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crisalidaseason · 1 year

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forgot to post this here, I usually post on ao3 first so feel free to check there for more new fics quicker (same username as here and a paola bracho pic).

Commander and Guerrila

Summary: Armin finds you bleeding on the stables. You're a political enemy with trust issues and a little distracted by your pretty rescuer/nurse. Tags: Bullet wounds, mentions of blood, mentions of political persecution, reader is injured and antimilitary, anti authoritative government, Armin is having a hard time coping (people with EDs might find it triggering) Armin stitches your wounds, I have no knowledge on wound treatment, reader curses A LOT, Armin and Annie are just besties, Mikaannie snippet, Sasha's dad is here and he's an iconic dilf.

Part 2 is here

You stumbled into the stables, hoping the muddy ground outside and the darkening sky would conceal the trail of blood you left while running from the soldiers pursuing you. After running for what felt like kilometers, your legs were shaking and the wound on your side was bleeding even more because of the strain. You pressed on the bullet wound, trying to stop the flow but too much blood was already lost. All you could do was open the most hidden horse stall and hide inside, not even acknowledging the confused animal that suddenly gained a roommate. The blood loss was fogging your mind and as your body cooled down from all the exercise the pain started to overwhelm you. Laying on the floor, not even bothering to see if it was clean, you quickly slipped into an unconscious state. ___

Armin would always wake up early, even on the days he was off duty. He would usually catch up on some book unrelated to the infinite amount of negotiation papers and treaties he usually had to read, and sometimes he would even go for a walk. Unfortunately, the latter was rather difficult to do since Jean would panic and refuse to let Armin walk anywhere alone.

“You’re the commander and given your history on the Battle of Heaven and Earth, I wouldn’t be surprised if they put a bullet through your head” Jean said.

“I am not a commander, there is no survey corps to make me one. And also, all of us live in potential danger for the same reason” He replied.

“But you’re still the face of this, Armin” Jean insisted “You have a target on your back, Commander title valid or not”

Armin sighed remembering that conversation from two years ago. Jean was still dramatic over his safety, probably a result of Mikasa asking the man to keep an eye on Armin during their diplomatic trips. She was also another person who constantly worried about his life, constantly begging him to retire from this career. He was never fond of this path he was forced to follow, ultimately a consequence of Eren’s actions, but there was no other person willing to do it.

“Good morning, Commander” the familiar voice said.

Jean entered the kitchen, already bathed and probably planning to go to the city if his clothes were any indication.

“Good morning, captain” Armin greeted “going to the city?”

“Yes, Arthur asked for some specific herbs and seasonings” he spoke while pouring some lemongrass tea for himself “Nicollo will be cooking a special dinner in honor of our successful alliance with Eldia”

Armin would call their negotiation everything but successful, their group was lucky at best. Historia was Armin’s only leverage and relative protection. Paradis, or Eldia, as they called it, was still hostile towards Armin and the Alliance members. The eldian military was even more suspicious of them, especially now that Annie, Pieck and Reiner were present figures. Armin felt as if he was still stepping on eggshells, he was not going to naively believe his problems were solved.

“Stop overthinking” Jean poked him in the arm “we made a good enough deal with them”

“The question is: Will they uphold it?” Armin quickly said.

“That is a question for the future, we can only be cautious” Jean said “now stop frying your overworked brain. You should come with me to the city”

“No, no” he denied “ It’s the last place I want to go, but you go and have fun”

Armin could feel Jean wanting to pressure him to let out more information, he had a good eye for people in distress, which annoyed Armin to the core. He did not need more pity. Thankfully he momentaneously gave up and was out of the farm house in a few minutes. The once commander watched from the kitchen window as his longtime friend took one of the horses tied on the front porch and rode off.

“Good morning, Commander”

Arthur greeted him

“Mr. Braus”

“You’re up awfully early for someone off duty” the older man said, while preparing the breakfast table for the children “and call me Arthur”

“I slept early yesterday” Armin lied “and I’ll call you Arthur once you stop calling me commander”

Alongise Jean and Connie, Sasha’s father was also someone who never stopped calling him by his title, even if the blonde had asked him to stop so many times. Armin was very fond of the man, he offered a safe space for many of the 104th veterans in honor of his late daughter.

“Ivan!” Arthur called for his oldest boy “The horses need feeding”

“I’ll do it” Armin offered, already standing up from his chair “let the boy sleep a little longer”

Arthur turned to face him, features contorted in surprise.

“Are you aware of your status as a guest?” he said “and commander?”

“Yes” Armin said “do not worry mr. Braus, I know how to handle horses”

“Wait-”

But Armin was already out of the kitchen, not bothering to hear any of the old man’s excuses. Nothing better to distract the mind than caring for animals, and he was very fond of horses. ___

You woke up in a painful haze, your mouth and throat were dry and the headache felt as if an axe was splitting your head. The horse you shared a stall with was not bothered at all, instead it was just reacting to something in the stables. You cursed mentally, you were supposed to hide and keep moving instead of fainting in a stable, where anyone could find you and possibly hand your weakened self to the army.

“Being upset with me won’t feed you faster, have patience” a male voice startled you.

Someone would find you, and there was not enough strength left on your body to fight. Not even your gun was around, only a pocket knife. By the sounds of the man’s steps, he was getting closer and closer to the stall you were in.

“Hello, Pots” he said to your horse roommate “always well behaved, huh?”

The locks in the stall were pulled and the door slowly opened, revealing a blond man with a bucket of what was probably hay. He spotted you immediately, blue eyes widening.

“Shit, who the hell are you?”

Your throat was too dry to even reply, instead letting incomprehensible grunts. You prepared the pocket knife in case he tried to grab you, mind half thankful that he at least did not carry a gun.

“That is a lot of blood” he said, getting closer carefully “I will call someone for help, try not to move much”

You were able to muster up a painful ‘no’, which threw you in a coughing fit and worsened the pain of your wound.

“Okay, okay!” he said.

The man looked around, looking for something. You could not really register what his intentions were when the wound was angrily hurting.

“Let me hide you somewhere else then, the stall is in plain view, what were you even thinking?”

Oh, sorry, maybe the giant bullet wound clouded my mind . You thought, already hating that man’s guts. He kneeled by your side, quickly taking your left arm and immobilizing the hand that was holding the pocket knife. He took your excuse of a weapon, closing and putting it inside your boot.

“Let’s not stab the rescuer” he said.

A part of your mind was a little surprised when the man, who had an average height and a slender figure, lifted you easily. Despite the headache and pain, you could notice the softness of his short straw blond hair and the almost absence of facial hair, which made his age confusing since his voice was deep enough to not pass as a teenager. That was an unusual farmer, you thought. He was moving rather easily and quickly, crossing the field and entering what seemed to be a barn.

“Here you go” he said, while laying you down “This barn is just winter storage, nobody comes here during summer season. I’ll get you some water and try to clean this wound”

You did not have a choice in the matter besides waiting for his next move, still being too weak to get up. Whatever this man’s intentions were, you were at his mercy. You found it strange that he left your pocket knife with you, but that meant nothing regarding trust. ___

Armin went back to the farm house running, trying to avoid being seen by anyone inside when he snuck in. Thankfully, he had basic wound care medicine and tools in his belongings, a habit he picked up from Hange years ago. Armin also took matches, a canteen of drinking water and some clean cloths. It was not ideal, but he was in a rush, the amount of blood in the stranger’s clothes was alarming. He was almost opening his bedroom door when someone knocked.

“Armin, are you there?”

He fell silent, hoping Annie would just leave thinking he was not inside. Don’t open the door, don’t open the door, don’t open-

“Arlert!” she said “if you start skipping meals again I’ll resort to violence”

He almost grunted out of frustration, putting all of the items down on the bedside table and shielding them with a book stack nearby.

“I have already eaten” he said, while opening the door slightly “Jean woke up early to do some errands and I joined him for breakfast”

The short woman had her arms crossed.

“Good” she said “let’s spare Mikasa from your antics or else I-”

“Yes, yes, I already know” he said “violence and all, now go back to your lover-not-my-lover and leave me to read some documents, hm?”

“Fuck you Arlert” she smiled “need any help?”

“No, now leave my sight please”

“Don’t have to ask twice” she scoffed.

He closed the door, relieved that Annie was nothing like overly worried Jean and Mikasa. He did not waste time and soon snuck out of the residence while everyone was distracted on the breakfast table. He walked in a fast pace, always checking if he was out of sight until he reached the storage barn.

“Sorry” he said “it took me longer than expected to-”

They were unconscious, and Armin almost panicked. He checked their pulse and breathing, which were awfully weak, and quickly decided to assess the wound on their side. He pulled the stranger’s coat away from the affected area and lifted the blood soaked shirt, seeing the not so large but deep wound, still bleeding. He almost prayed when he noticed the bullet just scraped deeply through the skin, he did not need to fish it out and cause even more pain or damage. Taking the water canteen, he poured it over the wound and tried to wash all the dirt from it. He also applied some ginger ointment to hopefully fight the certain infection before starting to stitch the wound up. ___

You woke up to a dark barn, and also alone. You were still in pain, but it was less damaging to your senses, making you notice that your coat was discarded and there was a blanket thrown on top of your body. Slowly lifting the sheet, you could see your shirt was torn near the wound and a white cloth covered a stitched ugly wound. Breathing in and out, you tried to sit up without disrupting the man’s job, but you had no strength to do so.

“Ugh, fuck this” you huffed.

At least your voice was working, still raspy, but way better than before. You wondered if the man tried to hydrate you, how unexpected of someone to be so helpful. Maybe you were just used to people being nothing but violent and oppressive to you and your people, especially the ones in the city. Of course, you would never trust the farmer entirely, he could still help you and cruelly hand you to the military in the end.

“You’re awake” the voice startled you “sorry, didn’t mean to scare you”

The odd farmer entered the barn, carrying something tied inside a cloth.

“I’m not scared” you replied “who are you?”

“I brought food” he said “you’re still dehydrated”

“Who the fuck are you?”

He looked you straight in the eyes, setting the food on the floor next to you.

“Does it matter? Knowing my name won’t heal you” he said.

You stayed silent, trying to guess what he was going to do next. He was kneeling, hands on his thighs while he looked around.

“Perfect” he spoke while standing up.

The man left your field of vision, but soon returned with a jute bag full of what seemed to be hay or dried wheat with how full it looked. He covered it with the cloth he used to wrap the food.

“Can I lift you up? you’ll eat better elevated” he asked.

You nodded. He slithered a hand under you, lifting your upper torso and lowering you again, but on the jute bag this time.

“Comfortable?” he asked.

Of course not, I can barely move on my own, you thought, but remained silent. He nervously deviated his sight to the food in his hands.

“Here” he offered a piece of steamed sweet potato.

You almost inhaled it after taking the first bite. The man also gave you a small canteen, which you gladly took and almost cried at the wonderful taste of water. The meal was silent, with him offering you more food until you emptied the plate and drained the canteen.

“Satisfied?” he asked.

“No, I’m still thirsty” you confessed.

“I’ll fetch you more water” he said, standing up.

“Wait” you said.

He stopped at the door, and you had to admit he was a little distracting when illuminated by moonlight.

“Yes?” he asked when you remained silent for too long.

“Your stitches look like shit” you spilled. ___

Armin was exhausted when he finally snuck back into his room. He spent the entire day checking on the stranger whenever people were distracted enough, running from the house to the barn a few times that day to see if the person was still alive and wet their lips with cold water. He wanted to bring them to his room, but there was not a single scenario in his head that made it possible. Despite him knowing the others would not harm the stranger, he was awfully haunted by the desperate ‘no’ they let out when Armin offered to get help. Whoever that person was, he could recognize the weight of existence on them, and Armin had a sad hunch of what they were.

“Terrorists?” Pieck commented.

Jean, Armin and Connie were telling the events of the first Paradis-Alliance negotiation meeting to Annie, Pieck and Reiner. The warrior trio were left out until Armin could see a safe opportunity for their participation.

“Yes” Jean confirmed “at least that’s how the eldian army calls them. Supposed terrorists that conspire against the government”

“That’s strange” she said “but it explains why we weren’t shot to death upon arrival. They have bigger problems now”

“It’s not strange at all” Annie replied “an army leading a country? We saw this picture before and it always ends up on social control. The eldian government will always have riots for as long as they rule”

“At least we are off the hook” Connie said.

“Make no mistake, as soon as they manage to shut down this rioting group we will be targets again” Armin said “let’s be cautious”

Armin was screwed. He had helped a rioter, which could put him and his comrades in trouble. Whoever that person was, the fact they were shot meant that somewhere in this district their group orchestrated an attack. Armin’s strictly strategic and mission-focused side was screaming to let the stranger die, or kill them if they got any better, but he was not that monster anymore. Armin refused to repeat his sins from the past, when he was only a weapon and not a person. He would help the stranger heal and send them on their way, hoping that they were grateful enough to not tell on him.

He was not able to sleep that night, his mind on the wounded rioter inside the storage barn. The morning came fast, and he was already up on the first evidence of sunlight. He assembled a small plate with fruits, some bread, goat cheese and filled a canteen with rosemary water. Not bothering to eat himself, Armin left the farm house and walked at a slower pace to the barn. He hoped the stranger was still asleep, resting as much as they could. Armin did spend too much time there last night, speaking with the rioter until they fell asleep. He found it amusing that their first conversation started with a justified insult to his sewing abilities, Armin truly did not have the best knowledge on stitching people up.

“Sorry about it” he said once he returned with more water “I only learned the basics”

“I insulted your hard work trying to rescue me from the brink of death and you say sorry?” they asked.

“What should I say instead?” he asked.

They just shrugged their shoulders, not answering.

“You were lucky, the bullet just scraped, deeply, but it doesn’t seem like it hit anything major” Armin tried to lift their mood “can you tell me what happened?”

“None of your business”

Armin had to admit he wanted to chuckle a little, they seemed so torn between grateful and careful. He could relate and respect that very much, if the situation was switched he would have behaved the same.

“You’re up” he said once he opened the barn’s door.

They were already awake, or maybe did not sleep at all. Armin decided not to ask and just offered the food instead. They ate silently, drinking the rosemary water as if they were traveling through the desert. Armin knew well that losing blood could dehydrate someone this badly, the headaches and nausea were the worst part.

“How are you feeling today?” he asked.

“Like shit” they said “but less shit”

Armin could see the lie, they were sweating and the trembling indicated that maybe a fever was coming.

“Care if I check your temperature?” Armin said.

“I don’t have a fever”

He nodded and did not push them, already thinking of what he should do if they fell with an infection. He took the empty plate and headed back to the main house, sneaking into the kitchen to wash everything and start breakfast for everyone else. While he brewed some tea and coffee, he heard footsteps approaching the room.

“Oh, Good morning, Commander. I was about to start breakfast” Arthur said.

“Good morning, Mr. Braus” he greeted the older man “I was already awake, might as well help”

The man hummed, taking the pan from the cabinet and a basket of eggs. Armin observed while the man prepared the base for the omelets, offering space on the stove for him.

“So, where have you been sneaking up to?”

Armin choked on air but quickly recomposed his posture.

“Excuse me?” he replied.

“Boy, I have four teenagers at home. I know a sneaky kid when I see one”

Of course Arthur would drop his title for a good scolding.

“Sorry, sir. I just wanted some alone time”

“In my winter barn?”

“I was always a strange kid, Mikasa can confirm that” Armin partially lied.

“Hm, so this has nothing to do with the fact I found blood in one of my horse stalls?”

Shit. Shit. Shit. How could Armin be so fucking stupid?

“Are they even alive?” Arthur questioned, frying another omelet as if he was saying mundane things.

“Yes” Armin finally gave up “but they might be developing an infection ”

The older man sighed, turning the stove off.

“Bring them inside. A dusty barn is no place to heal” ___

You were pissed, livid, angrier than ever. That stupid farm boy was going to get you killed.

“I told you to not ask for help! You fucking dumb farm boy” you grunted.

“I asked him to bring me here” the old man tried to reason “besides, I know very well what you are and I have no intentions of giving you to the military”

“Do you really think I believe in this?” You spat.

“You either believe or die of infection” Armin said “You can’t even hide it anymore”

“Let me give you a room, let your body heal completely” the older man said again “once you can walk without fainting you’re free to go”

“Why would you help a terrorist?” ” the word was full of venom in your mouth.

“I’m helping a wounded person, that’s all” he said “and besides, it’s not like I sympathize with the military either”

The wrinkles on his face indicated a suffering you could remember from your mother’s features. It was not uncommon for farmers, nurses and teachers to dislike their government, but caution was never too much. You did not trust anyone but your comrades, but there was no choice in the moment. You were vulnerable, and you were feeling weaker as the hours passed.

“If you turn me in, my comrades will fucking bomb your farm next”

“Yes, of course they will” the old man dismissed your answer “Armin, mind carrying them to the main house?”

The blond boy approached you, asking you a silent question. You nodded and he quickly picked you up, firmly holding you. Despite the feverish haze, you still could not help but notice how strong he was. And the name? it was so familiar and yet you had no instant memories of it.

“Here” the old man motioned for Armin once they entered the home “this room is never used, we can be discreet and still give you good enough care”

You almost cried once your body was placed on the soft bed. You were used to sleeping in uncomfortable conditions, but something about being ill and sleeping in a proper bed left you sensitive. You were fed more properly and had your wound cleaned again, the old man, which you learned was named Arthur, gave you a towel and bathing supplies, alongside clothes.

“I’ll leave you to try and bathe on your own, but if you need help I can ask my wife to assist you” Arthur said.

You refused, but thanked him shyly. Your attempt at bathing and relieving yourself was slow and incredibly messy, but it was good enough for someone in the early stages of fever and wobbly legs. Armin had knocked on your door, asking to give you fever medicine he had found.

“I’ll check on you later regarding the fever, but try to rest for now” he said.

Before he could leave your room, you grasped his sleeve. He turned back to you, intense blue eyes questioning your actions.

“I just” you began “Thanks…for not letting me die on that stable”

He gave you a small smile, nodding.

“It’s the least I could do” he said.

He pulled the blinds to darken the room, giving you one last look before closing the door. You laid down on the bed, still uncomfortable but feeling less dirty and weak, thinking about the strange luck destiny gave you in the shape of a blond farm boy. You were young, but lived enough to expect that luck would soon run out, and that terrified you.

The next few days were filled with that man checking on your wound, giving you medicine, engaging in small conversation while he waited for you to finish the meals he brought. You never gave him your name, despite knowing his, and he started calling you by that stupid nickname.

“Guerrila” Armin called you.

You rolled your eyes, holding your tongue not to curse at him when he had your food in hands.

“Stop calling me that”

“When you give me a name, even a fake one”

Never.

“Here you go” Armin handed you the bowl “bean stew”

“Who is your cook again?” You asked.

“Nicollo” he said.

“Send him my regards”

“He has no idea you’re here, but I’ll try my best”

“It’s better this way” you spoke “you and Arthur are already in danger simply by helping me”

Armin sat next to you on the bed.

“Again, Guerrilla, helping you makes little difference on our safety status”

He had given you this answer before, but never elaborated on it. You also never asked for more details, afraid he would use this as an exchange to know more about you. It’s not like you were still worried about your identity, but you were terrified of letting someone know you. Armin was still a stranger, but you felt a horrible need to know him better and share your thoughts and life in return. You could not have that, you could never have anyone again. Everyone you ever loved or cared for died or disappeared: You mother, sister, lover, friends, comrades. That farmer boy did not need to enter the list, nor Arthur.

“I’ll be leaving soon” you announced “The wound is healing well and I haven’t had a fever in two days”

“Are you sure? Arthur would never force you to leave”

“Yes. I can’t stay anymore, I need to warn my remaining comrades of what happened”

“I understand”

No, he did not. How could he? He was a farmer boy after all.

“Tell me when you want to go, I can arrange a horse and supplies” he said “also find a good time for you to leave unnoticed”

You thanked him for the help, genuinely relieved that he did not try to convince you to stay. Had he asked, you would have stayed longer. ___

Armin closed their door, locking it from the outside as usual. It was surprisingly easy to hide someone in that house, which made Armin think if Arthur had done that before. Not even Mikasa, who had a good eye for routine shifts, picked up on Armin and Arthur’s odd behavior. Or maybe she was too invested in her newfound strange tension/relationship with Annie, who knows. All he knew is that soon enough the young rioter would leave and Armin would have to act as if nothing happened, as if that stranger did not turn his life upside down by spawning in a horse stall about ten days ago. He was terrified by how quickly he was getting attached, even if he knew barely anything about them.

“Are you even listening to me?” Jean waved his hand.

“Sorry, sorry. Can you repeat?”

“Are you feeling okay? You’ve been distracted for a while”

“I’m okay” Armin said “please, proceed”

Jean spoke again, reviewing their newest treaty with Eldia and the contracts with the other countries they visited as a pacific alliance. Jean sensed they would have to travel soon and was endlessly ranting about the cost of the trip and how much time they would spend in a certain conference. Armin’s mind was half listening to his captain, but the other half was thinking about the stranger hiding in that very house. Armin would leave and not come back for at least four months, maybe more. He hoped that the guerrilla could at least stay alive until he could somehow find them again. Was it reasonable? Of course not. If the previous commander of the survey corps was found looking for a rioter that would cause him more problems than ever. ___

Armin was waiting for you to finish packing. Arthur had given you more than you deserved for a quick trip back to the headquarters, but you appreciated the man’s generosity, he even polished your pocket knife. You checked if everything was on your bag before turning to Armin and nodding. He opened the door, looking into the corridor before signaling for you to follow, and guided you to what seemed to be the back doors of the house. Outside, the dark sky had no moon, but you could spot a horse waiting for you with the help of an oil lamp. Armin climbed on the animal and offered you a hand.

“You’ll need help finding your way out of the farm” he justified “I know the way by heart”

You took his hand, careful not to strain your almost healed wound, and sat behind him. The heat on your face was very unwelcome, in your opinion, why would you feel all stupid then when the man had carried you bridal style twice before? Maybe it was the fact his hands were calloused but his grip was gentle, or that his shoulders were firm when you grasped them. Ugh, I am so pathetically touch starved, you said to yourself.

“Of course the farmer boy knows the way” you finally said.

“Can I tell you something?” he chuckled.

“Hm?”

“I am not a farmer” he said “Well, I worked in a farm about ten years ago, but I’m just visiting a friend here”

“And what are you then?”

“I have no idea” he said.

“Excuse me?” you were so confused.

“Some people say I am an ambassador, others call me a diplomat, some call me survey corps scum”

That’s when it hit you like a horse race. Armin as in-

“Are you the 15th commander? Commander Arlert?”

He did not say anything at first, but you could feel his shoulders tense up.

“I guess so”

“People in this country hate your guts” you said without thinking “Shit, you helped me! If they ever find out you’re getting killed!”

“Nobody will suspect if a certain Guerrila stays silent about it” he said.

“Of course I’m not saying shit, but still! If I was in your place…”

He could have done what any other government targeted person would.

“You would turn me in?” he continued your line of thought “it’s a smart move, rid yourself of danger by handing them a terrorist”

“Why didn’t you?”

"It's not fair” he said “but please let’s not talk about it”

You wanted to ask more, to know more. How could he even tell you those things and not elaborate on anything? You almost considered asking him for more information when the horse came to a stop and Armin asked you to hold the oil lamp while he got off the horse. The orange hue was the only thing allowing you to see his face.

“You should recognize the main road from here, I trust you know how to avoid the military”

You nodded, adjusting yourself on the horse saddle.

“I am sort of an expert in avoiding them” you said.

He smiled and shook his head, petting the horse’s neck.

“Try not to be shot again when I’m out of the country” he looked you straight in the eyes.

“I’ll try my best, but don’t make any promises”

“Alright, get out of here” he stepped away from the horse.

You prompted the horse forward, but not even five meters on you turned your body to face him. Armin held the oil lamp close to enough to see that he still faced you.

“Maybe one day we can talk without this looming danger on our heads” you said.

“I hope so”

With his face still ingrained on your mind, you turned around and left.

#armin arlert #armin x reader #armin x you #armin fanfiction #aot x reader #you're a commieeeeee #fuck us liberalism

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