#zeke yeager fics

[blondeboyfriend]

𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐒 (𝐈)

[panel reads from right to left]

» Part 2 [ PAIRING ] Zeke Yeager x f!reader [ AUTHOR'S NOTE ] This was initially parts 1 and 2, but I decided to combine them. [ SYNOPSIS ] Summer is approaching and you desire to attend class like a good student is dwindling. You decide to ditch class and soak up the sun (okay, Sheryl Crow), but end up face-to-face with star pitcher, Zeke Yeager, who has similar plans. [ WORD COUNT ] 3.8k [ CONTENT ] High school AU, cigarettes, poor school attendance, Grisha's a shitty dad, and you have to ride a bike up a steep ass hill.

“Wait, so you’re really going to ditch?” Pieck asked.

She was always unimpressed with your life choices though her judgment did little to stop you. You haphazardly tossed your physics textbook in your locker and slammed it shut.

“It’s Friday. What could I possibly miss?”

Pieck sighed. “I don’t know, a pop quiz?”

“A pop quiz? I don’t think I’ve ever had a pop quiz in my academic career.”

“We’ve definitely had them.”

“Okay, but who actually calls them that? It’s not like we live in a John Hughes movie.”

You both headed down the hall, towards the back of the school. It was the easiest way to escape the campus. All the other openings were patrolled by the one lazy campus cop that spent his time harassing students for no good reason.

“I guess this is where we part then,” Pieck muttered. “I’ll let you know if you miss anything…” 

She wandered off, angry you’d be letting her suffer in physics class all alone.

“Sorry!” You waved, hoping she’d turn around. But she never did.

You pushed through the double doors and relished in the sunlight kissing your skin. It was 90 degrees but a cool breeze tempered the heat. A perfect day in June.

You looked around, not a soul in sight. You crept past a couple beige portables the school built three years ago.

“… I thought portables were supposed to be temporary,” you mumbled under your breath once you cleared the area.

“They just tell us that to placate us.”

You whipped around to see star pitcher and general nuisance, Zeke Yeager, laying down in the grass. He was wearing his cream colored fitted baseball pants; the knees strained with brown dirt. He wore a tight white t-shirt tucked into his pants with a black belt. He sat up, and lit a cigarette. He adjusted his glasses, and looked you up and down.

“Don’t you have class?” He took a long drag and exhaled the smoke in your general direction.

“I could easily ask you the same thing.”

“Feel free.”

“Don’t you have cl—”

“Oh yeah, I had physics but I decided to skip it today. Do I really need to learn about gravity if I already deal with it everyday?”

You gave him a quizzical look. He could not have been this dense. His grey eyes met yours; his gaze was intense.

“I’m kidding.”

You stood around awkwardly. Part of you wanted to peace out and let this talking ashtray go back to laying on the field. But the other part was transfixed by his demeanor.

“I figured. You don’t look that stupid,” you said.

“What class are you ditching?”

You dropped your backpack and sat next to Zeke, making sure to keep some distance from him. He was cute and it made you woefully nervous.

“Anatomy.”

“Lame. I would’ve ditched too.”

Zeke was notorious for his shitty attendance. He was perpetually ten minutes late. And he ditched class whenever he felt like it. No one gave him any shit though because he was on the baseball team. Your high school followed the classic rule: athletes can basically do whatever the fuck they want so long as they don’t fail their courses.

That was something Zeke never needed to worry about. He was intelligent, one of the smartest boys in your class. He had never gotten a single F in his life. You only knew this because people tended to talk about him in the halls. He wasn’t popular by any means, but everyone knew him. He was the best pitcher on the team. He frequently got caught smoking cigarettes in the bathroom. He got invited to all the parties.

“What class would you not ditch?” You questioned.

He lit another cigarette with the cherry end of his previous one.

“I don’t know. I like lit and film a lot.”

Your jaw dropped.

“I wanted to get into that class so bad!”

He snickered. “What did you get instead?”

“… Multicultural lit. Also known as, let’s read books from Western European countries because that’s so multicultural. I fail to recognize how reading a bunch of books by old white men is multicultural in any sense.”

“Are you implying white men operate under a universal culture?”

“And if I am?”

He took a drag. “You’re a genius.”

Your face grew hot. No one had ever called you a genius before, jokingly or not.

“Th—thanks.”

“Yeah, most of my teammates got into lit and film pretty easy, but you know… Privilege.”

You couldn’t hide your distaste. “It’s bullshit.”

“Oh, no! You’re absolutely right. I assure you I am the only one in there that knows we have a 12 page paper on Rashomon due next week.”

You threw your hands up in the air. “See! I want to write an essay on Kurosawa!”

He laughed. “You can write mine, if you want.”

You looked at him, completely dumbfounded.

“Ew, no.”

He playfully elbowed you in the ribs.

“I figured it was worth a shot. You want one?”

He offered you a cigarette. It was one of those weird brown ones, no filter. You’d only smoked once at a party. You had chugged three light beers and decided to bum one off of a rando. A menthol. It didn’t vibe with your lungs to say the least.

But for whatever reason, you said, “Sure.”

He handed you one and you were puzzled. You examined both ends, not sure which one you should light.

“Here,” he said softly.

He plucked the cigarettes from your hands and held it to your lips. His face was so close to yours, you thought you would die right then and there. You parted your lips and accepted the cigarette. He held a lighter to the end.

“Inhale,” he commanded.

You did and immediately coughed.

“Shit, my throat,” you choked out.

He placed a heavy hand on your shoulder, smiling like a proud father.

“Feels good, right?”

“Hardly.” You took another drag and coughed.

“Are you trying to look cool for me, kiddo?”

“No,” you gasped.

He squeezed your shoulder and then proceeded to take the cigarette from you.

“You’re too pretty to smoke anyway.”

“And you aren’t?”

“Are you implying that I’m pretty?”

“Are you implying that I’m pretty?” you parroted back.

He blushed. “It didn’t imply it so much as directly admit it,” he laughed.

“What the fuck is going on here? Yeager, don’t you have somewhere you need to be?”

It was the campus cop.  You panicked. You weren't a little miss perfect type, but you would be grounded for a month if you got caught cutting class. The cop was far off enough that you could maybe make a break for it. You stared at the gate in the distance. You were fast. And Zeke was an athlete so running should be easy for him. The cop began to lumber towards you both.

“Let’s go,” you whispered, sneakily putting your backpack on.

“What?”

The cop was cresting the hill. You were running out of time.

“Let’s,” you stood up, “go!”

You grabbed Zeke by the wrist and dragged him upright.

“Where?”

You pointed at the gate.

“C’mon, baseball boy, I’m not trying to go to baby jail.”

You both ran towards the gate. You prayed for freedom. You looked back at the cop and finally reached your original location. He stood confused and shouted, “Yeager! Where you going, dude?!”

“Dude?” you panted. You don’t know what possessed you to speak while running for your life.

“Yeah, he tries to act like we’re cool. It’s odd.”

You stopped once you reached the gate. You slid through the opening and ended up in a residential area. You were both catching your breath when you noticed you were still holding onto him.

“Oh fuck, my bad.”

“Huh?” He looked down at his wrist. “Oh! Ha, you’re fine. I didn’t mind your gorilla grip. I doubt I would’ve ran that fast on my own. I am in sandals.”

He gestured towards his feet, he was in fact wearing Birkenstocks and white gym socks.

“Well, now what?” you pondered.

You examined the row of tract homes, some more derelict than others. Most of the windows were busted in leaving the sidewalk glittered with broken glass. You dragged your foot across the shards, relishing in the noise of it cracking under your weight.

Zeke stretched his arms over his head and yawned. “I’m gonna head home. I wanna nap before practice.”

“Oh,” you said dejectedly.

You were hoping you would go on some sort of adventure together. Maybe grab burritos. Talk more about Kurosawa films. Smoke his fancy cigarettes. Maybe even rest your head on his shoulder.

“But I’m not doing anything after. We might be going kind of late tonight, but if you’re free we should meet up.”

“Really?!” You adjusted your tone so you didn’t sound so eager. “Yeah, I don’t have anything going on so sure.”

“Cool. Here.” He handed you his phone. “Add your number.”

You added your number to his contacts list.

“What do you have in mind?” you asked, handing his phone back to him.

“Not sure, but you’re smart. I’m sure you’ll think of something.” He punctuated the sentence with a wink and walked off.

You sighed and decided to head home. You were a latchkey kid so it’s not like anyone would be waiting for you. Halfway through your journey your phone vibrated multiple times in rapid succession. You checked it and saw messages from an unknown number:

you’re not gonna be one of those gorgeous girls that ghosts me, right? sorry that sounds so pathetic. promise i’m not one of those guys that get butthurt over a girl i’m looking forward to hanging out lol SHIT. sorry if i’m laying it on thick. you looked so cute choking to death.

Ghosting Zeke did cross your mind, mostly because you wanted to beat him to the punch. You found it hard to believe he wanted anything to do with you. It wasn’t a lack of confidence on your part; you knew you were hot shit. Simply put it all felt absurd, too idyllic. Meet up with him after baseball practice? Ha, sure.

But to your surprise you got a series of texts.

SHIT. sorry if i’m laying it on thick. you looked so cute choking to death. WAS THAT INAPPROPRIATE TO SAY? i feel like it was. was it weird? 😂 hella weird but it's okay for the record that emoji was ironic sure it was. is 8 too late? ... i take it back. i rhymed. we can’t hang out. sorry ⚰️

You opted to call him. The phone rang for what felt like forever

“He would be the type to not answer his—”

“Hello?”

“Oh! Hi! Uh,” you spat out in a panic.

Words were a foreign concept. You hadn’t thought about what you’d say after he answered the phone. You weren’t much of a planner evidently.

“Is 8 too la—Nope, not doing it again. Does 8 work for you?”

You smiled at him avoiding the rhyme. His voice radiated pride.

“Nope. I’m not some baby.”

“Never said you were one, kiddo.”

“Kiddo? Really?”

“I said what I said.”

Could he be anymore obnoxious? You shook your head. He probably could.

You sighed. “Whatever. What do you wanna do?”

“Can you ride a bike?”

You paused. “… Yes.”

“Do you have one?”

You thought hard. Your mom had a beat up, turquoise fixed gear she kept in the garage but you couldn’t even remember the last time you rode a bike.

“Yeah, I have my mom’s.”

“Cool. I’ll drop a pin. See you soon, beautiful.”

He hung up before you could even comprehend a word he said. You looked down at your outfit. You felt anything other than beautiful. You got off your bed and walked over to your closet. You eyed a floral-print sundress but shook your head. You barely knew him! It had only been a few hours since you last saw him. You never put this much thought into stuff like this, so why start now? You had every reason in the world to be confident.

But alas, you remained self-conscious. Plagued with insecurity and teenage woe.

“Try hard,” you murmured.

Nothing looked particularly appealing. You were embarrassed it crossed your mind to look cute for Zeke.

“Gross. If anything I should look uglier.”

You decided not to change your outfit. There was no reason to overthink it. You were going biking with the guy and it’s not even like it was a date. He just asked you to hang out in a very flirtatious way.

You ran downstairs and crept into the garage to grab your mom’s bike. As you managed to free it from the closet you knocked over the recycling bin.

“Sweetie, is everything okay out there?”

You panicked. She wouldn’t mind you taking her bike, nor would she mind you going out on a Friday night. But you couldn’t bear the thought of telling her you were going to meet up with a boy. You hit the switch and opened the garage door.

“Yup. Yes. 100%.” You grimaced as you exited. “I’ll be home late. I’ll text you if I die or something.”

“Sounds good.”

And off you went.

You biked to the spot Zeke told you to meet him at. The whole thing felt kind of shady the more you thought about it. It didn’t help that he essentially had you scaling a hill. You knew by the time you got to the top you’d be sweaty. The only thing that kept you sane was knowing he’d likely be gross from baseball practice.

“Fuck,” you panted. “This is so not cool. I can’t believe I let this shithead convince me—”

“Hey there!”

You dropped your concentration for a brief moment and glanced up to see Zeke. He waved manically, clearly hamming it up for you. Typical boy nonsense.

“You’re so close! You can do it!”

You finally reached the top of the hill and leaned your mom’s bike down on the ground. You sat down on the curb and tried to catch your breath.

“Hi,” was all you could cough out.

Zeke sat down beside you. He was still in his baseball uniform. He draped an arm around you, giving you a little squeeze.

“Nice bike!”

“Thanks,” you said, leaning your head on his shoulder. Shockingly he didn’t reek. He smelled like a pleasant combination of peppermint Altoids and additive-free tobacco.

“If I had known you’d be rolling up on a Bianchi I would’ve had us meet on flat land. You could’ve hopped on the back of mine.”

He leaned his head on top of yours. You typically weren’t such a touchy person but something about Zeke leant himself to human contact. It felt natural, like it was always meant to be like that. His blonde hair felt like velvet up against your cheek.

“The view is worth it though, right?” he asked, expectantly. 

There was a hint of worry, maybe even desperation to his tone. You stared out at the suburbs, which soon gave way to the city. The lights seemed endless, rows and rows of yellow and white pinpricking the darkness. Suburbia was never very attractive in any sense of the word, but he was right. The view was nice; it had been worth it.

“Yeah, it’s not too bad. How was practice?”

He sighed deeply.

“I’m the only person that showed up on time. No one else had their shit together. My catcher was somehow hungover even though it was a Friday afternoon and he’s barely 18. I got a ball thrown at my ass. My thumb feels weird. And my dad forgot to pick me up… Again.”

“Wow. Uh.” You struggled to find words that would console him.

“Sorry. It was not a good day to say the least.”

“No, no, I’m sorry. It sucks when you’re the only one that gives a shit.”

“No, kiddo, I’m sorry.”

“Kiddo?” you said, voice dripping with disdain.

“See! Sorry for calling you kiddo. Look at all the things I have to apologize for.”

You stared at him in disbelief. He gave you a little cat-like smirk. His grey eyes might as well have been sparkling. He knew he was charming. Boys like him were always the most beguiling. They were the ones you needed to keep an eye on, to keep at an arm’s length.

And yet, here you were with him, staring out into a vast expanse of human civilization with barely any space between you two.

“Apologies accepted then. But in all seriousness, I’m sorry your evening was shit. How did you end up getting home?”

He pulled out a cigarette and lit it.

“I walked,” he said, coolly.

“Far?”

He took a long drag and let the smoke drift out of his mouth.

“Few miles.”

“Well, you seem to be o—”

“I had… all my gear. I told him where to meet me. It’s not like he was clueless.”

“I—”

“But of course he tried to act like it wasn’t a big deal. His logic was, ‘It wasn’t a game.’ As if the issue was him not witnessing me play.”

You quickly realized he needed someone to merely listen to him. By look on his face you could tell people didn’t tend to lend him an ear when he needed to vent.

Zeke continued. “It’s... One second I convince myself I don’t care. And then the other… I don’t know.”

You desperately wanted to find the words to make him better. You hated to see anyone in such dire straits.

“I’m sorry your dad is such a fuck.”

He guffawed. “Understatement of the year. I wish I could return him.”

A lightbulb went off in your head. “Return to sender.”

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and mimicked a call. “Hey, grandpa, yeah, it’s Zeke. Can you take Grisha back?”

“He’s broken; it doesn’t father properly,” you snickered.

“Listen, I know he’s your son but he’s worthless.”

“Every day he finds new ways to disappoint everyone.”

“We thought ruining his first marriage would’ve taught him to do better but here we are.”

“Please take back this ugly man you call your son.”

He snorted. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Let’s slow down. I do kind of look like him.”

You stared blankly at him. “All the more reason to stand by what I said.”

You both broke out into a fit of laughter.

“Oh, fuck, kiddo. You’re too much.”

You punched his arm.

“We’re the same age, aren’t we? You have no reason to call me that.”

“It’s ironic. That’s charming, right? You’re into irony.”

You took a good look at him. He was right; you did have an affinity for irony.

“Charming? You? Ha!” you scoffed.

“I’ll have you know I’m a delight. People love me.”

“Psh.”

Again, he was right. He was endearing, easy to talk to. There was a reason everyone at school knew him. The teachers adored him and sang his praises. Girls whispered about him in the locker room. But oddly enough he wasn’t one of the “popular kids”. People talked about Zeke but they never talked to him. They treated him more as an idea, a concept, rather than a person.

“I’m a treat. You will never convince me otherwise.”

“Trust me, I wouldn’t bother. It’d be fruitless,” you said.

“So you’re admitting that I’m charming?”

“I guess.”

A smug expression crept upon his face. If you could’ve taken back those two words, you would have.

“The feeling is mutual,” he said in a singsong voice.

Your eyes widened and your face grew warm. Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Wow! Look at us! Two charming friends!” you called out nervously.

Idiot. You didn’t want to be friends! You wanted him to wrap his arms around you, call you kiddo even though it annoyed you, kiss you under the fucking stars! You cursed your mouth for betraying you. It crossed your mind to toss out a casual “jk” but you froze.

However the comment didn’t seem to bother Zeke.

“You know I can’t remember the last time someone actually called me their friend.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. How embarrassing is that.” He adjusted his glasses; clearly a nervous habit.

“I’ve heard more embarrassing things.”

He smiled. “Oh, good.”

“I don’t have many friends either, if it makes you feel better. I mean, other than Pieck I’m a bit of a loner.”

“I know, it never made sense to me.”

Jesus fucking Christ, was he trying to kill you with kindness?

You laughed nervously. “I think people think I’m a bit of bitch or standoffish. I could probably be friendlier.”

“Fuck that.” He lit another cigarette. “Want one?”

You shook your head.

He continued. “Being friendly is overrated. People take advantage of that. Plus you’re hardly bitchy. You just listened to me whine about my daddy issues. You’re a saint if anything.”

Again, he was laying it on thick. Calling you a saint was borderline too much to take.

“You have to stop. I’m gonna die if you keep gassing me up like this.”

He coughed. “Fine. You’re gross. The worst. I never want to see you and your nasty ass again.”

“There we go.”

He leaned his head on your shoulder again. The more you thought about his behavior it became clear he didn’t get much affection, platonic or otherwise. You still had an inkling he had a crush on you. But you decided to focus more on being a friend, someone he could come to. You knew a girlfriend could do those things, but romance seemed trivial. He didn’t need a love interest; he needed a buddy.

You were ripped away from your thoughts as you heard a faint vibration.

“Ugh. It’s my dad.”

Zeke got up and answered his phone.

“What?!” he shouted.

He wandered off. You could hear him arguing in the distance. Part of you wanted to run up and grab his phone and tell his dad off. But that would’ve been absolutely bonkers. You looked out at the view and tried to think about other things.

“Whatever. Bye.”

You heard footsteps behind you and the flicker of a lighter.

“What happened?” you asked; your voice filled with concern.

He stared at you. His grey eyes were lifeless.

“I gotta go.”

“Oh, okay,” you said with a frown. 

“But I had fun. Thanks for hanging out with me. Are you gonna get home okay?”

“Yeah, I don’t live too far from here.”

You both stood in silence, staring at your shoes. Neither of you wanted to go home.

“Can I… escort you home?”

“Sure?”

His eyes lit up and he tossed his lit cigarette into the street. You prayed it didn’t start a fire.

“Cool! Let’s go!”

He picked up his bike and mounted it. You did the same.

“Race down the hill? I know it’s steep, but it’ll be fun,” he said with a goofy, boyish grin.

You usually weren’t reckless as grievous bodily harm was anything but appealing, but you said fuck it.

“Ladies first!” And with that you sped down the hill.

“Cheater!” Zeke shouted as he trailed after you.

Needless to say, you won the race.

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

[lenacker]

How bad could your parenting be, to make your child think that not being born is a mercy?

Grisha thought about Zeke a lot. When a boy around Zeke’s age passed by, he couldn’t help but stare, wondering how tall Zeke had gotten. Has he passed his father’s height? The last time he saw him, Zeke hadn't had his growth spurt yet.

When he watched Eren eat his favorite food, he tried to remember what Zeke’s favorite food was, but nothing came up. Eren would grin brightly, remnants of Carla’s stew in his cheeks, loudly asking for seconds. Had Zeke ever done that? He usually ate his food in perfect silence. And quickly, so he can get back to his studies as soon as possible.

No matter how tired he gets at the end of the day, Grisha always tries to spend time with Eren, asking about his day. Eren would proudly show his bruised knuckles, saying he protected Armin from some bullies. “Good job,” Grisha would say. Carla always scolded him for encouraging Eren’s behavior, but Grisha thought about his other son, whom he never praised for all his hard work.

"He’s trying his best," Dina always pleaded.

Zeke's best was never enough. Eren couldn't sit still for too long, he likes running around. He likes playing hide-and-seek too. Grisha had no idea what kind of games Zeke liked. He can't run very fast, he often gets left behind during training. In retrospect, it's not that big of a deal. Grisha didn't know why it used to make him so mad.

Every year on Zeke's birthday (he was born at the first sunrise of August), Grisha would lock himself in the basement. He can't talk to anyone, and there's no boy to congratulate. So he just sat there, looking at that old family photograph.

Grieving for the son he had but never really got to know.

Grisha tried to give Eren all the things he didn't give Zeke. Eren's birthdays are always celebrated with cakes and candles. Grisha tucked him in at night, praised him for little things, and spent time with him.

But Eren is not Zeke, and there's no way to turn back time to tell Zeke all the things he didn't say. (Does Zeke even know that his dad loves him?)

If Zeke could see him now, would he be relieved that Grisha treated his brother better? (Zeke would love Eren; there's no doubt about that.) Or would he despise Grisha, knowing he's capable of being a half-decent father but never tried for him?

#grisha jaeger #grisha yeager #why is there a lot of different ways to spell their names #zeke jeager #zeke yeager #attack on titan #I've been thinking about Zeke a lot #he just wanna be loved #for someone who's more often used instead of loved he's pretty decent at loving eren #is this a hc or a fic? who knows

[keischreiber]

I wanna share this wonderful piece that was once again done by @iwanttobeaseme. They're always such a pleasure to work with. 😭😭😭

This time it's my Marley Trio of: Reiner, Kristina, and Zeke. I love how, generally, it feels like the power dynamic falls on Zeke despite being an Eldian... when you have Kristina there, who is the actual Marleyan.

I love how Zeke and Kristina became friends of circumstance. He's her closest thing to a best friend (which is why he is her best friend) and he has a good working and personal relationship with her, to the point she's one of the people who knows the extent of his Eldian Euthanasia plan. They are the type of friends who often agree to disagree without it affecting the bond that they've established. And they can understand each other's intents without judgement. And he does enjoy the fact that she willingly plays catch with him, much like Professor Ksaver did.

I think one of my favorite parts in working on their story is when Season 4 hits (because she knows what Zeke is planning and allowed herself to be an accessory to his plans) and things go so badly, she's stuck with the guilt of contributing to the destruction of Liberio and the deaths of many many people; especially her own students (Udo and Zofia).

But I also love how Reiner's able to make her confess what she knows because of that very same guilt. Imagine putting the most important people in the person that you love's life in danger. How do you take responsibility for it? Will you? What will you do to make amends? There's so many things to consider, and seeing growth to the character is always so fulfilling.

And if they get a happy ending in the end? Well, that's the cherry on top.

#◆ commissions. #iwanttobeaseme #kei's mumblings #kristina qual #kristina #reiner braun #reiner #zeke yeager #zeke #aot oc #attack on titan oc #attack on titan #aot #shingeki no kyojin #snk #RKZ #Goooood... I just wanna make a fic that revolves around the misadventures of this three.

[oxygenbefore1775]

ok, new hc (more so logical conclusion, really) - after each extraction of Zeke's spinal fluid by Marley, he undergoes severe sensory alterations such as hearing loss, vertigo or light sensitivity and other symptoms like headache and balance problems since the lacking spinal fluid can no longer provide cushioning for the spinal cord structures and the brain itself (and the brain obvi freaks out cuz of the suddenly appearing pressure) so on that chosen day of extraction, Zeke is rendered completely helpless, requiring several hours of rest for the csf to completely restore before he even considers doing anything else

#omg maybe i should write a fic about it #the only time when zeke would permit someone to take care of him #zekeposting #zeke #zeke yeager #zeke jeager #aot hcs

[freya-fallen]

Zeke Yeager and the Scavenger Take 5

CWs: Manpilative Zeke Yeager, sugar daddy vibes, a bit of dirty talk and humiliation, dry humping, forced drinking, coerced kissing, coerced sharing (kissing)

word count: 817

Part 1 Part 4

It’s your first time meeting Zeke at night. He wants you to come to a bar with him, insists it’ll be fun. So, you put on a dark skirt and forest green blouse, both of which are a little more form fitting than you usual (especially now that you’re eating regularly) and make yourself look pretty.

Knowing your luck, Zeke will have you licking his boots in an alleyway in an hour, ruining the effort to look nice for him. Oh well.

“Hey, little mouse. Don’t you look pretty tonight.” 

Your steps stutter as your gaze rises from the sidewalk. There’s Zeke, handsome in slacks, button down, and sweater. Beside him are two other blond men— a shorter, younger one who might be a teen, and another who is big and tired.

“Hi.” He extends a hand and you tentatively take it, tugging you to his side.

“This is Reiner Braun,” Zeke says, “And Porco Galliard.” He introduces you shortly, and you’re rummaging through your memories for the names. They’re vaguely familiar, meaning they probably work under him. Porco Galliard eyes you with the keen interest of a young man, but Reiner Braun just nods dully. “Let’s get going, eh?”

It’s a dingy little bar he leads you to, not that you know much about the places. The few times you’ve been in one, you weren’t there to spend money. 

Zeke pulls you into a booth beside him, a hand sliding high on your covered thigh. He orders a pitcher of beer from the woman who stops by, who eyes you and the younger guy speculatively, but says nothing.

Zeke fills the glasses for himself and you. “Drink, baby.” He taps on the tankard. Obedient as usual, you begin to sip.

It’s decent enough beer and you haven’t eaten much the last day or so, so it goes to your hear much faster than before. 

Zeke’s hand is under your skirt and drawing little patterns on your skin. It feels nice, the way his big, warm hand encroaches on your flesh.

He tips your head and you watch in a daze as his lips dip to yours. His tongue sweeps through your mouth and you can taste the same beer on him. You moan.

“Did you bring us here to watch you makeout with your girlfriend?” gripes the younger guy.

Zeke pulls away to lip his spit-slick lips. “Jealous, Pock? You can have a taste if you want?”

Your head turns so fast you feel dizzy and you start to speak up, but his thumb grazes over your apex as his fingers squeeze the meat of your thigh. Instead, you bite your lip to hide a whimper.

Porco voices your concern instead. “Um, what?”

“I’m not a jealous guy. I’ll share.” Zeke gazes fondly down at you. “Go over and offer Pock a kiss, honey.”

You search for evidence he’s fucking with you, but he’s as serious as usual when he tells you what to do. You slip out of the booth and around the table, fidgeting awkwardly.

“Get on there with him,” Zeke gestures with a cigarette laden hand, but there’s not much room with both the younger men there. “On his lap, then.”

You clamber up, wondering why this Pock guy isn’t saying anything, isn’t fighting this. He’s stiff as you throw a leg over his. Your skirt rides up. You glance up to find his eyes glued to the line of your stocking across your thigh.

“What the hell, Zeke?” It’s Reiner who objects.

“You can get a kiss next. Now go on, sweetie.” 

It could be worse, you tell yourself as you lean over to kiss Porco. You could be forced on your knees right here and— you roll your hips and the blond beneath you moans. His hands go to your hips to continue moving them against him.

“You can touch her, Braun. She’s so soft and delicate. Oh, don’t give me that look. She’s well-paid for all she puts up with.” That seems to settle something in him.

Reiner watches your lips part from Porco’s. His tongue darts out, then he says almost as if afraid to speak, “Most of them won’t kiss on the mouth.”

“Don’t worry about that, kid,” Zeke replies, watching everything from his side of the table. The cherry of his cigarette and the light in his eyes both gleam in the smoky haze. “She’ll do what I tell her. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?” You nod dumbly, your cheeks on fire. “Now, give Reiner a kiss, too.”

You lean over toward him, though Porco’s hands keep you firmly planted. Reiner meets you halfway, his lips desperate against yours, his voice a throaty groan of pleasure, like he’d a drowning man and you’re the only air he’ll breathe.

“Such a good girl,” Zeke coos. “My own dirty little whore.”

You couldn’t argue even if your mouth was free.

want to be added to the taglist? lemme know

#darkfic #aot #attack on titan #dark fic #zeke yeager smut #yandere #zeke x reader #zeke yeager #zeke jaeger #zeke yeager x reader #attack on titan zeke #porco galliard #reiner braun #kissing #pg13

[irregardlessly-tish]

#;diary #magic words that make me click on a fic #zeke yeager #zeke jaeger

[rubywithecat]

Heyy ! So that's a weird request, but yk the new uniform in the scouts? Like the black tight one. Can you do AoT characters reacting to y/n wearing it?

This is an intresting one Lol! Anyway I'm really sorry for writing late as I was struggling with my time management. I hope you will enjoy this <3 Luv ya!

Armin would be blushing so much and can't stop starring at you. He is so glad that he get to see your body shape clearly in that tight uniform and it turns him on.

--

Levi might not prefer that uniform but he can't deny that you looks so sexy in that and he just imagine how you would look like beneath the uniform u know what i mean? ;)

--

Reiner would be as suprised that he even forgot what he was supposed to do when he saw you suddenly. He would be just standing still in his titan form until Gabi called him loud. He thinks that you looks so stunning in that tight suit but he knows that you can't be his anymore which is really sad.

---

Porco would be falling for you at first sight. But he would be wondering why island monsters he used to call would make him really blushing. He could be staring at you and your body in the tight outfit.

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Erwin (he is dead before that but let's imagine if he is alive) face would turn so red that he is blushing. He really want to touch you and make you his instantly but there is a fatal mission awaiting so he had to wait!!

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Jean would compliment you in neutral way but he messed up so much as he talked to you and felt embarassed abou it. You just laughed and said thanks. He never thought he would see you in really tight outfit so he is secretly thanking to the one who made the uniform Lol

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Zeke starred at you and then deep in his thought he is having a really dirty one. When Levi kicked him he just got back to his sense and then smiled at you and flirted with you really bad like he wants to be the one who takes off the tight uniform from you. You got so creeped and about to punched him but slipped and fell right onto him and it accidentally happened like he was holding your ass when he tried to catch you. You guys were in really awkward situation Lmao!!

---

(I'm so sorry again for being disappeared for several days! I hope you all will enjoy this and thank you so much! Likes and shares would be really appreciated, loves!) <33

---

#aot headcanons #attack on titan #eren yeager #headcanons #levi ackerman #reiner braun #snk x reader #porco galliard #fanfic #armin arlert #reiner x reader #reiner x you #porco fic #porco x y/n #porco x reader #zeke jeager x reader #zeke yeager #zeke x y/n #jean x reader #jean kirstein #levi x y/n #levi headcanons #levi x reader #armin headcanons #armin x reader #armin aot #erwin headcanons #erwin x reader #aot erwin #erwin smith

[thena0315]

In a Modern AU

Grisha's first wife Dina, died from an illness when Zeke was 7 years old. In a few years his father would get remarried to a woman named, Carla. By the time he was 10 years old, his younger half-brother, Eren, was born. The four of them then lived a happy life together.

#eren yeager #eren jaeger #zeke yeager #zeke jaeger #grisha yeager #grisha jaeger #carla jaeger #carla yeager #attack on titan #modern au #aot au #fic idea

[jujutsubaby]

chemical reactions (part 1)

☆ pairing: zeke jaeger x pieck finger ☆ summary: when pieck traveled to faraway trost for a prestigious research position, she expected to feel lonely. what she last expected was to find a bit of home in her supervisor. ☆ warnings: chronic illness mentioned ☆ tags: modern AU, academia AU, slow-burn, hurt/comfort, friends to lovers ☆ a/n: when i say slow-burn, i MEAN slow burn. be patient please little ducklings...i hope it'll all be worth it ( ˃̣̣̥﹏˂̣̣̥ ✿) this first part is just mostly setting things up, but i promise things'll start moving next chapter~ masterlist | part 2 >>

It was on icy mornings like these that Pieck Finger felt the most homesick. True to its name, Paradis saw ample sunshine through the year, but its winters could have some bite. The bitterest days, while still nowhere close to the depths of the Marleyan winters, reminded her of her childhood on the mainland. On those cold mornings, she recalled exploring the winter markets with Reiner and Annie and Bertholt. The festively decorated storefronts reminded her of buying little Gabi and her friends candies (often with poor Reiner's limited funds, Pieck thought with a wry internal grin).

But life was cruel to Eldians on the mainland. Pieck's fond memories were always colored with the visceral tensions she had felt about keeping her father alive. Spending time with her younger peers had made her feel young too, but Pieck could not help but feel that she had always been a spectator to childhood. How could one be a child while wading through the mire that was the Marleyan healthcare system?

Cold winters reminded her of carefree times with friends, but they equally reminded her of those terrifying times when her father's condition would worsen, when his coughs would keep him awake all night. And no matter how skilled Pieck got at navigating bureaucracy, the silver bullet the pair of them were always missing was simple: money. And Marleyans had a way of keeping it out of the hands of Eldians.

That's why, as much as it had hurt her to leave, Pieck couldn't just look away from the Eldian work-study initiative Paradis Labs offered in conjunction with Trost University. Pieck hated to be seen as a charity case, and she hated leaving her father alone even more. But what she hated the most was being turned away by pretentious Marleyan doctors who looked at her and her father like clods of dirt on their impossibly shiny shoes. The money would be good, and a Master's degree from Trost U certainly wouldn't hurt either. Pieck's father had long insisted that an education was the sharpest weapon in their arsenal, after all. Pieck had always bitten back the retort asking where his higher education had gotten him; in Marley, Eldians could only climb so high.

Despite her misgivings, Pieck had still dutifully completed her undergraduate degree at the tiny local college. She had always been a mediocre student, but she found that her years of helping her father measure out his medications with their rusty kitchen supplies gave her some gifts in the chemistry lab. In any case, her efforts had earned her a spot as an undergraduate research intern with Professor Magath — Professor Magath who, for all his outward sternness, had decided to take her under his wing. Even Pieck was unsure of what potential he saw in her, but she was grateful nonetheless.

Five years after graduating and working as an assistant at the local apothecary (the title, shop, hours, and pay were all equally unglamorous), when Magath told her about the Paradis-Trost scholarship program, she took his recommendation at face value. He had not yet steered her wrong; as much as she complained about her current job, it was leagues better than what she could have ended up doing, and she knew that he had put in a good word for her with the shop owner.

Pieck had still applied in secret; she felt guilty for even entertaining the idea of leaving her father. But secrets only ran so far in the Finger household, and he had soon discovered a pamphlet in the wastepaper bin. Pieck's father had been overjoyed, of course, that his daughter was being considered for such a prestigious role. He was relentless in his encouragement and embraced her with so much pride that she could feel his arms and voice tremble.

That night, however, she had heard him on the phone searching for live-in carers that might be able to squeeze into his budget, and she had cried herself to sleep with guilt. In the cold light of the next morning, she realized that the pay and research stipend she would receive would be more than double her current take-home pay. With room and board covered, she would be able to send considerably more money home than she had ever dreamt of. In the end, Pieck felt, that mattered more than her company or any meager assistance she could provide.

Now, just a few months into the program, Pieck knew that coming had been the right decision objectively. With her money and his combined, Pieck's father had already been able to move into a more spacious apartment, and one that did not have heating cuts or spring leaks. They had even found a nurse to visit him, help administer his medications, and check his overall health. Pieck knew that none of these options would have been open to them had she not accepted her new position in the prosperous Trost. Her brain was certain of it. So why did her heart still feel so empty?

I am selfish to want to be back home, Pieck knew. I am doing so much more good working here than I would have been moping back there.

Part of it was guilt, of course. Pieck was still not entirely used to being in the majority on Paradis. Her whole cohort was full of subjects of Ymir, just like her. Her professors, her bosses at work, even the president of Paradis Labs, were all just like her.

When Pieck first realized she had gone a whole day without someone curling their lip at her in contempt, she was suddenly seized with the need to call her father. Hearing his warm, gentle greeting that always reminded her of a babbling brook, she sobbed until concern leaked into his voice. Back then, Pieck could not properly express why she was crying, but she now understood that she cried for her father, and her late mother, and all her ancestors, all of whom had lived lifetimes without a fraction of the respect she had gotten in one day.

Slowly, with the encouragement of her father, Pieck learned to enjoy her new life with less and less guilt. She even began to befriend some of her peers in the program — at least, as much as she could, given that she had a good five years on most of them. Besides, her experience growing up had been so unique that it made it difficult for her to relate to the ones who were closer in age to her. They were all kind and amenable, however, and that was the most she could ask for.

Life was busy, between courses, research, and work, but it was fulfilling. She was pleased to find that, given the time and space, she did have a passion for learning. She loved unraveling the mysteries held within the atoms and molecules that made up her life, and her loved ones, and even her thoughts.

Pharmaceutical chemistry still held her heart, though; to Pieck, nothing compared to the rush of finally understanding what the Marleyan doctors back home would prescribe, and why. It felt like magic within her fingers. It felt like power, and power had been something sorely missing from her life.

Anyone even remotely interested in any aspect of pharmaceuticals had heard of Professor Zeke Jaeger's lab, TITANLab. A collaboration between Trost U's chemistry department and the Paradis Research Hospital, TITANLab was new, but it was a hot topic among peers, coworkers, and faculty alike. The professor himself already had quite a laundry list of publications to his name (Pieck was not above doing some rigorous Internet stalking). Even Magath had heard of him, and he sounded impressed enough that Pieck knew she had to apply for a position.

One thing led to another, and that was how, this frosty Trost morning, Pieck found herself trudging to campus. It was technically the first day of winter break, but Professor Jaeger had emailed her at 3 in the morning asking her to meet that morning to conduct an "informal interview." Luckily, she had been up already to videochat Annie, Bertholt, and Reiner, and for the first time in her life, she was grateful for Trost and Liberio's vast time difference.

With just under four hours between seeing the email and their unilaterally decided meeting time, Pieck decided she could forego makeup (and a hairbrush) in favor of an extra few minutes of sleep. Jaeger was probably just some eccentric old man, anyway, what with his objectively insane sleep habits; who was she trying to impress? Still, she tried to avoid looking in the mirror before leaving the apartment; she knew she must look a fright — that finals week had really taken it out of her. She just hoped Jaeger wasn't one of those sticklers who prattled on and on about how people in the good old days used to wear cummerbunds and suspenders all over the place and how kids these days just didn't care about making good impressions. She had encountered enough of those types back home, and she was concerned her sleep deprivation might incline her to respond with five fingers.

Enough about my appearance now. Pieck clapped her face with her hands to regain some focus, and reviewed her talking points. Her life, research, and work experience, while probably unorthodox to a well-off Trostian, really did make her a unique asset to the Jaeger lab. She just needed to convince him of that, too.

Soon, Pieck found herself standing outside a door whose brazen placard read "DR. Z. JAEGER." She knocked twice on the door, cringing briefly as she caught a glimpse of her appearance in the window to his office. With her messy hair, haggard eyes, and nose and ears bitten bright red from the morning chill, she certainly looked...distinctive. She sighed and tried to at least smooth down the flyaways that had escaped from her haphazard ponytail.

"Come in," boomed a sonorous voice. Pieck rolled her eyes, a little more contrary than usual in her tired state. What, too good to get the door?

Pieck's life up to that point had, she felt, prepared her for the unexpected. She had never taken anything for granted, and many of the major events in her life occurred by complete chance. As such, she was well accustomed to surprises. She considered them old friends, even.

Opening the door, Pieck felt winded by shock for the first time in years. The images she had of an elderly, balding man with mismatched clothes as varied as his publications disappeared in one fell swoop. The very last thing she had expected, even in her "expect the unexpected" way of life, was to be greeted by someone who was perhaps only five years her senior.

Pieck instantly felt self-conscious about her own age, unable to stop thinking about Zeke Jaeger's many accomplishments she had encountered online. His appearance, impeccably put together, did little to allay her self-consciousness. From his perfectly coiffed blonde locks, to his perfectly pressed cream button-down, to his perfectly pleated tan trousers, to his perfectly plush argyle cashmere sweater vest, everything about him just screamed perfect.

For some reason, this irritated Pieck.

How dare this man look this impeccable at 7:30 in the morning!

She knew, of course, that this knee-jerk reaction stemmed from her own personal insecurities. Being so close in age, it was hard not to notice how strikingly different they seemed in every other way.

Pieck wondered if Dr. Jaeger represented some form of herself that could never possibly exist. If she had not grown up in Liberio, would she be as accomplished and put together as he? She knew little about his background, but she was certain he was from the area; his stylish yet stuffy fashion sense and formal affectation just exuded Trost. Truth be told, Dr. Jaeger's perfect CV and perfect appearance intimidated Pieck. For the moment, however, it was much simpler to feel annoyed.

"Well, Miss...Finger...let's get started." Jaeger's halting way of speech made Pieck realize she had been staring, and she squeaked in embarrassment and sat down in front of his desk abruptly.

Just crush the rest of the interview. You can do it. Think of Dad. Think of Professor Magath. Do NOT, under any circumstances, think about how Jaeger's arms would look if he rolled up his sleeves.

Pieck took a deep breath, composed her thoughts (refusing to even acknowledge that last one), and prepared for the inevitably long interview that lay ahead.

#attack on titan #aot #zeke yeager #zeke jaeger #pieck finger #aot pieck #jikupiku #shingeki no kyojin #aot fic #reiner braun #annie leonhart #bertholt hoover #shinjeki no kyojin #snk #aot fanfiction #aot fandom #snk fanfiction #aot zek #snk zeke #pieck x zeke #zeke x pieck #zeke yaeger x pieck finger #zeke jaeger x pieck finger #pieck aot #pieck snk #porco galliard #bertholdt hoover #theo magath #aot reiner #armin arlert

[weetlebeetle]

One After Another Ch. 19

Chapter title: One Person Content warning: A lot of violence. Some death. Daddy issues.

Excerpt:

✾

As she stirred, sitting up and looking around, he didn't bother to greet her.

Standing with his elbows digging into the window ledge, he blew smoke from his cigarette out of the open window.  Judging by how potently the smell had poisoned the air in the room, this was not his first.

After noting the vacant expression on his face, she came to the conclusion that the cigarette he was nursing wouldn't be his last, either.

"Why didn't you wake me up?" she rasped, voice rusty from over exertion.

"Why would I?" came his immediate reply.  He wrapped his lips around that stupid cigarette and sucked in a lungful of its poison.

"'Cause I can't stay," she said, thankful that she had had the good sense to slip Zeke's shirt over her nakedness before she fell asleep.

For his part, he was completely nude.  Not for the first time, she wondered if it was due to convenience or because he preferred walking around unburdened by clothes.

Normally, she wouldn't complain if he decided not to cover up his body.  However, in some instances, it proved to be very distracting.  She tried to focus on the glowing end of his cigarette instead of the inviting curve of his spine.

"Why not?" he asked.  He remained entranced by whatever he was staring at outside the window.

✾

Read it on AO3 | Read Chapter 20

#hi (flower between teeth) #one after another #zeebo #zeke yeager #zeke x oc #fic

[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

[likeholymary]

hi hopefully this doesn’t come off as creepy or anything i just wanted to say i LOVE your levi fic SO MUCH! i saw in notes that this is your tumblr and just wanted to say i love it ! again never see any warrior fics out there so i’m rlly glad i stumbled upon yours :) have a great day!

no, not creepy at all!! thank you so so much for your support!!! it genuinely means the world to me, i wouldn’t keep going without the support of readers like you! can’t wait for you to read what comes next, once the 104th joins the scouts, everything is going to be absolutely insane.

#attack on titan #aot #aot fic #levi ackerman #levi aot #levi attack on titan #levi ackerman x original character #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x warrior!oc #warriors #warriors aot #reiner braun #marleyan warriors #annie leonhart #bertholdt hoover #zeke yeager #eren yeager #mikasa ackerman #armin arlert #sasha braus #jean kirstein #connie springer #ymir aot #ymir fritz #historia reiss #christa lenz #erwin smith #hange zoe #call your name #levi ackerman fic

[hangesbrattyapprentice]

Let the Zeke brainrot commence!

This is my first time publishing anything. Please be gentle. Or don’t. ;)

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Zeke Yeager/Original Female Character(s) Characters: Zeke Yeager, Original Female Character(s), Reiner Braun, Pieck Finger, Levi Ackerman Additional Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, No Romance, Yandere, Yandere Zeke Yeager, Zeke Yeager Has Issues, Soft Zeke Yeager, Doctor Zeke Yeager, Reiner Braun Needs a Hug, Depressed Reiner Braun, Protective Reiner Braun, Pieck is there also, Kidnapping, Mentions of miscarriage, Zeke Yeager Has Daddy Issues, Dubious Consent, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence Summary:

After losing the battle of Shiganshina, three Warriors return to Marley with some unplanned cargo.

Or

Zeke has a new hobby.

#i did a thing #i wrote a fic #snk #snk fanfiction #zeke yeager #zeke yeager x reader #well kind of #yandere zeke #eventual smut

[nicolanoodles]

Oh hi there.

So this saucy little number made it out of my drafts:

Photographer Levi meets model Petra on a photoshoot and falls lens over heels for her charm. Unfortunately she’s already in the arms of an arrogant ape.

Fuckery ensues.

With any luck (and a lot of red bull) this will get finished

✨At Some Point Maybe✨

#levi ackerman #petra ral #rivetra fic #rivetra #zeke yeager #I apologise to the rivetra fandom #it’s been 84 years

[levmada]

au where zevi and the there's only one bed trope somehow coexist: 😌🤝😌

writing this filled by third zevi-shaped hole in my heart

Featuring detectives Zeke and Levi. Zeke gets injured on the job, their hotel room only came with one bed, and Levi has no clean laundry. He's pissed.

And in denial.

AND THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED (+ snuggling for warmth...)

wc: 2.5k

//vague descriptions of minor injury

Levi gets in the hotel room first with a hard shove to the door. It narrowly misses banging against the wall. "After that shit, this place better be spotless or Erwin's hearing from me."

For all Zeke's bitching about his injury on the cab ride here, he sounds perfectly fine when it's his duty to annoy Levi. "It's probably just the way you look. Don't take it so personally. I'm for one used to it."

They've been unraveling this case for a month now, and right on the cusp of catching the suspect, he slipped from their grasp after a wild chase through an open field. A field. Zeke got shoved into a bunch of barbed wire and Levi can still smell cow shit, on top of the conversation with the bitchy receptionist when they checked in.

Levi doesn't think his mood can get any worse before he takes a look at the room. There's only one king-sized bed.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Levi seethes.

Zeke pushes the door shut, and by his silence, Zeke is looking where he's looking now. "...On the bright side, this is a minor inconvenience compared to everything else that happened today."

"Fuck off, you idiot," Levi spits bitterly, and drops his suitcase in front of the foot of the bed. He can't even tell who or what he's mad at, but he knows even while he's saying it that it isn't at Zeke. Zeke is standing carefully clear of Levi's fury with blood soaked through the arms of his coat.

Levi continues to mutter curses under his breath.

"I guess tea won't make it all feel better this time."

"Zeke—"

"I could use my people skills to get a different room," he says. Sounds like he's teasing, but Levi can tell he's serious.

Levi sighs heavily. He puts his hands on his hips and resists the urge to rub his temples. A headache is brewing behind his eyes. "Don't bother. It's fine."

"A lie if I've ever heard one," Zeke hums. He sits his suitcase down near Levi's.

"I can't believe you're fine with this."

"Compared to you, I'm an optimist." He steps beside him. "Where are you sleeping?"

Levi points at the chair. “Are your glasses broken? I’ll sleep there.”

“You?” Zeke blinks. “That’s no good for your back, but you’re the boss, boss.”

Zeke is agreeing with him, and yet it still feels like he’s making fun of him. It’s infuriating. Levi is definitely annoyed with him, as usual.

“I'm not your boss. And you have a wound you should be cleaning.”

At the reminder, a little of Zeke’s glee falls off his face. He shrugs off his coat, and turns for the bathroom. “It does hurt, I admit. Exactly right, Levi…”

They’ll only be here for the night, so while Zeke is cleaning up—not that he bothered to close the bathroom door—Levi unpacks his things sparingly. Also Zeke’s eyeglass cleaner and case on the bedside, so he doesn’t forget to clean them... or fall asleep with them on his face again. He’s no use if he can’t see, Levi rationalizes to himself.

The whole room needs a complete dusting… maybe some air freshener, it's stale-smelling, but Levi again reminds himself that this is just for one night. Next time, he’ll make sure they get a room actually fit for the both of them. His paycheck be damned. He's not in detective work for the money.

Water in the bathroom runs briefly, but only briefly. Zeke got fucked up on the barbed wire pretty badly, so, feeling curious, Levi walks over, and spies Zeke’s face in the mirror as he dabs a washcloth on the assortment of little wounds dotting his arms.

But he looks sparingly. Surely taking off his shirt is overkill considering the injuries, but that’s just Zeke.

“Questions or concerns?” Zeke quips.

Levi leans against the doorway. “Yeah. If you weren’t so reckless, maybe you’d live long enough to get a promotion.”

“A concern, then…” Zeke smiles. “I’m quite content where I am, but thank you for the concern, Levi. And here I thought you didn’t care about me.”

“Tch. It’s just my job.”

“You’re too kind. I’ll invite you to my 30th birthday party. It’ll be a rager. 30 is the new 20, after all.”

He’s so full of shit. Levi bites on a smirk. “Who told you that to make you feel better? Erwin? No one says ‘rager’ anymore.”

“My little brother, actually.”

He doesn’t have a remark for that. Levi has met Eren a few times, and every time he does, Levi doubts what he’s seen in movies with two brother characters, being raised an only child himself. It makes him wonder how different Zeke would be if he didn’t have someone to bounce all his stupid jokes off of. As a result, Zeke is never not at least slightly entertaining, even when he’s being impossible.

Zeke continues to clean his wounds, not from water using the sink, but a white bottle placed on the counter.

Levi charges into the bathroom and snags the rag out of Zeke’s hand, and drops it in the sink. As he grabs a new one, he says, “You idiot. Don’t use alcohol on an open wound; it dries it out and stops it from healing.”

Zeke looks down at himself curiously. “Oops.”

Zeke may be an idiot, but he isn’t stupid. Levi can’t help but suspect he messed up on purpose just to get under Levi’s skin. Either way, his proximity is distracting. He feels somehow embarrassed to look at him without a shirt on, even though they've been partners for years, and even before, when Levi was in charge of him.

“Didn’t your mother ever teach you basic first aid?”

“No…? I don’t think that’s too common. Did yours not teach you to play nice with others?” Zeke tilts his head curiously and stares down at Levi. He blatantly ignores him, and pushes the wet rag to his chest. Honestly, Levi didn’t know that, but he’s not about to admit it. He avoids anther glimpse at Zeke’s bare chest and promptly leaves before he does, or says, something he’ll regret. Levi doesn’t know why he feels so fond of him when Zeke is this annoying. Why his stomach dropped for the half-second the suspect shoved Zeke into the barbed wire fence. If Levi were faster, he could’ve prevented that. He failed.

It’s not like Zeke isn’t his equal, either. They’ve been partners for a long time, but Levi just has a talent for this line of work, he guesses. That’s what he tells himself so it makes sense that he’s concerned about him.

While avoiding Zeke some more, he picks up ice from the machine down the hall, shivering in the cold even within the hotel. He should wear long sleeves if he wants any hope of sleeping tonight. He's still a little on-edge from that confrontation.

Back at their room, the door locks behind him with a click. The tin of ice goes on the long dresser that has the TV sat on top.

Zeke is fully clothed again, and wiping down the windowsill. Even using a micro-fiber cloth… that he must’ve stolen from Levi’s suitcase.

“You’re cleaning?” The surprise in Levi's tone is clear.

“I’m resigned to your neurotic tendencies these days.”

Levi approaches from behind, and elbows him aside. He slides his finger along the windowsill and squints. “For someone resigned to them, you sure are doing a good job…”

He looks a little serious. “Those worry lines are permanent. And besides... I learn from the best. When you yell at me for missing a spot.”

“I'm not worried,” he protests quietly. “You took a fall today. Go to bed.”

“Anything for you, boss,” Zeke sighs, sardonic as always, and strides to the bed. He sits down heavily, and yanks the sheets from their tuck. Sloppy.

Levi’s face feels warm. “I’m not your boss anymore.”

“Ah, see, but you seem to really enjoy ordering me around. Not that I’m complaining.”

“As long as you do what you’re told,” Levi replies, without thinking.

Zeke smiles at him. For the first time, Levi notices what he put on after unconsciously avoiding looking at his chest. The shirt he has on still reveals hints of his collarbones, and the top of his chest.

“Mostly,” he says.

That's that.

Only one lamp remains lit on Zeke’s bedside. The only other light glows from Levi’s computer screen as he catches up on emails and the news. He can’t be working all the time, though he tries.

His eyes grow heavy eventually. Although he knows sleep will be hard-fought no matter what, he glances at the clock in the corner of the screen and decides to get ready for bed.

It all goes well. Levi is silent, since Zeke sleeps lightly.

Until he rifles through his suitcase. He has no clean shirts left, and he’s close to shivering. Any laundromat around is going to be closed at this hour.

Should he wake Zeke up and ask to borrow a shirt? No, he immediately decides. Creepy. More fodder Zeke can use to make jokes at Levi's expense.

But Levi overestimates his own fortitude. He refuses to sleep in his sweaty shirt from that day covered in who knows how many and what germs, so the unforgiving wooden chair paints his back in a chill. He keeps thinking about how nonchalant Zeke was about the bed thing. How he made an effort to make Levi feel better about it. How he could tell that the barbed wire incident upset him. It’s hard to tell when Zeke is bullshitting and when he isn’t, but he likes to think he knows Zeke well enough to know.

Nonetheless, Levi will freeze to death before the night is out at this rate. The heater attached to far wall is doing nothing. As his teeth threaten to chatter, he grinds his jaw into dust and tightens his crossed arms. He can’t tell if what he’s thinking of doing is becoming more necessary, or more alluring with time. He can’t decide if he’s annoyed, or if these butterflies in his stomach are fluttering around for another reason.

Fuck.

Levi stands, and marches over to the bed. Zeke is a giant who also chose to sleep right in the middle. “Hey. Scoot over.”

He wakes swiftly, and blinks up at Levi disbelievingly. "Huh? Really?" He blinks again. "You're shirtless."

"So? Don't be an idiot. Unless you changed your mind from earlier," Levi adds. "I'm out of clean shirts."

"How... unfortunate." For once, Zeke looks totally out of his element. Levi doesn't know how he feels about that.

"So?"

Zeke peels the covers open and scoots over. Levi clambers into the bed, immediately warmed by the downy duvet. He tugs it up to his chin and stares ahead in determination to forget about Zeke's presence right behind him.

But then, the mattress shifts and squeaks again. Zeke is getting up. Levi is just about to snap at him just in case he thinks this means trading places (that chair is fucking miserable), but he climbs back in after the sound of his suitcase zipping.

Levi turns his head. Zeke's expression is utterly unreadable, but he's holding one of his shirts.

"...Do you want me to dress you too, or will you take it?"

"Tch." He snatches the shirt harsher than he meant, and sits up to pull it on. It's not that he's not thankful, just Zeke making him more embarrassed in addition to this whole situation.

It doesn't help that it's soft, or that as soon as Levi pulls it over his head he's hit by a wave of oily cologne, firs, Zeke smells. It's not unpleasant at all, but of course it's baggy. The sleeve of the shirt threatens to drop off his shoulder as soon as Levi shifts to lay back down.

"Hey... is that a scrape?"

Levi lays down facing away. "Is that why you're still staring at me? A dumb scrape? I get scrapes all the time," he says quickly. His cheeks are on fire.

There's a click, and the room is shrouded in darkness again. "It's a part of my job, as you said yourself, remember? To be fair... I care more about your wellbeing than you, but that isn't saying much."

Levi thinks Zeke is facing him from behind. A part of him wants to turn over, but it's easier to talk like this. "Determined to get that promotion, are you?"

"...I'm happy where I am. Listening skills, Levi."

"Fine," Levi huffs shortly. His stomach feels weightless. "Whatever, Beardy."

Levi senses it before Zeke touches the collar of the shirt that's slipped down to his bicep. Reflexively, Levi kicks him in the shin. He whips his head over his shoulder to look at his grimacing face in the dark—his blushing face.

"So cruel," Zeke scoffs.

"Well you can't—Don't... Don't just do that without telling me."

Silence.

“May I?"

Is he being serious? Is he? is all Levi can think. He barely hears himself say yes.

His palm is surprisingly warm, felt through even the thick fabric. Zeke has always ran hot, which might explain why he's so fond of taking off his shirt every chance he gets. Idiot. Stupid dumb idiot.

Levi grinds his teeth as he fixes the sleeve, and Zeke's touch disappears, but he shivers anyway. Surprisingly, no jokes. He respects the boundary of touch to almost a shy degree. It's a little endearing.

"Still cold?"

Levi can tell Zeke doesn't believe what he's asking. “...Maybe.”

Before Zeke can act, make another forced quip, or he himself can lose his bravery, Levi reaches over for his big hand and drags his arm around his middle.

Silence again. Zeke shuffles up close to his back, as warm as a damn furnace. He's big enough to lay his head on the pillow above Levi's own. The image of a bear pops into Levi's head. If he strains his senses, maybe he can feel Zeke's heart pounding at his back. Maybe Zeke can hear his own.

Levi's hand doesn't leave his wrist. He's still processing how nice this feels. Even Zeke isn't saying anything. He wonders if they're thinking the same thing.

"You're like a fucking board," Levi whispers. "Don't tell me we went through all this trouble for you to lay there all night."

Zeke's low voice rumbles from his chest. "Forgive me for being mindful of your boundaries. Or crossing one of your many lines."

Levi scoffs. “At this point, what lines?”

Zeke grows a little more tense, but relaxes in the span of moments. It goes unspoken, but they move at the same time, sliding their legs together. Levi instantly wants to point out that he's like... like a caveman or something else smart, but it doesn't appeal to him for once. Any idea of anything at all vanishes from his mind when Zeke's head shifts. He feels his lips in his hair.

"Sorry, I should've told you before I did that."

Levi blinks widely into the darkness. "...You get away with it this one time."

"I'm overjoyed," Zeke murmurs, fondly.

Levi chuckles slightly through his nose. He has a feeling, or no, an overwhelming confidence that it won't be just that one time.

zevi masterlist | main masterlist

🏷️: @erwinfortheblade | @chaotic-nick | @happybird16 | @galactict3a | @sckerman | @s0levis | @bleubrri | @brujaovermoxy | @belovedackerman

#zeke x levi #zevi #aot fanfiction #aot fic #aot fluff #attack on titan angst #attack on titan fanart #snk fic #zeke yeager #shingeki no kyojin

[kleoyeager78]

10 things I hate about you | 10

Hitch was always there for me now that I realize it.

I would tell her everything about my home life and she would always tell me that one day we were going to run away from our toxic families and live happy lives together.

I loved Hitch; she was my everything. She would always be there for me through everything.

She’s the one that made life possible.

I remember how I met Hitch.

It was my first day of kindergarten and I sat next to Eren of course.

I waved at him only to be met by a frown.

“Is something wrong?” I asked him with a curious face.

“Leave me alone.” He said and continued back to waiting for the teacher.

I just frowned and did the same.

The teacher finally walked in 2 minutes later. “Hello everyone I’m Mrs. Reiss” she said.

“Mommy,” the girl sitting next to Eren called.

The woman flashed the girl a smile before shushing her and finishing her sentence. “I’m going to be your teacher this year!”

Everyone said hello and the teacher talked about our activities for the day. “Today we are going to be doing a color by number activity”

The class cheered and got out their crayons. While the teacher passed out the coloring papers.

In the middle of coloring I noticed Eren get mad and then when I fully looked over to him and seen his crayon had broken.

I quickly got the same color crayon out of my crayon box and handed it to him.

This made him even madder so he threw my crayon on the floor. “I don’t need your stupid help” he whispered yelled at me.

I began to get teary eyed because I was very sensitive. But still I went to pick up my crayon so I wouldn’t get in trouble.

I crawled under the desk to get the crayon.

When I got the crayon I went back to my seat but then the scene in front of me broke my heart.

“Oh you can use my crayon Eren” a girl with long blonde hair said to him.

“Thanks Historia” He smiled at the girl and took the crayon.

I don’t know why but it hurt so bad. Was I not pretty enough for him to use my crayon?

I went back to doing my work and when I was finished I raised my hand for the teacher to pick up my work and then put my head down.

I stayed like that until lunch.

“Line up everyone, it's lunch time!” The teacher called and we did just that grabbing our lunchboxes in the process.

Since it was the first day of school the teacher let us eat outside on the benches so that when we were done eating we could just go play.

I sat at an empty bench because I didn’t want to get picked on.

As I was eating, a girl sat next to me. “Hi!” She basically screamed in my ear, making me jump.

“Hello” I said, kinda low compared to her.

“My name is Hitch, what's yours?”

“Y/n”

“That’s a cool name I’ve never met anyone with it.” she gave me a smile and I noticed she had some missing teeth which made me giggle.

“Maybe because we just started school”

“Huh? Oh yeah that’s true I guess the only people I know are my ma and pa”

I just giggle more. Her face was so full of energy and mines was still sad from the scene I saw earlier.

“So y/n how about me and you become besties now” Hitch said with an even bigger smile making me see just how many teeth she lost.

“Sure!” I said, matching her grin. It was her turn to laugh at me because she saw how many teeth I was missing.

“Hey y/n! Do you wanna see who can go higher on the swings when we’re done?”

“Heck yeah!”

“Alrighty”

After that me and Hitch finished our food and headed to the swings.

That whole day at recess was a blast. I forgot all about my encounter with Eren.

But little did I know that day would cause so much heartbreak in the future.

That day is the day I let Hitch become my new obsession. I let her become something I couldn’t live without because as soon as she popped up the clouds that darken the sky seemed to fade. But I would later find out that I was just getting prepared for the storm as soon as I let her in my life

A/n ~ back to the short chapters🥲 sorry but I just thought this was necessary for some reason.

#aot fanfiction #aot x reader #aot x y/n #attack on titan #attack on titan fic #armin arlert #annie leonhart #eren jaeger #eren x reader #jean krischtein #sasha braus #connie springer #reiner braun #zeke yeager #bertolt hoover #mikasa aot #mikasa ackerman