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daisynik7 · 9 months

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Give You Blue

Epilogue

You are my universe, my everything, my sunset. You still give me butterflies, my lullaby. You are everything I wanted.

Pairing: Eren x f!reader

Word Count: ~2.6k

cw: switching POVs (reader is second-person, Eren is third), fluff, established relationship, smut – PIV sex (cowgirl position), cunnilingus, face-riding, spit play, pet names (sweetie, honey, sweetheart, princess, good girl, baby)

Previous Chapter

Give You Blue Masterlist | ao3

Author’s Note: Just an excuse to write a little bonus chapter about these two! Fluffy, adorable, and happily in love! Also a little smut added to the mix. Thank you everyone for reading this story all the way through the end! Love and appreciate every single one of you. What a journey this has been. Likes, comments, and/or reblogs are appreciated, as always.

It’s 11:45 PM, New Year’s Eve, fifteen minutes before the start of the new year. You leave your family gathered downstairs to head up to your room, shutting the door quietly, tapping your boyfriend’s contact on your phone screen.

Eren answers after two rings. “Hey, cutie. Hold on.” There’s shuffling, like you’ve been temporarily put in his pocket. In the background, you hear him announce, “Mom, I’m pretty tired. Going to bed now.”

“But you’ll miss midnight!” she responds.

You hear his dad chime in. “Let him, honey. He can make his own decisions.” There’s a hint of bitterness in his tone that even you can detect on the other end of the line.

Your boyfriend lets out a nervous chuckle, muttering a quick, “Happy New Year.” There’s more rustling, then sounds of steps going up stairs, ending with a gentle thud of a door closing. “Sweetie? You still there?” he asks, finally alone.

“Yeah, I’m here.” You smile into the phone, sitting at the edge of the bed. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he greets back. “It’s so nice hearing your voice.”

“I feel the same way,” you reply, falling back into the mattress, gazing up at the ceiling. “How was tonight?”

“Oh, you know, the usual: My mom cooked too much food for three people and my dad has been sneaking little jabs at me. Nothing new.”

Eren officially changed his major before the end of the semester from pre-med to education, a huge weight lifted off his shoulders while a tinier one replaces it, aka his father’s overall disapproval. Dr. Jaeger stood by his word, threatening that he would no longer support his son financially once he made the switch, to which Eren has been preparing for. He has two new on-campus jobs lined up for him at the start of the new semester, along with the weekly music session at the elementary school Erwin Smith’s dad works at. The first week of winter break, he was ready to apply for a few loans to help him throughout the rest of his term. Then, to his shock, his father approached him, informing him that he will actually continue to pay for his education, on the condition that he graduates with outstanding grades and a job guaranteed. Eren’s sure it was his mother who was behind the change in heart, to which he’ll forever be grateful for. Unfortunately, this hasn’t stopped his father from making snide remarks here and there.

You sympathize with him, saying, “I’m sorry.”

His charming grin is audible through the phone. “Don’t be. I can handle it.”

“Where’s Mikasa? And your brother?”

“Mikasa left this morning to spend the rest of break with Jean. And Zeke had to head back to prepare for some conference, so he’s actually in your neck of the woods right now,” he answers, referring to your hometown and current location: Marley. He adds, “To be honest, I wish I was there too.”

You smile, kicking your feet, belly fluttering with butterflies. “We’ll see each other in a week. Do you really miss me that much?” you tease.

“More than anything.”

Swallowing hard, sentimental words dancing on the tip of your tongue (I miss you too, I think about you every day), you remain silent, too shy to get them out. Instead, he continues speaking, changing the subject to talk about what his mom prepared and the new year traditions behind them. She decided to do a spread of German foods this time around: pork sausages for good luck, sauerkraut for more money, and lentil soup for even better luck. He tells you about his childhood, popping open apple cider to tip into everyone’s glasses, watching the fireworks light up the sky from a distance, igniting sparklers outside with Armin, Mikasa, and the other neighborhood kids on the street. You listen to him intently, imagining a young Eren with that same signature bright smile he dons as an adult; warm, genuine, full of light. It’s no wonder you fell for him, especially in a time of your life where you were shrouded in darkness from the fallout of your heartbreak, unsure when you’d ever see sunshine again.

I love you. Every time you think it, you double back, convincing yourself that it’s too soon, too much in such a short amount of time. After all, it’s only been a little over a month since the two of you officially became a couple. Wouldn’t it be crazy to express such a weighted confession?

When there’s a small pause in the conversation, finished with his stories, you start, “Eren,” ready to admit it.

“Oh, it’s already 11:59!” he interjects, excited. “How many seconds do we have left?”

You turn on the TV, switching to a local channel that’s displaying a countdown. “Ah, ten seconds!” You watch the clock, listening to Eren announce the numbers in your ear. At three, you join in. “3…2…1…Happy New Year!”

Downstairs, you hear your family cheering, clinking flutes of champagne or cider with each other. The sound of fireworks bursting can be heard faintly through your window. On the opposite end of the line, Eren says, “Happy New Year, beautiful. Wish I could kiss you right now.”

You smile. “Me too.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to join your family downstairs?” he asks.

“Positive. I want to start the new year with you.”

He laughs softly. “Me too. And you know what? For the first time in a long time, I’m actually excited about the new year. I used to dread going back, always so anxious about my new classes. All the tests and projects I had to work on during the semester. Even interacting with my classmates because it was always so competitive. Now, my new curriculum sounds interesting, and I feel good about my cohort. I just know this year is going to be a great one.” He pauses, choosing his next statement carefully. “I’m also looking forward to us. We’ve got all the time in the world now. I can’t wait to create so many more memories with you.”

Your heart beats faster, taken back by his sincerity. You decide not to confess to him tonight, not because you’re unsure, but because you mean it more. Those three words don’t seem enough to express that to him. Not yet at least. There’s no pressure to rush into anything; as he said, you’ve got all the time in the world.

~~~

Spring semester of sophomore year starts off smoothly, especially for Eren. This is the only time during his collegiate career that he’s felt at ease. While he’s equally as diligent as he was before, he enjoys the material he’s learning, rather than stressing each passing day like he once was. Having his supportive girlfriend by his side is also a huge help, maybe the biggest of them all. He’s never been happier.

Technically, it’s forbidden for RAs to date their residents. However, that hasn’t stopped them, often sneaking into his room to do what couples usually do. Quite frankly, neither are worried about hiding it, considering the rest of the dormitory residents are well aware of the relationship and unfazed by it. Still, whenever one of Eren’s managers visits, he’s extra diligent in keeping that information private.

As for her situation with her ex, she has completely moved on, and seemingly so has he. Occasionally, she’ll spot Reiner walking around campus with his fraternity brothers or classmates. She and him will exchange a cordial head nod, polite wave, sometimes a reminiscent smile, but nothing more. Acknowledging each other’s presence, understanding there’s no more left to their story. A fleeting moment of reminiscence about their past life together, gone as soon as it appears. During these times, Reiner will flash a serious glance at Eren. It’s not threatening or malicious, more like a cautionary warning. He can’t blame the guy; after all, Reiner was her first love, and vice versa. Despite their relationship coming to an end, deep down, they must care for each other to some degree. Even as the new boyfriend, he can understand that, so he remains unbothered by it.

Despite his father agreeing to continue the payment of his tuition, Eren decided to work at least one part-time job this semester to supplement date nights or gifts for his girlfriend. His job is being the front desk of the school library, helping students locate resources or manage the study rooms. For the most part, his schedule is manageable. However, when the week of midterms arrives, it gets a little more complicated. The facility remains open twenty-four hours on weeks like this so students have a place to study at all times. Driven by the increased pay during the night shifts, Eren offers to work them without thinking how it’ll affect his daily routine. It’s only after the first night that he realizes he won’t be able to see his girlfriend until the week is over. With her being just as busy with group projects, there isn’t a time they have free to see each other. So, they settle for voicemails and text message spanning the next few days, which in Eren’s mind, pass by like weeks, maybe months. He misses her.

Finally, Friday comes, and exams are over. After his last class, he heads straight for his room, knocking out for a long nap. He wakes up to gentle tapping on his door. When he answers, he’s thrilled to see her, smiling brightly at him. “Hi.”

Before he can respond with words, he launches forward, wrapping her in his arms. “I’m so happy to see you.” He buries his nose to the top of her head, inhaling that familiar scent he’s been yearning for all week long. “I missed you so much.”

She laughs, music to his ears, warming his entire soul. “I missed you too.”

He pulls her into his room, pushing the door closed by pressing her up against it with a kiss. They stay like this for a while, his hands caressing her cheeks, her fingers hooked to the waistband of his sweats, tugging ever-so-slightly towards her. They kiss each other, languid, soft, and effortless, like this is exactly where they’re meant to be. He’s been deprived too long without her. He won’t waste another second.

She pulls away, leaning back to look at him. “Are you hungry? Do you want to get dinner now?”

He smirks, mouth grazing her ear. “I am hungry, but for something else.” One hand trails down to her hip, squeezing. “I’ve been starving for you all week. Dessert first, then dinner.”

She giggles, nipping at his lower lip. “Are we calling this dessert now?”

“Yup,” he grins. “Because it’s going to be so, so sweet.”

~~~

Within minutes, your clothes are tossed to the floor, stripped and bare in his bed, sheets twisted beneath as your lips smack noisily with each other. “Can I taste you now? Please?” Eren asks.

You nod, rolling onto your back, spreading your legs for him. He shakes his head, hoisting you over him. “Not like that. I want you to ride my face.”

“What?” you stammer, surprised at the suggestion.

“Ride my face,” he repeats.

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely sure. I want it so bad, baby.” The way his voice sounds needy and desperate has your pussy throbbing. Carefully, you straddle him, lowering yourself slowly. His hands slide around your thighs, gripping you. “Come on. Smother me, sweetie.” More aggressively, he shoves you to his face, tongue already out and licking at your clit. You grasp onto the headboard, rolling your hips onto his mouth, head thrown back in pleasure. His moans are muffled, vibrating into your skin with his lips puckered to your bud, sucking.

Soon, you’re coming for him, slick gushing from your slit. He drinks it up, slurping it noisily, his hips thrusting into nothing, cock stiff against his abdomen. “Fuck, you taste so good. Think you can ride my cock now, princess?”

Still reeling from your orgasm, you whimper in response, readjusting yourself so you’re on his lap, sliding your slippery cunt along his erect shaft. He rests his head on his palms, elbows splayed, watching you. “That’s it, baby. Get it nice and creamy with your cum. You’re doing such a good job.”

The praise spurs you on, rubbing yourself on his dick until you’re ready for him, tingling all over. You sink down, cock sliding in smoothly until he bottoms out, your pussy entirely full of him. He plants his feet to the bed, thrusting into you gradually. “I know you already came, but can you give me one more, sweetie? Just one more?” It sounds like he wants to add a pretty please to the end of it, nodding his head affirmatively, looking up at you with innocent eyes while he fucks you relentlessly.

You let out a pathetic whimper, nodding along with him, totally captivated. He smiles so sweetly, the tinge of wickedness in his eyes almost goes unnoticed. Almost. Your boyfriend can be a real menace sometimes, acting tender as he man-handles you like his own personal sex doll. His grip on your hips tightens, his fingers digging into your flesh. He’s breathing heavily, exerting all the energy left in his being to give you the best fuck of your life. You bounce on his lap until your legs are spent, yielding all control to him. One hand travels up your spine and lands at the nape of your neck, caressing you, pulling you in for a sloppy kiss. His tongue swirls into your mouth, pushing his thick saliva past your lips. He halts his brutal thrusts, hard cock all the way inside you, pussy throbbing around it.

“Open up, sweetie,” he says. You’re high off his cock, too dumbed out to think rationally, so you obey his command, sticking your tongue out. He bites his lip, studying you like you’re the prized treasure he’s about to collect. He tips your head towards him, leaning in close to spit a wad of his saliva in your mouth. “Swallow.” You do, guzzling every drop of it down your throat.

“That’s it. Such a good girl,” he coos.

“Give me more,” you groan, sticking your tongue out.

He grins, smooching your nose. “You like it, don’t you sweetheart?”

You nod, eyes half-lidded as he does it again, his hot, frothy spit coating the inside of your mouth. Arms coiled around his neck, you clutch onto him tightly, electricity rippling from your core throughout the rest of your body as he pumps his cock in and out of you.

“Eren,” you whimper, nuzzling his ear. Maybe it’s the heat of the moment, or the fact that you haven’t seen him all week and you missed him so much, you’re bursting at the seams. In a breathy huff, it slips out. “I love you.”

Suddenly, he pauses, stunned by your confession. He holds your face between his palms, staring at you with a serious expression. “What did you say?”

“I love you.”

His lips part, dumbfounded and in a daze, with his dick still hard inside you. It’s not what you imagined it would be like, but in this moment, you wanted to get it off your chest. It’s been simmering within you since New Year’s, and while it’s not the most luxurious of settings, it’s intimate and special, especially with the way his eyes twinkle. “You love me?” he reiterates, clearly in disbelief.

With more confidence, you reply, “I love you, Eren.” You nuzzle your nose to his, smiling. “I love you.”

He laughs, pressing his forehead to yours. “I love you, too. I’ve loved you this whole time.”

The two of you giggle into each other’s mouths as you kiss, Eren whispering “I love you” in between. You rock your hips onto his lap, making love slowly until eventually, you come together, skin hot and dewy with sweat, hearts thumping loudly against your chests. He cradles you in his arms, peppering more soft smooches around your face, intertwining his legs with yours. A perfect fit.

@batafuraikisu @bloompompom @monirei @filunara @katestrophes @ichinosejager13 @hoperenae @zellskz @e-ayyy @liliorsstuff-blog @maliakealoha @holdmeclosebutdontloveme @chrollohearttags @sailorputa @squickkk @dnyllmh @hellomeow12 @s-cream-ing @potofstewie @conniesbbymama @erzascarlett28 @lem-hhn @roronoazorosbxtchh @ichigostrawberry15 @rhaelrence @lilshades @bigmoodyjoody @icansmellsouls @aangsupremacy @ashsauroras @bakuhoes-bxtch @si-kamo @jmtherula @imaddicted-b @monkemanjeager @neesiewrote @large-juice @chiinni @belovedackerman

#eren x you #eren x reader #eren x y/n #eren smut #eren jaeger #eren jaeger smut #eren x f!reader #eren x fem!reader #eren jaeger x you #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager #eren aot #eren jaeger x female reader #aot smut #attack on titan smut #give you blue series #eren fluff #aot fluff

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jeankirsteinsgrlfrnd · 4 months

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hihi! can i request aot boys x reader hcs abt their "songs"?? like if their relationship had a specific song, what would it be,, tysm in advance and im sorry if this doesn't make sense ��

ꕤ aot boys & their songs with you ꕤ

a/n: i LOVE this request so much. thank you so much!! it made me so emotional LOL imo requests like these really personify the character UGHHH i’m weak

♡ eren jaeger- my kind of woman by mac demarco

♡ armin arlert- yellow by coldplay

♡ jean kirstein- k. by cigarettes after sex (i cant imagine it being anything other than this because of @akisbrew ‘s AMAZING fanfiction. please check it out and show her love! it’s called ‘okay, bambi.’)

♡ connie springer- lovers rock by tv girl

♡ levi ackerman- skinny love by bon iver

♡ erwin smith- just the two of us (feat bill withers) by grover washington jr

♡ reiner braun- lover by taylor swift

♡ bertholdt hoover- falling for the first time by the bare naked ladies

♡ porco galliard- sugar by brockhampton

♡ zeke jaeger- accidentally in love by counting crows

♡ marco bodt- flightless bird, american mouth by iron & wine

♡ hey since u made it this far go read my jean fanfic or else

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ficsforeren · 2 years

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Our Little Secret - Chapter 5

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Eren Jaeger X Female Reader

Genre: College AU, Spider-Man/Spider-Girl AU, Fluff, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Eventual Smut

Series Summary: Eren Jaeger, a 21-year-old virgin college student who loves his camera a little bit too much, has a crush on you. Every night, he switches on his camera and talks about you but he never could find the courage to speak to you in real life. Strangely enough, he finds it easy for him to befriend Spider-Girl, the crime fighting vigilante, not knowing that you both share the same identity.

Chapter Summary: Due to some miracle, Eren finally gets to go on a date with you, and you look so pretty, so cute, he doesn't know if he can survive the night without drooling all over his shirt. He doesn't know that you're Spider-Girl, the same woman he's been spending so many wonderful hours together. You want him to find out about it, but at the same time, you know it's wiser not to say a word. But when one thing leads to another... Can you really keep yourself silent?

Content Warnings: explicit sex scene (happens at the end of the series, can be skipped if you want), swearing, mentions of characters going through depression, traumatic past events

Word Count: 10k

Poster art by the most talented @rainbuniart on Twitter

The Coffee Club. 8 PM.

My first date ever.

The last time Eren ever felt this excited in his life was when his brother Zeke accidentally left his credit card on the coffee table. It was the best day of his twenty years of living, truly. Eren spent five hundred bucks to get himself a geometric wolf tattoo on his left forearm, and a full black tribal band tattoo on his right bicep. He wasted a few hundred more just to be a dick and get back at his brother for catching his private session on camera.

When Eren came home later that night with the biggest wicked grin and a shopping bag practically the size of his fridge, Zeke swore that from that day on, they were no longer brothers. “Oh no, I’m going to cry,” Eren faked a pout and a whine, going as far as puffing out his cheeks and pushing out his lower lip, but when he slapped back his credit card to his brother’s chest, Eren tossed him a demonic smirk. “Fine with me, Monke.” Zeke tried his very best to ignore his baby brother for, at least, a month. But only two days had passed and he came barging into his brother’s bedroom, hugged him from behind—causing Eren’s character on screen to get shot by this jackass named Noobmaster 92 (fuck you, Noobmaster92)—and cried out, “Please tell me you still love me! PLEASE TELL ME YOU STILL LOVE ME, EREN!”

So, yeah, that happened. Wait, what were we talking about again?

Oh, right! The date!

Eren has fantasized about going on a date with you ever since he got his first wet dream (he got it pretty early when he was still, like, twelve—probably because he kept stealing Zeke’s hentai mangas and read them in secret). At that time, the only female he had ever interacted with so intensely in real life was the little girl he met during his stay at the hospital (a.k.a you). Eren knew he had a crush on you from the start. He just didn’t know that he was down for you so bad that you began to take form in his dreams too.

To be honest, if he could select the girl he was going to have sex with in his dream as easily as he picked a character in his favorite game, he wouldn’t have chosen you. Of course, he would love to see himself, for the lack of a better word, fucking you in his dreams. Hell, maybe God would be kind and He would let you motorboat your tits too. But his dreams are filthy. Even filthier than his wildest imaginations and that’s saying something. And you don’t deserve to be treated like a prostitute or a sex doll. You’re a princess in his eyes—a goddess even, and that’s why you need to be worshiped. He wants to make love to you, not just to fuck your brains out in the nearest alley. Fucking is for bunnies. Or Muffin and that ugly pug that keeps trying to get inside his backyard just to get a quick hump. Eren isn’t like them. Eren is—

Damn it, we keep getting sidetracked.

So, about his date.

Eren has his thumb between his lips, teeth grinding against his nail as he sits on the bench that stands right across from the coffee shop where you’re supposed to be meeting him soon. He takes a glance at his phone screen, a smile naturally graces his lips when he sees his wallpaper—your pretty eyes looking like the most beautiful pair of crescents, your lips pulled back in the cutest grin. He notices that he’s an hour early (poor boy is too excited for his date), and that means he has to wait for another hour with his leg bouncing restlessly against the concrete, his nose turning a shade redder every time the night breeze kisses his cheeks. Spring is about to come to an end in a few more weeks, and yet here he is, still shivering like a baby deer.

He’s okay with being cold, he just doesn’t like it when the wind blows too hard because my Lord Jesus, I love you, but I spent literally an hour of my life trying to style my hair like this, so can you take it easy with the wind tonight, please? Thanks. It’s really nothing special, actually. He just tied his hair up like usual but instead of sporting that messy man-bun because he didn’t care, he’s going with the stylishly messy man-bun, as in he spent an hour in front of his bathroom mirror trying to trim and comb his hair here and there to make it seem like it already looks that good even without him doing anything. He had to watch a thirty-minute-long tutorial video called “How to Get a Man Bun like Jungkook from BTS” on YouTube to get his hair done right.

He’s dressed in a pair of dark wash jeans, a slim-fit white sweater, a nice jacket to keep him warm, and a great pair of boots instead of his usual sneakers to showcase effort. Eren still low-key thinks that he should’ve worn his suit but then again, he doesn’t want to seem too overdressed.

He’s brought you some flowers, a whole-ass bouquet called Grape Bubblegum, full of sweet colors and matches—the most playful type of bouquet, they said. The florist told him, “Judging from your story, I can tell she’s a very energetic person so I believe this one suits her best. I can guarantee that she's going to have the biggest smile on her face when you give this to her. That’s the best way to start your romantic journey together, don’t you agree?” It’s most likely bullshit—just another one of her marketing scams—but Eren snapped his fingers in the air, shouting, “Bitch, I’m sold. Take my fucking money.” Of course, he didn’t actually curse. Eren would never do that to older people. To his three years older brother Zeke? Sure, yeah, definitely. But to a sweet, sweet old woman who looked like she needed to settle in a retirement home for good? Nope.

Of course, Grape Bubblegum doesn’t look as playful and beautiful anymore when some jackass—who probably weighed a hundred pounds more than he was—accidentally sat on it on the bus. Never in his life had Eren ever felt like he was about to commit genocide from the amount of rage burning in his chest, but at that time, he really did. But no, instead of lashing out, he just said, “Dude, get off my flowers!” The two pink roses—which are supposed to be the highlight of Grape Bubblegum—are ruined but Eren continues to hold the bouquet close to his chest, not knowing what else to do since he hasn’t prepared another gift for you.

Should I run to the nearest store and grab some chocolates for her? He thinks, biting harder against his nail with his eyes glaring at his dark combat boots. No, that would make me look like I'm being half-assed about it. God, that’s the last thing I wanna do—to look like I’m—

“Hey, you’re early.”

“—BEING HALF-ASSED!” Eren jumps from his seat, his mouth spouting the last line that runs through his head as he’s shocked by the sight of you standing not a meter away from him. You’re just as surprised, taking a step back in reflex to avoid his head bumping against your chin.

“Sorry,” you say, raising both hands in the air to calm him down. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Eren didn’t catch a single second of sleep last night trying to come up with the right words to say upon your first meeting. He has prepared a whole speech, something that goes along the line of: “Hey, you came. You look so beautiful. Is that a new dress? Looks pretty on you. Me? No, I just got here. Oh, right, almost forgot, I bought you some flowers. No, it’s okay, it’s nothing. My aunt is a florist so it really wasn’t a big deal. I just hope you’ll like them. You do? You love them? Oh, thank God. I was really nervous about this whole date. Yesterday was a mess and I don’t want to repeat that mistake again. Why am I going this far for a first date, you ask? Well… Isn’t it obvious? I really like you. You’re the most wonderful thing I’ve ever seen in my life. I adore you with all my heart. Everything you do drives me insane and I just hope you’ll give me the chance to be closer to you. To understand you better. And to make you feel… my love.”

Okay, maybe it was a bit too much for a greeting—and corny too, probably, but if Adele could sing that line in a song, why can’t he say it to the girl who owns his heart? Nevertheless, it would still be a thousand times better than him spitting on your face—almost literally—while shouting, “BEING HALF-ASSED!”

“What did you mean about being half-assed?” And you had to ask about it too. Great. You could’ve just let him go, saved his poor soul by pretending like you didn’t hear him. But no, you just had to humiliate him even further this way. Because that’s where you find your enjoyment, isn’t it?

Eren, as he tries his best to stop himself from lying down on the pavement—crying his heart out—offers the bouquet to you with a pout and his shoulders sagging forward. You blink twice, a bit stunned as you’ve never received flowers on a first date before. You thought it was going to be a casual date—just two friends hanging out, trading coquettish smiles and flirty banter over a cup of coffee. But no, apparently for Eren, this is serious.

“Some fat guy sat on them when I was on the bus,” Eren murmurs with his chin tucked, his invisible puppy ears going down. “I’m sorry. I wanted to buy you something else but I was afraid I wasn’t going to make it on time for our date. I thought about getting you chocolates from the store, but I didn’t want to seem like I was being—"

“Half-assed about it,” you finish, accepting the flowers from his hands. Happiness glows inside you. He doesn’t need to bring you flowers to make you smile. Just seeing him like this, with his blush painting his cheeks and a pout growing prominent on his face, this is enough. “Thank you. You really didn’t have to bring me anything. I already feel so happy knowing that you put that much thought into it. I’m sorry I didn’t bring you anything.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine.”

“Is there anything I could do for you?” You offer him a benign smile. “Is there anything you want me to do?”

Eren swallows, his mind coming up with a thousand different answers at once. Of course, he has something he wants you to do for him. He has a lot of things he wants you to do, to him, for him, and with him. But one thought stands more vividly than the rest, especially when he rakes his eyes over your appearance. You’re wearing a soft pink trench coat above your black skirt and chiffon blouse, and a pair of boots that accentuate your legs. On top of your hair is a beanie—the cutest one he’s ever seen—to keep yourself warm, and a patterned navy blue scarf to protect your neck from the night wind. You look like you’re walking out of a romantic movie, a true heroine of a beautiful love story.

“Can I, umm…” He tightens his grip around the strap of his bag that’s hanging on one shoulder. “Can I take your picture? I-if you don’t mind.”

“You mean right now?” You look around to take a quick scan of your surroundings. A few people are walking down the pavements, mostly young couples sharing giggles between conversations as they hold each other’s hands.

Eren notices how you seem a bit uncomfortable by the thought of striking poses in public. “You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to,” he hastily adds.

“No, it’s okay,” you say, smoothening down your skirt. You move closer to the streetlamp to get better lighting, standing a bit awkwardly as you hold his flower tightly in your hands. “Like this? Let me know if I look weird, okay?”

“You’re beautiful,” he says without even giving a second for his brain to digest your words. Retrieving his DSLR camera from his bag, he takes off his lens cover and offers you a sheepish smile. “You’ll always look beautiful to me, no matter what you do. You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“That’s…” You can already feel your heart pounding like a drum and your date just started literally seven minutes ago. “That’s too much, but thank you.”

Seeing how your usually confident self is turning diffident, Eren feels his cheeks getting warmer. Ah, she’s so cute, he wants to shout it to the world. “I will, umm,” he clears her throat, bringing his camera closer to his face. “I will just—“

“Yeah, just take it.”

It feels so awkward having him take pictures of you on the street like this as you are more accustomed to striking poses while keeping your identity hidden underneath your Spider-Girl costume. You feel bare and exposed, feeling how intense his gaze is even from behind his camera. After a few clicks, Eren brings his device down, taking a quick look at the photos.

“Do they come out nice?” You ask him.

“Yes.” He seems immensely pleased, looking like he just had his wish granted after years of waiting, which in a way, is true. “You look perfect.”

Ignoring the way your stomach somersault from his comment, you take a stride toward him. “It’s not fair if I’m the only one who gets photographed over here.” Eren watches you take out your phone from your coat pocket. “Can I? To commemorate our first date.”

Eren, realizing what you’re planning to do, nods shakily. “S-sure.” Never in his life had he thought he would have the chance to take a selfie together with you but there he is, standing close enough for him to get a waft of your shampoo.

“Maybe it’s better if you hold it since you’re taller than me,” you say and he nods again. His words have left him for good. Your scent’s too intoxicating for him to think.

Taking a hold of your phone, he bends down a little to fit his face right next to yours in the frame. “Okay, uhh, on three,” he says, sounding noticeably nervous and you refrain yourself from giggling. “One, two…” He taps his thumb twice on your phone’s screen before he hands it back to you. You take a look at them together, with Eren, who’s standing close behind you, grimacing right away at the sight. “Ugh, I look so weird.”

“No, you’re cute,” you correct him, turning his body stiff when you suddenly look up at him. The proximity you’re in is the closest you’ve ever been to him, and while you do feel your heartbeat escalating just a tad faster, Eren’s is soaring through the roof. “You’re the cutest boy I’ve ever taken a selfie with. Thank you, Eren.”

“Umm, yeah…” You can see his eyes drift down to your lips before he averts his gaze. “Y-you’re welcome.”

“Is it okay if we take another one?”

She’s planning to kill me, she really is. “Sure.”

Eren is somewhat right because you do have a plan, not to kill him, just… tease him a little bit. “Ready? One, two…” Right as he clicks the shutter button on your screen, you stand on your toes and plant a kiss on his cheek. Eren’s eyes widen in surprise, the camera catches a picture of it. Your phone nearly slips out of his grip when he backs away from you, face flushed. “What—why—did you just—” he stammers, his thoughts scattering all over the place.

Giggling, you snatch back your phone from his hand, going through your gallery. “Hey, it looks perfect!” You chirp gleefully while Eren is still trying to collect himself. You hook a hand around his arm, tugging him close until his shoulder bumps against yours. “Don’t we look cute together?” You show him the picture of you looking like nothing but a pair of lovers with scarlet cheeks and an innocent kiss. Eren is blushing hard enough for his ears to buzz. He still can’t believe this is happening. “Do you want me to send the pictures to you?”

He gives three little timid nods. “Y-yes, please.”

Cute, cute, cute, cute, he’s so cute. “Okay, done. Now we can have matching wallpapers if you want.”

Fourteen minutes into the date and this is already the best thing that’s ever happened in his life.

As he places back his camera into his bag, You take a moment to breathe in the scent of roses and lavender from the bouquet he’s given you. You have the most radiant, expressive smile breaking on your lips as you close your eyes, reveling in the fragrance.

Watching you like this… Eren feels his heart singing again. You look so small, so delicate. Graceful too with your fingers pushing a lock of your hair so it won’t fall over your face. You leave him dizzy, breathless even, just by the mere sight of you looking up at him from underneath your lashes. “I’ll put this in a vase when I get home. They say fresh flowers could last up to twelve days if you take care of them properly. I’ll try my best to make them last.”

God, you would look so pretty in a wedding dress. “Y-you don’t have to. I will get you new flowers when they’ve withered away. I can send you a bouquet every week if you want.”

“How very committed of you,” you croon, pursing your lips in a way that makes his flush spread to his ears. “Why don’t we just focus on getting through the night for now? If you’re on your best behavior, maybe we can arrange a second date.” You don’t even have to add a wink to give him a heart attack. Your words already did that for you.

“I—Really?”

“Yes,” you chuckle, amused by how his entire face just brightened at the thought. “By the way, when did you get here? I thought I was early but you already got here before me. Did you wait long?”

“N-no.” He looks away, rubbing the tip of his nose. “I just got here.”

You’re a terrible liar. “And when was that exactly?”

“About…” He grows nervous under your gaze. Wincing, he decides to tell the truth. “An hour ago?”

“Oh my God—really? Why didn’t you go inside the coffee house? It’s freezing out here.”

“I’m not cold.” He tries to convince you by straightening his back, even though his hands are shivering inside the pockets of his jacket.

“Your nose is red, dummy.” You shake your head, pushing back the bouquet to his chest. “Hold the flowers for me?”

“Umm, okay,” he complies although his forehead creases in confusion. “What are you—”

Without waiting for him to finish, you quickly untangle your scarf, standing on your toes to hook the wooly fabric around his neck. Eren holds his breath, his eyes turning round. Tugging him closer by the scarf, you force his body to lean toward you. He catches a whiff of the perfume you wore for the night, even when the wind is blowing hard enough to raise the tiny hairs on his nape—or maybe it’s because of how close you are to him.

You toss him a smile, feeling satisfied when you witness how much effects you have on him. “Do you know how to tie a Parisian scarf knot?”

Your voice is thick with charm in his ears, melodious and a bit… seductive. He swallows his breath, fingers curling into fists as he tries to stop his eyes from wandering anywhere else but your eyes. Your lips look so inviting, but he doesn’t want to look more obvious than he already does. “No, Ma’am.” He discovers his voice again after spending what feels like forever trying to process your question.

“Well, it’s really easy. Fold your scarf in half widthwise.” You practice directly on him, doing the same thing your lips instructed you to. “Then fold in half again lengthwise. Drape the scarf over your neck, and then—bend down a little for me?”

Eren’s face is burning bright but he follows. This time, he can’t stop himself from gazing at your lips. He can tell that you’re wearing a different shade of lipstick tonight. You keep your make-up to a minimum but you applied bold red lipstick to grab his attention. And boy, you didn’t just steal his attention. You’re taking his entire breath away.

“Then you bring the loose ends through the hole,” you continue, pretending like you’re oblivious to the thoughts of him wanting to get a taste of your lip gloss. “Tighten the scarf around your neck and voila.” You beam at him with a youthful grin, patting your hands once against his chest. “There you have it. A Parisian scarf knot. Does it feel warm, big boy?”

Warm? He’s about to burst into fucking flames. He shakily nods. “Yes, Ma’am, thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you grin, taking the flowers back from him.

“What about you?” Eren asks, eyebrows stitched in concern. “Aren’t you cold?”

“No, the scarf was just an accessory.”

“Are you sure?”

“Well, if you’re that worried,” you roll your eyes playfully at him, shifting the bouquet to your right hand while you offer him your left one. “Here.”

Eren just stares at it like the idiot that he is. “Umm… Do you want your scarf back?”

“No, silly.” You snatch away his hand, lacing your fingers together before you bring them inside the pocket of your trench coat. Eren’s jaw hangs slack on his face but he’s not given the time to react when you take a step forward, walking toward the path you were coming from.

Eren, low-key panicking (actually, maybe high-key), follows after your trail as he’s left with no choice. His hand is probably sweaty and gross but you hold it firmly as if he’s the other set of puzzles you need to complete you. “Isn’t it supposed to be the other way around?” He asks with a quiver in his voice. “L-like, your hand in my pocket instead of mine in yours?”

“True, but let’s not get too predictable.” This time, you do hurl a wink at him and a little bit of his soul just ascends to heaven.

“Where are we going?” He tries not to think too much about how your hand fits his perfectly or how delightfully warm you are. “I thought we were going to get coffee?”

“I’ve changed my mind. We’re gonna catch a movie instead. You like watching movies, right? Except for the scary ones.”

“Yeah…” But then he furrows his eyebrows, suspicion in his gaze. “Wait, how do you know I don’t like scary movies?”

Oh, shoot. “Well, I mean…” You hope your giggle would be enough to mask how tense you are. “I… have been doing research about you.” What am I even saying? “I mean, I’ve had my eyes on you for a while too. Isn’t it natural for me to want to know what interests you and what doesn't?” Okay, to be fair, that makes a lot of sense but God, that was so embarrassing!

But if your goal is to divert his attention away from the topic, it works perfectly. Right now, Eren is taking a trip over the moon, his spirits flying high at the thought of you asking around about him because you’re interested in him. “Do you, umm…” He wets his lip, his heart thrashing wildly inside his rib cages. “Do you… have a crush on me?”

Are you for real right now?! Who asks that kind of question?! But you’ve got no other choice but to say yes. You have to make your previous sentence believable, don’t you? And it’s not like you’re lying about it. You do have a crush on him. Actually, it’s even bigger than that. You’re probably in love with him at this point. But admitting it out loud to the person you have feelings for? Doesn’t that mean you’re going to do the same as he did on the rooftop, telling stories about you to Spider-Girl? Except you’re going to sound like a bigger idiot this time since you’re not going to accidentally tell him about your feelings just because you happened to be clueless about his secret identity. Eren’s alter ego is a giant pervert and you already know that from day one, and now you’re going to admit your feelings to him like this.

I hate myself.

You sigh, glaring into the night as you admit bashfully, “Yeah. Kinda.” Ah, I want to die.

You’re not sure what you expect him to say. Maybe you want him to be honest too? Make this a little less awkward and humiliating by saying, “That’s good because I have a crush on you too. And it’s so bad that I had to jerk off to your pictures and tell the town’s most famous superheroine about it.” or something like that. But of course, that only happens in your mind because now silence comes third-wheeling on your date, and you’re this close to shooting your web and swinging away from the scene.

Then you hear him sniffling.

Spinning your head so fast, you almost give yourself a head rush. “Are you crying right now?”

He is. He so is. Well, not actually crying like how he bawled his eyes out when he watched Hachiko—that movie had no business being that sad and depressing. But yes, Eren may have gotten a little bit emotional by your confession. Could you really blame him, though? Adoring someone from afar for two fucking years without doing anything but secretly taking your pictures is not an easy feat. Eren really thought he would never find the chance to talk to you, let alone go on a date with you like this. And now you’re telling him you’ve got a crush on him too?

“N-no,” he mumbles, tossing his face to the side as he rubs the back of his hand against his nose. “I’m just—I’m cold.”

“You literally just said you weren’t cold.”

“Yeah, but that was just me trying to look strong.” He sniffles again. “I’m actually very sensitive to cold.”

He really can’t lie to save his life, but that attempt deserves a reward so you bump your shoulder against his in a playful manner, letting out the softest laugh as you do. “You’re blushing so hard right now, I can tell.”

“I know,” he admits with his head hanging low. “I’m so pathetic.”

“I think you’re adorable.”

“C-calling a grown-ass man adorable isn’t really a compliment, you know.”

“And yet, it makes you blush even harder. I say it is, big boy.”

Your smirk is supposed to seem evil but to Eren, you just look so titillating, his brain immediately takes a snapshot of your expression for his, uhh… late-night entertainment. “You’re going to kill me someday,” he mutters, his pout returning to his lips.

“Well…” You release his hand only to hug his arm against your chest, your cheek grazing against the fabric of his jacket as you walk side by side with barely a centimeter separating you. “Let’s just hope someone will be there to save you.”

At this rate, even Quicksilver can’t be fast enough to save him from dying. “You’re a dangerous woman.”

***

“Oh my God, I can’t believe I fell asleep. I’m so sorry.”

That’s what you’ve been saying for the last fifteen minutes as you walk out of the theater with one hand holding your bouquet and another one cupping your face, fingers tapping lightly against your cheek so it would stop feeling like it’s catching on fire.

You had a plan. A very thorough plan involving you leaning your head against his shoulder as you both watched a romantic movie playing on the big screen; you giving him signs that it would be okay for him to hold your hand and maybe, just maybe, he could lean in to kiss you too. Not wanting to sound desperate or anything, but you have been thinking about doing intimate things with him for a while, especially after he confessed his whole feelings to you—well, to Spider-Girl—on the rooftop two nights ago. You can’t help it. After knowing that he likes you so much, it’s impossible for you not to expect something to happen tonight. Especially since you knew that he’s been thinking about you in sexual ways too. If he had one hand wrapped around his dick just from being aroused at the thought of you, obviously he would want to do something more than hold hands, wouldn’t he?

You’re both still in your early twenties. It’s natural to have your hormones going crazy at the thought of being in the dark with a cute boy. Boys might not know this, but girls think about sex just as much as boys do, don’t they? It’s been a while since you’ve let loose and made out with a handsome quarterback at the back of his car. It doesn’t help that you’re still a virgin too, just like Eren. You have a desire burning inside you, and an endless amount of curiosity needing to be answered. But it’s not just physical contact that you crave, it’s the emotional bond too. You want to feel like you’re in love. You want to be loved, and Eren, you know for certain, has so much of that to give you. If only you had followed your plan, you might have been able to have all that. Because the movie date was supposed to be cute, with him stealing glances and gazing at you with those lovestruck eyes every time he caught you smiling at him, but no, what happened was—

“I think it’s cute that you were already snoring in the first ten minutes,” Eren simpers.

Fire burns your cheeks. “I did not snore.”

“You did. Pretty loudly too. There was this couple sitting in front of us that kept looking back to check up on you.”

“Oh my God.” You rub a hand over your face, hiding your lower half behind your palm. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

Eren laughs wholeheartedly, placing his hand above your head just like how a big brother would tease his sister. “Guess being the top student can be pretty hard, huh?”

Being a top student? Nah. Running around the town catching drug dealers and stopping car chases at three in the morning? Yeah, probably. “I’m so sorry,” you vocalize with regret in your tone. “I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“Studying?”

“Yeah,” you lie. “There’s this science olympics I have to participate in next month and I’ve got so many things to prepare. I need to land first place or my dad’s gonna kill me. My body must have given up on me.”

He stops walking, taking your hand so naturally this time that it leaves you—the one who took the initiative—flustered. “Are you okay?” He asks, concern overtaking his face. “I can take you home if you want to rest. We don’t have to do this tonight.”

Your heart melts a little. He’s always like this. So attentive, so caring, putting your needs above everything else. “It’s fine,” you assure him with a smile. “I slept like a baby for two hours just now—I’m fully recharged. Thank you for lending me your shoulder the whole time. Is your arm okay?”

“Yeah,” he tosses you his lopsided grin. “Just a bit smelly ‘cause you drooled all over my jacket.”

“Shut up!”

Conversations start to flow naturally as you both grow more comfortable with each other’s presence. The initial awkwardness has vanished without a trace, transforming into a sense of familiarity that shrouds you as if you were two friends who had been spending time together for weeks. Which, of course, you are, but Eren doesn’t know this.

He doesn’t blush so often anymore but you, on the other hand, are becoming worse and worse in that department. The more comfortable he is with you, the more honest he becomes, and the more he feels like he can say anything he wants to say. He told you how he really liked it when you wore your hair up in a ponytail, how it made you look sporty and fresh, and even a bit sexy (he still turned red at the last part, but he didn’t stammer like a five-year-old trying to tell a story). He told you how he liked the scent of your strawberry shampoo—how it suited your sweet and cheerful personality, and how he always thought of you these days when he was out shopping for groceries and he saw strawberries sitting on the fruit counter. He told you that you have a beautiful laugh, the kind that can elevate people’s moods, like sunshine seeping through dark clouds. Everything he says sends blood pooling on your face. It doesn’t help that he never lets go of your hand as you walk down the street, doing the same thing you did to him earlier—interlacing your fingers together and sticking them inside the pocket of his coat.

“Warm?” He asks, his smile is sheepish but his pretty green eyes are radiant, glimmering under the city lights.

You nod, heart palpitating. This doesn’t feel like a first date. It feels like you’ve been lovers for months.

How perfect is this? Fate came in to introduce you to one another when you were children, and now it’s doing the same thing by reuniting you with him again. Not to mention that your alter ego, Spider-Girl, also met him by accident and now she’s playing a huge part in his life as well. It’s like the universe wants you to be together. But as you fall harder for him with every second passing by, Eren is feeling the opposite.

Unbeknownst to you, Eren hasn’t been a hundred percent honest tonight. He’s said the things he wanted to say but there are still some matters that he holds to himself, and that is the fact that he keeps seeing Spider-Girl in everything you do.

It’s weird. Maybe even sickening at some point. Because how can he think about another girl when he’s going on a date with the girl he’s been secretly in love with for years? He can see Spider-Girl in the little gestures that you make. The way your hands move animatedly in the air when you get too excited as you retell your story; the way you snort and say something witty or sarcastic whenever he’s being a little bit corny. But ultimately, Spider-Girl comes alive in his mind every time you laugh. He can hear it. If he closes his eyes, he can imagine it was Spider-Girl who was chortling at his joke. Even the little giggles you let out ring familiarly in his ears too.

But why? Why can’t he stop thinking about her when he’s with you? This isn’t right. This isn’t what’s supposed to happen. He’s supposed to be head over heels for you and only you. Eren shouldn’t let himself feel like this for a second longer but the more he tries to forget about Spider-Girl, the more his mind does the opposite.

There are two logical explanations to elucidate the emotion he’s going through: a) for some bizarre reason, you are indeed Spider-Girl herself or b) he’s…

I’m in love with Spider-Girl too.

Eren feels something weird crawling up his chest, something he can’t really describe. It feels both like dread and also joy. It feels so wrong to admit it to himself, feels even worse that he just realized it now. He’s trying so hard not to believe it that he forces himself to return and think further about his first option.

You’re Spider-Girl. God, even saying it in his head already sounds so ridiculous to him. How can you, one of the university’s best students, have the time to fight crimes? Or even the motivation to sacrifice your life every night to fight a gang of mafias or the Lizard? You just said it yourself that you had to stay up all night to prepare for the olympics. Plus, You’re so different compared to Spider-Girl. You’re much more feminine, even clumsy at times too, while Spider-Girl is this badass fighter with fast reflexes and superhuman strength. Of course, you being clumsy is just a part of your cover, but how could Eren know that? How could he know that the personality you’re showing right now is a part of the illusion you create to make you seem more normal? You’re not this feminine. You’re not this graceful. You don’t laugh with a hand covering your lips to be polite. You laugh with your head thrown back and your eyes shut closed. The real you—the one who has your true personality—is Spider-Girl.

“Hey, are you okay?” Even with your gentle call, Eren still flinches as if you just shouted at him. “You’ve been quiet for a while. What’s wrong?”

He’s staring at you like he’s seeing a ghost and for a moment, you feel your chest tightening too. Has he realized it? Has he figured out that I’m Spider-Girl? Fuck, what gave me away? I thought I was being careful all night. But that’s not it. Eren isn’t panicking because he’s learned the truth about your identity. He’s freaking out because he’s starting to believe that he really is in love with two women at the same time.

This is bad, he thinks, fidgeting as the words sink even harder. This is so bad.

“N-nothing, sorry,” he forces out a laugh. “Should we go, umm, get some coffee?”

***

“I had a great time today,” you say, turning around on your heels to face him with the sweetest smile you can offer. Standing on the crosswalk, your bodies are bathed in the yellowish glow of the lamppost, two pairs of eyes locking together as the world turns blurry behind you. The digital clock on your phone screen shows that it’s a few minutes away before midnight strikes. The peaceful town has turned quiet. Stores are closed. Most of the locals have returned to their families, all warmed up in the serenity of their homes. There are still a few cars passing by, shining headlights and casting shadows to stretch under your feet. It would’ve been comforting, this atmosphere between you, if your heartbeat didn’t chime so clamorously in your ears.

You’re still struggling to wash away the anxiety in your chest, worried that he’s found out about your secret. But if he did, why doesn’t he say so? Is he waiting for you to make the first move and tell him the truth? It doesn’t make any sense. Wouldn’t he be happy to know that you were the same girl who’d spent countless hours with him, talking your heart out every night? Or is he embarrassed over the fact that you already knew about the feelings he had for you—the real version of you?

Oh no, you almost gasp in shock. What if he’s angry at me for keeping my identity a secret? What if he’s upset that I didn’t stop him when he talked about his crush—about me? What if he thinks I’m annoying for messing around with him? What if he hates me now?

Your head is going round and round and round that you feel like you’re on the verge of throwing up. But when you tilt up your chin to meet his gaze, Eren doesn’t seem like he’s vexed. Rather than angry, he just seems… conflicted. About what, you’re not so sure.

“Me too.” Eren smiles, answering your earlier question. Now that you’re about to part ways, he releases your hand. It feels strange to have spaces between your fingers again, as you’ve grown too comfortable from having his lean ones filling the gaps. “Thank you for lending me your scarf. I’ll wash it before I return it to you.”

“You can have it.” You beam at him, hoping that it would look natural. “It looks better on you, anyway.”

He still turns abashed like he always does, but it doesn’t last long. The next time you blink, he returns to his distraught state.

You’re both too caught up in your own thoughts to form words but you’re recovering faster than he is. With turmoil sitting heavily inside your chest, you feebly ask him, “Is there… something wrong?”

He blinks. “What?”

“It’s just…” You take in a sharp breath. “I feel like something is bothering you, and I keep rewinding everything that we did, trying to figure out what I did wrong but… Are you angry at me..?”

His brain stutters for a moment, every part of him goes on pause as his thoughts catch up. Shit, what have I done? “Nothing’s bothering me!” Eren claims a little bit louder than intended. “I’m so sorry for making you feel worried. I’m not angry at you—I would never—you could never anger me. I’m just… I have some… thoughts, that’s all.”

Okay, that’s a relief. You can sense honesty both in his voice and his expression. “About what? If that’s okay to ask…”

Eren bites on the corner of his lower lip, anxious. “I’m—” He parts his lips but nothing comes out. What am I supposed to say to her? I’m in love with you but I feel like I’m also in love with someone else? “I…”

It’s nerve-wracking to see him this way and you can’t stand the tension. What if he’s about to say something you don’t want to hear? “You know what, never mind, it’s okay.” You end your sentence quickly with a peal of laughter that sounds too strained even in your own ears. “I didn’t mean to pry. So, uhh…” You hook your hands between your back, fingers tied around the bouquet to stop him from seeing how jittery you are. “Do you… Do you still want to do this again?”

“Yes,” Eren answers instantly, his breath quickening for some reason. “Yeah, of course. If you want to, I would love to go out with you again.” Maybe if I spend more time with her, I can make sure of my feelings. “I really enjoyed our date tonight. Truly.”

Your smile is genuine but it doesn’t lift the heavy anchor resting in your chest. “Cool. Maybe next time we can have, like, a study date? Finals are coming up soon. We can study at your place if you want.”

“M-my place?” He asks, stupefied. “Umm… Okay. Just the two of us?”

“Do you want me to invite someone else?” You wanted to tease him but your tone sounds flat as if you’re enervated.

Eren’s fingers curl against the side of his jeans. “No…”

“Then I guess it’s just gonna be you and me. I don’t have anything planned for tomorrow, actually. I’m free after I’m done with my ballet practice. Maybe… I can visit your house after that?”

Eren gives two little nervous nods. “O-or I can just pick you up? I’ll borrow Zeke’s bike and we can grab some takeouts before we go to my—” He clears his throat, face aflame. “My house.”

“Okay.” You didn’t feel awkward at all during the date, and now awkwardness is all you feel. “Okay, yeah, that sounds great.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, then… I guess I’ll see you tomorrow. Thank you again for the flowers.” Your eyes shift to the same spot of his skin where you brushed your lips against just a few hours before. It’s supposed to be easier the second time, but now you can’t even lean close to give him a friendly hug. Restraining a sigh from fleeing out of your mouth, you toss him one last smile before you pivot on your heels.

“Wait,” Eren calls out, his fingers clamping your wrist. “Let me walk you home, please.”

“No, it’s all right, I’ll take a cab.” You tug your hand gently, enough for him to get the message and let you go. He’s about to protest when you repeat, “I’ll be fine. I’ll text you when I get home, okay?”

The roles are now reversed. Eren can tell there’s something you’re hiding behind your smile, but he’s too much of a coward to use his voice. What if you feel like he’s invading your privacy too much?

There he goes again, worrying. You realize maybe you’ve come out a bit too strong. Gathering as much courage as you can, you take two quick steps toward him, yank him down by his scarf and place another kiss on his cheek. You can hear him stifling down his gasp as you sweep your lips against his smooth skin. When you break away a second later, you keep your fingers around his scarf, keeping his face hovering just a couple of inches away from yours as you whisper, “Good night.”

Bewitched by your beauty, he finds it hard to breathe. “G-good night.”

You release him. Your smile will be an everlasting memory in his mind. And as you walk away, Eren keeps his eyes trained on your figure.

There’s no doubt that he loves you. Otherwise, how else can he explain this rapid beating of his heart every time he caught a glimpse of you? How else can he explain this sense of elation and gratitude that flowed through him every time you cast him a smile? But why…

Why can’t I stop thinking about her?

Why can’t I stop thinking about Spider-Girl?

***

Eren has been spending the last twenty minutes of his bus ride home just staring at the window with vacant eyes and a storm churning inside his chest. He has taken off the knitted scarf you wound around his neck, his fingers laid idle on the wool as he sets it down on his lap. The scent of your perfume still lingers close but instead of giving him the sense of longing to see you again, it leaves him at sixes and sevens. He thought joy would be the only thing that filled the depth of his heart after his first date with you but now it seems like it’s something intangible. Every time he thinks about you, he thinks about Spider-Girl too, and remorse floods his chest. He folds the scarf and tucks it inside his bag, hoping that he could wash away the guilt that way, even if it’s only for a moment.

As he walks away from his bus stop, Eren retrieves his camera from his bag and wears the black strap around his neck. With his shoulders hunched forward, he switches it on and goes through the pictures he’s taken of you a while ago. His smile still blooms on his face at the sight of you smiling a bit awkwardly to the camera, but it’s faint, barely visible. He clicks on the same button repeatedly, going from one picture to another until his gaze lands on the candid photos of Spider-Girl that he took. He feels his heart jolt. Flashback of the night you shared with him on the rooftop—the way you sounded when you laughed, the retorts you made as he told you his jokes… His smile turns a bit wider this time. For the first time in his life, remembering Spider-Girl spreads more contentment in his chest than the thoughts of you.

Because to him, Spider-Girl feels more… real.

Thunder rumbles above his head, flashing silver light across the night sky. Knowing how it’s about to rain, Eren swerves to the right, stepping inside an abandoned alley that he’s walked a thousand times in his life. It’s a shortcut that takes him right to the road that leads to his house. He’s never bothered by how eerie and quiet it is, not even perplexed by the thought of being alone in the dark with only the moonlight guiding his steps. Except the moon is hidden behind the dark clouds tonight, and he fastens his steps, trying to get home as fast as possible before his body is drenched by the rain.

But he’s forced to slow down the second he crosses paths with a few men covered in tattoos and piercings.

A man, a few inches shorter than he is with bleached hair, purposefully bumps his shoulder against his, almost causing his camera to slip off his grip. Eren stops walking, lifting his head as the other man turns around to cast him a wicked grin. The other three males sneer, tossing their cigarettes away to the ground and crushing them under their boots.

“What do you have over there, champ?” The man with the bleached hair asks, yellowish teeth peeking behind chapped lips. “Looks expensive.”

Eren’s cautious eyes drift down to catch him sliding his hands inside the pocket of his hoodie. He’s probably going for his knife, a voice inside him tells him to be prepared. Eren feels his muscles tautening, his heart gradually pumping more blood through his veins as the four men begin to circle him, leaving him with no way to escape.

“Hand us the camera,” another man says, this one has a barcode tattoo on the side of his neck. “We’re gonna need your phone and your wallet too.”

Rain starts to pour. Eren feels the droplets sliding down his cheeks before he can see them. Switching off his camera, he tightens his grip around it. “Look, man,” he says, “I don’t want any trouble here.”

“Give me the camera then.” The tallest one among them suddenly takes a closer step, giving him no choice but to back away. He has his spine glued to the wall, his heart pounding in his ears but he keeps his jaw clenched tight.

“No,” Eren utters through gritted teeth, and within a split second, the taller male has a pocket knife pressed against his throat.

“I wasn’t asking,” he says, voice hoarse and grating.

Eren doesn’t blink or cower in fear. He faces the man right in his eyes. “Ganging up on me like this. What are you, a bunch of pussies?”

“You fucking—”

Eren knees the man right between his legs hard enough to give him a moment to escape. He ducks his head down, the tip of the man’s knife only missing a few millimeters from slicing his skin. He knows that his chances of winning the fight are close to zero. So instead of holding his ground, he chooses to flee. Still with his camera dangling around his neck and his bag slinging on one shoulder, Eren sprints away as fast as he can.

But the ground is dark and slippery under the rain, and he misses his footing. Falling to one knee with his palms scratching against the pavements, Eren gets himself pulled back to his feet by one hand tugging at his roots and another slithering around his throat.

Fuck. Terror rises fast in his chest. His brain can’t think fast enough to find a way for him to escape. One man is holding him from behind, the other two are closing in on him, while the tallest one moves to loom before him.

“You’ve got a pretty face for a man,” the tall man grins, pointing the tip of his blade toward his cheekbone as Eren tries to break free. “Why don’t we put a smile on that face, yeah?”

“Get off me, you fucking—”

The rest of his sentence is followed by a silent gasp when a lump of web shoots over Eren’s shoulder. It covers the tall man’s face with a force hard enough to knock him off his balance before another thick string of web, sticky and unyielding, glues him to the ground, keeping him immobile. Before Eren can process what’s happening, another man falls to the earth with a broken nose, screaming in agony into the night. The man that was holding him from behind has his body smashed against the wall, and Eren can see you—Spider-Girl—aiming your wrist forward and shooting enough chunks of web to trap the man to the bricks behind him. Now that he can’t move, it leaves you one more opponent to take care of.

This is the first time Eren sees you in action. The way you hold your fighting stance; the way you drop down to the ground with one leg bent on the knee and another one stretched out; the way you hold your balance with one hand in the air and your other one settled on the concrete only by your fingertips—you’re beautiful. You’re deadly and graceful at the same time, like a ballet dancer performing the third act of Swan Lake. Within seconds, you knock the last gang member unconscious. Eren is about to call out to you when the man with the broken nose returns to his feet and hooks an arm around his neck.

“Don’t move or I’ll slit his throat,” the man with the bleached hair threatens with his teeth bared, and you freeze.

The rain is tapping against your hood, your costume glistening but not soaked. You raise your arms in the air, keeping your lips tightly pressed as you straighten your back. You watch Eren through your lenses and you see no fear in his eyes even if the tip of the man’s knife is digging dangerously into his skin. You, on the other hand, are nervous. Fear can turn someone as harmless as a baby lamb into a cornered wolf and by the look of it, this man is terrified by the things you can do. One stupid move and you’ll risk Eren’s life. If the man adds just a little bit more pressure onto his knife, Eren will have his white sweater soaked in red.

“Let him go,” you carefully say, not wanting to startle him.

“Get the fuck out of here,” the man says, his voice muffled by the amount of blood clogging his nose. When you don’t budge, he starts to scream. “Are you deaf?! I said, get the fuck away—”

To his surprise—and yours—Eren slams his elbow against the man’s stomach, successfully knocking the wind out of his lungs in one try. Now that he’s released from his headlock, he grabs the man by the shoulder and takes a small step back to unbalance him. Quickly turning around as he maintains a strong grip on his body, Eren pulls his arm as far over his shoulder as he can. It sends his opponent sailing over his head and landing flat on his back. He finishes with a hard punch to his face and the man is laid out cold on the ground.

Your eyes are wide open, baffled by how swift and precise Eren’s movement was. With that amount of muscle in his body, you could tell that he could win his fight if needed. You just didn’t think that he’d perform a complete martial move on him.

“Wow,” you say, walking through the rain to get to his spot. “Didn’t think you could pull that kind of stunt. I’m impressed.”

“Fuck, that hurt,” Eren hisses, clenching and unclenching his fist as his knuckles throbs with pain. Massaging his hand, he replies to your comment, “Yeah, I took a Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu class one time out of curiosity. That’s the only move I know how to do. Didn’t think it would work.”

“Well, you did great.” Now that you’re just an arm’s reach away from him, you gently take a hold of his wrist, bringing it closer to your face so you can inspect it further. You can feel him stiffen under your touch but none of you act on it. “This is gonna bruise tomorrow. You better treat it before you go to bed. Wrap an ice pack in a towel and leave it in place for about ten to twenty minutes. That will help you reduce the swelling.”

Eren watches the way your fingers move delicately against his, the material of your spandex gliding against his skin as you try to soothe his pain. His heart throbs again but it has nothing to do with the amount of adrenaline that rushed through his system merely a minute ago.

“Thank you,” he says, his voice as quiet as the rain that still pours lightly above you. “For saving me.”

“Yeah, you have a knack for getting into trouble,” you snort, acting aloof as you don’t want him to witness the amount of relief that washes over you.

“Well, fortunately for me, you seem like you have a knack for saving my life.” Seeing you here, hearing your voice, Eren burns with fierce joy. He turns a bit playful, his heart grows enamored at the sight of you.

You can sense the changes in his tone and the way his fingers move slightly against yours as if he’s trying not to be so obvious but also giving you a hint that he wants you to hold his hand tighter—to touch him longer.

You release him, not wanting to be ensnared by his spell even further than you already have. You relocate your hand to your hip, scolding him like a mother. “Seriously, I left you for one night and you almost got stabbed to death. Can’t you give me a break?”

“It’s not like I was looking for trouble. Shit just happened.”

“You’re lucky you have me saving your ass.”

“I am. I’m glad I have you with me.” The corners of his mouth turn up, bedazzling you with a saccharine smile until he leaves you dumbfounded, the rest of your body immobile save by the delightful swirl dancing in your stomach. “Seems like I have a superheroine stalker.”

Why are you looking at me like that? You muse, your eyes taking in every bit of his expression from behind your lenses. Why do you look like you’re… Your thought is left unfinished when your memory resurfaces. Eren is displaying the same gaze he showed you when you talked to him for the first time on the day the cherry blossom petals were dancing in the wind. That dazed, besotted look on his face as if you were the most gorgeous thing his eyes had the pleasure to revel in. But why? You’re not the most gorgeous thing he’s seen, at least not now when you’re buried underneath your costume. He should’ve had this look when he bid his farewell to you an hour ago, but he didn’t, did he? You made his heart resonate with joy when you granted a kiss on his cheek but he didn’t even hold your hand to stay longer. He didn’t perceive you with this gaze. He doesn’t look like he’s madly in love with you. Not like this. Not like now.

You’re paralyzed for a second when it dawns on you.

Oh, shit.

He likes Spider-Girl.

And everything clicks. The way he seems perplexed when you kissed him on the cheek, the way he didn’t ask you to stay longer. Perhaps it’s also the reason why he’s no longer wearing your scarf.

No wonder he looked so distraught before! He was trying to sort out his feelings, wasn’t he?

When you told yourself a couple of months ago that it would be funny if Eren fell for you and Spider-Girl at the same time, you didn’t think it would come true. Because why would he? Why would he be in love with Spider-Girl? He doesn’t know your true identity. He’s never seen your face, never seen you in other clothes except for this skin-tight spandex you’re wearing. You’re like a comic book character, walking in real life and spouting cliche lines as you save little kids from the street. If what he feels is simply admiration, sure, you can understand that. But that’s not what it is. This is affection. This is infatuation. He’s in love. But how come? All he knows about Spider-Girl is your personality—the true version of you instead of the delicate, feminine young lady you exhibited during the date. He only knows the stories you told about your first kiss and your first biking accident, the fear you faced when you were fighting for your life, or the way you laugh like a child and sit like a man, and—

Oh.

Your heart pulsates harder. Your joy streaks through you like a comet.

“Hey,” Eren calls, tilting his head a little in concern. The sprinkle of rain makes the little baby hairs that fall out of his bun stick to his temple, droplets of water sliding down from his high cheekbone to his chin. “You okay?”

Your thoughts are loud. The voices in your head are screaming one line after another, telling you this is it. This is the real thing. You have no reason to doubt his feelings anymore. Eren loves the real you. Every little part of you. He loves you despite not knowing how you look. He loves you simply because you’re… you.

“I, uh—” Never have you felt so much joy expanding within you before. “Sorry, I have to go.” I can’t talk to you right now. I already feel like I’m going insane just standing right next to you like this.

Because you know if you stay even a minute longer, your mouth will betray you and you will tell him the truth. You will tell him everything: how you’re the same girl he was with an hour ago. That you’re the same kid he was spending his blissful days with when he was a lonely child sitting inside a hospital ward. That you’re the same girl who saved his life and whose heart was saved by him. And that you feel the same way about him, that you fell for him twelve years ago, that you fell for him that night on the rooftop, that you fell for him again just a few hours ago, and how you fall harder for him now. And how much you want to come out clean, take off your mask, and bury your face in his warmth.

I can’t do this. The moment’s not right. I’m just going to freak him out if I do this now.

I need to prepare my words carefully. The last thing I want to do is upset him.

“I’ll see you later, okay?” you say in a hurry. Not giving him a chance to react, you stretch out your arm toward the sky, shoot a rope of web from your wrist, and lift your body off the ground.

“Wait!” He shouts from below, head facing the black clouds as he tries to locate your figure, your body concealed by the night and the fine rain. He’s calling you again and there’s something in his tone, desperate and frantic, that steals your heart and possesses your body to move back into the light. Chewing on your bottom lip, you decide it’s not fair if you just leave him like this. Perhaps it’s okay if I just listen to what he has to say?

With an uncertain heart, you spin a web and reel yourself down to street level, your body descending until you have your face hanging a few inches away from his. You’re clinging upside-down on a rope of web with the balls of your feet locked around the silvery threads.

“What?” You question him, trying to keep yourself reticent even if the words, “Eren, it’s me!” are rising threateningly close to your lips.

You see him drawing a sharp breath. A muscle in his jaw twitches as he clenches his fingers into fists, gathering as much courage as he can.

Okay, what do I say to her? Eren muses, his thoughts running like a bullet train piercing through the wind. Should I just tell her the truth? Say, ‘hey, this might sound weird, but I was on a date today with the girl whom I thought I was in love with but I couldn’t stop thinking about you and now I’m thinking that maybe I like you too—I like you much more than I’m supposed to—and I’m low-key freaking out because I don’t want to be that guy who’s in love with two girls at the same time but I really feel like I am. I’m in love with you.

“Eren,” you urge him gently. “I really have to go…”

Fuck this, he curses inwardly. Just stop thinking for a second. You’re an idiot, thinking wouldn’t do you any good. Just do what your heart tells you to do. Just…

Try.

“Can I…” He wets his bottom lip, his voice quavering. “Can I try something I’ve never done before?”

With your heartbeat blasting in your ears, you feel like all of your senses are screaming at you at once, your blood boiling in anticipation. You can feel it in his voice, the desire and longing he holds for you, the same ones that match the intensity of your own.

Eren removes his hands from crumpling the side of his jeans, shaky fingertips reaching forward to touch you. He stops mid-air when he sees you stiffening. “Do you trust me?” He asks, barely audible.

“I…” Even upside down like this, face glistening with rain, Eren still looks breathtaking. “I do.”

At your permission, he curls his fingers into the seam at your throat, slipping them beneath the fabric to graze the underside of your jaw. You shudder, breathless as soon as you know what’s going to happen. If he takes off your mask, then so be it. You don’t care anymore. You want him to find out.

Slowly, Eren rolls back the fabric of your mask, revealing a portion of your skin and your lips. He stops right after your nose, careful not to go any further.

You have your lips slightly parted, so inviting and smooth, with his name resting heavily on your tongue, itching to be spoken. Both of you are coated by the drizzle that pours over you. “Ren—”

Eren leans in, eyes drooping as he rests his hands on each side of your head, pressing his lips tentatively across yours. It’s a chaste kiss, rain-wet and cool, and you feel your breath strangled in your throat even when his lips only brush lightly. He misses the spot, just by a few millimeters, his body so tense, his lungs forgetting how to breathe for a few seconds.

Eren has always imagined that his first kiss would feel like a dream. Something magical, something that he wants to last forever, something that he’d share with the love of his life at the end of a perfect date. He thought that moment when you bid him good night under the lamppost—that was it. That was the perfect moment to have a perfect kiss, but even if his body wanted it, his heart told him to stay still. His body wanted you, but everything else belonged to Spider-Girl.

You, right now, are the girl who owns his heart. Because kissing under the rain in an abandoned alley with a girl in a superhero costume is the exact opposite of everything he has imagined and yet, this… This right here… This feels right.

This feels like it’s everything he’s ever wanted.

His lips only stay briefly, but even then, you’re having the hardest time opening your eyes. It’s as if you had fallen into a deep sleep and you’re suddenly pulled back into reality. His thumb strokes your cheek, his next words not more than a whisper. “Was that… okay?”

You wet your lip, unintentionally making it harder for him to stay still and listen to your answer before he leans in again. “Kiss me again, Ren,” you murmur, your voice almost drowned by the rain but he can sense the yearning within you and he’s only eager to let you find out how badly he wants you too.

The second kiss has more zeal, lips parted and teeth threatening to clash. Once it gets a bit intense, Eren finds the strength to break away, his mind reminding him to check on your reaction before he goes even further. But neither of you wants this magic to shatter, not yet. He pulls away only to dive back in with more emotions, more honesty in the way he moves his lips. Splaying his fingers to trap your face, he closes the distance with a soft groan erupting right at the second your lips collide once more. He has his eyebrows furrowed as he sets you ablaze with his avidity, applying more pressure to his lips, more yearning, more burning desire. He lacks experience, but he makes it up with his passion. When you gasp slightly in surprise, Eren captures your bottom lip between his. His kiss, though arduous, is also gentle—just like how he is as a person. It’s sweeter than the ones you’ve experienced. Addicting. Intoxicating. And maybe everything feels this way because you have blood pooling in your brain, but you don’t care. Just like him, this moment feels right.

It’s only when you hear the siren of a police car passing down the street that Eren stops, pulling away but remains close enough for you to have his warm breath caressing your skin. “Shouldn’t you go?” He asks, voice sounding hoarse as if he hasn’t spoken in years. But despite his words, he closes his lips around yours again, clamping around your top one this time.

“Yeah,” you breathe out between heavy kisses. “Kiss me again.”

You part your lips wider to welcome him deeper, and you can feel just a little bit of his tongue swiping along the seam of your lips. Your stomach flips, a faint moan escaping you and Eren tastes the rain, tastes the flavor of your chapstick, tastes you.

The siren blares through the night again. “They need you,” he whispers.

You have one hand framing his face, stopping him from ending his kiss. “There are other superheroes in town.”

Eren chuckles, kissing you a couple of times more before he leans back, his teeth catching the corner of his bottom lip, his eyes hazy as he watches the way his thumb glides across your lips. You’re about to close the gap again when he titters. “Baby,” he says, the pet name he gives you sends shivers down your spine. “You should go. We can do this a million times more when the city is safe.”

Your smile is about to break on your lips but you quickly replace it with a pout. “I hate you, Tarantula Boy.”

You pull on your web, your body returning to the air before you swing away and disappear into the night. Eren watches you still, his smile perpetual.

His lips, even if it’s only in a whisper, they form the words he’s been dying to say.

“I’m in love with you, Spider-Girl.”

***

AN: Hey, everyone, thank you for reading another chapter of my spider-girl AU ❤️ I'm so sorry if this is bad writing Ice & Fire gives me zero energy to write eren x reader fics these days 😭 but I hope you still enjoyed it hehe

Tagging:

@l6ffys @vivi-et @halparkebitch @fwess @littlemochi @thebeardedmoon @didiyogo @coyloves @erenbean @tehehebri @justasketch @infnteen @naiomiwinchester @spiderlingh @doyochii @ahornyenby @aengelren @sakurashell @princess-jaeger @resonancesoul @blrqt @cacapeepee @persyhange @jaegersdiary @erentoes @trashygremlin04 @meed18 @j0livi0ni @snowflake-201 @jaymihawk @eva-gates @claudevonstrukesblog @sofijaeger @rinsie @blanccofiie @ereninbunu @natanialora @khinjito @jaegeriess @watermelon-online @tropicsoda @damselofblueroses @alexackrman @bblgumz @jurrasicpork @erenjaegercult @holycandypizza

#eren smut #eren fluff #eren x reader #eren jaeger smut #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager smut #eren yeager x reader #eren x reader fluff #eren x reader smut #aot x reader #snk x reader #aot smut #aot fluff #snk smut #snk fluff #our little secret canon

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jjkeremika · 21 days

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Hi, how you doing? I love how you write, so, csn iirequest some Zeke x fem!readerslight smut? Its been a while since i read something about him. Thank you ❤❤

hello, my friend ! thats so nice, thank you <3 you absolutely can request Zeke Jaeger x fem!reader light smut! i hope its okay.

here's what im thinking...

with Zeke, there's always some sort of implication. whether it be bland and simple, or soft and sexy--it was always there, hidden and exposed: a hanging question; an additional thread.

maybe it was in the look he cast you: stern apart from an insinuating brow; steely except in the swirling and suggestive whirlpools of his irises; stoic despite the flickering, mischievous fluorescent light off the glasses.

an unspoken suggestion revealed in the slightest twitch of his lip to an upward curve. in his lingering admiration.

"yn, shall we..." his deep voice was always steady and smooth, collected yet drawn out like an overplayed, hardy record. "move somewhere a little more..." his eyes ambitiously twinkled like the sun's reflection on wet snow. his tone intimately laced with an emotion no vernacular could relate. "comfortable?"

the expecting look, the feather touch of his cool fingertips against warmed skin, the soft sway of his beard as he spoke, as you couldn't take your eyes off his lips, as you swore he was leaning closer--as he tiptoed around the implication like an amateur intruder avoided spotlight.

imperfectly.

"like a couch?" a soft palm graced your exposed thigh, slid easily under the flimsy skirt fabric like it wasn't even there. he leaned close to your ear, the soft yet prickly facial hair barely brushed against the sensitive skin of your neck and cheek. "or maybe a bed?"

obviously.

Zeke pulled away slightly, allowed himself to indulge in the sight of your parted lips and astonished, accepting eyes. you stopped breathing as he hogged the hot air. your reflection boldly cast across the glasses. "just anywhere horizontal, really."

he smirked at your audible inhale, practically a choke. his hand twitched in a looming threat to tighten around the limb.

"why only horizontal?" you were capable of only shallow breaths, unsatisfactory to the indiscernible mess of emotions flooding your gut, caving into your pelvis. despite the intense blood flow, restrained the overbearing need to jump on him, you matched his locked gaze and managed out, "we can have fun vertically too."

you were entranced with the rapid dilation of his pupils, noticed the slight tension encompass his neck and shoulder muscles as he took a controlled breath.

the large hand stretched around your thigh and followed the natural curve, right to the intimate plush of a cheek that so easily contorted under his grip, so willingly accepted his outstretched palm.

the clasp of his fingernails into the fatty skin evoked a sharp exhale—distracted you long enough from preventing the air from desperately escaping captivity, from stopping Zeke from resting an arm against the wall and closing in.

he pounced at the opportunity, collapsed his forehead against yours and needily pressed his lips to yours. took advantage of your open mouth and dipped his tongue inside, licked around like collecting melting ice cream on a cone. dropped his second hand to your cheek, stepped in further and kept you close.

close enough to feel the heat radiating off his larger body, condensing into the tickling sweat along your hairline, seeping into the pounding vessels and arteries running through your body. close enough to feel his shoulders contorting over you, bending down to kiss you deeper. close enough to feel the solid, huge erection at your waist, to feel the throbbing pulse vibrate through the fabric against your abdomen.

Zeke’s second hand joined his other, quickly adapted to the home of your bum and suddenly swept you off the ground, roughly fell into the wall. you didn’t even notice the pain from the wall due to the adrenaline in your blood, because of the insistent grinding of your clothed clit against his hard erection as he rubbed you between himself and the paneling.

he kept his mouth on yours, swallowed every single gasp and sound like he was starved. muffled each moan like it was his dream occupation and he was gunning for a lucrative promotion.

your brain flicked through each feeling like a slideshow: the fondling and squeezing of his hands against your cheeks and upper thighs; the electricity and friction where your crotch met his; the sloppy and wet meshing of your lips with his; the cold and stubborn wall scratching against your hot and flexible spine.

the soft and quiet noises still flooded the room, concentrated into a building ringing in your ears deciphered into one simple word—easily summed up in a single desire. and with Zeke, it was always more. more and more and more.

#zeke jaeger x reader #zeke yeager x fem!reader #zeke jaeger x fem!reader #zeke yeager x reader #zeke x reader #zeke x you #zeke yeager x you #zeke jaeger x you #jjkeremika #attack on titan zeke #aot zeke #aot zeke smut #zeke yeager smut #zeke jaeger smut #zeke’s hot #i said what i said #thank you for the ask anon <3 #i hope you enjoy!!

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lucysarah-c · 1 year

Text

95 in Math

Summary: A little tale from my Teen! modern au Levi stories. Zeke had been getting on Levi's last nerve and they solved it as teenage boys know to.... beating eachother and posting it on snapchat. Words: 2920 Paring: Teen! Levi x Teen! Reader Warnings: cursing and slightly sexual mentions. Also violence from the fight but nothing too graphic.

If you want to read more stories from me, this is my masterlist! under the banner "Lele's tale" its all my Teen! Levi modern au world. Or you can click here!

There was a well-known fact, Levi despised No! Levi hated Zeke Jaeger with all his soul. It was an established rivalry since they were toddlers. Anyone must know about it. It didn't help at all that each one went to the biggest two schools whose rivalry on matches was popular too.

God, if they were in the same frag party, It was certain that they would at least exchange a few words if Erwin managed to retain his best friend from beating Zeke up. The tall blond would usually say "Come on Levi, do you want your mother to get mad at you for having to hear another of Diana's speech about Zeke's bruises?"

There was something else that didn't help, both of them belonged to respectable noble families. Jaegers and Ackermans have been throwing glaze at each other since the Titan war. One exception was the new wife of Grisha Jaeger, Carla, and Levi's mother, Kuchel. Both women knew each other since their high school years and they had done their modelling career together. Another special case was Eren Jaeger, he had an unusually good relationship with the Ackermans' kids, Mikasa and Levi. Probably because of his mother’s influence and, perhaps, the wish of pissing his father off.

Especially after he joined the Scouting Legion Academy and received the deep green and white letter jacked with the wings of freedom in them as a prize of belonging to the School team. Another fact that grew the bad blood between the two teens was that both of them were leaders of their respective teams. Of course, Levi was an Ackerman and, as any respectable member of the family legacy, he was good at any sport that he played. Ackermans had been the pride of the scouts for generations.

However, if there was one extra straw that was last needed to blow their bad blood out of proportion it was . . . Y/N

It's quite pointless to get into details of how YN and Levi began to date, that could be a story for another day but these two were high school sweethearts. It was not a secret, almost everybody knew about it unless that person lived under a rock. The way that she would run into his strong arms with her tight little navy blue and white cheerleader dress after he achieved another victory under the school uniform. Kuchel adored her, treating her as her own daughter, and, believe it or not, Kenny tolerated her.

Perhaps the question would be, what is the correlation between the rivalry of the two teens and the brand new relationship that Levi held. Long story short, jealousy. Before joining the Scouts prep, Y/N used to live in Marley and while being a cheerleader there, she encountered members from other schools. For example, Zeke. And apparently, Levi's new sweetheart got along with Pieck, who was close friends with Zeke.

One connection led to another and Zeke wasn't particularly jumping for joy when he heard from his little step-brother that the girl he spends three whole parties talking to, moved to another country and ended up dating Levi fucking Ackerman in less than a year.

On the other side of the tale, Levi fucking Ackerman wasn't happy hearing out from, guess who, Eren (Aka Zeke's little brother) that his biggest enemy since he used diapers had a crush on his girl. Zeke commented and liked all her pictures on Instagram and he replied to her stories? Levi was on a blink on asking Kenny for the family private plane, travelling to Marley and paying a visit to the other side of the Jaeger's household. The young Ackerman had beaten the living shit out of Zeke for less, way less.

No, things weren't looking good. It wasn't good timing for having the final of the baseball teams between the two schools. There were too many hormone teens in the same field for the game to end up good. The tension was rising like boiling milk, it was a matter of seconds until it blew out of proportion.

It was an early morning, Levi left Kenny's apartment around 5 to 6 am to arrive first to the field as the good captain team he was. Then the rest of the team arrived late, he almost freaked out when Eren was nowhere to be found but he arrived late, as always. When the young Ackerman was almost ready to go to the field, his backpack was vibrating. He picked up his phone and read "Come outside, I've something for you" from YN.

He peaked out of the changing room and she basically jumped into his arms.

"mhm" He groaned against the curve of her neck, feeling the sweet vanilla perfume from her smooth skin, the tight embrace of her bare arms around his neck and his strong arms were quick to find their place on both sides of her hips after the sudden hug.

"I came to kiss you once 'cause you had to wake up too early on a Saturday," She said before pressing their lips together on a quick peak. Before Levi could lead on and deepen the contact a bit, she parted away.

"Kiss you twice because the match is going to be alright" she repeated before leading on another kiss. This one lasted a little bit longer. “I’m going to be cheering for you!” “Try not to fall like in practice last thursday,” Levi teased back earning a little push from her, faking taking offence.

Levi’s team was winning but, at what costs? Marley’s side was playing so dirty that to stand a chance they had to go down to the same level. There were a bunch of “unprofessional game attitudes” and Levi himself had to stop Eren a couple of times from starting a fight.

There was something that Levi had to give it to Zeke and it was that he was a hell of a pitcher. If it wasn’t for his Ackerman reflexes the ball would have crushed right into the middle of his face. Luckily he squatted on time to avoid it.

“Sorry!” The apologises that left the blond felt anything but sincere. He was smirking as he chuckled with another member of the team under his breath. Levi was dedicating him his best death glance, he was meditating inside his head that it was his duty as a Captain to show professional and mature gaming attitude

The grandstand held their breath in a quick general gasp as the second ball was thrown way too close. Levi dodge it, again, but this time he was growing heavily and his teeth hurt from pressing them.

Hange was really active shouting about how Zeke was going to leave with his ass kicked if he kept with that attitude. Erwin held eye contact with Levi as he slightly shook his head, as the leader of the School’s student council, he had left it clear that they didn’t need another video of them fighting going viral online.

Levi hit the ground a couple of times with his bat and tried to remain focused. Breathing deep as he swore to himself that he wasn’t going to let it get on his head. When he turned, she was looking eyes with him. Worriness covered her features as she tried to tie up together with a smile of reassurance.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I would leave him as brand new,”

Maybe it was that his Ackerman’s powers blessed him with extraordinary abilities, perhaps another person wouldn’t have heard that comment from the distance they had. It would have been great if Levi hadn’t heard those words leaving Zeke’s lips as he dedicated the girl a sassy side smirk. It would have… but that didn’t happen. Levi heard it, clear as if it had been whispered to him.

Zeke didn’t even see it coming when he turned around, Levi had already tackled him to the ground. The public screamed, some of them in surprise, most cheering for one guy or the other.

“You like to eat earth, fucking monkey? Eat earth!” Despite the fact that Zeke was easily 10cm taller than the dark haired boy, he could barely hold on. Levi was pushing the Marley’s team guy’s face to the soft ground of the field, covering his face in mud as he grabbed the golden locks and tugged them.

“Mike! Do something! Stop them!” Erwin screamed to the other team member that was on the field watching interested.

“Wait, he’s winning,” Mike replied entertainingly.

“Of course he’s winning! KICK HIM IN THE GUTS” Hange screamed from the top of their lungs as they filmed the scene.

Reined tried to jump in in defence of their captain but Eren, who was easily rallied up, stopped midway. Soon the game was a disaster, professors trying to ease out the confrontations but they did little to no effort in stopping Levi.

One of them even said, when the principal told them to stop it “I’m not messing up with an angry Ackerman, I value my own life”

Each second that went by was loudly announced by the hanging clock in the room. Still in the muddy uniform of the team, Levi sat down, legs parted and elbows resting on his knees as he waited. The principal office was always quiet, but on a Saturday with no students in the school, the silence was overpowering.

No, phone, they had taken that away. Zackly was calling anyone at his household that would pick up. The game was over and as Erwin said “you’re lucky that any university would take you in no matter what, Zackly is 100% going to suspend you for a while”

The waiting room felt stupidly big at those hours that the cheerful slightly old-fashioned secretary wasn’t there to offer those old candies that she always had. The amount of available seats was tempting to raise his muddy boots and take a quick nap considering the time he had woken up. But he didn’t, his list of disrespect to the authority was quite crowded that day.

The office with the frosted glass on Levi’s right gave away the movement of someone in the attached room. The door with the golden plate on it opened up and revealed a furious Diana, whose heels echoed in the tiled floor as she hastened up. Before leaving the office, the blond woman (that Levi liked to call Karen because of the haircut) dedicated her best dead glance.

The teen just kept a stoic attitude, this wasn’t the first time Diana was mad at him and he feared it won’t be the last one either. Grisha walked slowly after handshaking with the principal, looked at Levi and kept going.

Levi did no movements, except from his eyes who looked up to his right. Slyly looking without turning to the principal who definitely didn’t expect to spend his Saturday’s lunch time dealing with angry parents after a baseball match.

“Nobody is catching up the phone in your house,” the adult affirmed.

“I told you. Kenny works at night, he must be sleeping until 3 to 4 pm and my mother is shooting a new HBO show in spain.” Levi repeated the information he had been giving since he was dragged to the office “Even if Kenny picked up the phone, he’s not gonna come,”

“Well, you’ll spend the entire weekend here until an adult comes to pick you up and signs your suspension,”

The old man left the place, probably searching for a coffee. Levi’s curses under his breath filled the empty room.

The entry door opened up again revealing an enthusiastic Eren.

“Dude! I took a picture of Zeke crying in the nursing room! Hahah I post it on snapchat,” Eren, who had a black eye from fighting with Reiner, sat down next to Levi as if nothing was going on “You beat him up so good!”

Eren passed the pictures on the screen of his phone with his thumb, tilting to the right for Levi to see.

“Have you seen twitter?”

“They took my phone,”

“Ugh, Zackly it's been a pain in the ass since his wife left him”

“Yeah, fucking old man. Can’t get it up anymore and want to cut my balls because he’s frustrated,” Levi commented on gossip as he slacked against the uncomfortable chair “If they wake Kenny up, he’s going to kick my ass for real,”

“You’re fucked, because they asked Mika’s mother the number of Traute to get in contact with Kenny,”

Levi groaned loudly “Fuck! Come on! Zeke started! Why aren’t they suspending him too?!”

“Maybe because he’s going to lose one week of school recovering,”

“Oh yeah… the asshole can’t take a punch,” Levi replied and both of them began to chuckled “You should have seen him complained because earth was getting in his contact lenses,”

Eren left when Mikasa came to pick him up, the girl only said one thing “you’re dead, Kenny is coming over to pick you up. It was nice knowing you, cousin”

Gentle parenting? Kenny hadn’t heard of it. He was a man not made to deal with kids and Levi had known that from a young age, he was left on his supervision only when his mother couldn’t be around. Kenny always complained loudly about it until he could use his nephew in his advance, which wasn’t frequent but it happened more than Levi liked to admit. Skipping work under the excuse that he was trying to have quality time with his only baby nephew to what usually involved sending Levi away to a friend's house so Kenny could have the house for himself.

No, Kenny wasn’t a father figure. He wasn’t even a responsible adult. But he was a man who hated to deal with brat stuff and Levi was sure as hell that he felt his soul leaving his body when a tired barely woke Kenny showed up in the Principal’s office.

“Prepare your ass, rat. You won’t be sitting for a while,” Kenny murmured as Zackly invited them in. Both Ackermans sat down in front of the desk. Levi on the left chair, trying to make himself invisible. Kenny was slacked against the chair on the right, legs obscenely parted and hands on pockets.

“What’s the deal? I’m a busy man,” Kenny tried to get it done as soon as possible.

Zackly went through heavy detail on what happened earlier that day, making the young man grimace expecting his death sentence.

“You’re telling me that this rat,” Kenny pointed with his thumb to the left where his nephew was. “Kicked the living shit out of the Jaeger kid, got 2 other men out of his back to keep bitching the brat. All by himself?”

“Yes,”

Levi felt himself melting in the chair as he remembered being grabbed by two other Marley’s players trying to push him away and him throwing both guys out of his back. Maybe he did get carried away.

Cold big hand landed loudly with a pat on his head as Levi closed the eyes as a self reflect. His whole body moved as Kenny ruffled his dark hairs strongly.

“That’s my boy, a fucking Tiger. Unstoppable.” Kenny smirked proudly at him as Levi felt himself straighten his back as his uncle kept roughly tangling his hair. “That’s what we Ackermans do, we fight and we win.”

“Mr. Ackerman with all the respect, Zeke Jaeger has two teeth broken!”

“Nice,” Kenny replied, smirking all the way, turning around to Levi who was suddenly feeling really cocky “Did you use the kicks that I taught you?”

“Yes!” Levi replied quickly.

“Sir-”

“Look, if you want to teach morals. Talk to his mother. I think that assholes that flirt with your girly deserve a good punch, boys will be boys. They need to unleash energy” Kenny’s uninterested tone and slightly problematic tendencies weren’t what Zackly was searching for when he called for an adult. The old man sighed loudly as the two Ackermans raised from their spot

“Come on, rat.” Kenny’s towering figure abandoned the room without even caring to hear anything else, Levi was quick to follow.

“I’ve a party with the guys tonight, we won. Can I go?” Levi’s voice echoed in the empty corridors as he kept up with Kenny’s fast pace.

“As far as you don’t bust my balls, you’re free to go to another country as far as I care”

The Ackerman’s teen felt as if he had dodged a bullet, his uncle wasn’t angry, they won the game and he had won a free week from school. A win is a win.

However, when the following Monday morning the door of Kenny’s apartment opened up loudly and the voice of his mother screamed from the first floor “LEVI ACKERMAN, GET DOWN HERE IN THIS INSTANT!”

Levi dragged his feet down the stairs grimacing uncomfortably as he faced his mother that still had the luggage in the front door. Slightly wavy dark hair framing his mother’s complexion as he frowned at him deeply. Crossed arms and her feet tapping the floor.

“Something to say in your defence, young man?”

Levi looked at Kenny searching for an alibi, but his uncle just walked to the kitchen to make himself a coffee. Side eyes that said “you’re on your own, kid”

Kuchel raised an eyebrow, expectant.

Levi tried to force an innocent smile, searching for his mother’s lovely nature “... that I got a 95 in maths?”

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youre-ackermine · 3 months

Text

• Pairing Levi x Hange • Friends to lovers • Idiots in love •

It all started with a drabble challenge on Tumblr & a few prompts I decided to write as parts of the same story. Now I'll post them in my "It's not like I've got something grand to say to you" series on AO3.

NEW CHAPTER OUT - Updated: March 8th, 2024

Chapter One: Dumbstruck (August)

>>> Levi Ackerman, Hange Zoe, Erwin Smith, Miche Zacharias - N.sfw 18+ - MDNI

Hange POV

One summer morning, Hange wakes up in a daze with no memory of the previous night

Read on Tumblr / AO3

Chapter Two: Sunburst (September 5th - one year ago)

>>> Levi Ackerman, Hange Zoe, Petra Ral, Erwin Smith, Miche Zacharias, Nanaba, Zeke Jaeger - Sfw

Levi POV

Back in their hometown after years abroad, Hange reunites with old friends at their birthday party

Read on Tumblr / AO3

Chapter Three:

Chapter Four:

Chapter Five:

Chapter Six:

A/N: English is not my usual language // I write non-binary AFAB Hange

Series Header @youre-ackermine

#it's not like i've got something grand to say to you #levi ackerman #hange zoe #levi x hange #levihan #levihan fanfiction #snk fanfiction #aot fanfiction #n.sfw #ao3 link #val's headers 🔳#val writes ✍️

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derangederensimp · 9 months

Text

More than Friends?

Attack On Titan Smut

Zeke Jaeger x Y/N x Erwin Smith

Cw: AU where Zeke is apart of the Scout Regiment, some plot, mainly self indulged smut seeing these men together and instantly saying I want to take them both. Threesome, smut with plot, hickeys, sloppy kisses, dirty talk, Creampie, oral fem and male, aftercare, heavily self indulged as stated before. NOT FULLY PROOF READ

Minors DNI

Photo credit unknown please let me know if you know who made this! I got it from zekeyeageraot on Instagram.

You watched your two commanders, two friends stumbling out of a bar laughing loudly to each other holding each other up trying not to fall over. You thought grown men could hold their liquor but seeing that Levi wasn’t with them to babysit they must’ve gone overboard. “You two are a handful” you mumbled to yourself walking towards the men.

“Oh what do we have here? If it isn’t our sweet y/n” Zeke said hiccuping, a smile on his face. “If it isn’t two drunken fools.. no offense Erwin” you said. “None taken” Erwin softly mumbled and chuckled. “Let’s get you two home”

Easier said than done, they went dead weight here and there and getting to their own places was just not possible. Sighing to yourself you managed to hold up both of them as you held your arms behind them and walked towards your house as it was the closest. Getting the door open you put Erwin on one couch and Zeke on the other setting glasses of water on the coffee table before going to your room and shutting the door. Taking your pants off and bra settling into a baggy shirt and crawling into bed. Your body exhausted from all the weight of two men who towered over you.

The sun shines through the curtains as you picked your head up from the mattress, your hair all messed up, you opened your eyes to see Zeke’s face inches away from yours, startling you slightly and feeling an arm slung over your waist. It wasn’t Zeke’s arm, it was Erwin’s. You were still tired so you closed your eyes and drifted back off into sleep but soon after waking up to Zeke and Erwin shifting in their sleep. “It’s about time for us to get up, we have to go make our rounds” you groaned, pushing on the two of them.

Their eyes shoot open and stare at you, to each other and back at you. You completely forgot that you weren’t wearing any pants, your cheeks growing pink. Clearing your throat “we didn’t do anything. I left you two on the couches last night and you two still ended up here. Come on I’ll make some coffee” you said, getting up and jumping into some pants and walked into the kitchen bringing out three cups from the cupboard. “Sugar and cream, anyone?” You asked. “Cream please” Zeke called from your room. “Just Black” Erwin said. Zeke walked out first scratching his head before grabbing his cup and sitting on the couch. Erwin did the same, humming in delight at the taste.

“You know we are off duty today y/n?” Zeke finally peeped up, raising a brow at you while you took a sip of your coffee. “An excuse to get you two up” you softly said. “Aw do you not want to hangout with your two best friends” Zeke said, pouting his lip out before taking another sip of his coffee. “Wasn’t my plan to take care of you two on my day off but suppose company wouldn’t be bad. Do you two not have something to do?” You asked curiously.

You knew you were in a position where many other women would love to be in. Zeke and Erwin were both very attractive men and as much as you hated to admit it to yourself you did like them both. A little crush was fine wasn’t it? You thought to yourself. What was that nickname they always called you? “Our y/n” you said in your head.

“Y/n… y/n? You getting lost in thought?” Zeke said waving his hand in front of your face. “Oh, sorry yeah what were you saying?”

“We said we aren’t busy and hanging with you all day seems fun” Erwin said, patting the spot open between him and Zeke. Filling the gap, both men moved closer to you. “What do you usually do on your day off y/n?” Zeke asked his voice, sounding deeper than usual must be his morning voice, you thought to yourself. “Usually sleep, relax, enjoy alone time” you said, sipping your coffee before looking at Erwin and Zeke. “What?” You asked, seeing that they both were amused.

“Nothin, just haven’t seen you act this shy before what’s going on?” Zeke asked, softly grinning. “Our y/n being shy? That’s a first” Erwin spoke, your cheeks flushed pink there it was again that damned nickname. “There it is” Zeke cooed, softly chuckling. “Why do you two call me that?” You quickly spat out avoiding their gaze. “Hm, not sure how to answer that. You are just ours, not in a possessive way but in a loving way if that makes sense” Erwin chimed in. You rubbed your eyes, pinched your skin. This had to be a dream.

Zeke placed his thumb under your chin and tilted your head into his directly and up to look at him before his thumb moved to your lips softly swiping across them “so soft.. mind if I get a taste?” he asked. Your body moving on its own, nodding your head yes, Erwin reached around, grabbing the coffee cup from your hand and setting it down on the table before sitting back into his position. Zeke cupped your face into his hands pulling your lips to his. Short but multiple kisses turned into long deepening ones, a soft groan escaping you. Feeling his lips form into a smile before pulling away, a string of saliva connecting the two of you.

His eyes were blown with lust as you stared at him catching your breath, your cheeks turning pink again remembering Erwin was behind you. “E-Erwin I’m sorry”

“Don’t apologize. You're enjoying yourself are you not? Keep going- if you want.” He said. The heat between your legs pooling at the idea of him just watching. Zeke grabbed you by the waist guiding you to straddle him, his hands rubbed up and down your thigh as you connected your lips with his again. Slipping your tongue into his mouth pushing his tongue around, your hips softly moving on him before he pushed you down harder feeling his cock grow harder and harder beneath you made you gasp pulling your lips off of his.

“You're wet aren’t you?” Zeke whispered into your ear. His hand stroked at your thigh “yes” you breathed out. “Do you want us to take care of that for you?” Erwin said. Your cheeked burned pink not expecting to hear the man behind you to say something. Erwin didn’t seem like the type to be apart of this but you were glad he was “please” you mewled, turning your head to look back at Erwin. His hand was palming at the large visible bulge, his cheeks were flushed as he stared at you with a soft smile on his lips. “Well you heard her Zeke”

Zeke picking you up in one swift movement carrying you to your bedroom Erwin following close behind and closing the door with his foot. Setting you down on your mattress both men stared down at you “is this what you really want?” Zeke asked not laying a hand on you. “You can say no and we can forget this ever happened, go back to how things were before” Erwin reassured.

Your brain was spinning but your mind was dead set on this. You wanted both of them in this exact scenario so badly for so long but you didn’t have the guts to act on it on your own. Patting the places beside you they sat down, placing your hand on each of their cheeks you caressed them “n-no I want this. Definitely want this.” Both men went for your neck peppering it with kisses before they went to sucking spots leaving red marks behind, working in unison to get your sweet sounds past your lips. Lifting your shirt up and tossing it off to the side revealing your fully breasts.

“You are so damn hot” Zeke said, staring at the site and licking his lips. “I’ve been dreaming of these since I accidentally caught a peek when in one of our training sessions when you too off your bra saying it was too constricting ripping it off and just slightly I caught a glimpse” Erwin said. “You two can share play nice” you melwed watching their faces back and forth as they both grabbed a breast in hand massaging them. Their touches were completely different. Erwin’s was soft, going at a slow pace but Zeke was trying to get ahead wanting more being greedy and you noticed. “Let me suck it” Zeke at you his eyes were half lidded already in a trance.

You moaned at the feeling of their fingers tweaking your hardened nipples before you could speak up “g-go ahead” you said, resting your hand in Zeke’s hair as his lips wrapped around your nipple. His tongue flicked it back and forth a few times before he sucked on it gently. Your grip tightened as you moaned his name. Erwin did the same, hearing his name on your tongue made his cock feel like it could explode even if you didn’t touch him.

The pooling between your legs was making you feel impatient as you felt like it would start flowing out of its confined space in your panties. They both were turning you on so much and they barely even touched you.

“Erwin I want to suck you off first” you cooed into his ear after you pulled his face to your lips giving him a small peck. “Zeke please will you fuck me” you turned your head behind you looking back at him his cock was already leaking pre from the reddened tip. “Mm not yet, I want to get you ready first” Zeke tutted with a smirk on his face. Erwin and Zeke got up from the bed undressing themselves, you couldn’t help but stare at this cocks. Both of them were huge in their own ways. Erwin was girthy with some length and Zeke had a proportional cock. Thick and long veins that made your mouth water as well as your cunt clenching around nothing in excitement.

“Let’s get these off of you” Erwin said, hooking his fingers on your pants and tugging them off of you with your underwear leaving you bare. You squeezed your legs shut tight trying to hide how wet you were but you were no match for them they already could tell.

Erwin got himself positioned on your bed, sitting his back on the headboard as you knelt in front of him. Zeke crawled behind you and plopped on the bed sliding himself underneath you, his head right where he wanted to be. A perfect spot beneath your cunt. His arms hooked around your thighs locking you in. Looking up at Erwin you tucked your hair behind your ear giving his cock a few pumps before spitting on the tip. His groans were so cute to you as his face distorted. Zeke caught you off guard a bit when he pulled your body down onto his face. His nose hitting your clit making you moan and squeeze Erwin’s cock with your hand slightly coughing Erwin to then moan out your name.

You never thought you’d hear him moan your name like that. Zeke's tongue went flat, licking up from the end of your cunt to your clit. His lips were so soft on your folds as he moved them on them. Your lips kissed the tip of Erwin’s cock collecting the pre on your lips, your tongue licking up the taste and watching Erwin’s face for when you put him into your mouth, his hand coming to your head holding you steady his thigh twitching. Zeke kept his nose at your clit while his tongue worked on your entrance, sticking it in and out and wiggling it around before he put a finger inside to massage your gspot.

Your mouth felt heavily on Erwin as you took the rest of him into you. Your hand rested at the base of his cock holding it with pressure to make the blood go to it. You sat ideal for a minute as zeke added another finger inside hooking it and hitting your g spot repeatedly your moans vibrated Erwin’s cock making him moan at the feeling. “Y/n if you cum for me I’ll fuck you really good” Zeke said when he removed his lips from your core. His facial hair was soaked in your juices but he didn’t mind he was fantasizing about this very moment for ages and he couldn’t be more happy for it to be happening right now.

The knot in your stomach was building up tighter and tighter as he went at your clit with mouth licking and sucking and his fingers at your g spot, you couldn’t help but ride his face helping position yourself to reach your orgasm. Holding onto Erwin’s thighs your body shook as you came all over Zeke’s face. Panting loudly to catch your breath Erwin caressed your face “that’s our girl”. Zeke got up from under you and pulled your jaw over to him kissing your lips and letting you lick some of your juices off his lips. You weren’t expecting it to taste good but you were pleased and happy that Zeke looked to enjoy it.

Getting behind you he rubbed the tip of his cock at your entrance, letting his pre act as a lube besides your juices before he attempted to put himself inside. “I don’t have a condom on, is that ok” he asked wanting to make sure, if you weren’t he’d run to his apartment to grab the entire box. “I’m on the pill” you said winded as you still were catching your breath.

His tip stretched the entrance of your cunt making you cry out his name burying your lips on Erwin’s cock and pumping the rest of his length in your hand. They both were pleased to hear how hot you sounded, exactly what they thought you’d sound and feel like. “F-fuck, just put it in already” you said in between of sucking Erwin off. “Impatient but if that’s what you want” Zeke said, slamming his hips into your ass making a loud slap noise. Your grip on Erwin tightened and your moans were heard even with his coco stuffed in your mouth.

Zeke set a pace that he could tell you liked, your cunt squeezing him beautifully making him feel like he could cum right now but he needed to hold out just as long as Erwin. Erwin was thinking the same thing the way your throat was constricting while

Sucking him off made him feel like he could cum at any minute but he needed to wait until zeke gave him the signal. Zeke rested his hands on your hips helping him use it as force to bring your body onto his. The sound of your bodies slapping together was so hot.

The knot in your stomach was getting tight again, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as the tip of Zeke's cock hit your g spot over and over again. He could tell you were going to cum. “Go on y/n cum on my cock” Zeke said proudly. He was getting cocky literally, losing his mind in pure bliss buried in your cunt as he brought you to your second orgasm. Your body spasmed and your loud moans became a whine as you became overstimulated. Zeke let you ride out your high before he started thrusting again. He was getting close too.

A few more short hard thrusts, the noise like music to his ears of his balls slapping against your thighs made his mind go crazy. Erwin was losing it as how sloppy your face was, saliva was pooling at the corners of your mouth as you continued to suck him off. Letting him go with a pop before sinking your mouth back onto him

Zeke put his free hand in a fist on his chest letting Erwin know it was time for them both to cum. “Y/n we have to cum alright, you be a good girl and take it all ok?” Erwin cooed. Erwin caressed your cheek pulling his cock from your mouth and pumping it on his own “open wide” he commanded and you did as he said. Both men shot white hot ropes into you. Zeke's cock twitched inside of you as your cunt milked him of everything he had before he pulled out. Shoving two fingers back inside to push any leaking cum back in. Erwin watched in delight as you stuck your tongue out showing him all his cum before you swallowed.

He pulled your body up to him to give you a kiss while Zeke kept his fingers inside. Once your kiss was over Zeke removed his fingers from your core and brought them to your lips “care to get a taste?” He watched devilishly as you rolled your tongue out and licked his fingers clean. His cock twitched wanting to fuck your all over again.

Collapsing onto the bed Zeke and Erwin went to grab a towel to clean up between your thighs and to get you a water to rid the taste if you needed. When they returned they saw you sound asleep once again. “She sure can sleep huh?” Zeke said. “I think we tired her out. Next time I get to fuck her cunt and you get her mouth” Erwin said. “Gladly, I’d love to keep this going” Zeke said, cleaning you up and making you take a few sips of water before letting you sleep. They both got back into bed with you and laid their arms across your body and falling asleep.

Thanks for reading! Want to be apart of the taglist for AOT fics? Comment below!

Masterlist | Part 2?

43 notes · View notes

levi-supreme · 2 years

Text

Yes, Mr Ackerman

Characters: CEO!Levi x Secretary fem!reader

Genre: Modern!au

Warnings: Not sfw, minors and ageless blogs dni.

Dark content ahead!!! Mean dom!Levi. Reader insert (y/n). Power imbalance/power play (Levi is reader's superior). Degradation/name-calling. Impact play. Slight dacryphilia. Stripping of clothing. Slight humiliation, dumbification, and begging. Use of the words 'master', 'pet', and 'pup'. Slight restraints (tied wrists). Oral sex (male receiving). Some praising. Levi becomes softer afterwards. Unprotected sex. Levi hits you from the rear while you watch yourself in the mirror.

Word count: 3.3k

A/N: Here's my one contribution to Kinktober 2022 oops!!! Please read this little thirst drabble before reading this!! Also, istg I probably will never write such kinks and darker content again, so enjoy while you can haha.

[211022] Cross posted to AO3!! Read it on AO3 here.

You knew you were going to get it good when you chose to wear this figure-hugging dress to work today. You knew you were in for some punishment for flaunting your body in front of him like that. You knew the consequences of seducing your superior, yet you decided to went on ahead with it anyway. You knew your superior was a man of his words, and Levi Ackerman was a man of his words indeed.

The rough kissing earlier stole all your breath away, the harshness of his hold on you fuelled your want and need for him instead. With your dress bunched up by your waist and your hands pressed on his glass dining table, your ass was high in the air as Levi admired your beauty from behind.

"I want you to look at yourself as you get fucked, you dirty little slut," was all Levi said as he pulled you up by your hair like a master holding his pet dog by the leash. Your mouth stammered, words unable to be formed. Levi pulled your hair harder and you yelped in pain.

"Y-yes, Mr Ackerman!" You answered breathlessly, feeling a tingle down your spine and a weird twist of excitement forming in your belly. Levi harshly pulled your panties down to your ankles, using two fingers to pick up your sleek.

"What a fucking slut, so wet for me when I haven't even done anything."

"Mr Ack—" a resounding smack! echoed across the room, your ass cheeks painfully stinging.

"I don't remember giving you permission to open your mouth, filthy girl." Levi's hand squeezed your reddened ass cheek before slapping it again, your knees nearly giving out from the force.

"What would others say if they see MY secretary dressing like a common whore, hmm?" Levi gave your ass another slap, causing you to bite your lip and wince in silence, "who are you trying to seduce? Erwin Smith from the accounting department? Mike Zacharias from HR? Or that bearded Zeke Jaeger in IT?" Levi slapped your ass again and you let out a cry, tears threatening to fall.

"N-no! Mr Ackerman, I-I wasn't trying—"

"Then own up. Who were you trying to seduce?" Levi pulled you up by your hair again, forcing you to arch your back. Your voice was stuck at your throat. Levi growled and spoke close to your ear once more, staring at your teary face from your reflection in the mirror.

"Who did you want to seduce?"

"Y-you, Mr Ackerman," you answered, fear and thrill bubbling in your gut. You knew better than to lie to your CEO. You would rather hear him shame you for being truthful than to punish you for lying. "I-I wanted t-to seduce you, sir." Levi kept quiet for a while.

"Hmm, for me?" Levi stroked your cheek with a sinister grin, wiping some of your tears away. "Did my pretty secretary dress up like a slut to seduce me?" Levi returned to his office desk, pushing over his leather chair. Sitting back down, Levi ordered you to turn around, and you obeyed.

"Strip." Levi simply said, right leg crossed above the other as he leaned back on his chair, folding his arms across his muscular chest. You thought you heard Levi wrongly.

"... Mr Ackerman, sir?"

"I said strip. Do you need to be told twice?" Levi frowned as he leaned forward, a look of displeasure on his face. You nervously gulped before reaching your hands to the back, gingerly pulling down your zipper and letting your dress pool by your ankles. You looked at Levi's polished leather shoes, feeling utterly embarrassed and humiliated standing in front of him almost bare except for your bra still protecting the little amount of modesty you had left. You tried to cover yourself up with your arms, but it was just a pointless attempt. Levi still look unsatisfied.

"Take off the bra."

"Mr A-Ackerman?" You looked up at your CEO at a loss for words. You toyed with your fingers, digging your nails into your palm. Pleading silently with your eyes, your lower lip quivered when Levi spoke, tears threatening to spill.

"Are you disobeying orders now? I said, take off the bra." Levi's voice dropped an octave lower and you hurriedly reached back to your bra, unclasping it and dropping it on the floor. Now completely bare, you desperately wanted to hide somewhere, the shame and humiliation consuming you whole. You're naked and fully under Levi's control, the cold air from the aircon reminding you of your situation, the queasy feeling in your stomach and the wild beating of your heart making everything worse. Levi smirked and took a good look at you from head to toe, as though he was admiring a painting up for sale.

"Now, you need to be punished for prancing around my office building in such sexy clothing, don't you think?" You dumbly nodded, afraid of ruffling his feathers.

"Answer me."

"Y-yes, Mr Ackerman." A tear escaped your eye. Levi smiled, although it didn't reach his eyes at all.

"Naughty girls should be punished, am I correct?" Levi remained on his chair as he signalled you to turn around using his finger, gesturing for you to bend forward and lean on the glass table once more.

"Yes, Mr Ackerman."

"So, how should I punish you, hmm?" Levi rolled himself forward in his chair, looking at your reflection in the mirror. Your expression blank, gazing at Levi through the mirror. You knew the correct answer was to let him do whatever he wanted with you. At work, you took orders from Levi well, executing your role as his secretary perfectly. Now, you were a mere play thing for him and even though you were afraid of what's to come, heat blossomed throughout your body at the idea of being Levi's toy. Thrilled, even, when you imagined him manhandling you, forcing you into submission. The lingering sting on your ass cheeks was only the appetiser. Maybe you were meant to be obedient and to take orders from him and him only.

"Punish me however you like, Mr Ackerman," your voice sounded stronger with conviction, your eyes still looking straight at Levi through the mirror. This time, Levi smiled a genuine smile, laugh lines appearing on his face.

"What a horny slut, waiting to be punished like the naughty girl you are." With that, Levi made you seat on the glass table while he went looking for his necktie. Walking back to you with the black tie in his hand, Levi grabbed your hands behind your back and tied your wrists together. You shivered, unsure from the cold or from fear, or maybe it was from the excitement of not knowing what to expect.

Facing you, Levi unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants, pulling down his black boxer briefs to reveal his erect cock standing proudly. A weird sense of pride erupted in you as you saw him stroking himself, pleased to know you were the one who made him like this. You licked your lips and this gesture didn't go unmissed by Levi who towered over you.

"Oh? Is my little pet hungry for her master's cock?" Levi stood before you and harshly shoved your mouth down on him without warning, grabbing fistfuls of your hair as he guided you on his cock, revelling in the warmth of your mouth around him. Levi closed his eyes and let out a satisfied moan, now using one hand to stroke your cheek while the other hand still had control over your head.

"You're mine, understand?"

It was hard for you to breathe, your saliva was dripping from the corner of your mouth yet you could not clean it up. Levi was moving you faster than you liked and you could not keep up. Moaning and choking on your spit and Levi's length in you, you tried to hint him, beg him to slow down, to show you mercy. Tears started forming in your eyes once more and you looked up at Levi while groaning and sobbing, hoping he would take pity on you and let you breathe.

As Levi continued shoving you harshly down on him, you gagged and started coughing. Levi's eyes flew open and stared down at you teary-eyed and drooling.

"Look at you, so utterly messy. Am I going too fast?" Levi's words were harsh, yet the way he held onto your cheek and caressed your skin was gentle, as though he was really worried about hurting you. You didn't dare reply, staying silent and letting Levi wipe your tears. Levi took a piece of tissue from his glass table and wiped your drool, throwing it on the ground.

"You look so pretty like this, little pet, makes me feel sorry for treating you so harshly." Levi bent down and kissed your forehead while you nearly melted under his touch. Just a while ago he was like a feral beast dominating over you, and now he's being so kind. He was so confusing. Does he really mean it or... "Do you want me to go slower?"

There was a tone of mocking in Levi's question which you caught on immediately. You looked back up at Levi wide-eyed, shaking your head.

"N-no, Mr Ackerman sir, I've been naughty, and I d-deserve to be punished." You replied, feeling his warm hand gently caressing your cheek once more. Levi looked at you before you noticed his frown slightly falter, his gaze on you somehow becoming kinder. Instead of harshly shoving your throat on his length, Levi cupped your head and guided you slowly, allowing you to use your tongue to gently lick the underside of his shaft and grazing the top with your teeth.

"I think you've gotten the punishment you deserve already, pretty thing." As you slowly went down on Levi's cock, he closed his eyes and gasped in pleasure, hot breaths escaping his luscious lips as you licked and sucked. It pleased you to see him enjoying himself with just your tongue. You wanted to make him happy, wanted to hear him praise you for doing good. You wanted him to reward you for listening to him well, you wanted more than just tasting his cock in your mouth. You closed your eyes as you sucked on his tip, hearing him grunt and feeling his knees buckle when you slid your tongue over his slit.

"Mmm, Mr Ackerman," you hummed in delight as you continued licking his shaft like a lollipop, "do you like it when I do this?" You teased him by sucking his tip again, watching him bite his lip and trying to control his moans.

"Tell me sir, do you feel good?" You licked the underside of his tip, watching Levi's face screw up with pleasure. Levi's grip on your head was slacking, his head thrown back and his knees about to give way.

"F-fuck, yes! Right th—" Levi let out a particularly loud moan when you sucked on his tip before going back down his length again. You groaned and licked the pearly beads of precum, saliva dripping past your lips.

"I want to make you feel good, Mr Ackerman, please?" You looked up at him once more with your hollowed cheeks and puffy lips, your eyes slightly reddened from your tears earlier and your perspiration casting a faint glow on your skin. Levi looked down at you and nearly came at the sight of you looking so pitiful yet beautiful while his cock was deep in your throat. Levi didn't say anything; he just supported your head down on his length, letting you take your time. You purred happily, contented with his gentler touches and slower pace.

"Fuck! Faster, mhmm, fuck, go fast—" Levi's breathing started becoming erratic, his hip thrusting into your aching jaw. You gladly complied and sucked on his length faster, not forgetting to make lewd noises every time your nose reached his neatly trimmed pubic hairs. "Yes—ahhhh, y-yes! Fuck yes! Shit, th—" inaudible words left Levi's lips as a final thrust in your mouth made him weak, holding your head down on his cock as hot semen flowed down your throat. You closed your eyes and hummed, savouring the taste of his slightly sweet semen.

Even after Levi emptied his load into you and you felt his cock slightly soften, you dared not move. Your jaw hung loose as Levi stepped away from you, looking at your dishevelled look. Some of Levi's cum was still in your mouth, you did not know if he would allow you swallow. You looked at Levi like a sad puppy being denied a treat.

"You can swallow it, my girl." At his command, you gulped down Levi's cum and looked at him expectantly, unsure of what he would do to you next. Maybe he will finally shove his cock into your aching and soaked pussy.

"Tch. You take my orders well, but you take my cock even better. What a good girl." Levi got you to stand up, seeing a tiny pool of sleek gathered on the spot where you were seating earlier. Levi smiled at you once more, fingers toying with your soaked entrance. You winced at the sudden intrusion, biting your lips in order to stop yourself from moaning.

"Does my good girl want her reward for taking her CEO's cock so well, hmm?" Once more, you dare not answer. Levi was knuckle-deep into your cunt, pumping his digits and enjoying the sound of your squelching noises and soft whimpering. "Go on, answer me. Do you want your reward?"

You shyly looked up at Levi, face hot from the close contact and the caring soft tone Levi was using towards you. You were getting lost in Levi's eyes the more you stared, you felt yourself falling for Levi. Were they feelings of admiration, or out of fear? You were confused, you didn't know how to answer him. Levi swiped your messy hair to a side, kissing you hard and fast with his fingers plunged deep in you. Using his free hand to tug your hair once more, Levi's kisses started getting more aggressive as time passed, latching on your neck to leave his bite marks.

"Tell me now, before I change my mind." You stuttered, not wanting to anger him once more.

"Yes, Mr Ackerman. P-please," you begged, feeling Levi's grip on your hair loosen. Levi reached back and untied his necktie, massaging your wrists and gently blowing on them.

"Good girl. Lean on the table. Don't forget what I told you earlier." You nodded, leaning on the table with your hands supporting your weight as you stuck your ass high up in the air, level with Levi's groin.

"I want you to look at yourself as you get fucked, you dirty little slut," Levi's words from the very start echoed in your mind. Levi stroked himself until his cock was standing at attention again before plunging straight into your soaking cunt without warning, letting out a loud groan when he was fully in you.

"So fucking wet for me, sucking my cock in so snugly," Levi gasped as he squeezed your ass cheeks, slapping them and admiring the reddened palm prints. You wanted to cry out loud at how fantastic you felt, and how submissive you looked right now with Levi holding on to your hips and controlling your every move while you stared helplessly at your own reflection in the mirror.

Levi continued ramming himself balls deep into your soaking cunt, kneading and slapping the meat of your thighs and ass, grunting and breathing out loud in pleasure. Your breasts jiggled with Levi's every move and your back arched with every thrust. The large office felt a few degrees hotter and your mind was starting to lose control.

"M-Mr Ackerman, s-sir," you whined, looking at him through the mirror. Levi paid no attention to you as he fingered your clit, driving your senses crazy and your blood pumping in your veins. Levi threw his unbuttoned shirt away, leaning forward on your sweaty back. Roughly grabbing and massaging your breast, you licked your lips once more, feeling your orgasm about to come soon. The sound of skin slapping skin was music to your ears, fuelling your dirty desire to cum on your CEO's cock.

"Mr A-Ackerman, I-I'm—" you tried getting his attention once more. You wanted, no, needed his permission to cum, to feel good, to cry out loud, to hear his praises. "S-sir," you begged, desperately asking for Levi's attention, whimpering and crying for permission. Levi stared at you from the mirror, knowing what you wanted and needed.

"Go on, cum for me, my little bitch." Levi's eyes were locked onto yours as he spoke close to your ear once more, feeling the goosebumps dance across your skin. At his command, your entire body vibrated and your pussy contracted on Levi hard, soon drawing long pants from Levi. Levi rammed harder into you while you were still enjoying the euphoria from your orgasm and he grabbed onto your hips, feeling himself ejaculate into your warm cavern. You moaned in pleasure, contented to feel Levi's warm cum filling your hole.

Pulling himself out of you, you quickly plugged your fingers into your cum-filled entrance, not wanting to dirty Levi's expensive carpeted floor. Dry cleaning would cost too much, and people might question the reason why. Levi cocked his eyebrow at your response, grinning as he shoved a few pieces of tissue into your hands.

"Here, clean yourself up, y/n," you nearly fell on your knees hearing Levi calling your name so casually. He never called you by your name before, it was always by your surname, or calling you 'brat'. You gladly accepted the tissues, carefully wiping yourself clean. You looked at your mixed juices on the tissue and sighed dejectedly, a little disappointed that Levi's cum had to go to waste.

"Is my little pup disappointed that her hole isn't filled?" Levi smirked, zipping up his pants after cleaning himself up. Levi walked over to a closet on the other side of his office and took out a light grey button shirt, putting it on while you collected the discarded pieces of tissue to throw them into the bin. You felt a slight embarrassment creeping up on you, not wanting to admit that whatever Levi said was right.

"You had your fill just now, haven't you? Your pretty mouth took everything in." Levi passed you your clothes and undergarments and went back to his chair, clearing his emails as though whatever happened earlier didn't occur at all. You quickly put on your clothes.

"Yes, Mr Ackerman." You replied in a tiny voice, unsure of how everything was going to be from now on. You've heard lots of stories of secretaries hooking up with their bosses, and you've also heard a fair share of them getting sacked out of a sudden. You did not know what your fate will be under the hands of Levi Ackerman. Levi suddenly took out a black card from his leather wallet and passed it to you and you took it with shaky hands.

"Get my blazer and shirt dry cleaned. I want them back here tomorrow."

"Yes, Mr Ackerman." You picked up the two articles of clothing he mentioned, walking back to his desk awaiting further instructions. Levi stood up and walked over to you, yanking his blazer out of your hands to wrap them around your shoulders.

"Go get yourself some new dresses, brat. I don't want my woman to be walking around my building looking like a slut." Levi nonchalantly walked back to his seat, paying no attention to you once more. 'My woman', you thought to yourself, a little smile appearing on your face.

"Yes, Mr Ackerman." You resisted the urge to giggle and instead, turned around and left Levi's office clutching his blazer and taking a sniff of his sweaty shirt. Maybe something good might come out from hooking up with your boss after all.

A/N: When I say I need to touch grass after writing this, I REALLY need to touch grass and drink water lol.

I hope you all liked this one!!! This is my second attempt in writing dark content and omg, istg I'll never write it ever again 🏃‍♀️ 🏃‍♀️ 🏃‍♀️ let me know how you all think of this!!

Tagging: @cinnamonlevi @ack3rlady @roralore @imkumichan @kristinecharmm @notgoodforlife @jean-prettyboy-kirschtein @michiboo @sweet-assh0le @hannie2kay @ack3rlevi @levislovingwife @galactict3a @hauntedhousecat @sckerman @thesimpsstuff @ackermendick @greenfurret @levisbrat25 @nanami-n-nichole @lilshades @svftackerman @king-julian6201 @youre-ackermine @jimoonbeau

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mochimooon · 6 months

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DTF Only (DTF) - zeke jaeger x reader 18+

pairing: Zeke Jaeger x afab! Reader summary: You can't expect every match to want to take you out, but Zeke's more than happy to give you some backdoor action. word count: 4k notes: Part 6 of DTF Only. Zeke is a wee bit scummy here, not too bad. warnings: smut, explicit content, explicit language, mild alcohol consumption, vaginal fingering, anal fingering, anal sex, masturbation ☻ masterpost☻

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 18+ !!

“Hmm…he’s handsome. The beard’s kept neat, could be a sign that he manscapes.”

“That’s what I’m thinking.” You set your phone down and tap the speaker option.

Ymir, on the contrary is less sure about him. “Are you sure you want this guy to sodomize you?”

Another date tonight, although, you’re not sure if you’d call this an actual date.

You had gotten a message from Zeke earlier in the week. Unlike the others, he’s older by eight years, and more forward with his intentions.

I’m a busy man, but on Thursday I can be all yours. What do you say? You want to be all mine for a night?

You had just agreed to meet up with Reiner that Monday, and because it was further down the week, you confirmed your interest.

Perfect. I want to be clear again, I’m a busy man. Casual fun only.

Of course, this wasn’t a problem. Little did he know that you were only on this Tinder venture to whore yourself out. Before you got a chance to let him know that another message slipped in, and compared to your previous matches, he’s the boldest.

I like to fuck in the ass btw

Well…now that changes everything.

You’re not even bothered that Zeke didn’t offer to take you anywhere. Despite his age, he’s to the point with zero effort.

You weren’t going to hold that against him. Fine by you, because anal sex was something you’ve been curious to try for a long time. Therefore, it was enough incentive for you to agree to Zeke’s conditions.

You had purchased a silicone plug a year ago for beginners, even practiced with it a few times. Although you and Colt never had the chance to try anal sex, the plug was mostly forgotten in the depths of your sock drawer.

To prep for tonight, you reacclimated to the toy all day, keeping it tucked in your asshole until you saw Zeke.

“Okay…Ymir…” Pinching the bridge of your nose, you try to bleach that phrase from your mind. “It sounds pervy when you say it like that.”

“Do you have cataracts? He’s the embodiment of pervy."

Pieck chimes in, always a saint to play devil’s advocate. “Just because he’s a little older, doesn’t make him perverse. Unless that’s what our friend wants.” She teases.

“He’s pushing forty, and yet he’s too much of a cheapass to take you on a real date? Sucks for you ladies; men get lazier with age.”

“I already knew what I signed up for,” you say. “Besides, I’ve been out all week. I’m fine skipping to the sheets tonight.”

“Alright, fair enough,” Ymir concedes. “You were already spoiled by Horseface the other night anyways. What time is he picking you up?”

You stand before the mirror, smoothing out your dress, checking the reflection for any creases. “He’s already sent an Uber, it’ll be here in a couple of minutes.”

A sharp laugh rings out of your phone, startling you.

“So, what are you a pizza?” Ymir cackles. “He placed an order for you on Tinder?”

“Ymir…” Pieck sighs, but you’re not deaf to the telltale humor in her tone. “It was your idea that she got on Tinder.”

“I’m just saying.” Ymir manages to stifle her laughter. “This guy is literally zero effort.”

“Well, like you said before, I don’t need to find my next boyfriend there,” you drawl, rushing to get your heels on. “Doesn’t matter. I’m a busy person, and so is he.”

“Sure,” Ymir says. “Well, for your sake, hope that the anal sex is on some cosmic level. Because this man…it’s no wonder he’s still single at his age.”

“I doubt he cares honestly.” You check your phone to read a new message from the man himself. “I got to get going, he said the Uber should be arriving in a minute. You have his address, just in case.”

“Alright, this is it,” Ymir says. “Next time we hear from you, you won’t be a backdoor virgin anymore.”

“Have fun!” Pieck sings.

…

The Uber drops you off at 8pm at an impressive home. The property is brand new, modern, in a fancier area in the city.

Walking up the steps, you hear a light whistle from the doorbell, which you press.

Zeke appears behind the door, glass of whiskey in hand, sweatpants and no shirt.

This man really is low effort, you muse, biting back the urge to roll your eyes; somewhat regretting the lingerie you have on under your dress.

Taking a sip, his lips curl into a smirk. “There she is, even prettier than her pictures.” Behind his glasses, he gives you elevator eyes before he steps aside to invite you in.

The inside matches the modern architecture outside. The foyer floors are pristine white, that lead in several directions. To the left, a sitting room that looks more like a museum with abstract, contemporary artwork hanging on the wall and cool-toned puffs that serve as seats.

Zeke leads you past that room and the staircase that faced the door, footsteps muted with fluffy slippers while your heels echo along the tile.

“This way,” he says over his shoulder. “Let me get you a drink.”

Trailing behind, you admire the muscles in his back, equally as taut as the curve of his ass hidden away in his sweatpants. Moreso, you delight in watching him walk before you with a careless, confident swagger, a king in his castle.

The open-concept kitchen space bleeds into a humble living room. Like the rest of the house, the finishes are polished and modern, yet more homey than the foyer and sitting room.

He comes around the long kitchen island where the bottle of whiskey rests. He gestures his glass to point at you. “You look like a champagne gal.”

You lean against the island’s marble countertop, giving him a flirty look. “You’re right, I am. But I’ll have water tonight.”

He arches a brow. “Water? I can pop some bubbly.” He breathes a laugh when you blink at him. “To celebrate. Two souls finding each other to consummate a special occasion.”

You lick your lips, unsure how to respond. He’s really eager to fuck you in the ass. “Water…thanks.”

Zeke shrugs. “Fine, fine, I only have the sparkling kind.”

He would…

You take the glass he’s offered, sipping the bubble water as you wander the space between the living room and kitchen. It’s big and a bit lonely. You recall the details of Zeke’s profile.

An entrepreneur who runs a few private businesses. It makes sense why he’s shacking up in such a nice home, and it also makes sense why he prefers a booty-call.

You finish the glass of water and set it down on an end table by the plush couch.

“Well, do you have a surprise for me?” Zeke’s tongue pushes into his cheek, sipping in the sight of you.

You do the same, letting your stare dance along his muscled chest before they climb back to admire the strong, bearded jawline. He might lack any effort to woo you properly, but he’s got an allure that most older men tend to have.

“Maybe…” you tease.

Zeke grins, a man ready to take a bite out of you. He slides his glasses off, setting them aside. Within a few steps, the distance closes between you both.

His hand finds the small of your back, tugging you closer to him so that he can bear his darkened gaze upon you. He looks just as good without the glasses, in a way you prefer him without. It gives you a chance to soak in the primal look in his eyes.

He rubs your back, and had you been naïve, you would have thought it was affectionate. But you’re an adult who came here for a reason and that reason slides from your back to palm your ass.

“Oooh…” Zeke murmurs. His touch ventures elsewhere, greedy hand sneaking up your dress to sample your bare flesh. “Very nice—” He lifts up the side of your dress, a finger hooking into the garter belt. “Very, very nice. A classy woman, getting dolled up for me.”

His hand continues to explore with purchase, sliding along the curve of your ass, stopping at the center. He’s found what he was searching for.

Zeke’s eyes light up, and you feel his fingers pull the plug gently.

Biting your lip, a whine escapes anyways when Zeke pushes the plug deeper.

He leans forward, delight in his voice. “I’m going to ruin you.” He kisses you, finger pushing against the plug again to swallow your whimper. “Going to have to get used to this, baby. I’m much bigger than your toy.”

A sharp smack lands on your ass cheek, and another.

You do up an act, wrapping your arms around his neck, to give him a hooded stare. “I think I’m ready to take you.”

A sharper smack lands on your backside from Zeke’s excitement, fingers pulling against the plug and ramming it back in. “Let’s not waste any more time.”

He downs the rest of his glass, hissing from the burn. “Are you sure, you don’t want anything to drink? First time may sting. I don’t want to scare you.”

Butterflies flutter around in your stomach, tickling your nerves that for a second you do consider the offer, but ultimately decide against it. “I’m sure.”

Zeke takes the hint, pulling you in with a tight squeeze on your ass and slotting his mouth over yours. It’s scratchy and heavy with whiskey, an exhilaration between your legs, overshadowing the nerves.

Setting the glass aside, Zeke takes your hand, leading you up the stairs until you reach his bedroom.

The size of his bed is comical. California-king, dark red velvet sheets with a plush headrest and mirrored closets. It’s like walking on set of a porn film.

He turns around, whiskey kiss scratching your lips again. You two make out, a slow build as he walks you back until your legs hit the end of his bed.

He releases you, backpedaling to admire you in the dress. “Show me what’s under there, sweetheart. Give me a show.”

The room heats up fast, charged by the sexual tension and also from the pressure of Zeke’s gaze. Both have you leveling him with bedroom eyes, lifting your hands to drag the straps of your dress off your shoulders.

They fall away like petals plucked from the stem, revealing the thinner straps of your lace bra.

Zeke doesn’t move, still like a statue. You’re quick to look away from his eyes and steal glimpse elsewhere.

He’s hard, dick visible behind his sweatpants. The sight encourages you to keep going, peeling away the dress in a slow strip tease to unveil the rest of your lingerie. Light blue, Colt’s favorite color.

The dress pools at your feet and you step out of it, running your hands along the intimate lace. You begin with the push-up bra, cupping your breasts, feeling your hardened nipples there. Fingers travel to your sides, slipping past the bra down to your ribcage to stroke along the matching garter belt at your waist.

Zeke remains still, eyes fixated on your hands pouring onto the straps that connect to your stockings. It’s only when you bring a hand at the center of your thighs does a stuttered breath bring Zeke back to life.

“That’s a beautiful set you have on,” he says like he’s talking to your body. “Light blue, very delicate. Can’t promise that’s how I’ll be.” He palms his cock over his sweatpants.

You bristle at his intent, reaching a hand out to his chest. He finally looks up with a lidded gaze. “I don’t mind if it hurts a little.”

Zeke’s jaw unhinges, a dark moan rushing out. He heaves a laugh to collect himself, but you feel his heart racing beneath your fingertips.

Taking your hand, he kisses your knuckles, a lecherous smile spreading along his beard. “Get comfortable, baby. On the bed.”

You turn, feeling the drag of his eyes as you crawl atop his bed. Throwing a coy look over your shoulder; he’s eye-fucking your backside.

You crawl until you’ve reached the center, turning back again when he tuts.

The globes of your ass are in both his large hands, groping you with more pressure than earlier as he spreads you out.

Zeke tuts again. “Although I knew it, I’m still disappointed that this isn’t as pretty as you are.” There’s a push at the plug.

You wince, squirming forward, but Zeke catches you by the waist.

The room whirls, the air pushed out of your chest as you land on your back. Zeke crawls on top of you.

“I can tell you’re a rookie at this.” He settles between your spread legs, drinking you in. “Just because I want to take you by the ass doesn’t mean I don’t want to look at your face. Or…”

The hands that roamed your lower half explore your chest, groping and squeezing your breasts with calloused fingers.

“These…This is why I love anal sex. I can see everything…” His gaze drifts, voice dripping with glee. “Including your pussy.”

Pushing your thighs further apart, Zeke openly stares at your pussy, bare, and dripping. A finger pulls at the strap on your thigh, letting it go with a loud snap before his hand paws at your center.

You shiver.

“Lace, crotchless panties, plug in your ass…Good girl, dressed and ready for me…”

He’s on you suddenly, swallowing your mewl of surprise, no longer restraining his hunger to devour you. His tongue moves with passion and authority, hands running up and down your body, focusing on the lace of the garter belt and bra.

“Fuck—you’re so—fucking gorgeous—” He frees your mouth to scatter rough kisses along your neck. “Every part of you— ” He’s breathless, though he doesn’t stop showering you with attention. There’s a squeeze on your breast, then a pinch through the fabric.

Your back arches and Zeke pinches again, sharper.

“You enjoy that don’t you sweetheart?” The words burn into your clavicle, hot and wet. “And this?”

Teeth sink into your skin, a wonderful sting that travels down to your pussy, you’re unable to stop your hips from bucking up.

He laughs. “I hear you.” Pushing back, Zeke leans on his haunches, hands settling on your hips in one long stroke. “Lace looks amazing on you.”

You’re pleased that he appreciates the lingerie. The last time you wore anything this risqué was for Valentine’s Day with Colt, much earlier in your relationship. It’s a shame, you didn’t have a chance to give this set the mileage it deserved. Until now.

Your mouth falls open, pussy sucking in Zeke’s finger, having not paid attention to his wandering hand.

He fingers you in a trance-like state, mesmerized. You slide down, hoping to fuck yourself on his touch, but the man rests his hand on your stomach.

“Easy, sweetheart. I couldn’t resist. This fucking lingerie, this fucking pussy—” He slaps your clit, burying two fingers this time deep inside of you. “I’m being greedy.”

You can’t even think of a response, relishing in the stretch of his fingers, dragging against your walls, you forget why you’re there in the first place.

But Zeke reminds you, retracting his fingers and sliding off the bed.

On your back, you watch him move around the room, hopping out of his sweatpants in a hurry.

You lift up on your elbows to watch him rummage through his dresser drawers, swallowing down a groan at the sight of his bare ass, toned just as you suspected.

He whirls around, holding something in his grasp, but you’re not paying attention to that.

His dick, thick and hard with a few more inches than average, snares your focus. It’s sizeable, though not as big as Jean’s dick was. Still, you’re dosed with nerves again, imagining how that’s going to fit inside your ass.

Approaching the end of the bed, Zeke yanks you forward by the ankles unceremoniously. Your ass hangs just shy over the edge.

Zeke slots himself between your legs, the tip of his dick leaking onto your thigh. “You’re plenty wet already, but…got to be a gentleman.”

You realize it’s a small bottle of lube Zeke has.

He’s quick to remove your plug, not giving you a moment to acclimate to the hollow feeling. You whine as it’s pulled out.

The same fingers that pumped inside your pussy now enter your asshole, slick and much warmer than before.

“Ah—” Your ass twitches from the sensation as Zeke stretches you out.

“You like this?” he purrs. “For her pleasure. Told you, I’m a gentleman.”

While gradually you ease into the feeling of your ass getting stretched out, inwardly you roll your eyes at his self-affirmations. A gentleman that had a driver drop you off like some hooker.

You digress, adjusting to his fingers in your ass, making your pussy gush.

Zeke flits a look up. “Still a tight little asshole, but you’re ready for me. I’m fucking ready for you.” The tip of his dick ghosts your ass cheek, and you prop yourself on your elbows again.

“Wait.”

Zeke looks to you with grit teeth. “What is it?”

“Condom?”

Zeke blinks, eyes glazing away elsewhere like he’s running through what to say. He’s avoiding it, and you rein in your annoyance. Where did the self-proclaimed gentleman go?

“Zeke,” you say. “Put on a condom.”

He huffs a strained laugh, peering up at you with wide eyes that are impossible to look innocent when they’re sullied with lust. “You won’t get pregnant.”

You don’t know whether to laugh or scoff. This will be fodder for your friends later. “That’s not the point.”

“I’m clean, baby,” Zeke insists.

“Great, so slip on a condom. I should have one in my clutch.”

“Don’t you want your first time getting fucked in the ass to be memorable? It’s best enjoyed raw.”

This time you do laugh at that. If not for the beard, the stature, and the impressive home, you would have thought Zeke was in his early twenties not inching towards forty.

“It’s my protocol, or I’m getting dressed.”

Zeke’s eyes widen a bit, and the distress of you leaving him with blue balls has him blowing out a long-winded sigh. “Fine, fine.” He sighs again, looking away for a beat, then back up, mustering as much charm into his pearly whites as possible. “You sure?”

You shift to sit up, but Zeke urges you on your back.

“Okay, okay, wanted to make sure.” When he returns with the condom, his spirit to argue is gone.

He drags you forward, nudging your ass with the tip of his dick. He spasms at the contact and you brace yourself.

Zeke hooks your knees over his arms, and he leans over to kiss you. “Deep, deep breaths, sweetheart.”

A second after the preamble, Zeke pushes in.

You bite your lip, brows pinching together, but you don’t want him to stop. Your eyes connect for a moment, and you nod to encourage him to keep going.

The stretch stings, but it’s nowhere near painful. Doing as instructed, you take deep breaths, watching Zeke.

His mouth is open, lidded eyes watching his dick slip in. He pulls back slightly and pushes back in, stretching you out a little more.

You spread your legs wider, and he keeps you like that, using the hold on your legs as leverage to go deeper.

The sensation is foreign, much like when you had tried your plug for the first time. The more you take of Zeke’s cock, the more comfortable it’s becoming. The fullness in a different part of your body is intoxicating, your head swims in fervor, reaching your core.

“Someone’s pussy is getting jealous,” Zeke breathes a laugh.

He’s not wrong. You’re dripping even more than before despite that area being neglected.

He bottoms out with a long groan. “Shit…” His head is thrown back. “Give me a minute. If I move now, it’ll be over too soon. I’ve never felt such a tight asshole before.”

That minute flies by and Zeke bucks his hips in a thrust. You mewl, clenching around him.

“Fuck—okay…” His restraint is withering.

“Zeke…” you hum.

“Yeah, baby?” he grunts, pulling back again.

“Move.”

He rams back into you with a snap of his hips, setting a pace that leaves you breathless.

Gasps spring forth after every thrust, reveling in the new feeling, finally stroking that fantasy you’ve never gotten to entertain.

Zeke folds your legs closer to you, perching a foot on the edge for more control. “I’m fucking delirious baby—you should see yourself. Laying pretty on your back with your cute—lingerie while daddy fucks you dumb—”

You don’t have time to register what he’s called himself. The thrusts get sharper, pointed and desperate. Your pussy flutters, an ache to be touched there too.

Zeke takes notice. “Play with yourself.”

You grunt, but your hand drips down your stomach, fingers playing with your clit.

“Finger yourself,” Zeke adds. “I want to see both of your holes filled.”

Two fingers slip inside your entrance while your thumb toys with your clit.

A tidal wave of heat engulfs you, stimulated in the best ways. The fullness of Zeke’s cock in your ass, your fingers pressing into your walls, and the pad of your thumb swiping at your clit, you’re so close to falling apart.

“Just like that, fuck you’re gorgeous like this,” Zeke grunts, syncing with the twitch of his dick.

You play with yourself, the taste of nirvana dangles so close, your fingers cramp up, but you push through the stiffened muscles.

“Want to see you cum,” Zeke says from above, hips turn sloppy. “Please—let me see you cum.”

Your hooded gaze soaks in the needy expression that tells you he’s about to come undone. Rubbing your clit with more vigor, you keep your eyes locked to the heavens, imprisoned by the gaze of a devil, and you cum.

You don’t stop touching yourself, back arching to ride out your climax, desperate to bask in every second of it.

Zeke moves faster, hips smacking against your ass cheeks as he groans out his release.

Your back settles on the mattress, your fingers orbit your center lazily, twitching from the overstimulation. Zeke ruts inside of you, pace dialed down significantly until he’s milked every last drop. When his dick softens, he pulls out.

The mattress dips at your side and you bend an elbow to lean on as Zeke does the same.

It’s another good look on him; sweaty, panting, eyes glossy, head planted in his hand like a porn actor at the end of a shoot.

“Not bad for your first rodeo, huh?” He grins. “You’re lucky, baby, you matched with an all-star.”

You roll your eyes, though it’s lighthearted. Whether Zeke really lauds himself as some God at anal sex, your verdict for now is that it’s something you’d do again in the future.

Now that you’ve gotten a moment to readjust to the emptiness, your ass does feel a little sore, however. That’s something you’d have to get used to.

You use the last of your reserves to hop off the bed on wobbly feet.

Zeke does the same. “Why don’t you stay the night? We could have round two in the shower. Though, I stress that it’s more comfortable without a rubber.” He purrs, reeling you in for a sloppy kiss, playing with your stretched out hole.

You whine, wincing from the tenderness.

“Shit—you’re going to make me hard again. One more round, c’mon.”

You don’t stay the night, firm in your choice, but thank him for the fun.

He relents, calling you an Uber and sending you off, with a promise that he’ll be in touch.

It isn’t until you’re back in your apartment, undressing for a shower that it dawns on you.

You forgot your plug at Zeke’s house.

☻ masterpost☻ taglist: @moonmalice @daisynik7 @theragethatisdesire @squidalapobre @arlerts-angel @shepnicolo @porples-blog @jeanboyjean @fictional-d-supremacy

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kriz-fics · 10 months

Text

The Sword’s Legacy

Series Summary: As the heir of your father's lands, you have grown up knowing that one day you must wed to your House's advantage, and there's no better catch than the younger son of the Magister himself. Meanwhile tensions within the king's court are set to come to a head at any moment - it just needs that spark to send everything ablaze. Now in a court more dangerous than the one you entered, you find distraction and joy in the company of the beautiful boy with the beautiful eyes. You can only hope to weather the storm you can sense brewing in the horizon.

Masterlist

Chapter Seventeen: Tales and Caves

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x Female Reader

Genre: Royalty AU, Historical Fantasy AU, Romance, Politics, Warfare, Eventual Smut (future chapters), Slow Burn

Length: 14K

CW: Some misogynistic narration, read between the lines and you'll see marital rape

The boy nocks, draws, and sights down his mark. For a while, he holds the draw, arms trembling from the pull of bow and string.

Weak, still weak. This one has a ways to go, Zeke thinks the very moment the lad lets loose. The shaft misses a hundred leagues and sails past the target. “That wasn’t too bad,” Zeke tells the shattered boy, who is beside himself with disappointment. “You hit a mark at least. Not the mark you were aiming for, to be sure, but I find, with a lot of things, that something is better than nothing.” The Grice boy’s arrow had embedded itself deep into the trunk of the tree some ways behind the target, quivering.

The boy sighs, looking gutted. “Bows are always so hard…” He frowns down at the weapon in his hand. The sight is so reminiscent of his little brother that Zeke has to smile. Young Colt Grice stares up at him, determined and unyielding as steel. “I’m not as strong as you, my lord, but I hope to be. Someday.”

“Best bring about someday sooner rather than later. Strength. Build up strength.” What has Hartlieb been teaching the boy? Squires his age should not be trembling like a leaf in a squall while holding a draw, no matter his primary choice of weapon. Eren is a middling archer himself, more accomplished as he is with sword and lance, yet even he can bend a bow with absolute ease.

That look of iron determination on the Grice heir’s face is Zeke’s relentless little brother’s as well, yet that is where the similarities end between the knight and the squire. Colt Grice, at fifteen, is a year Eren’s junior and does not have half the build nor the prowess the younger Jaeger had at his age. Young Colt has been squiring Oscar Hartlieb for five years, surely all that training should have produced some sort of visible fruit by now. Surely the boy would have filled out more, shown more power, more confidence when handling a weapon as manageable as a longbow. Alas, it does not look to be the case.

Zeke takes up an arrow from the three stabbed through the dirt ground beside him. “The strength in your arms isn’t the only thing that’s vital in a draw,” he tells the squire as he prepares to take his shot. “Your whole upper body should be working with you. The muscles on your back are there to relieve your arms of the strain.” He nocks, bends his bow and draws until the goose feathers brush against his cheek. The motions come easy as instinct, smooth as silk; the weapon's weight is as nothing, not to a bowman of his experience.

The mark is fifty paces away. Hitting it dead center should be child’s play, and easy as falling off a log. “Keep your arms straight, your form relaxed,” he continues his instruction, sighting down the target. “Take your aim…” He holds the draw for a couple of heartbeats, steady as the squire had not been, and lets fly. The arrow slams dead center, right into the heart of the mark.

“Amazing, sir!” Colt pipes in admiration.

Zeke lowers his bow, feeling himself puffing up at the praise, despite himself. Praise is always good, wherever it comes from. “Strength,” he reiterates, and the boy nods stoutly. “Might be I’ll have a word with your master when next I see him, see if he can’t step up his tuition. What he thinks he’s accomplishing with you I’ll never know.” He smiles to balm the sting he has clearly given the squire with his remark. “I meant no offense, young master. That was no criticism of your prowess. That you are lacking in martial aptitude is no fault of yours.”

A great cheer rents the air of the barracks’ sparring grounds, the sound carrying over the clash of practice swords and the cries and grunts of training men. “Isn’t your brother riding at quintain today?” Zeke asks his young companion, who nods. “What do you say to watching little Falco try his hand at the tilts, as a bit of a breather? There are only so many times a bowman can miss his mark without growing tired.” He chuckles at Colt’s bright flush and ruffles his fair hair. “I do thank you for giving me the chance to practice for the day. My skills are less like to turn to rust, due in no small part to your goodwill.”

They had set up the quintain at the lower level of the barracks grounds, in the expansive stable yard. Some intrepid squire is charging down the lists even as Zeke and his young tail approach. The men sitting on the steps to the yard hastily spring up to make way as their succeeding lord and their honored guest pass through.

The armored rider seems a clumsy one, and entirely inept, as only new-made squires can be. He sits his horse like a lumpy bag of tubers and struggles to keep his grip on the long, unwieldy lance. Still, he rides on manfully, until he strikes the shield on the quintain’s spinning crossbeam a glancing blow. It comes as no surprise to Zeke to see him fly out of his saddle when the padded mace on the other end of the beam swings around to club him over the head. A loud groan followed by a gale of laughter erupts from the men about them as the hapless warrior rolls onto his back and attempts to unlatch his visor.

“Falco!” Colt dashes toward his younger brother, leaving Zeke to trail behind at a more sedate pace. A couple of the older squires have come up to assist.

“I-I’m all right, nothing’s broken, I don’t think,” the younger Grice is saying as he sits up, looking shaken and patting himself all over. He lifts his gaze, sees Zeke, and instantly scrambles to his feet with much clanking and clattering. “M-my lord!” He bows as low as his armor would allow.

Zeke chuckles. “You’re all right, then? No broken bones, no twisted limbs?”

“N-no, my lord. Nothing’s hurt. Just-”

“Your pride.” Zeke chuckles again at the boy’s flustered flush. “Tell me, Falco, was that the first you’ve ridden a tilt?”

“Yes, sir,” the younger Grice answers, eyes on the dirt beneath his feet, shamefaced. His likeness to his lord uncle truly is an astounding thing. Yet Zeke can never recall Cosimo Grice looking quite so abashed. You can see how truly young his nephew is then, despite the bulk of plate; little Falco has never seemed more little as he shrinks in on himself in his discomfort.

The sight of the shrinking violet before him is enough to melt the hardest of hearts. Ten, he’s only ten. It had not been too long ago when Eren was ten, riding this very same yard, falling and rising and falling again to the quintain until one day he rose and kept his seat and stayed aloft. Nowadays, there are no falls. Eren had learned long ago what all seasoned knights learned in the quintain’s yard: to charge on, to hit and move swiftly onward and onward before he can be hit back. The mace’s blows have never landed since.

“You did well for your first tilt, I’ll grant you. It’s no easy feat to ride the quintain, especially with a borrowed horse. He was borrowed, was he not, that fine mount of yours?” At the boy’s nod, Zeke continues, “No matter. My brother will make a fine knight of you yet, have no doubt.”

“I’ll make him a good squire, my lord, I promise,” Falco says suddenly, staunch and steadfast as much as a boy of ten can be. “I promised him, I did. Sir Eren, I mean. I will make him a good squire. True knights are always true to their word, and I want to be. A true knight, I mean. Someday.”

A true knight, huh… Their exploits make the heart of Eren’s most beloved tales. Here is another aspiring Destrier, I’d wager, another of Gerald Kirschtein’s many devotees. The squire and the knight will complement each other well. Like truly calls to like. Zeke ruffles the boy’s hair, amused. “I’m looking forward to the day, young master.”

“As am I. There are thousands of knights in the realm, but only a handful of those are true. Gods know we’re all better off with more men of honor.” Sir Tom Ksaver strides up to them and bows, coming up smiling his warm, fatherly smile. “My lords.”

“Sir.” Zeke takes his ward for the day by his armored shoulders and shakes him lightly at the knight. “What do you think, Sir Master-at-Arms? Is this one made of the stuff of knightly gallantry?”

“I don’t doubt that he is, my lord Heir Apparent. A few years with Sir Young Master Eren and he’ll be one for the history books.”

Zeke shakes the flushing Falco once more, grinning. “Did you hear that, your little lordship? We expect much and more from you.” He casts about for the elder brother and brings him to the fold, throwing an arm about his slight shoulders. “Don’t think we forgot about you, Young Master Colt. As an heir apparent yourself, the onus goes double for you to bring honor to your House. But I think we need not fear on that account. House Grice is in good hands with lads as fine as these.”

“Hear, hear!” Sir Tom puts in good-naturedly, further contributing to the boys’ bashfulness, yet they take it in good stride in the end, laughing as they stammer out their thanks and courtesies.

“A cheery diversion you’ve set here,” Zeke tells the bespectacled knight, leaving the Grices to themselves to watch the rest of the men try their own hands at the quintain.

“I’m glad your lordship thinks so.” Sir Tom glances about the cavorting garrison, looking almost doting. “The lads need their entertainment. Keeps them active and practicing and distracted from the hunt that I’m sure they’d rather be part of at the moment.”

Cosimo Grice is a most restless man. The Lord of Braudorf had but just arrived yesterday, bringing with him his household and retainers and various hangers-on, yet he was up in the saddle again where another man would be resting the weariness from the journey away. That is most surprising for one who is four-and-forty and nearing his sunset years. Lord Grisha is of his age - or near enough as makes no matter - yet the Lord of Shiganshina is nowhere near as hale or hearty as his vassal. But then, he’s spent the better part of his life sitting chairs instead of horses; it is only too natural for the erstwhile Knight of Highridge to go to seed eventually. The well-rested Magister will return from their sojourn more spent than his new-traveled lord, like as not. The thought is utterly comic.

“They ride the woods out there, we ride the quintain in here.” The next man to tilt fares much better than little Falco Grice. This one, at least, manages to score a solid hit on the shield and is already galloping far out of reach of the indomitable mace as it swings about from the force of his blow. The yard erupts into cheers and hurrahs.

“A most excellent hit.” A new rider is being armed by his squire at the edge of the yard. “So, I suppose congratulations are in order,” Sir Tom remarks, voice light and mild, as the upcoming contender swings up his horse. “May the gods grant you and the lady a healthy babe.”

The day grows cooler in an instant. “Mmm,” Zeke grunts, watching as the rider thunders down the yard, making the most impressive figure. His lance strikes the shield, a decent hit, and the mace whips about, ready to throw him off his mount. It succeeds most spectacularly, and all at once, he is the most unimpressive figure. The man crashes to the ground as his courser charges blithely past him. His armor makes the most frightful racket as he rolls to a stop, rattling like a sack of old pots. His fellows hoot more derision.

“Begging your lord’s pardon, forgive me if I have given offense,” murmurs the old, portly knight, guessing correctly the cause of his liege’s stony bearing. “Whatever you may… feel about her ladyship, new life is still something to take joy in, I do believe.”

That makes Zeke sigh and ease up a margin. “Yes, well, your good wishes are much appreciated, thank you, Sir.” That news had certainly put him off. For the most part, he stays well away from his wife’s bed, unable to bear her stunted, loveless caresses. Except when he is drunk. He’d had one too many cups that one time not too long ago, he now recalls, celebrating young Ben Too’s yearday. He must’ve stumbled into her rooms in a drunken haze, his blood up and looking for sport.

It is good news, he supposes, all things considered. The bint had as well make herself useful, do her duty by him at last and give him his proper heir. Not that Ymir is ineligible, but bloodlines are made much the stronger with a male head than with a female one. The Old Way may not care a whit but the Old Way is exactly that. Old, outdated, and outworn. Even the ruling women of the Old Blood seem to be pulling away from their conventions. They may as well be mere figureheads, ruling in name only as they pander to their councils that they insist on filling solely with men.

His little brother’s little lady’s own council is entirely male, if he recalls correctly. Most like the pretty poppet will end up a pretty puppet, dancing on the strings of her servants when she comes to take her eventual seat, despite all her lord father’s careful instruction. Instruction can only take one so far. It will all come to naught if one does not have steel in his spine, and of steel he finds the little lady lacking. Sweet you are and polite, charming, witty, and all the things that a good courtier makes. A proper golden girl. And like gold, you are pretty to look at, of the highest value, but still so soft and pliable in the end. Nobody fights battles with gold swords. For that, you need good hard steel.

The sound of a hunting horn echoes in the distance, near drowned out by the explosive shouts of acclaim as the man-at-arms now riding the lists breaks the shield clean from the quintain. “It seems the hunting party has returned,” he observes to his mentor, who hums in agreement. Zeke turns to his wards for the day, who are adding their voices to the merriment about them. “Come, my little lordlings, we had best be on hand to greet your lord uncle.”

Across the broader realm, only lords with the most pressing matters trouble themselves to make the journey to their liegelord’s seat during the reprieve. It is a reprieve, after all - hard to unwind and let loose from the bustle of the court when you are expected to make yet another trek for statecraft. Lord Grisha is a more exacting master than most, however; he is one of the two Lords Paramount that still insist on his vassals' personal appearance when they make their seasonal reports.

Forster, Tavitian, and Shultz had already made their journeys. Now comes Grice. As always, business comes last. First, they must fete their honored guests and afford them sacred hospitality.

Sweet, girlish giggling drifts through the partly open door atop the small flight of steps across from him. Zeke looks up at the room thoughtfully, having come forth from his own rooms into the privy chambers’ anteroom, dressed in his best yet again for yet another feast for the Grices. That is another thing to be said for these visits. They never eat half so well during the reprieve as they do during these days.

The giggles chip away at his sentimentality and so he strides onward and upward, his fatherly affection well and truly awoken. Not even the sight of her can put a damper on his love, yet he tenses up all the same as he enters his daughter’s chambers.

“Povar!”

The woman is forgotten in a trice. Zeke grins wide and opens his arms, and little Ymir crashes into him, laughing as he sweeps her up into the air and spins her about. He holds her against his hip, smiling down at the little face, which is such a mirror to his. Big blue eyes and hair like beaten gold. Another golden Jaeger. He feels the weight of her in his arms, notes her height, and feels a pang of melancholy. It will not be long until their spinning days are done.

“Are you ready for the feast, my little falke?” he asks the fledgling.

“Yes,” she giggles, squeezing her arms about his neck. “I have a new gown, would you like to see it?”

“Nothing would please me more.” He sets his girl back down on the smooth stone floor, where she proceeds to twirl, proud as a peachick. Her girl’s gown of gold with its olive green underskirt swirls out around her.

“Husband,” says that dreaded voice. It takes everything in Zeke not to close his eyes in irritation as he eyes his dear beloved wife, who is standing by one of the gray velvet divans arrayed around a circular table in the center of the room. Wed they have been for near a decade and yet he can count on one hand the times her face had thawed in his presence. This is not one of those times.

Elva Jaeger smiles at him, tight-lipped, and with her eyes like ice. They are beautiful, those eyes, that he can admit. Blue they are, and of such an unusual shade that they seem more purple than blue in certain lights. She is a beautiful woman, that he can also admit. With her purple-blue eyes and soft dark ringlets, she makes for a cool beauty indeed. She is beautiful as winter is beautiful: cold, harsh, and bitter. Not for the first time, he sorrows for what could have been between them had the gods been kinder to their lot.

Erwin Dietrich has a deal to answer for. It is the smallest of solaces to know he is as unhappy in his marriage as Zeke is in his.

Elva turns to their daughter, and her expression softens. Whatever else she is, she is a loving mother still. It is perhaps her only redeeming quality, aside from her beauty. And of those, time will leave her only the one. “Pretty, did I not say? I suppose we should be thankful your lord father did not wrinkle the gown.”

Bloody peevish bitch. Whatever magnanimity he had summoned forth to make this visit more bearable flies out of Ymir’s balcony door. Elva has always been like this, this should not have caught him out. She never passes on the chance to be pettish, even in matters as inane as a fucking gown.

His smile freezes on his face. “Yes, very pretty. My falke is truly the prettiest girl in the kingdom.”

Ymir smiles at him, sweet as spring, and that thaws the winter in his being. “My slippers are gold, too. See?” She sticks out a little foot, which is indeed wrapped in the finest golden silk.

“You’re all of gold tonight, I see. You will shine so very brightly out there, my little star.” His expression cools once more as he turns to his lady wife. “My lady, shall we?” he says, polite as pie. They both always are, in front of the child. They can do that much for her, at least. Elva returns his smile and gives him her hand. Fingertips linked, the lord and lady lead the way out of their daughter’s chambers.

A servant emerges from the door to their rooms as they proceed to leave the living quarters. The familiar flash of fiery red hair heralds the servant’s identity. Lorelei, Elva’s new-hired chief maidservant, dips into a bow as they pass through, laden down with a bundle of her mistress’s sheets. Elva’s gaze slips right through her as though she never was, and so it is for Zeke to acknowledge the girl with an incline of his head.

Brown meets blue as she raises her head a little from her bow. Zeke allows himself a small smile as he beholds that gaze. Unbreaking, unflinching, uncowed. Almost insolent. Bold, for a servant.

But that is what he likes about her. That and that red hair. His smirk widens. A good time is in his cards tonight, it will seem.

It stays with him until the morrow, that good time.

Zeke fights back the urge to yawn as the council moves along around him. Lorelei had tired him out, the feisty wench. The girl was as wet and willing as she always was, and wild as a wildcat in bed. He takes a drink of his cider to occupy himself. It is fine stuff, this cider - the Grices had brought casks of it from Braudorf, along with the choicest bounty of their harvest. They had been enjoying those bounties the past couple of days at feast.

Midday had been the agreed-upon time for the Grice audience, and so they had more of that fine Braudorfish bounty to lunch. The Jaeger solar had been made over for the autumn audiences, as it always was every year. The change is never permanent yet the room’s arrangement remains the same without fail come autumn. Every year, they will move aside the emerald velvet divans clustered in the heart of the chamber and replace them with a round table big enough to seat five. Today, the well-worn board is well-stocked with bread and cheese and capon, along with a platter of fruit: pears, apricots, and assorted berries, including those northern delicacies, blaeberries.

“Hartlieb will broach the matter, no doubt, when he comes up- has he come up already?” Lord Cosimo queries as he tears apart his heel of bread. At his liege’s negation, he goes on, “We would discuss particulars once we have your consent, of course. But we think it a good match, we hawks have always been cordial with the harts, I don’t see why we should not have them wed. Colt will make young Becca a fine husband.”

A child and a woman grown. Zeke takes another sip of his cider to hide his smile. To be sure, the girl just turned seventeen and is fresh from childhood herself. A difference of two years isn’t so bad, he grants. Colt has not long to reach his own manhood. She need not wait too long to make a man of him. Unless some harlot does the job first. Perhaps some harlot already had, at that. Somehow, he doubts that very much.

“Do you hear that, young Luca? You’re to have a brother by marriage,” Lord Grisha laughs as he gestures his cupbearer forward. The boy strides forward with his flagon, looking nonplussed as he refills his lord’s empty goblet. “You have my consent, my good lord,” he addresses Cosimo, who bites into his bread, pleased as a peach. “It would also strengthen the bonds between our own Houses. In the most roundabout, convoluted way, I suppose, as my son is half-Hartlieb himself… there’s a connection there, at least, yes?”

That is true enough. The late Lady Carla Jaeger was born a Hartlieb of Zursingen, cousin to the current Lord Hartlieb, father to this girl Becca and little Luca, who is Lord Grisha’s ward. Zeke has fond memories of the woman. She was more a mother to him, in truth, than his blood mother, Dina. Carla never pushed either of her sons to heights they never wanted to reach, at any rate. The familiar wisp of sad sentimentality tickles at the edges of his being at the thought of her. Gone too soon. She only lives on now in the person of the son of her body. Eren is Lady Carla writ male as Zeke is Lord Grisha in gold.

The talk turns to the Month of Storing’s primary business: storing. For a long while, they speak of naught but grains and meat and portions. Lord Cosimo is planning to set aside only a fifth of his Province’s harvest for the upcoming winter. Lord Grisha declares that insufficient and tells him to set aside a quarter.

Zeke pops a chunk of capon into his mouth as Cosimo accedes to his liege. These are the matters he least wants to get into, so tedious are they. Tedious matters yet necessary to address, he allows. Ruling a State, indeed, ruling as a whole, is not all power and glamor and glory. To lead, one must be ready to deal with the dull, everyday affairs that, while dreary, are also the lifeblood of the community. Grisha had taught him that much, in any event.

“Konicaj’s made for a very enthusiastic trade partner this year. We have them to thank for these dainties,” Grice informs them as he plucks a blaeberry from the fruit platter and bites into it. “Tart yet so moreish,” he says, fingers, lips, and tongue now stained a deep purple-blue. Braudorf lies to the northeast of Shiganshina, cheek by jowl with Konicaj, and so enjoys a great deal of commerce and relations with the northmen.

“The recent windfall the past season is cause enough to lift the spirits. That added to the enthusiasm, no doubt.” Zeke leans back against his chair as old Prior Deion, seated to Cosimo’s right, murmurs agreement.

“These tasty blaeberries aren’t the only worthwhile things these Konicar have dropped upon our laps.” The blond lord leans forward, brown eyes gleaming. “I have it on some authority - good or bad, I have yet to know, but rest assured, my lord, I will know - that our runaway outlaws have been holing up in Kolozniki, near the Avisir border.”

Kolozniki… Kostrokan’s northeastern Province, seat of House Nasonov, which borders the stronghold of the Brzenskas of Karanes, Avisir, as the Grice lord noted. “Kolozniki and Avisir, huh…” Zeke addresses the rest of the council, “Did we not hear something of the sort from Ackerman? Something about the Brzenskas and general unrest in their borders.”

“That we did, my lord,” puts in Sir Hannes from his seat at Lord Grisha’s left, looking up from his scribbling of the audience’s finer points. “It’s not only Avisir that’s been rife with such tidings. I do believe Lord Ledovskoy came to tell his lord in person of his own troubles. Seems like northern Karanes is astir. That authority of yours is looking to be a good one, my lord,” the castellan tells their lordly guest, who chuckles as he tosses a piece of oaten bread down his mouth and chews.

Lord Grisha sighs, wearied as he always is by news from the North. They are a wearisome lot, these northmen. As they always have been and always will be. “What of Maganezh, Analavat, and Volgoshov? Any tidings to be had from the rest of the far North?” He wets his throat with cider and continues, “We need something more concrete than mere mutterings and general unrest. We know our merry bands have fled as far North as they could, but where?” He lowers his goblet with a slight frown. “This is a start, at least. I can bring it up in Conclave once the court returns to session.” The king should be well-pleased by this. Those who had escaped his justice will soon have their comeuppance. With this, he is a step closer to equity as he sees it.

“Speak of Conclave…” Grice eyes his liege seated across from him as though choosing his next words with care. “Our friends in Konicaj would have us believe that the garrison in Ishvelune is near to mutiny.”

Prior Deion clears his throat uncomfortably. “That… seems to be the case, my lord. We had a bird from Sir Lobov requesting aid and counsel. The garrison is at war with itself, poor man is at his wits’ end as to how to manage the men.”

A rumble of thunder, faint and faraway, comes to greet this rather ominous statement. Zeke turns his head to look out the floor-to-ceiling windows, flanked by their beloved falconers in bronze, at the world beyond. The gray skies that form the backdrop to the city’s buildings have turned a darker pewter. Storm’s coming. “And half the Ishvelune garrison is made up of northmen, as it happens.” With the isle so close to their northern shores, it was deemed practical to conscript men who lived nearby. For as long as Lovaya had been united, Ishvelune had been held largely by northmen, stiffened by the occasional ranks of men from the rest of the realm. “Some of these northerners, like as not, are Zhelevic, who have quite the history with their new governor. That whole mess last season doesn’t help matters either.” Lord Grisha and Prior Deion grimace as one at the reminder of that unfortunate fact.

“Lord Tybur’s appointment was… consequential,” Sir Hannes sniffs, scratching at his nose with the end of his quill before continuing with his notes, lips pressed together tightly.

“He’ll put his own men in when he comes into his seat, no doubt. So, I take it we are to expect another northern purge. A less lethal one, to be sure,” Lord Grice says, munching at another blaeberry musingly. “Fear and rage are driving the unrest ever onward, I see. They always do.” He turns to his liege, smiling a little. “Interesting that Lobov wrote you as well. You’d think his new superior isn’t enough to handle all this.”

“Father’s the Magister, he’s supposed to stick his nose in everyone’s business,” Zeke rejoins, making Cosimo laugh and drawing a conceding smile from Grisha.

“Still, by and large, rule should fall to our Lord Consul. Should he ever require assistance, by all means, he’s free to ask it of me whenever he likes.” The Magister pushes his lenses further up his nose and crosses his arms over his chest. “I’m always here to lighten the load, whatever our differences. We can set those aside for the good of the realm. The realm comes first, we must never forget that.”

“I am thanking you again, sweet lady, for the time and the fare. Give your lord father Captain Lycus Thanakis’ best.”

“Of course, Captain Lycus. May the gods bless and keep you on your next voyage,” you smile graciously and make to stand from your seat.

“I am blessing you as well, my lady. And you, Sir, we are meeting well,” the weathered sailor returns as he mirrors your movements and sweeps you and your betrothed a bow. “Now, if you are not minding my saying so, Sir, you had best be taking care of this sweet lady of yours. A rare jewel is this one, and gods help you if you will be tarnishing such goodness.”

“Har, I done be tellin’ the lad that, too, Cap’n!” intrudes Rasvan the barkeep, glancing up from the tankard he is wiping behind his tavern’s counter. “I says to him, I says, ‘Don’t you be doin’ the ‘lil lady dirty now, or the whole State’ll be howlin’ for your blood!’ Says he won’t, good lad, ‘n I expect nuthin’ less from a ‘noited knight. Them knights supposed to be all honorable ‘n truthful-like, you know.”

“That they are being. Or so I am hearing.” Captain Lycus bows again. “Until we are meeting again, sweet lady and good Sir.”

“If I had a cap for every time someone tells me not to ‘do you dirty,’ I’ll be richer than the Fritzes,” Eren mutters a little peevishly as he and you exit the Blue Pearl several moments later with much waving and smiling.

You laugh at his churlish face. “You’ve been hearing it that much? That’s certainly saying something.” Anyone who can match the Fritzes coin for coin, and then some, has your utmost admiration. “At least I’m assured the whole State has my interests at heart should you break mine.”

Eren turns to you, reaches up, and squashes your cheeks between his large hands until your lips pout. “And if I had a cap for every time I had to assure you I will never hurt you, I will be richer than the Fritzes and your family combined.”

“Awright, I heaw you,” you utter and pry his hands off you. “I only tease. I know my Falcon Knight won’t give me cause to cry.” You beam at the crooked smile he gives you at that and loop an arm around his to steer him along.

“Qaxan next?” you ask, then blink in surprise as he takes the reins from you and steers you along, toward the arched steps that lead down to the market arcades. “Market day today? No qaxan?”

“Not today.” You had taken him to the parlor days past, as promised, and had quite the time watching him win and lose matches against the place’s patrons. Many had been Sevirosi sailors, more than accustomed to this homegrown game of theirs and formidable players in their own rights, yet Eren held up relatively well enough (you managed to scrape a decent-sized bag of silvers, at least, to Eren’s satisfaction). You had tried your hand at a few games yourself, lost some and won others, and pronounced yourself content; it is nice to know you can take on locals in their own field and come out the better.

The greatest shock of the day came not from Eren’s prowess with the game but from his prowess with the Traders’ Tongue. “You can speak the Traders’ Tongue?” you had whispered to him, incredulous, during the lull between games as you waited for his next opponent.

He grinned, pleased as punch and so complacent. “Just one of the many things that commend me. I learned as a boy. I’m a bit rustier now ‘cause it’s been some time since I’ve last spoken it but it’s all coming back.” His foreign foemen were most amused to hear him speak thus and spoke in kind, happy to have the barrier of tongues so abolished. It amused you as well to hear how he strongarmed his Prior to teaching him and Armin the language. It was just something that Eren would do.

“You’ve become a true local at last, I see,” you comment as you descend the stone steps to the markets, passing the Forsaken Warrior’s plinth where he holds aloft the head of Iskra the Inborn, and alighting at the foot of the stairway by one of the sphinxes that flank the structure. Cityfolk pass you by, going about their business.

“I should have something to do other than read and spar and explore the castle while you’re off Lady-ing. What better way to fill my time than exploring the city?” Eren leads you along, through the wynds and lanes of the inner city as though he has lived there his whole life. The fact strikes a chord in you, in some strange, indescribable way. Some part of you finds his familiarity rather attractive.

“Besides,” he directs your course to the crafts arcade. There is something in his voice that makes you look at him and makes curiosity rear its cattish head. “This’ll be my home, too. Someday.”

The lightest of flushes pinks his cheeks, and he stares resolutely ahead at your destination, plainly trying to avoid your eyes. You blink up at him, heart picking up pace in your chest. Home. Yours alone now, yours both to rule together in future. You rest your head against his shoulder and smile as he holds your arm closer to his side. He is so warm. Like home. He feels like home.

He leads you up the steps of the crafts arcade, turning to wave over to some bearded dark-haired man manning a stall right beside the stairway. He waves back and dips his head in deference as you turn to look over at him, curious. You acknowledge his gesture with an incline of the head.

“Who’s he?” you question your betrothed as you step into the arcade proper.

“Pietro, Taras’s boy. Well, he’s not a boy, as you just saw, but I suppose sons are always boys to their fathers if you think about it.” At your uncomprehending look, Eren adds, “That woodcarver we met during the Alyfeis, remember him? Old Taras, whose stall we upended.”

A toothless smile, a face wrinkled and leathery, a pair of striking pale blue eyes. You remember him now, the kindly man. The Lovers’ carving you had bought from him is sitting upon a box on your desk in your bedchamber, this one filled with the letters Eren had sent you during the winter reprieve almost a year ago now. “You’ve been meeting with Povik Taras and his son? What for?”

It is a slow market day today. Only a handful of other patrons join you in your perusal, going down one aisle or another in search of good wares. Your footsteps echo off the vaulted stone dome above you. It is a magnificent thing, that dome. Above you cavort heroes and figures of the Old Blood. The Forsaken Warrior and Iskra battle beside Luka the Demi-God and Viktor the Valiant, while fair Rosina looks on, a hand upon her heart and worry upon her face. Scenes of tender love and romance play out beside the battles and bloodshed, to soften the violence. The marriage of Zlatica the Golden and Rumen the Red is depicted in its full glory, framed on one side by Alena of Makan’s hawthorn tree where she sits charming Rodion the Prince of Dreams with words and smiles. Love and death. War and romance. Things the old tales make.

Eren glances down one aisle and then another and proceeds down the righthand one, the aisle of pottery.

“Father wrote me something about pottery and if I can ‘please acquire a couple of tasteful pieces as a token of my stay,’” he says, affecting the airy, genteel court tones of the Magister of Lovaya. “He’s probably going to redecorate the solar. Finally. He’s been going on about it for months…”

Foreign traders are much in evidence hereabouts. There is a considerable demand for Arsechkalan pottery the world over, a fact to take great pride in, you’ve always thought. There is much to laud your crockery for; its durability, its fine craftsmanship, the sheer artistry of the figures painted on the glazed clay - all these combined draw tradesmen of every nation to your shores so they may have a piece of such a lucrative product. Thus do you all grow wealthy together, one way or another.

You and Eren walk past a dark-skinned man clad in opulent robes of blue and gold brocade, bartering with a potter in his shop. One of the Goldveins of the island of Rabari in the Gleaming Isles, you know at once, from the beads and clips of gold woven through the thick, tight coils of his black hair. Another shop is entertaining a couple of sailors, these ones dressed in the elaborate vests and wide-brimmed hats of those of the south of Seviros. Perhaps from the Magistrate of Amacillas or the Kingdom of Huanuras.

“To answer your earlier question, I still need instruction. With my woodcarving.” A little noise of interest escapes Eren’s mouth as a shop catches his eye, and he guides your steps thence. “Who better to teach me than actual masters of the craft?”

“Wise words.”

The plump, bald shopkeep looks up from where he is arranging the largest of his wares. His eyes widen at the sight of you approaching his shop; at once, he stoops into a bow. “M-m’lady,” he mumbles into his ample stomach. “Pleasure to ‘ave you in me shop.” He stands from his bow only to dip back down again. “M’lord,” he directs at Eren, who he seems to have just but noticed when first he’d straightened up a couple of seconds ago.

“Well met, goodman,” you smile at the man, before bidding him rise. “We’d like to have a look at your wares, if it please you.”

“Oh, it does, m’lady, that it does,” the shopkeep says, looking fit to burst into eager giggles at this most rewarding transaction. “Please, ‘ave a look-see, see whatcha like.”

“Do you have something to… remake?”

You turn to your betrothed, confused. The shopkeep in front of you does likewise. The stares make Eren blush and cast about awkwardly, his face screwed up as he thinks long and hard on something.

The shopkeep catches sight of your pearl necklaces, and his expression clears at once. “Ah, aye, they did say, didn’t they, some Midland lordlin’…” he mutters to himself, before addressing the lordling, “No need to struggle, m’lord, most o’ us Arsechkai know ‘ow to speak your Belin. We ‘ave to, don’t we, for you northern lot, them as ‘ave no lick of Rakiva in ‘em,” he states amiably in heavily accented Belin.

Eren laughs a little and rubs a hand up his nape. “Yes, well, I know that. It’s just I want to get better at it. Rakiva, I mean. And I can’t do that if I don’t practice,” he answers in the language most liquid on his tongue.

The shopkeep grins. “That’s the spirit, m’lord, if I do say so meself. Good way to go ‘bout learnin’.” He hooks his thumbs through the worn rope belt that cinches his homespun tunic around his pot belly. “Now, whatcha be meanin’ with that ‘remake’ business?” he asks the young knight, slowly in Rakiva.

Eren returns his grin, encouraged to try once more. “Um… oh, I can’t find the word for it. Customize,” he speaks the term in Belin. “Do you customize your wares to order?”

“Ah, customize. The word you be lookin’ for is usontsy,” the bald man laughs. “But, aye, we do be customizin’ our stuff for order. Whatcha be wantin’ then?”

You examine the earthenware about you as your betrothed and the shopkeep discuss particulars. Eren has a good eye - the pottery is exquisite. It is the artwork that extolls it more than anything else. The artist’s style is distinct, quite unlike any you have yet seen in such work. A yen to offer patronage to this shop rises in you. Perhaps the family business can benefit from having this store beneath its wings. You always are open to great talent. Great talent means great profit to all involved, of course.

“Done ‘n done ‘n done, m’lord! I thankee for your business,” beams the shopkeep, clapping his huge, meaty hands together in utter glee. “You’ll ‘ave your pots next week sure as sunup. This Fat Ivan be so swearin’.” He is wringing his hands the next moment, fingers plump as sausages squeezing the knuckles, the back of the pudgy hands. “Meanin’ no disrespect, m’lady, but it- only if it be pleasin’ you, o’ course- mayhap you be seein’ in your kindly heart to give patronage- only if it please-!”

“It does, you’ll be pleased to know. You beat me to the post, goodman,” you cut through the man’s nervous rambling, smiling at the look of surprise on the round face. “I was just thinking the very same thing. The artistry in these is exquisite.” You reach for a good-sized vase with two ornate handles, one on each side of the vessel, but pause. “May I?”

You pick the container up at the shopkeep’s assent, making sure your grip is secure lest it slips from your grasp and breaks. The figure painted on the glazed clay is one you know well. The King of the Cave sits upon his stone throne in a field of goldenglow, rendered in the black and gold and red paints so characteristic of this style of stonework. “You have a masterly hand with the brush, goodman,” you compliment Fat Ivan, who instantly demurs.

“‘Tis me wife, m’lady, she’s the mistress of paints, that one. I do the shapin’ and the firin’ and all them dirty work, she does all them artsy stuff. I always says, I do, we be makin’ a fine team, if I do say so meself.”

“A very fine team, indeed.” It is only then that you notice the marriage rune inscribed across the back of his sizable left hand. Your corresponding limb begins to tingle, and you look away. “Since we seem to be in agreement, I’d love to extend patronage to your business. I’m sure Father would agree once he sees your work.”

“M-m’lady is most kind, most kind. For true,” Ivan grins, and thereafter you spend a good while arranging the next course of your burgeoning partnership.

“Again, I thankee, m’lady, for the honor,” the shopkeep utters as he bows you and Eren out of his premises. “‘M excited, I am, I swear, the world’ll ‘ave no finer pots than those Fat Ivan be makin’.�� He turns to Eren with further promises of fine work for his order, then hesitates, his dark eyes flickering toward the golden pearl pendant around the younger man’s neck. “Beg pardon, m’lord, but you best be takin’ care o’ this lady o’ ours. You can ‘ave no more honest woman than this one, I’ll ‘ave you know. You be weddin’ the old way, too, I take it?” he directs at you this time, and you nod. “Good, good. Now, don’t be thinkin’ ‘m one o’ those old crusty sorts, thems that piss on the new way, no. But the Old Blood’s the Old Blood, gots to keep the old ways alive, too. ‘Specially for the future lady, gots to make an example.” You take your leave soon after further pleasantries.

“Richer than the Fritzes,” Eren announces in Belin to the sky above as you leave the markets for the rest of the city. “That was more colloquial than I’m used to, but I know enough of your tongue to understand that much. Where’s my windfall, I ask you?”

You titter at his disgruntled expression. “The gods seem to be determined to remind you to have a care with my most precious person.”

“Aye, well, I don’t need reminding of something that I have taken to the deepest part of my heart and soul and being.”

For all he shuns and affects ignorance of the ways of romance, this betrothed of yours has a most romantic mouth.

A crowd of people outside a building catches your attention. A temple of the Lovers, you see, recognizing Ryneas and Elios ensconced side by side within two elaborate pillared alcoves cut into the adjacent wall. It looks to be the end of a ceremony. The double doors of the temple swing open, as if to give credence to your thoughts. Out comes the Curate in his lilac and gold robes and his winged staff entwined by two serpents, which he flourishes about as he gesticulates to his rapt audience, the kith and kin of man and bride.

Faraway you may have been, yet you know the words he is speaking. Once there were two. Now two are as one. Let them be joined both, from this day to the end of their days. I give you the Lovers! The priest stands aside to expose the Lovers to a hail of roses. Petals and whole blossoms of red and gold rain down the happy couple, handfast and handbound by the lilac and gold ribbons so vital to the Creed’s rite. Of lilac and gold their humble raiment is not, for that they are, humble. Such as these will never be able to afford the expensive dyed bride’s gown of lilac and the equally expensive bridegroom’s cloth-of-gold. For the common folk are the common colors, dun for the bridegroom and white for the bride.

You had come across a wedding, indeed, multiple weddings in Reicona about this time last year, you recall suddenly. Insensible, unromantic Eren had never looked forward to the Day of Lovers and so the fact of the matter slipped his mind when he had invited you out for your customary stroll around his city. You, being of the Old Blood, never truly kept track of the holy day yourself and so made for a poor prompter.

It was amusing to the highest degree to see him fluster to silence once the realization hit, even more so to see him weather the good wishes various cityfolk heaped upon the both of you as you went about your business. He did not suggest retreat, to his credit. He was never one for that sort of flight, after all - it was always onward and upward for him, ever and always. You had not brought further attention to the day’s revels about you as you continued your adventure; he looked uncomfortable enough as was, which roused your sympathies.

The memory is a pleasant one, and evocative. Has it been truly a year since then? You have come so far from the new trothed striplings still taking the measure of the other, still trying to lay down the foundations of a friendship. It is no simple thing to be friends with someone you have such a loaded relationship with, much less someone you are meant to wed and bed; there is just so much anticipation behind your circumstances.

Both of you managed, in the end. Nowadays, that load and anticipation have grown to encompass a great deal more.

You smile and squeeze his hand in yours. “Poet.”

“How was that poetic? I only speak the truth.” His face is pink yet he looks pleased all the same.

“The deepest part of my heart and soul and being, hmm? Sounds like something straight out of the Lay of Lovers,” you grin, then bat his hand away as he reaches up to pinch your nose.

“Since when were you this mouthy, love?” Eren mutters, pink and pleased still for all his pretensions to annoyance. The crooked smile takes pride of place upon his lips once more. “Anyway, where to next? Lead on, milady, I’m done for the day.”

You pass a group of children playing Block and Catch at the base of a looming sandstone mount of a set of statues of the Sentinels, who were the glory of the elder days of Arsechkala. Eren steers your course aside as an urchin near runs into your path, yelling up a storm of fury at being tagged out of the game.

The sight brings back the summer, one of laughter and laurels and red flags. The children have no red flags and no laurels will be handed out, yet the game’s workings and the fun are the same. It is a most merry thought to know you had made as much of a spectacle then as these mites are now. “No more errands?”

“For now. Why finish all of them in one day? I still have a little over a month left here, I’d rather space them out.” Your wanderings take you to the quainter part of the riverside, where the city’s clocktower straddles the Goldtide. Fisherfolk’s paddle boats share the waters with barges carrying crates of goods and skiffs with sails of half a hundred colors. All of these slip beneath one arch or another of the three-arched structure that spans the waterway.

A particolored sail catches your eye. A mummers’ boat, you know, feeling elated at the sight. These will drop by the palace sure as rain after they have entertained their common audiences. A pleasant thing to look forward to. It is always nice to have jolly entertainment of a night.

“Lucrative day for everyone, isn’t it? I found an excellent potter for Father’s vases, said potter gets your family’s patronage, and your family adds another artist to your business’s collection,” Eren comments, watching a skiff glide past upstream, laden with crates of various sizes. This one has a crimson sail emblazoned with the golden Rhyzkov orb, marking it as one in the private employ of the ruling family.

“As Father said, best keep an eye out for any and all opportunities. And talents.” A thriving business can never have enough of those, after all, your enterprising forebears knew the way of that well. Seaside settlements such as yours often see the wealth pour in through trade, and never is a settlement so well-placed. Sandpiper Bay leaves the city open to sailors of no less than three continents: Seviros, Kayigari, and Anderven. Galleys from the eastern lands of Mi An, Agankaya, and even Lakpathar to the southeast make the journey as well, though the sight of their distinctive sails plying the Cobalt Sea is rare, situated as you are on opposing sides of the world. At any rate, the Rhyzkovs had long since taken advantage of this outpouring of bounty.

That bounty had made you the richest House in the Lovayan continent. Once. That estimable distinction now belongs to the Fritzes, them with their equally as profitable port and their even more profitable mines rich with gold and silver and opals, Lovaya’s most precious commodity. The Greatshield, while itself abundant, has never been as productive as the Dragon Horde, the State of Stohess’s own range of mountains. Which is more the pity.

“Captain Lycus, how’d you come across him?” Eren asks, most interested.

“He was one of the sailors who answered my lady grandmother’s call for men to crew our new fleet of merchanters. He’s one of our best.” Men of Ithasa, one of the northern seaside kingdoms of Seviros, have always been renowned the world over as being the best seamen. Ithasin born and bred he might have been yet he is all but Arsechkai now, the sailor loves to claim. His speech is still flavored with the liquid inflections of his motherland, but he had married an Arsechkalan woman and sired Arsechkalan children and lived in Arsechkalan soil in his days off duty. Ithasa has become a place to trade with and leave at the next tide, a mere stop in the trader’s sea road, one of many.

“They love you well, your people.”

The Arsechkai are all about you, sailing, strolling, living their daily lives. Once again, you are reminded of how important their love is to you and your family’s lot. It is so easy to take their love for granted, and the realization is a grounding one. Your House has subsisted in common favor for so long that attention to it has begun to fade in the background of the consciousness like an old, worn tapestry, part of the castle’s furnishings, something you have seen a thousand times your whole life. There are days when it catches the eye but more times than not, the eye will pass it over because it is always there. And always will be.

“They do. Love you well.” Eren smiles down at your silent face. “The constant threats to my person in favor of your happiness should’ve made that clear.”

Perhaps it is time to remember that the commons’ love is something worth paying more heed to. It is not for nothing that the tales make much of men of the people. Perhaps you can be one. A true woman of your people, that great ruler your knight had touted you as being. Someday.

The clocktower soaring above you tolls, marking the coming of another hour. The hour of the lynx.

“Does the most beloved lady want to sit down a while and rest?” Your knight squeezes your hand, prepared to accommodate your wishes whatever they may be.

You glance once more at the clocktower, at the murals that embellish the three triangular roofs of the already lavishly appointed structure. The King of the Cave sits on his throne on the righthand summit, gazing out at his field of goldenglow.

He is everywhere today, this king.

“I think-” your hand tightens around Eren’s, “-the most beloved lady wants to show you something.”

“What-”

“Shhh, quickly!”

You splash across one of the Goldtide’s many inlets, this one wending its way past the corner of the city walls to vanish into the undergrowth. Eren bites his tongue and bites the harder as he and his betrothed near a chasm sunk deep into the ground, bordered by vines and deadfall and wild vegetation. His sense of baffled apprehension grows as you begin to descend what he knows now to be the entrance to an underground cave.

He digs his heels in and brings you to a stop. “Just what on the gods’ green earth-”

“My lady!”

All at once, you are on the move again, plunging deeper and deeper into pitch blackness. “Just trust me, you’ll see,” comes your voice ahead of him, and so he has no choice. Your grip is tight around his hand, surprising in its strength. He lets you lead on, curiosity growing despite his better judgement.

“We should’ve at least brought a torch,” he says at length, after what feels like a decade’s worth of jogging in the still darkness.

“No torches necessary once we get further in,” is the most mysterious reply.

This whole escapade is one mysterious venture. One moment you were winding your way through the streets, the next you were running, and running towards one of the city gates, the westernmost one. A river gate, though you boarded no boat to flee the confines of the city. You joined the thin trickle of people slipping in and out of the adjacent postern and were soon hurrying down the side of the sandstone wall, tracing some path only you seemed to be privy to. All the while, cries of, “My lady!” hounded your headlong dash, from the poor chap who had the misfortune to be your tail for the day. Eren wonders if he caught your descent.

Hopefully not, he suddenly finds himself thinking.

You have slowed to a walk at some point, and your footfalls seem almost deafening in this quiet seclusion. He is alive in all his senses but for sight, and all of them are honed in on the maid leading him onward, ever onward.

Your hand is warm, your grip firm and tight. The cave is dry; the scent of stone and earth and dead leaves’ musk dominate all. Mold and mud and must are absent. Not even the cave bats roost here - the smell characteristic of their presence is notable for its lack. Your footsteps scrape lightly on stone. Another sound comes softer still, yet he hears it all the same. The sound of your breathing gradually eases down, from quick pants to steady respiration. The sound brushes against his ear, slow and gentle. Mesmerizing.

“Will you tell me now what this is all about? What is this place?”

“Not far to go. All will be revealed, good Sir.”

“My lady loves her mysteries, I see.” Quiet laughter gives him answer.

The further you walk, the more he notes. The ground underfoot is smooth, and though you turn and turn and turn again, the going is easy. Too easy. Nature is a most accomplished architect with the most distinctive style; no cave made by her should be this easy to traverse. Where are the dips, the hills, the stalagmites and the stalactites? All the caves he had explored as a boy had them in abundance. The lack of them is almost… eerie.

“Do you know the tale of Khandimir?”

“The Underground Kingdom.” He knows the tale well. He and Armin have been trying, every year the progress took them to Arsechkala, to find the entrance to that fabled realm. Their endeavors have always ended in defeat and disappointment. Slow and sure, the dawn begins to rise. “Is this-?”

You turn another bend and are immediately bathed in a faint light coming from a gap some feet ahead of you. You squeeze his hand, smiling up at him. Pale blue light washes over your face. Your blue lesos is draped over your shoulders where it had fallen, thrown back during the race across the city; the cloth is made bluer by the illumination.

“Thousands and thousands and thousands of years ago, at the dawn of time long before the Great Heat reduced these lands to sand and sere, there lived a king. He was fair and just and strong, and ruled wisely and well. Thus did his kingdom prosper.

“But prosperity drew enemies, and the king drew scores. Such was their hate that they conspired to strike at his very heart itself. The king had a son, his only one, and he was the delight of his father’s eyes and the hope of his line.

“All hope vanished the day their foes laid hands on the boy. They tore him limb from limb and sent him back to his father piece by piece. His delight turned into despair and a terrible, terrible rage. All think of rage as a fire. Yet his was not so. As a lake freezes over in winter, so did the king. He hid his hatred deep and bid his sons’ killers to feast, as a token of goodwill. His heart was broken yet a good ruler knew that peace must come before the personal, so he claimed to his foemen. They came by the score, then, utterly reassured and utterly unwitting.

“More fool they, they found to their grievous sorrow. The king slaughtered them all in his hall, one by one, until they were no more. The gods saw and they raged. The king had been the one wronged in the most brutal of ways yet that mattered not to the high powers. They sealed him and his people away into the depths of the Deep Realm, never to see the light of day again. For he did not kill with honor. It was not for the act of murder that he and his were punished. The gods would leave well enough alone had he met them outside the walls of his home. They understood well the need for vengeance. A man had a right to vengeance, this had always been so. But he slaughtered guests beneath his roof and that the gods can never forgive.

“Years passed in eternal night for the king and his people. But hope was not lost. The gods were yet merciful and gave them promise of the godborn, one born of man and god. Only one such as this could pass through the barrier that kept the king and his folk imprisoned in the Deep Realm. Only one such as this could free the Deep Dwellers from their bondage. Still, this seemed to them an impossible hope for such beings came rare, if they ever came at all. So the king and his folk languished in darkness, resigned to their dark fate.

“It came to pass that the impossible was merely unthinkable. A girl born of man and god came upon their hidden abode, and the Deep Dwellers rejoiced. At last, here was their savior, the long-awaited godborn, come to free them from the night. They feted her and gave her gifts and made her love them until she was prevailed upon to lead them home. The king and his people gathered their belongings and uprooted. At last, at last, they will come home across the darkness.

“The gods’ mercy, in the end, was a spurious thing. The barrier was broken, freedom was within reach. The Deep Dwellers emerged into an alien world, a world of sand and heat and dryness. They had not long to feel much of anything for this new world, for they would soon be part of it in ways most unexpected. Time flows differently in the Deep Realm, that abode of the fae. A year in the dark was equal to a decade, perhaps a score, perhaps a century, in the mortal world, and they had lived underfoot so long… One by one, every man, woman, and child of the Deep crumbled away into dust. Last to pass was the king, the King of the Cave, forced to watch as his hopes and dreams blew away into the dry wind before he, too, went the way of his people.

“Spurious they might have been yet it cannot be said that the gods were entirely false. The Deep Dwellers were freed from their bondage, when all was said and done. They are still here among us to this day, roaming free where they always have been and always will be. Underfoot and everywhere, scattered amongst the southron sands.”

Silence falls for a time between you, time enough for Eren to examine your surroundings. The more he looks, the more gooseflesh spreads up his body as the enormity of this place - its scale, its history - slowly sinks in.

You had passed through the gap as you ended your tale and came out into an enormous cavern. Shimmerwood, is his immediate thought. Perhaps he isn’t too far off the mark in thinking so, he feels. Rivers and waterfalls are everywhere, winding through the space and splashing down the walls. Each and every one glows a bright azure, in much the same way the sand haven’s motes glowed. No motes fly in the underground, though their lack is offset by the flowers, which glow as bright a blue as any drifting orb.

“Whispers,” you say, watching him brush a hand across one such bloom. You pick one and hold it to his ear. A soft susurration tickles his senses as the blossom speaks to him in the language of flowers. It is a tongue most incomprehensible to him yet, for all that, whatever this bloom has to say seems… pleasant.

They are everywhere, the Whispers, filling the air with their idle musings and their endless tales, tales of the Deep Realm, of the fae, of the King of the Cave.

“I never truly realized how depressing that tale is,” Eren says, voice quiet as you walk over a wooden bridge - miraculously intact despite its ages-long lifespan. A shiver runs down his spine. Legend or not, it cannot be denied that this place was once the heart of some civilization lost to time. The bridge is not the only evidence of their presence. Wooden steps and planks and yet more bridges are everywhere, channels to cross the twisting path of the glowing rivers that wind about you. “But that wasn’t how I remembered it. It ended the same but the details were different.”

“Oh? I’d love to hear this version. Perhaps it’s one I haven’t heard myself.”

Wood creaks beneath your feet as you go down a short flight of steps. The grass that grows thereabouts comes no higher than your insteps, as though a team of ghostly gardeners have been keeping the turf well-shorn ever since the departure of the Deep Dwellers. In this light, the sward looks black. That it is, perhaps; but in this light, it can be any color.

“It was the king’s arrogance that threw him down, the way I remember it. Prosperity breeds arrogance, and the more the kingdom prospered, the bigger its king’s pride grew until one day he spoke out of turn. They had grown so great no being, mortal or immortal, could ever throw them down, he boasted. You could imagine how well the gods took that,” he can’t resist adding, drawing that sweet, tinkling laughter out of his betrothed’s mouth. He smiles himself and continues his tale, “They were sealed away, as in your tale, also bound to wait for the impossible godborn. She came of course, and fell in love with the king, and he with her. Something that was left vague in your version.”

“Perhaps they did, who knows?”

He hums, agreeing. “Who knows. Then, as I said, it ended the same way, with them ascending, only to blow away into sand, leaving the godborn girl heartbroken and devastated.”

“It seems, in all the tellings, the Deep Dwellers were meant for a tragic fate.” You lead him on, to a new part of the cavern, leaving behind the fresh and clear coolness of the streams.

The cavern becomes a hall, with a high ceiling sparkling with crystals. Stars in the night. Had he known better, he would’ve thought so in truth. Luminescent mushrooms sprout here in place of the Whispers, filling the passage with the same gentle blue glow that lights the rest of the cave. Unlike the rest of the cave, the air here is damp, musty, and a tad moldy, chillier than by the waterways.

“Oh.” You let go of his hand to stride toward what looks like a statue sitting by the side of the path. “He’s being rained on now, poor thing.”

The steady drip, drip, drip of water falling on stone is the only sound in this part of the cave. The rain had done a number on the poor thing. He had a face once. Wiped away now by his misfortune to be caught beneath this perpetual deluge. Eren can guess who this poor thing is. Damned unlucky bastard, in life and in stone.

“Gods, but he is the most unfortunate figure, isn’t he?” you sigh, staring down at the miserable likeness of the King of the Cave himself.

“I’ve always thought the gods, new and old, have twisted senses of humor.” The rest of the passage is bone-dry but for the king’s little corner. Eren laughs, wry and dry.

“Always the blasphemer,” you shake your head at him but smile all the same. “Hvalimir Vaida. Hvalimir of the Cave. That was what they called him.” You stare about the cavern, as though to search for something. You find what you are looking for in a moment.

Eren follows, curious, only to find you attempting to twist off a stalk of what looks like a giant clover. He strides forward, drawing the dirk that hangs at his right hip, and proceeds to cut an offshoot for you.

“What d’you need that for?” he asks, and is answered almost at once as he watches you place the stalk with its wide canopy-like leaf on the king’s lap, propping it up against the stone body in such a way that it won't fall over.

“There, he is shielded,” you say, looking down at the king and his rainshade of clover.

“It’ll probably get knocked off someday, though, if the water doesn’t stop,” Eren feels compelled to point out.

“It might,” you agree. “But I gave him a respite until then. Now he has time to savor the dry, until that most unhappy day. Who knows? The rain might stop before that wretched day and he’ll keep dry ‘til the end of time.”

You leave the king there holding his empty court. The steady sound of water dripping on his rainshade sees you out.

Drip, drip, drip.

It is not long before you turn a corner and the sound fades. The blue of the mushrooms fade as well to be replaced by a light more… golden. Like sunlight.

You release his hand once more and continue on ahead of him.

Eren calls out for you but you are slipping through a gap between two boulders and do not seem to hear him. A little mystified, he starts after you.

Gold. A whole field of it, he sees once his eyes adapt to the sudden light. Goldenglow, he realizes as the flowers’ familiar scent assails his senses. He looks about, mouth parting in wonder. The King of the Cave’s throne room. All in ruins now. Much of the high vaulted ceiling had cracked and fallen away, exposing the hall to the elements and the skies above. What walls are left standing are festooned with lichen, ivy, and other flowering vines of red and pink and purple. There is no stone floor. There never had been, if the tales can be believed. It seems, in this case, the tales can be believed. Only goldenglow covers the ground, as every singer and storyteller claims.

In the middle of all this golden wonder is you, his betrothed, with your back to him, taking in this hall of legend.

The sight of you drives legend and fancy and history out of his mind.

A memory comes back to him then, the memory of you in the sanctum in Goldhaven, you with the flowers in your hair, the soft sunlight on your face, with Yelena’s fount splashing away at your back, and the wind in your hair. This fae maid is in her element once more.

He comes to you slowly, mesmerized. You have dropped your lesos; the blue and gold garment lies in swathes amidst the flowers, a welcome burst of color against all that gold.

You move forward before he can reach you and so he moves on, trailing your path.

“His throne,” are the only things you say when he stops to stand beside you. The wild had taken it over as it had the rest of the room. The stone seat is strangled by the vines; no one would have seen it had they not known it was there.

You turn away at length; Eren watches as you return to the spot where you had dropped your lesos and plop down, lying half-buried amongst the flowers.

“Conked out?” he asks, looking down at you with an eyebrow raised.

You giggle and reach out for him. “Come here.”

He laces his fingers through yours and allows himself to be pulled down. Your heads rest next to each others’ so closely. Your hands lie between you, fingers tightly clasped together.

“How’d you come by this place?”

You huff out a soft laugh. “One of my bids for freedom. I stumbled into this place, literally, crashed through the vines and rolled down that opening passage and everything.” His chuckle draws yours out before you continue, “I was so disoriented that I couldn’t tell where the entrance was so I kept on going, hoping to find it again. Curiosity won out when I saw the waterways, so I went on and on, found Hvalimir - he was snug and dry then, I’ll have you know - and came out here in the end. There’s a way out here, we’ll leave through there.”

“You sound a handful.”

“The raven calls the crow black.”

He laughs. “Spare me the cutting wit, my lady, I yield, I yield.” He lifts both your entwined hands off the ground and brings them to his lips so he can kiss the back of yours. “D’you think your poor tail is still looking for us?”

“Perhaps. I’ll take the fall, when it comes to it.” A mild touch of guilt colors your voice. “I’ll blame it all on the madness of adventure.”

Eren smiles up at the blue sky above you, then props himself up on his elbow to stare down at you. “You are the most spirited thing.”

You return his smile, then reach up to twine your fingers around the leather cord of his mother’s key.

His heart stops when you pull.

“There’s another version of Hvalimir’s tale, did you know?”

Eren swallows around the lump in his throat as your face takes on that most alluring cast of invitation. When had he gotten so close? He is suddenly and painfully aware of how alone you are. Hidden away from the rest of the world, stuck in a place of fancy and memory.

“N-no, I didn’t,” he says, hoarsely.

Your smile widens. “It was love that brought the king down in this telling. He fell in love with a fae woman, a child of the old gods, as the Old Blood believe. In her turn, the fae maid pledged her life and love to him and swore to take him to husband. The gods were devastated when she gave herself to him on the night of their wedding. By lying with a mortal, she had doomed herself to a mortal life and thus to a mortal death, and this was no fate no loving parent could suffer for a most beloved child. Their despair turned to deadly rage, and so they banished the newly wedded couple, here in this very place. They want to be together so desperately. And so they shall be, together forever in this dark hell. They can never leave, but so long as they have each other, does anything else matter?”

Yet again, he is drowning in dark pools. The cadence of your voice will put sirens to shame. You open your mouth, that luscious mouth now so close to his own, and murmur, “They’re still here, the maid and the king, forever wondering about their dark and wet kingdom. Never knowing the touch of sun and fresh wind and freedom, but those have ceased to matter. What are those compared to love as true as theirs?”

“We must have missed them. Pity. It’s not every day I get to meet figures of legend.” Your breath is warm against his lips. Closer. Closer, and he will feel your heat and that silken softness and taste the sweetness of your tongue.

Clack!

“Ketse!”

Your head snaps up and he freezes at the sound of the interloper’s voice. For a thousand years, he feels nothing.

“Gods be damned.”

The sound of your voice draws him out of the void. Somehow, someway, he finds that so absurdly funny that he has to laugh. “Who’s the blasphemer now?”

“You’re the most terrible influence, Sir.”

Eren chuckles some more at that and stares down at the lovely face framed with flowers. A golden girl among golden blooms. He bends down close and watches your mouth part. “Careful, my lady, the gods may trap us down here forever for that impiety,” he says, voice low, and gently flicks his nose against yours. Eren smiles wide as your eyes widen at the gesture.

He lets out a playful groan and presses his face by the crook of your neck. “Your tail has the most inconvenient timing.”

You let out a groan of your own and sigh. “He does, damn him. He’s bloody persistent, I’ll give him that.” You are silent for a time, before you speak again. “Maybe it won’t be so bad, to be trapped down here forevermore. We could slip back inside, become Deep Dwellers and bask in the king and queen’s love. It won’t be so bad to be trapped in darkness. With you. I could bear the darkness with you.”

Your voice is the most comforting thing. It seeps into his skin, his bones, his very being. “When you put it that way… entrapment doesn’t sound so bad. Not if it’s with you. I wouldn’t want to be trapped down here with anyone else.”

He nestles closer against you, wanting more of you that he is allowed. Apples and winter roses and goldenglow overwhelm his senses, along with the headier scent of you, that inimitable scent that was yours and yours alone. His nose brushes lightly against the side of your neck.

Your small intake of breath makes him pause. A tense couple of heartbeats pass, but you do not push him away. Encouraged, he presses closer, taking in another deep whiff of your scent. The fog in his mind grows thicker with each breath. He must have more. Eren presses closer, closer, until his lips feather over your skin.

At once, you stiffen beneath him, and it is as if he has fallen through thin ice. Elation and terror war within him.

Gods, why did I do that?

Gods, let me have more, don’t push me away.

Your fingers thread through the hair at the back of his head and bears down, pressing him closer to your skin.

Elation wins out and he is kissing you, running his lips down the column of your throat and reveling in you. Your breaths come out quicker with every press of his mouth, and you reach up, clutching at his shoulder with the hand not buried in his hair and pulling him closer, closer. Suddenly, kisses are not enough, he must have a taste.

The gasp that escapes your mouth goes through him the very moment the tip of his tongue touches your skin. All at once, you are tilting your face back, burying your head further into the blossoms as you bare more of your throat for him to ravage. You are the most intoxicating thing he has ever imbibed; no wine, no ale, no mead and beer and rum can ever compare to the substance that is you. His tongue licks across your skin hungrily, savoring the taste of you. You are salt and you are sweet and you are the best thing he has ever tasted.

His hands feel useless and empty, and so he fills them with your thighs. They are cradling his hips, those thighs, soft as satin and smooth as silk under his fingertips. The whole span of him presses down the whole span of you, and you are soft there, too, the whole of you, soft and yielding and warm.

You are panting into his ear, breathless and eager, as he licks and kisses up your throat and caresses your supple skin, each brush of his hands moving higher, and still higher until he was tracing the edges of the split skirt of your vevda, that blessed garment… It will be the easiest thing in the world for his hands to slip beneath, and so they do. You are warmer there beneath your skirt, and the heat of you spills into his fingers and palm as he caresses higher, higher still…

“Eren.”

It is his name, only his name, yet the power that single word has over him is absolute. Suddenly, your flesh is between his teeth and he is biting down.

“My lady-!”

There is a horrified gasp and before he quite knows it, he is sitting up. Eren blinks like an owl, dazed. You are seated before him, closing your legs as you turn to speak reassurances to some armored lout with devastation writ clear across his galling face.

Hot, boiling fury rushes in. All about him, the gold has turned to red. The lout has no fucking right to look that devastated. The urge to wipe the rocky cave walls down with the loutish face rises in Eren in the most vicious yen. That will clear up that stupid look on that stupid face in a brilliant flash.

“Eren.”

It is the only thing in the world that could’ve calmed him down at the moment. You smile at him. “We should get going. We’ve stayed in here long enough. At this rate, we’ll probably crumble to dust once we set foot outside.”

That draws a chuckle from him yet only in brief. Smiling you are, with all the appearance of soft tenderness, yet your eyes seem shuttered. You are looking at him as though you are seeing him, truly seeing him for the first time, and he does not know what to make of that. Something in his chest squeezes at the sight.

His eyes drop down to your neck, at the space where it meets the slope of your shoulder. A large round bite mark ornaments your skin, imprinted deep into the flesh. He had bitten down harder than he thought. It will take days for it to fade, if not longer, by the look of it. Something in his chest swells at the sight.

It is the most disappointing thing to see you cover yourself up with your lesos, yet he can bear that. The look of closed-off wariness on your face had vanished when you twine your fingers through his, and your smile comes sweet and tender and true. That is worth more than a mark of his claim.

The late afternoon sunshine comes to greet you the moment you emerge from the King of the Cave’s throne room. You do not, in the end, crumble to dust.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

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A/N:

Povar = Father (Belin)

Translation notes:

Falke = Falcon (German/Fristuhl)

Povik = Grandfather (Rakiva)

Ketse = Shit (Rakiva)

Another of my favorite scenes. Eren's POV, that is. And it came out a lot friskier than my original draft, which pleases me immensely. SO immensely! They are finally getting more physical and I just. Can't. Wait. For them to go. Further. (As if I don't have full control of the story. But nowadays these guys like to take the reins so... you know!)

More trouble in the North. Cause it ain't quite over yet, these northmen are a troublesome lot. A bit of darkness tainting Zeke's POV, he's been largely pleasant so far but he has IssuesTM. Market day for the happier couple and the importance of common love. And we get a tale and all its different versions because stories change with the telling as stories always do. And of course, hormones overflow and I had to send in the pesky guard so they won't go any further because the Greater Will says it's not yet time for that. But I can let them have a taste as a treat.

See you next time for the next update! <3

Tagging: @princess-okkotsu @lukepattersin @tojis-discord-kitten

#eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren x reader #snk x reader #aot x reader #eren jeager x reader #Eren Jaeger #eren yeager #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan

24 notes · View notes

daisynik7 · 7 months

Text

Iris

And I don't want the world to see me, ‘cause I don't think that they'd understand. When everything's made to be broken, I just want you to know who I am.

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x f!reader

Rating: Mature – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~4.5k (I went way over than I was supposed to, lol)

cw: switching POVs (2nd person reader, 3rd person Eren), canon-universe, VERY canon-divergent, consider this a what-if scenario, major AOT spoilers up to season 4, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, smut – PIV sex (cowgirl position), fingering

Summary: At the Battle of Fort Slava, Eren Jaeger, hell-bent on launching his ultimate attack on Marley, injures himself to pose as a wounded soldier, granting him admittance to the hospital to finalize his plans. You, an Eldian volunteer working at the hospital, start treating this new patient, nervous about his mysterious demeanor. Eventually, you learn that you have much more in common with each other than you think.

Author’s Note: Thank you @ichinosejager13 for your second request for the y2k karaoke party! I did something totally different this time; I wrote a fic set in the canon universe. I thought it fit well with this song, so I hope you like it! While it’s set in the canon universe, it is very obviously canon divergent, so please remember I took a lot of liberties with this. I am in no way suggesting that any of this is what I wish happened in canon. I just think it was an interesting idea to write. Also, I understand that this will seem very out-of-character for Eren, but let’s just roll with it because it's all in good fun, lol.

Like, reblogs, and/or comments are ALWAYS appreciated! Thank you for reading! MDNI banner by @/cafekitsune.

Fort Slava, huddled in the trenches. Blade through his leg, bullet in his eye. This is the last vivid memory Eren can recall as he stands in line outside the hospital, waiting to be admitted. Some asshole Marleyan imitates explosion sounds, causing all of those around him to fall to the ground, cowering in fear. They suffer trauma from the battlefield, and even Eren, with a clear conscious now, is affected by it. A kid, another Eldian dawning the same yellow armband as he is, steps towards them, kneeling down to help them up. He even assists Eren, correcting his armband to his left arm instead of the right. Luckily, it goes unnoticed by everyone else, which is exactly what he wants.

It's all part of his plan; the attack on Marley. It’s been in the works for months now, starting with his infiltration of the army, fighting alongside Marleyans and Eldians alike. He thought he’d have better clarity of the situation, maybe get convinced to call the whole thing off after bonding with other solders through the tragedies of violence and war. Unfortunately, it’s only made him realize how much more he needs to follow through with it. Nothing will ever change in this cruel world unless he’s the one to do it.

There are days when he gets cold feet. He’s tempted to re-evaluate, find a way back to his home of Paradis, reunite with his friends, devise a better plan and figure it out together. But in all the futures Eren can see, his current plan is the only one that will work. The only one that will grant him the freedom he’s been chasing his entire life.

The process is slow to get a room in the hospital. Luck remains on Eren’s side when he’s assigned a private room. It’s barren; a single-bed, just long enough to accommodate his stature, withered sheets and rusted iron on the frame. There’s a small nightstand beside it with two drawers to hide his belongings, which is essentially nothing, and atop is a small lamp, illuminating the room in a dreary glow. It’s not luxurious, but it’s enough for the time-being. Because that’s all Eren needs right now: time.

Eventually, Zeke will find him. They’ve been contacting each other for a while now, and Eren has a firm grasp on what his older brother is trying to convince him to do with the Founder’s power. While he doesn’t agree with his idea to euthanize the entire race of Eldians, Eren needs to entertain it long enough to manipulate Zeke into letting him use his royal blood.

It's all convoluted and fucked up, he’s aware of that. Somedays, he wishes he could escape this curse without doing anything at all. That one day, he’d be gone from this world, liberated from his Titan power, saved from this burdened life. This isn’t what he imagined while reading all those books he and Armin would marvel at as kids. This isn’t the freedom he was hoping for.

He rests in his pathetic, yet oddly comforting bed, staring up at the ceiling, unable to fall asleep. His leg and eye are still wrapped in bandages, so a nurse should be coming soon to check on him. There’s a faint commotion out in the hallway, but Eren is too lazy and too uninterested to investigate. Soon, it subsides, and the door swings open, revealing a women around his age, wearing a nurses uniform and the yellow Eldian patch on her left arm. He recognizes the attire from battle; the army had a few nurses stationed at the fort for casualties.

“Mr. Kruger?” she asks.

It takes him a second to remember the alias he decided to use. He confirms it, nodding his head silently.

She gives him a warm smile, introducing herself. “I’ll be helping you from now on.”

~~~

You started working at the hospital a few months ago. For Eldians, it’s nearly impossible to be accepted into higher education, so nursing school was never an option. With opportunities so scarce, your best bet was to apply for a volunteer position at the hospital in hopes of using that as a steppingstone for an actual paying job. You don’t expect a promotion any time soon, not even in the near future, but at least you’re spending your time helping others.

While it’s rewarding, it isn’t glamorous or pretty in the slightest bit. Because you lack the proper education, your tasks mostly include bathing, feeding, cleaning up any accidents or messes. Occasionally, if your patient is open to it, you spend time with them chatting, doing activities with them, listening to their stories. This is rare, though. Most that are admitted are Marleyans who refuse to speak to you because of your status. Some are even reluctant to have you help them in the first place. The Eldians, sadly, are usually too traumatized to open up, so you do your best to make them comfortable however you can.

When you meet your newest patient, Eren Kruger, you don’t expect him to be any different from the rest. You are, however, surprised at how young he is; he can’t be any older than you, judging by his appearance. His records show nothing except for his name and his status as an Eldian, which isn’t unusual, so you don’t think much of it. “Mr. Kruger, I know you must be hungry,” you start. “Lunch will be arriving soon. If you need assistance, I’ll be here to help you.”

He acknowledges you with another curt nod, remaining silent. You can’t help but notice how brilliantly green his eyes are. Have you ever seen irises like his before? You let the inappropriate thought vanish quickly before you ask, “Would you like me to bathe you now or after you eat?”

At this, his brows tighten. “Bathe?”

“Yes, Mr. Kruger. We can bathe you before or after lunch, it’s up to you – ”

“I don’t want to bathe,” he says, avoiding your gaze.

You blink at him, unsure how to respond. “Surely you must want to be clean – ”

He interrupts you again, muttering, “How can I, when I’m like this?”

You understand his hesitation now, not needing further explanation. Sometimes, patients with missing limbs have expressed concern submerging themselves in a tub full of water, not wanting to get their bandages wet. Quickly, you clarify, “It would be a sponge bath. We can do that while you’re lying in bed, actually. And your bandages will stay intact.”

This seems to be the answer he’s looking for. His expression relaxes when he says, “After. I want to do it after I eat.”

You smile softly at him, noting it on your checkboard. “Understand. I’ll go check on your meal now. Is there anything else you need from me?”

A beat passes before he replies, “Pen and paper. For letters.”

You write it, reminding yourself to bring it when you return with his meal. “Got it.”

A few minutes later, you return with a tray of food along with a wad of paper and two pens. You set it on his nightstand beside him, waiting for him to move it. When he doesn’t, staying still, staring blankly at the foot of the bed, you clear your throat. “Mr. Kruger?”

“I’m not hungry,” he murmurs.

“But you haven’t eaten all day. You need nourishment if you’re going to get any better.”

“And who says I want to get better?” He glares at you, startled by the intensity in his gaze.

You swallow hard, nervous, but still resilient. “You have to eat. You owe it to yourself after what you’ve been through.”

“And how would you know what I’ve been through?” His voice is steady, a hint of venom, barely enough to sting. But you’re determined. You sit at the edge of the bed, careful not to touch him. Reaching for the tray, you set it down on your lap, sighing. “I don’t know. I have no idea what war is like out there. All I know is that it’s not great for us here. At least out there, you’re fighting together as a unit. Marleyan, Eldian, it doesn’t matter. You’re working to defeat our enemy. And who knows? If we ever win the war, maybe life will be better for us here.” You shove the tray towards him, glaring back at him. “So the least you could do is try to see it through and survive, right?”

He studies you carefully, contemplating how to respond. Glancing at the tray in front of him, he smirks, scooping a spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth. You ease up, tension releasing from your shoulders.

After a few more bites, he speaks. “Who do you think the enemy is?”

Just when you thought you were in the clear, he asks you another question. “It was the Mid-East Allies. That’s who you fought at Fort Slava.”

“But who do you think the real enemy is?” He’s finished with his potatoes, now moving on to his meatloaf.

“Well, I suppose it’s whoever the government says it is.” You’re unsure what kind of answer he’s searching for.

“And if they say that we’re the enemy, then what?” He points between you, leaving you confused.

“We…?”

“Eldians. Devils.”

“No, no. The Devils are on the island. We’re…we’re not like them.”

“Are you sure?” He stuffs the rest of the meat into his mouth, chewing and swallowing it all down. “What makes you think you’re any better here than you are there?”

Your face feels hot now, and you start to stammer. “Because…because that’s what we were told. We’re on the right side. They’re on the wrong.”

His plate is nearly clean now. He slides his fingers on the remnants, licking it off before chugging half a glass of water. “What if I told you there’s a place for people like us? A place where you wouldn’t have to walk around with an armband. A place where you were treated fairly. Would you want to go to a place like that?”

You feel yourself drawn in by his words. The idea of it sounds impossible. Ever since you were born, you were taught to know your place in this world. That place was here in Marley, destined to be a second-class citizen. You were told that the island across the sea was full of devils like you, but because you’re here, you’re better. You can’t deny that you’ve been curious what life is like out there. All this time, you thought it must be worst, secluded on an island, hated by the rest of the world.

But is this life any better? Secluded in your own community and still hated by the rest of the world?

You pick the tray up from his lap, muttering, “I’ll go get your sponge bath ready.”

He doesn’t add anything else, watching you silently. You walk towards the door, ready to leave. Before you do, you say, “And to answer your question: I would.”

~~~

It was supposed to be innocent banter, that’s what Eren intended. He figured he could chalk it up to the trauma speaking for him, that she wouldn’t even be remotely interested in what he had to say. He thought she’d be like all the other naïve, brainwashed Eldians, ignorantly believing everything that was told to them. He realizes soon enough that he was wrong to underestimate her.

She comes to him every day, fulfilling her volunteer duties. Their daily routine begins with breakfast, then a morning stroll in his wheelchair out in the courtyard. Sometimes they’ll play chess at one of the tables, sometimes it’s checkers. Lunchtime comes, and then it’s time for a bath, one of Eren’s favorite parts of the day. Her hands are always gentle, gliding along his skin with a damp sponge. They’ll do another stroll outside, this time on his crutches, where he practices how to walk. Dinner arrives when it’s already dark out, and occasionally, he’ll ask her to read the latest news from the paper.

While all this happens, they talk. They talk a lot.

As expected, she figures out that Eren is from Paradis, though he bends the truth about his true intentions for being here. She doesn’t know about his Titan powers, thinking he’s a refugee seeking sanctuary here. Surprisingly, she isn’t offended about it; in fact, she’s curious. They spend most of their time together sharing stories of their childhood. Eren describes life in Paradis, she describes life in Marley. While there are stark differences between their upbringings, there are also blatant similarities. And together, they come to the gut-wrenching conclusion: Eldians are terrorized wherever they are, whether it’s here, or across the sea.

Eren has only sent one letter in the past two weeks, and that was to his friends back home, informing them that he is in Marley, safe and sound. He doesn’t disclose his plan to them yet. In all honestly, he’s not sure what the plan is anymore. Zeke still hasn’t found him, nor has Eren gone out of his way to be found. What Eren does know is that he enjoys spending time with the woman who helps him. So much that he’s losing grip on what he’s supposed to be doing here. He has to do something soon.

It comes to a head one night, three weeks after he was admitted to the hospital. Eren requests for another sponge bath after dinner; it was a hot day and he worked up a sweat during their afternoon walk. She helps him strip his shirt off, starting with the wet, warm sponge at his chest, massaging small circles onto his sticky skin. He watches her carefully, noticing her eyes lingering on his body more so than usual.

He speaks softly into her ear, leaning in close. “I have something to tell you.”

She continues above his waist, hands gently scrubbing, not bothering to look at him when she responds. “What is it, Eren?”

He’s thought about this all day. The plan. “Would you like to visit Paradis?”

This time, she does look at him, confused. “What?”

Louder now, and more confident, he says, “Come to Paradis with me. See what it’s like there.”

She scoffs. “I can’t just leave.”

“Why not?”

“Because this is my home.”

“They treat you like nothing here,” he argues. “At Paradis, you’re somebody. We can be safe at Paradis.”

She stops, tossing the sponge into the bucket of water beside her, frustrated. “Safe? After everything you’ve told me? You said it yourself; you’ve been terrorized by Titans since you were a kid. Every nation in the world wants Paradis gone. How can it be safe?”

He swallows thickly, gripping her hand delicately in his. “I can’t explain everything right now, but I have a plan. We have a plan.” He recalls one of the last memories he has of Armin, his brilliant friend, suggesting a small-scale Rumbling, enough to scare the rest of the world from attacking Paradis for centuries. He dismissed it quickly then, but now, he considers it. Could this be their best option? Instead of the billions of casualties Eren had originally devised? “You just have to trust me for now. Once we’re there, I can explain everything.”

She stares at him, clearly in shock from his suggestion. He doesn’t blame her. Eren is asking her to give up everything she knows.

“Eren,” she starts, squeezing his hand tighter. “I don’t know if I can do that.”

He smiles at her, brushing his thumb across her knuckles delicately. “I understand. I know it’s a big ask, and I shouldn’t have expected you to say yes. I just…I just think I know what I can do for Paradis to make it safe for people like us. Somewhere we can be ourselves, where people will know us for who we are, and not for what they see on our armbands.”

“It sounds like paradise,” she says quietly.

“It does. And I think I could make it that way. I know I can.”

She sighs, retrieving the sponge again. “I want to believe you, Eren. But I don’t think I can throw away my life for something I’m unsure of.” She starts to slide his pants off, ready to wash below his waist.

“Please, just consider it. I plan to leave soon, within the next few days. I just have to send out a letter tomorrow, and I should be ready to go.”

“You’re leaving? Already?”

“I know what I have to do now. I can’t waste any more time when we can end this war now.”

She peers at him, tears welling in her eyes. “I…”

“What is it?” He sits up, leaning in close to cup her cheek, brushing away her falling tears.

“Will we ever see each other again?” Her voice is trembling, lips quivering. His heart sinks into his stomach, seeing her like this.

He presses his forehead to hers. “I’ll find you when this is all over. I promise you. Whatever you do, don’t go anywhere near the shore, okay?” The small-scale Rumbling should only affect the fleets, which will be in the middle of the ocean, far from the shore. Still, he can’t risk anything happening to her. Not when he isn’t there to protect her.

She nods, not asking for any further explanation. He presses a small kiss to her forehead. “I’m going to do whatever it takes to bring us peace.”

~~~

Eren asks you to drop off a letter in the mailbox, addressed to someone named Azumabito. Apparently, she is an ally to Eldians who is stationed here in Marley, so she can arrange a ship for him to head back home.

There are still so many questions left unanswered, though you decide not to ask them. Maybe it’s foolish to trust someone you’ve only known for a month. But Eren has given you more truth about this harsh world that anyone else the entire time you’ve been here. And he’s the only one who’s ever promised you a better life.

Two days after you mailed the letters, you receive a response. It’s addressed to you, though you’re sure it’s meant for Eren. There’s a fancy insignia stamped to one corner of the envelope: a circle with a triangle in the center, formed by samurai swords. You keep it safe in your pocket as you head for the kitchen, ready to deliver Eren’s dinner.

He reads it when he’s finished with his meal. You watch as he scans the letter carefully, mouthing a few words under his breath. When he reaches the end, he looks up at you, a small grin on his face. “She’s arranged a ship for tomorrow morning, before sunrise.”

You gasp, surprised at how soon his departure is. “Tomorrow?”

He nods, folding the letter and tucking it beneath his pillow.

You let out a deep breath, unsure what else to say. Noticing your quiet demeanor, he reaches for your hand to hold it. “I know this is happening so fast. But I’ve never been more certain about what I need to do until now.” He interlocks his fingers with yours, smiling. “And you helped me with that.”

“Me? How?”

“By being you. By giving me a chance to explain myself. Even when you found out I was from Paradis, you didn’t judge me. You got to know me. It showed me that there are people, good people, on this side. That even in a ruthless place like this, there is beauty to be saved.”

You don’t say anything, throat too heavy with emotion to respond. Blinking away your tears, you take his tray from his lap, walking quickly to the door. Before you can leave, he asks, “Can you please come back to help me shave?”

Without turning to face him, you nod, exiting his room, stifling your sobs on your way down the hallway. Your heart yearns for more time with him. For the past few weeks, being here has been an escape from your painful reality. You’re not seen as an Eldian, you aren’t considered a second-class citizen. With him, you’re just you.

You know that you can’t keep him caged here forever. Like a bird, he’s ready to spread his wings. He’s ready to be free. While you’re heartbroken to see him leave, you’re thrilled for him to fulfill his destiny. All you can hope is that one day, you’ll be reunited in a better place than here.

You return to his room a couple of minutes later with everything you need to give him a close shave. His facial hair has grown out quite a bit since he arrived. You lather his face with a small amount of soap, scrubbing the suds off with a warm, wet towel. He closes his eyes, indulging in your relaxing touch. After mindful preparation, you begin to shave his goatee with a straight razor, pulling his skin taut, gliding the blade carefully across his chin, cleaning it after every stroke. When you’re done with his beard, you focus your attention on his mustache, delicately moving the razor until his skin is smooth and shaven. You smile as you wipe off any remaining residue with the towel.

With everything discarded into the bucket of water set on the nightstand, you take this time to admire his face, memorizing every detail. The flutter of his lashes, the bridge of his nose, the sharpness of his jawline, the plush of his lips. It’s only now that you realize how close to him you are. You’re kneeling beside him on the bed, noses almost touching, your fingers grazing his smooth skin. He opens his eyes to look at you, and his breath hitches at the intimacy, glancing at your mouth.

Before you can move, he closes the short distance, kissing you on the lips. As quickly as it happens, he pulls away, blushing. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I should have asked first. I’m sorry – ”

You cut him off with another kiss, hungry for more. It’s his last day; in mere hours from now, he’ll be gone, and you’re not sure when you’ll see him again, if ever. It’s crossed your mind many times by now, how it would feel to be with him like this. The feeling of his lips on yours, the slide of his tongue in your mouth, the taste of his spit. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you’ve never thought about it. In fact, it’s been on your mind every night as you fall asleep, wishing you were in his arms instead of alone in your bed.

He doesn’t pull away this time, sinking in deeper, slipping inside your mouth to swirl his tongue with yours. He’s just as sweet as you fantasized he’d be, luscious and rich in your mouth. His skin is smooth against your fingertips, tracing his jawline. One hand slides around your waist, tugging you closer to him, the other wraps around the nape of your neck, holding your head steady. You swing one leg over him, straddling his lap, hoisting the hem of your dress past your hips, revealing your panties. He moans, shifting beneath you in the bed to slip his trousers down, displaying his erection bulging in his underwear.

“Is this okay?” he huffs, catching his breath. His voice wavers, his only visible eye half-lidded with arousal, unable to keep his cool.

“Yes,” you answer, grinding yourself on him, kissing him sloppily. His grip is on your hips, guiding you to rut against his cock faster. The friction between you is enough to make you wet, your slick soaking through the fabric.

“You’re an angel,” he whispers, dragging your bottom lip between his teeth. “I want to make you feel good.” His thumb teases the elastic of your waistband, hand slipping inside to rub your clit against his fingers.

“Eren,” you moan, his sensual touch sending waves of pleasure through your body. He slowly slides two digits inside you, massaging your bud with his palm while he pumps his fingers into your sopping cunt. His cock is stiff beneath you, watching you ride his hand, cursing under his breath until you reach your climax, coating him in your arousal.

You’re breathing heavily, in a daze from your orgasm. He removes his hand from you, slipping it past his underwear to jerk his cock. You reach for him, tugging his bottoms down his legs, replacing his fist with yours, stroking him eagerly. He whispers your name, bucking his hips in tandem with your movements. You’re aching for more, desperate to feel him inside you, feel him deeper. You position yourself correctly, pulling the crotch of your panties to the side to tease the head of his cock up and down your folds. He sits up on his elbows, watching you with a nervous expression on his face. “Are you sure?” he asks.

You nod, smiling at him. “I’m sure. I want to be close to you, Eren.”

He swears, letting his head fall back into the pillows, staring up at the ceiling. You sink down on him, his dick stretching you out smoothly, still sleek from your previous orgasm. He moans, craning his neck to take in the lewd sight before him. “Oh my god,” he groans, thrusting his hips into you.

You ride him slowly, his entire length filling you up to the brim. He plants his feet into the mattress to fuck you deeper, the metal frame creaking with every thrust. It doesn’t take long until you’re both coming together. He shoots his load inside you while you gush all over him, creating a wet mess between you that you couldn’t care less about in the euphoric state you’re in. You lift off him, rolling to his side, relaxing into the pillow with him beside you, cradling you in his arms. He gives you a smooch on the cheek, nuzzling his nose with yours. “I meant what I said earlier.”

“What?”

“You really are an angel,” he says, smiling at you.

~~~

Eren wakes up alone, and he’s almost convinced that it was all a dream until he spots the small note scribbled on paper laying his nightstand.

It’s too hard to say goodbye, so I won’t. I trust you to keep your promise. We’ll see each other again soon.

With daybreak approaching, Eren leaves for the docks quickly with only the clothes on his back and letters in his pocket, including hers. With sunrise teasing the horizon, he makes it to the meeting place just in time. He recognizes Azumabito and greets her, explaining the situation as they board the ship. She informs him that they are waiting for several other passengers, so he makes himself comfortable by a window.

A few minutes pass and one of the crew approaches him. “Mr. Jaeger, there is a woman trying to board, claiming they are with you. Do you know anything about this?”

He glances out the window towards the docks and to his shock, he sees an angel with a suitcase in hand, talking to Azumabito. His heart races, overjoyed as he jumps out of his seat, sprinting out of the ship to meet her.

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