fact at this point. Even people who aren't in your close circle know.

He’s liked you for years. Ever since Eren introduced the two of you he fell in love at first sight. Armin wasn’t gifted with the courage to flirt with girls as Eren does, so he’s admired you from afar instead. Everyone notices how he looks at you and how he blushes when you get close to him. One time, when your entire friend group was hanging out, there were no more spots on the couch so you asked if you could sit on his lap as a joke. His entire face went completely red in seconds. He managed to choke out a quiet “yeah,” and for the few weeks following Armin had to face relentless teasing from the entire group. 

Truth be told, you knew what you were doing. You always know what you're doing. Even though he doesn't think you know, it's quite obvious to you that Armin has a crush. Teasing him when you all hang out together is probably one of your favorite pastimes. You enjoy the way he struggles to get out the right words when you compliment him or how his eyes go wide and his cheeks flush rosy-pink when you flirt. 

If you're being honest with yourself, you might also have a little crush on him. Armin is very pretty. You like his blonde hair and how his soft blue eyes compliment them. His smile is super cute, too. He’s always nice to you (probably because he likes you) but he’s always careful with what he says and has never done anything to make you uncomfortable. You would ask to date him, but you find no fun in making the first move. Imagining Armin being flustered as he’s confessing to you is something you picture almost every time you see him.

Today is the 14th of February. It's a day that people either love or hate: Valentine’s Day. Since nobody in the friend group is dating anyone, you decided to spend Valentine's Day with each other. Armin offered for everyone to come over to his place and you did. You all played games (almost losing friendship over an Uno match), ate, drank, and talked about stupid things. It was like any other typical hangout you guys had.

Or so Armin thought. With the way his friends are, he shouldn't have been surprised when they all left to go “pick up” something. Jean was the one who urged you to stay with Armin, insisting he couldn't just be left alone even though Armin kept telling you it was fine.

And now the two of you are in his room, sitting on the edge of the bed, talking about nothing in particular. 

“...And I always lose when we play anything card related. You guys are plotting against me or something,” you laugh softly, slightly tilting your head. You ask him a question but your words simply go through one ear and out the other. The only thing Armin can focus on is how pretty you look next to him. He eyes your chest and eventually trails down the rest of your body, practically undressing you with his eyes.

“Armin?”

You wave a hand in front of him, breaking him out of his trance. He realizes he’s been staring at you for a little too long, and he immediately begins coming up with one hundred different excuses for himself.

“I’m sorry, I just spaced out for—”

“What were you thinking about?”

You.

“I-I dunno. Just stuff, I guess.”

Armin’s cheeks are dusted rose-pink and he can feel the blood rush to his face. He’s praying you don't notice his flushed appearance (you do, though). You giggle at his sudden shy demeanor, despite him talking so confidently with you just a few minutes before.

“You can tell me, I won’t judge.”

You will judge. How can he possibly tell you straight-up he was thinking about you? 

“It's nothing, really. Did you ask something earlier?” he questions, trying to change the subject.

You smile. Earlier you asked if he had a valentine. You know the answer already, you just want to see him become a stuttering mess.

“I asked if you have a valentine.”

Armin's eyes widen for a second and he quickly looks around the room, finding something to focus on so he’s not looking at you. 

Of course, he doesn't have a valentine. He wants it to be you, but there's no way he has enough courage to do that. Armin has done the math. There's a ninety-nine-point-nine chance of him getting rejected, so it's kind of silly to confess knowing he’ll get his heart broken.

He’s heard it a million times from his friends every year: “Just do it. The worst she can say is no,” but that's just it. Every time a guy thinks the worst she can possibly say is “no” the outcome is the complete opposite and they get rejected in ways ten times worse. Armin doesn't have any personal experience with that, but he’s certainly seen what other guys have been through.

But then he starts thinking, what if you do say yes to him? What if the point one percent of you not rejecting him actually pulls through? Armin feels a small sense of confidence. It wouldn't hurt to confess…right? He’s liked you for years so why not just tell you and get it over with? He does have the perfect opportunity. Maybe watching Eren flirt with all those girls has given him some second-hand experience.

Armin stops staring at the pencil on his desk and returns his gaze to you. You still have your head tilted to the side, patiently waiting for an answer.

“...Yeah.”

The little confidence he had in himself left and was replaced with immediate regret. Why did he say that? He didn't even say it as a normal person would. His voice came out quiet and shaky. Where was he even going with this?

“Oh, really?” you smile again, a hint of amusement in your voice. “Who is it?”

“Well—”

“Is it someone I know?” you place a hand on his chest, pushing him back onto the bed. “Am I friends with them?”

Armin's heartbeat quickens tenfold, and instead of feeling the blood rush straight to his face, it goes straight to his dick. He’s hard and all you’ve done is put one hand on hand on him. 

You give him an innocent look and place a knee between his legs, acting as if you don't know what you're doing. 

“What's wrong, Armin? You're so quiet.”

What's wrong? What's wrong is that your knee is pressing against his hard-on and you're above him, hand still resting on his chest. There's no way you're doing this as a joke. It has to be on purpose, right? You're not just messing with him?

“You…you do know her,” he manages to say, closing his eyes and letting out a sharp breath.

 You lean forward and your lips ghost the shell of his ear. 

“Tell me about her then,” you whisper, “because it seems that you like her a lot.”

Armin swallows and places a shaky hand on top of yours, gazing at you with desire evident in his eyes. 

“She’s really pretty. I’ve liked her for a long time…” he trails off when you run your hand down his abs, but picks up again when you stop. “I haven't actually asked her yet.”

“Hmm. Why? Are you scared?” your voice takes on more of a sultry tone.

“N-no. Not exactly.”

“I think…” you tuck a stray strand of hair behind his ear, “that you should ask her right now.”

Armin looks up at you and stares. There's no way you're just joking. He’s used to your teasing—Armin always thinks it's just to mess with him—but you’ve never taken it this far. You have to like him too, right? Why would you go to these lengths just to mess with him? He realizes just how embarrassed he is and how embarrassing it would be if he really asked you to be his valentine. Armin would feel like he was in the sixth grade again, which is definitely not something he’d like to feel. 

You graze your lips against his, cupping his face with your hand. 

“C’mon, Armin. I know you like me. Just ask.”

He feels his face heat up again. For a second, he thinks he’s dreaming because there’s no possible way this could be real. But it is. It is real. It’s real and you’re telling him to ask you to be his valentine.

“Will you—will you be my valentine?”

He cringes slightly at his words but seeing the way you smile against his lips makes everything worth it.

“Of course I will.”

Armin swallows again as you stare at him for a few moments. He follows your eyes as they move down to his lips. As if asking for permission, you move forward ever so slightly. He thinks about it for a moment, wondering what would happen if the others came back and walked into the room. How would they react if they saw the two of you like this, your knee in between his thighs and faces so close you can feel each other's breath? They most definitely wouldn’t be surprised, but if you took it any further than a one-time thing…

He decides not to think about it any longer and closes his eyes, letting his lips find yours and kissing you. Armin kisses softly at first, but eventually, you start kissing back, and he loses himself. The kiss grows sloppier but it doesn’t matter to him. This is all he’s ever wanted. The number of times he’s fallen asleep fantasizing about your soft lips on his—he can’t even count them on his fingers anymore. Armin wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him. 

You taste sweet, a mix of chocolate and alcohol from earlier. It’s intoxicating. Everything about you is intoxicating. The way you smell, the way you feel, the way you touch. He hadn’t noticed you were running your hands down his body until you reached in between his thighs. Your hands lingered there, unmoving. He moans into the kiss, quiet but still loud enough that you hear. 

You kiss him for a few moments longer then break away. Armin is panting, his ears burning and eyes blown with lust. You’ve turned him into a mess with one kiss.

“Please,” is the only word he says, looking down at your hand still between his thighs. 

You tug his shirt, a sign for him to take it off, and he obliges. He throws it to the side carelessly, doing the same with his pants. 

You’ve seen Armin without a shirt before but you’ve never realized how good he looks. He has washboard abs, a slender waist, and a complimenting v-line—you can’t help but stare for a few seconds. You run your hands down his abs, trailing all the way down to his boxers. You hook your fingers around the waistband and pull them down, his hard cock lightly hitting his stomach. There’s already pre-cum leaking from his tip. 

“What do you want me to do, Armin?” you ask, wrapping your fingers around his length. 

He looks at you through half-lidded eyes. He doesn’t care what you do to him, he just wants more of you in any way possible. 

“Anything.”

You grin and pull your shirt off, then your shorts, then your bra. Besides your panties, you’re completely bare. Armin admires how perfect you look in front of him. He’s touched himself to the thought of you naked before, but nothing he imagined in that pretty little head of his amounted to how good you looked in person.

You go in for another kiss and soon enough he’s pushing inside of you, slowly enough to make sure he doesn’t hurt you. You moan into the kiss, rolling your hips onto his. 

“Wait—no condom?” 

“It’s ok. On the pill,” you intertwine your fingers with his and press your lips onto his again. Armin bottoms out into you and groans. You realize just how big Armin actually is. He places his hands around your waist and hugs you closer, holding you tight as if he’s scared he’ll lose you. 

You start moving up and down on his cock and eventually, Armin starts meeting you halfway. The two of you waste no time taking it slow, he’s desperate for you, and—even though you haven’t really shown it—you’re desperate for him. When Armin kissed you your thighs clenched, but he didn’t seem to notice. 

The room that was once filled with you and Armin’s innocent bickering and teasing was now filled with obscene sounds—from how he pistoned up into your wet pussy to his sweet whimpers—it turned on Armin so, so much.

You squeeze around him, enjoying his whimpers and breathy pants. And just as you were both chasing your high, coming close even though it hasn’t been that long, you hear the front door open and the sounds of your friend's laughter follow. Armin stops and looks at his closed bedroom door, a panicked expression on his face. A knock sounds on the door, Connie’s voice coming from the other side.

“Are you two good in there?”

Armin opens his mouth to answer but only a broken sob comes out as you slam your hips back down onto him. You continue, smiling down at him, acting like nothing is wrong. He looks at you with his eyes widened, biting his hand to stop himself from letting out any more sounds.

“Go on, answer him. You don’t want him to think there’s anything wrong, do you?” 

He grabs your waist with his free hand in an attempt to stop you, but he’s so weak from the pleasure that it does absolutely nothing. Tears prick at his eyes, from the embarrassment of being almost caught by one of his friends and how good he feels.

“I bet you secretly want it to happen. For Connie to come in here and see what we’re doing.”

You’re right, he does secretly want it to happen. He wants Connie to open the door and see the expression on his face at the sight of the two of you. He wants him to see the way you go down onto his cock, taking him so well and him enjoying everyone second of it. Armin isn’t even thinking straight anymore, purely driven by lust. He begins to thrust back up into you, tears rolling down his cheeks. Everything feels better than before; you feel impossibly tighter around him and he feels so good. There are no other words to describe it. 

“Hello?”

“We’re fine. Just give us a few moments, we’re talking about somethi—”

Armin stops mid-sentence because feels close, hips stuttering. He feels the way your pussy spasms around him and notices the way your eyes roll back. You’ve already come but he’s not done yet.

“I’m sorry,” is all he manages to choke out as he continues to push into you. He grabs your hips again and thrusts roughly, his rhythm growing messy and inconsistent. You’re overstimulated and you try to say something, but your jaw goes slack as he keeps going. He chases the high he was so close to earlier and finally reaches it, a string of broken sobs and moans coming spilling from his mouth. Armin’s loud and he knows it, but it doesn’t matter to him anymore. He pulls you into one final, messy kiss and closes his eyes, breath heavy. 

There’s a moment of silence and suddenly you hear roars of laughter through the door. 

“I fucking told you! You all owe me fifty dollars,” Jean’s voice echoes through the house, followed by a chorus of groans from the rest of your friends.

“You’re such a fucking bitch, dude.” Connie’s voice is clear at first, becoming quieter and muffled as he moves away from the bedroom door.

You look at Armin and he looks at you. You laugh and he gives you a shy, embarrassed smile.

“Oops.”

𓆩♡𓆪 note : this was supposed to be posted on valentines day. . .obviously. i posted it on ao3 on feb 15, and decided to post here too after awhile.

happy late valentines day!

#armin arlert #armin smut #armin x fem reader #armin x y/n #shingeki no kyojin #aot x reader #aot #aot imagines #aot fandom #aot fic #armin x you #aot smut #armin arlert x reader #armin arlert x y/n #armin arlert x you #armin arlert smut #kooruphobic

[amywritesthings]

silver underground. | chapter 21

( Read on AO3 )

Pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader (attack on titan / shingeki no kyojin) Word Count: 3.8k Summary: day 163 - also know as the day your world changed Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI - mentions of violence, death, bloodshed; miscommunications; amnesia trope; angst af

Previous Chapter. / Next Chapter. | Masterlist.

CHAPTER 21

Bergamot. 

He smells like fresh dirt and home and bergamot.

A pair of arms cocoon around you, holding you in place. Cradling the back of your head, lifting it from touching the ground, is a strong palm. 

Sounds of the outside world are muffled; distant.

Here all you can hear is the wild thumping of your heart, your blood strongly coursing through your veins.

I am alive.

I am alive.

I am alive.

The crash happened so fast—

Falling from the sky. Sliding across the forest floor. Rolling over and over and over—

Until your body stopped abruptly against a cushion of muscle.

When the dust cloud settles, when the fog fades into vapor, you open your eyes.

Shades of deep, vertical brown overtake your vision. It's so vibrant, familiar yet new. For what feels like hours you stare at a small bug, a speckled ladybug, crawling in circles until it decides to head north.

With each passing exhale your attention travels with it — up, up, up — when causation connects:

One of the mighty tree trunks of the forest broke this violent fall.

(But not just for you — he was the one to take the brunt of the damage.)

He...

When your lips part, your mouth is dry.

Constricted, confused lungs try for their very first breath.

Inhale.

Breathe.

Stay with me.

But that isn't your voice; not in your mind's eye.

Blurry images flash along your vision, sprinkling red, black, and silver against the brush and trees of the forest.

No matter how many times you blink, squeeze, tear up, the visuals scatter like materialized pins and needles.

They won't go away. They clip to your peripheral, forcing you to confront what's ahead.

Nothing is linear. Nothing is clear.

Nausea, relief, uncertainty, rage — these emotions assault your senses. Emotions. Mind.

It’s like waking up after a horrible dream.

One you’ve been kicking and screaming to leave the minute it started.

Let me out.

The freefall plays over and over, a never-ending loop of sickening weightlessness, without a means to jolt yourself awake.

Let me out, let me out, let me— 

Something mirrors your heart beat and fractures in its own rhythm, pounding erratically against your chest.

Your heart still beats, but not as panicked — not as heavy — as this.

As... his.

Him — the one who broke your fall.

(Levi.)

Without thinking, your trembling hand rises past his ribcage, up his arm, to his fingers resting on your trembling shoulder.

Then you realize it isn't your body that's shaking.

It's Levi's.

Quivering like a leaf, gasping for breath as if he’s run a marathon. 

He doesn’t move. He’s frozen in time, right where you left him.

(I’m sorry.)

Over and over, you replay precious seconds in the back of your mind — fractured memories you’ve only just begun to uncover.

Falling.

Darkness. 

(James? James, shit, wake up—)

A voice crack.

Hopelessness.

Instinctively your arms surround him, as if dissolving him into your very pores will somehow help with the confusion in your gut. 

Even when your fingers raise hire on your shoulder to glide along his, he doesn’t relax. 

If anything, his ivory muscles forge into steel.

Prepared, like you’re the enemy.

They do not soften when your fingers curl, timid and experimental, around his hand for reassurance.

(Wake up.)

They do not yield when you exhale, slow and steady.

They do not rest when you squeeze, as if to offer a sign of life.

(Please, James, don’t do this to—)

“Levi.”

Two syllables — you murmur his very name, realizing the severity of all that you’ve missed.

The dampness of the Underground City right above your heads;

The heat of the sun on a riverbank of the surface;

The light of the morning, just outside an open window, glittering over a bare shoulder;

All puzzle pieces, scattered across a large table.

They fit together in a way — you just need to figure out where.

When you inch your face away from his body, you see it: those blue-gray eyes, pupils dilated and whites wide, staring straight through you.

(As though lost in another time, in the same nothingness you’d lost yourself in for months.)

His chest heaves in and out, trying to catch a breath that just won’t come.

Wretched, heavy gasps contain the fear.

The panic.

All while reliving, too.

“Levi?” you ask once more, softer this time.

A sharp battle cry sounds above your heads. You glance high to witness the silhouette of Petra flying through the canopy of trees with a trail of steam behind her, swords extended.

The titan has been defeated. 

The forest floor quakes and shivers with its demise.

Except that isn’t how the mission happened last time.

The realization is a chilling thought creeping, infecting, the back of your mind as you return your attention to the captain in front of you.

“Levi.” 

You urge firmer this time, but it’s no use.

Levi Ackerman continues to stare ahead, but he blinks. Rapid fire, as if trying to return to his body.

This face.

You gravitate towards this face that consumes every waking dream you’ve ever had.

Caging his face between your palms, you finally snap with a command.

“Levi, look at me.”

His gray eyes shoot down, catching yours, and your entire world feels warm again.

The light in a never-ending darkness.

Your past is your present and your present tumbles into your past.

An undiscovered constellation of points in your memory that haven’t quite lined up yet, but him…

All you know is that you have missed him, this incorrigible man, lying beside you.

And all this time, it is Levi Ackerman that holds the frame of the puzzle you have been trying to solve.

Instinctively your thumbs run along his cheekbones, causing his eyes to grow impossibly wider.

Unwise, perhaps, but the softened motion brings you comfort unlike anything else, tethering bits and pieces together in the mind by touch alone.

Bits and pieces, to bigger pictures —

You — a nobody from the Underground City, meant to die by the hands of greed and saved by ones of promise.

You — a formidable fighter, a friend, a colleague, a lover.

You — Lieutenant James, member of the Special Operations squad in the Survey Corps.

Maybe you don’t have the whole story yet, but whoever she is… whoever you are…

She’s supposed to be right here.

Levi’s eyes flutter over your face as if to search for injury or damage, but he doesn’t remove his arms from your body. The captain continues to cradle you as if you'll disappear, dissolve, into the mist that swallows your very waking daydreams.

So you lean closer, murmuring just under your breath with pure wonder.

Recognition.

“I know you.”

‘You know me.’

You recall standing right in front of him months ago, begging in a stable.

Those fateful few months before you really knew how close you were to the truth.

'You know me, but you won’t help me. Why?’

That doubt on his face, deeply ingrained in curbed expectations.

It's a memory you haven’t been able to shake, not since you awoke from the hospital.

Now it twists into something much darker.

‘Because you finally have an out.’

Profound sadness infects your stomach when one jagged edge aligns with another.

The memory, fresh as morning dew on a weed, sprouts before your very eyes.

Yes, you do know him.

Yes, he wouldn’t help you.

Because you’ve been down this road before.

But not like this.

Not wrapped up like two star crossed lovers.

(That’s why you hate me.)

— suddenly your back meets the ground.

A pair of hands abruptly push you, knocking you down to the forest floor with a whoosh of a small oof from your lungs.

Your eyes connect with the bright blue sky, the twinkling of green leaves, the expanse of a bird's wing flying high above.

I know this place.

Why can't you say it out loud?

In a hasty cloud of dust, Levi's boots keep up dirt as he scrambles off of you.

To steady himself, his pale palm presses to the tree trunk. He heaves once, twice, before exhaling fully.

Breath finally returns to his body. What once was pale now has color.

When you eventually turn your gaze to him, he glares directly at you, but it isn’t cruel.

Feral, maybe, and diluted in his own confusion, but not cruel.

(You’d never witnessed someone so beautiful in your life.)

In a new light, you finally see him — a mirror image of two worlds, old and new. Of what your body misses to its very core. Of what your mind wants to remember, to know as intimately as it once did.

Slowly you roll to your belly and push up with your arms. You draw up on one knee, your hand instinctively raising to graze your neck.

There.

The silver pendant, tiny and profound, remains intact. 

The fall didn’t destroy it.

Immense relief floods your system, and your fingers cradle it like a lifeline.

'You don’t own anything. Now you do.'

That melodic baritone guides your ghost of a hand, adhering one more piece to the puzzle.

A fuller frame.

All you want to do is run to him, speak to him, hear his voice, but all you can do is watch as he cycles through the motions of getting his shit together.

Struggling through stages of anger, betrayal, relief, and longing — 

Before addressing you as Captain Levi would.

Because he doesn’t know.

He didn’t hear.

(You didn't say.)

“Are you out of your mind?”

An ironic question, all things considered. 

Your lips part to answer, but his finger raises to warn against that judgment.

A curtain of dark fringe hangs over his eyes, shoulders heaving.

“Direct insubordination against your superior,” he spits, but the edge to his voice is frayed.

He’s barely hanging on by mere threads. You want to knit them back together so badly.

“And endangering the entire squad–”

“Levi—"

“Oluo would have been fine, but you? You weren’t ready.”

Standing on both feet now, you ignore the dirt and debris on your white uniform and take a step forward in earnest. 

“Levi, if you would just—”

“I didn’t ask you to speak, James.”

His bark is as cold as ice, causing you to stop your pleas right in their tracks.

Your own wide eyes stare at him as he reprimands you, seemingly unhinged by what has transpired.

Your mouth shuts into a thin line, willing yourself to hear him out.

To hear him.

Piece by piece, the image fills—

“Commander Erwin was wrong to put you back in the Scouts," Levi growls. It’s spoken as if to convince himself of that very truth. “Abandoning your horse, defying my orders, acting without any regard for your fellow squad mates—”

He seethes, a flicker of rage fluttering across his face.

“—the recklessness of your actions could have cost not only your life, but the lives of my squad.”

“Our squad,” you correct boldly without realizing you’ve said the words out loud.

Wrong answer. His anger only grows.

“My,” he corrects viciously, “squad. You are a—”

“—Lieutenant, which is practically the same rank as you,” you blurt with your own anger, the adrenaline flushed through your veins as newfound familiarity seeps into your veins. "The titles don't mean anything. It's just shit made up for people like us."

“Excuse me?” he growls, and you don’t let up.

“And I know Commander Erwin has always favored you more, but you only pull ahead of me by two goddamn months in the Scout Regiment,” you desperately rasp, the excitement too great, “so shut the hell up and listen to me, Levi Ackerman, because I know you.”

Exhaling your frustrations in heavy heaps, you refuse to cower.

There is no reason to fear this man. There never was.

"I know you," you repeat, defeated.

As if you've confessed at the foot of his altar.

Levi, despite all of his anger, turns his chin sideways with a growing bewilderment. 

Now that you speak, you can see the dots connecting behind his very eyes. 

All you can do is hope — all you have is hope.

When he doesn't say anything, you step forward and continue.

"This whole time. This entire time you've tried... you tried to shut me out because you knew that if you did, I'd walk away."

"What?" Finally, he speaks, but his voice drops with caution.

"You said you wouldn't shut me out."

"And I didn't."

"But you wanted to give me an out, right?" you remind. "That's what you told me the day in the stables at the cadet camp."

His teeth grit. "I told you—"

"That day, you agreed to give me a second chance, but you hoped I'd get too scared in the forest and run the other way. Except I've seen things and—"

That grit dies instantly. "Wait, seen things?"

"Yes, I've seen pieces, Levi," you admit. "Pieces."

"Of—?"

"Us. Of my life." Your fire dies. "Of our life."

His jaw clenches so hard that his teeth could shatter.

Your shoulders drop, defenseless. Your hand touches the back of your head, trying to feel for where you might have hit it on the ground back then.

"You ran from me in that hospital in Trost when I woke up. You saw I couldn't remember you right away, so you thought..."

A small laugh of relief exits your mouth before you can stop it.

There are so many black spots in your mind's eye, but…

His face paves the way.

Four hearts, staring up at a skyless night; now only two remain.

"Damn it, you really thought I would never remember you when you were my entire life."

Falling.

All you’ve ever done is fall.

On your back, as a child in those fighting rings in the Underground City.

On your side, struggling to learn the inner workings of stolen ODM gear while a rambunctious boy with ash-blonde hair laughs to the sky.

On your front, when two strong arms pulled you on top of him, lips crashed to yours.

Yet Levi always held out his hand and picked you up.

Now his fists are translucent, tight at his sides, as your eyes meet.

“And so you pushed me around in hopes that I'd leave you here," you conclude sadly, "all while you blamed yourself for the rest of your days for my mistake — right?”

It’s as if you’ve confessed you’re a titan in the flesh.

Levi staggers back, the clink of his ODM gear rattling as he moves.

His eyes flutter all over your face, studying, searching—

“What the hell are you saying?” the captain croaks, unlike himself.

He stares, clearly waiting for the final blow, like you hold his entire life in the palm of your hand.

Oluo and Petra are somewhere.

And wherever they are means Gunther and Eld are likely not far behind.

They’ll approach at any moment to regroup with the Captain.

But you need him to understand—

Levi's jaws clenches again; an overwhelming flurry of emotion settling on his tongue.

He looks two seconds away from detonating.

"What did you remember?" his voice cracks, the facade shattering. "Just say it, damn it, what the fuck did you remem—"

“James!”

The panicked voice of Oluo shouts from the sky.

Petra follows not long after, attaching to the base of the tree trunks to softly find a landing on her feet.

The rest of the squad follow suit, eyes wide.

“Whoa, are you alright?” Oluo repeats, rushing forward. “The hell just happened out there?”

“Her gear got caught,” Petra replies with equal urgency. “I saw it when Captain Levi took off after you two.”

“Her gear?!” Oluo yelps.

The two of them rush over while their hands reach out, swiping your emerald cloak up and away.

They duck their attention to the gear to assess the damage.

The ODM canisters don’t look particularly busted, but the wire dangles helplessly without its spike.

You note just how nervous everyone looks.

Because everyone knows the story, you realize deep in your belly.

The story where a member of the Levi Squad fought titans and got her gear stuck, resulting in a catastrophic head injury where her memories were no more.

The one where they nearly lost one of their elite, only to result in that woman becoming a completely blank slate.

Someone that they'll never get back.

Except she's screaming in your head, slamming against your skull.

I'm here! I'm here, don't you see? I'm still here!

Eld and Gunther quickly descend next, their feet pattering with the quickness towards where you stand.

The squad surrounds you with a million questions, checking your head should there be damage.

Petra even places a gentle hand on your heart, but it’s hammering.

Alive.

Levi says nothing, does nothing; his chin ducks to his emerald collar, allowing his squad to have their time.

“You scared the shit out of us,” Gunther admits with a sigh.

“The hell were you thinking?” Eld adds.

You sheepishly shake your head, eyes still attached to Levi. “I-I wasn’t—”

“I had it, James,” Oluo counters, cutting you off. “I had that titan. You didn’t need to go back for me and almost risk your damn life.”

“Hate to say it, but I agree with Oluo,” Petra replies with a soft sigh, before pulling you in for a small hug. Your arms remain lamely at your sides. “You didn't need to prove you were badass to us, alright? We know." She lets go. "How did you cut yourself loose?”

“She didn’t.”

Levi’s voice breaks through, stopping everyone in their tracks.

He turns on a heel away from the squad, head remaining in a bow, and walks in the direction they'd arrived from.

“I caught her.”

You note the changes in expressions on the rest of the squad's faces.

Recognition smooths over their tired lines, like the significance isn’t lost on them.

Suddenly they duck their chins, too, as if ashamed for gossiping.

Only you remain with your head up, eyes square on the captain.

He does not look your way.

“Outing’s over. We’ll just have to break Four Eyes’ heart and tell them we didn’t capture any of those bastards today.”

“But we didn’t even make it halfway through,” Eld starts, turning his boot towards the captain with surprise. “We can go further.”

"Wait, we managed to clear the forest?" you ask without thinking, causing Eld and Oluo to glance your way.

Oluo’s eyebrows slide high to his hairline.

Eld’s narrow to a point.

“It… was,” Eld slowly, carefully, explains, “but the mission you — the one that you — Wait.”

"People still made it to the other side after I fell?" you exhale.

They made it.

The Scouts managed to push to the end of the forest.

The mission wasn't all for nothing.

A flurry of confused relief floods your system, yet the squad looks at you with pure confusion.

“...none of us told her about the forest debrief from last year yet, did we?” Oluo inquires, pointing to Petra. “Hey, did you snitch?”

“Huh? Snitch?!” Petra yelps. “What the hell would I snitch about? It’s not like it's a secret to anyone here what went down.”

“Yeah, but she didn’t make it long enough to see the end of it,” Gunther replies, rubbing his chin between his thumb and index finger. “And we all agreed not to bring up said mission when she woke up until she was cleared by that doctor guy she saved.”

“Doctor?” you blurt under your breath, blinking. "That I...?"

That you saved…

Albeit foggy, you remember the other team that fateful day.

Miro squad. 

There were so many names, so much chaos…

You struggle to remember the finer details, but there was someone named Rini.

An older man — or did he just look weatherworn from war?

Was it the same man from Trost?

“Wait. James.” Petra rounds you, searching your face with budding excitement. “Do you remember the last mission you were on? Is that why you’re—”

“I said the outing’s over.”

Levi's command bites off her question, and Petra falters.

“I already have one shithead disobeying instructions. Is this going to become a trend?”

The squad goes silent, turning to their captain.

“Get the damn horses back,” the captain growls. “We’ll reconvene as a group back at headquarters. That’s an order.”

“Yes, sir,” they all respond in unison.

One after the other, they offer a look of condolences to you before ascending to the skies.

Leaving Levi and yourself to remain.

In the back of your mind, you remember the odds.

Forty to eighty.

The screams of terror.

The urgency to fly through the trees.

A formation of horses…

A corner of the puzzle is complete.

Help me.

Why won’t you help me?

“Levi?” you start, and you see his face flinch at your tone. “Can we talk?”

“Not here,” he replies curtly.

“But—”

“I said not here,” he grunts, turning his chin to regard you over his shoulder. “I’m not doing this here.”

When his eyes meet yours, they soften.

Apologetic.

As if he’s teetering on the brink of giving up completely.

“Go back to your quarters,” he urges. “Clear your head. Figure out if…”

Did his voice just crack again?

You can’t help but gravitate towards his orbit, boots gently stepping closer.

“...figure out if you mean it,” he finishes, stronger now. “If you really do remember — any of this. We'll reconvene and debrief back at headquarters, but I told you: I'm not feeding you our memories. If you think you know me, then say it with your whole damn chest and hold nothing back."

His chin drops, his black fringe falling over his eyes.

You can't see what he's thinking, how he's feeling, but the way his voice turns to a whisper breaks your heart.

"I can’t keep up with these false hopes anymore.”

The necklace on your sternum burns.

Although you have a million questions, a thousand apologies, a dozen pleas, and very few certainties, you say one thing in return.

"Yes, sir."

You both stand in silence, awaiting the horses.

He stares at the ground.

You continue staring at him.

I know you.

You're the only certainty I have.

Once the rest of the squad arrives, you mount your horse and keep formation.

The sun bursts free.

There are no more trees clouding your vision.

Ahead there is an expanse of grass, reclaimed by time.

(A new start.)

Levi Squad returns to headquarters without a casualty in tow.

.

#levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman fanfiction #snk fanfiction #aot fanfiction #aot fanfic #aot fic #attack on titan fanfiction #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x female reader #snk fanfic #snk fic #shingeki no kyoujin fanfiction #shingeki no kyojin fanfic #shingeki no kyojin fic #attack on titan fic #levi ackerman fanfic #levi ackerman fic #sliver underground #wip series #amywritesthings

[levispersonalslave]

“You bastard, couldn't you have waited until after the meeting?”

He lifted his hand and ran it through your hair a few times. His eyes opened as you spoke to him. The look in his eyes was one of satisfaction. His lips curled into a smirk as he leaned towards your neck, his breathing still heavy when the sound of your voice filled his ears.

"Now now, don't give me that attitude." His voice rough, the words were spoken calmly, but they were definitely teasing. He'd managed to push you all he'd wanted during that hour, the way you were breathing still showed that you were still recovering from the session.

He wrapped his arms around your waist and nuzzled his nose against your neck, closing his eyes. He was ready to drown himself in your scent, he loved you more than anything. He planted a gentle kiss on your shoulder.

“Are you alright, angel? Do you need anything?”

His rough yet loving voice whispered in your ear. Once he saw you shake your head, he hummed in response. He grabbed your chin, his touch as gentle as the finest of feathers, and turned your head towards him to place a sweet kiss on your lips. He pulled you flush against him, closing his eyes and letting out a sigh of contentment.

“I could stay like this all day long...”

231 words, 1230 characters

#levi ackerman #attack on titan #levi x reader #levi #aot #levi aot #levi ackerman x reader #shingeki no kyojin #snk #captain levi #aot levi #aot fandom #aot anime #attack on titan levi #attackontitan #attack on titans #levi attack on titan #levi fluff #levi x y/n #shingeki no kyoujin levi #snk levi ackerman #levi snk #snk levi #snk fanfiction #levi x reader fluff #levi x reader fic #levi x you

[peachdues]

taking a break from the endless amount of angst I’ve been working on to write a fun, light-hearted (but still filthy) one shot featuring my other husband, Levi

“I’m going to fuck him,” you declare boldly, plopping down next to your roommate where she lays, sprawled across a blanket on the campus quad.

Sasha’s head snaps toward you hard enough to give anyone whiplash. “Who?”

You smirk and nod at the figure fastidiously making his way across the green in the opposite direction from where you’ve joined your friends as they lounged between classes. “Who else?”

Part of you wishes you’d thought to fish your phone out of the bottom of your bag for the sole purpose of catching their varying reactions — from Annie’s mild disinterest to Connie’s gobsmacked disbelief — as they realize to whom you were referring

“Bullshit,” both Connie and Jean answer in unison once they’ve picked their jaws up off the ground.

Your grin only widens. “Not bullshit; it’s a promise.”

“Your TA?” Jean finally looks to you, though he can’t help but cut his eyes back to the figure as he retreats into the social sciences building and disappears from sight. “And not just any TA — Levi fucking Ackerman?”

#attack on titan #levi ackerman #aot #shingeki no kyojin #aot smut #AOT AU #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #attack on titan fic #levi aot #captain levi #aot x reader #aot fanfiction

[clfixationstation]

The dynamic is NOT Eren gets angry, Armin soothes him. It's Eren gets angry and Armin does damage control for him. Eren slips into despair and Armin gives him hope. Armin gets tangled in his own anxieties and hopelessness and Eren comforts him. Eren encourages him, puts his faith in him, gives Armin the confidence to flourish.

It goes both ways. They have such understanding of each other, such kindness and respect the reserve only for each other (& Mikasa of course).

#cl thoughts #it not being reciprocal in fics is a peeve of mine #like Armin is fucked up too #both are mentally ill in similar ways #frustration at their lack of usefulness resulting in a willingness to sacrifice themselves #erearu #eremin #eren jaeger #armin arlert #armin #eren yeager #aot #snk #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #eremin analysis #armin analysis #eren analysis #aot screencaps