Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Torture. Sacrifice. Pain. Death. Destruction. 

These things have been a part of his life for as long as he can remember. 

He grew up on a foundation of sorrow and suffering, both his own and that of those around him. His mother, friends, Kenny, and everyone he has ever fought. For in order to make your way up you have to claw and trample all those who stand in your way, proving yourself only through resilience and a sense of perseverance that knows little morals. 

And that's exactly what he did. It's part of how he found himself with such a position as 'Captain' within the Scout Regiment. 

He's seen more people die than he can count, hell he has sent even more to their deaths, and, at some point, all the blood coating his hands began to dull his sense of morality in order to make the things he has to do, easier. 

And as he looks down at his hands now, he wonders when it became so easy for him to remove a mans nails; to tie him up and beat him until he's begging and pleading for mercy. 

In the moment while he cracked his fingers and left his nail beds red and raw he felt absolutely nothing. All he wanted, needed, was to get what he could out of this Sannes regarding Pastor Nick, the plans of the royal family, and the secrets of The Walls, so his actions bore no weight for a while after. 

It isn't until he's alone, having been dismissed for the night, that the guilt begins its suffocating dance within his head. 

It begins during dinner as he stares down at his stew, the murky brown liquid reminding him of the dark blood dripping from Sannes's hands. 

In the darkness of the stone room that thick crimson looked even darker, like dying Chocolate Cosmos pools. If he were to step in it would he fall straight through? Would he drown in all the blood he's spilled over the years? 

The scout leader pushes away his bowl and mutters something about having no appetite, ignoring Hanji's protests easily (ignoring her is something he's gotten rather good at). 

Levi's gaze sweeps the table, over the faces of those around him, but all he can see is a future of death; dull, lifeless eyes that tell him just how much of a piece of shit he really is. 

He adverts his gaze when your eyes meet his and leaves without another word, feeling your stare piercing into him while he makes his retreat. 

The dark-haired man wanders for a good hour or so, aimlessly patrolling the halls in search of sneaking recruits or rule breakers, but he only manages to catch one sly newbie trying to slip into the kitchen unnoticed. 

He gets on his case but all he's really thinking about is how he's going to get that kid killed sometime in the near future. 

It's after this that he finally decides to resign for the night, hoping to ward off these day-horrors with some sleep. Only, it doesn't quite work, but that's none too surprising. 

The rustling of his blanket as he whips from side to side and constantly readjusts his bedspread can be heard down the damn hall, he's sure everyone in the building can hear it which prompts his eventual surrender to a wakeful night. 

Levi lights a candle next to his bed and sits there cross-legged for a time, staring blankly ahead to avoid those images that play behind his eyelids every time he closes his eyes. 

With a frustrated grunt he throws his blanket off and abruptly stands, swiping the burning wax candle to guide him through the halls once more. 

He doesn't consider what he's going to do for the rest of the night before his feet carry him down the hall and towards your room. 

It isn't until he's right outside your door that he actually realizes where exactly he is, and, as if driven insane by a lack of sleep and sustenance, he actually raises his fist and knocks on the hardwood. 

"Come in." A distracted voice calls in response to his impulsive actions. 

A few seconds pass by that feel like years; he could always just turn around and retreat before you can get to the door, unseen and unheard, but, for some reason, he finds that he can't. 

Annoyed at his own indecisiveness, Levi puffs an annoyed sigh and opens the door, expecting to see you half-asleep on your bed. 

Only, you're not. 

You are in your bed, that's a fact, but instead of laying back and resting you're propped up against the wall with a book in hand, the flickering light of your own taper illuminating the room. 

There is no reaction from you at first when the door opens and reveals Levi, disheveled and in his pajamas, but when it does finally hit you, you slam your book shut and begin to scramble to your feet. 

He says your name with a bit of a sigh and grumbles, "At ease. It's after dark, you know. I don't expect you of all people to..." He doesn't finish his thought as his eyes catch onto the flame dancing upon the charred wick of your candle, images of your fiery death making his mind numb. 

When he doesn't finish his thought you butt in, asking in a confused but also soft voice, "Is everything okay, Levi?" 

You figured something was up with him considering his sudden refusal to eat at dinner, he rarely does that, but you never thought you'd see him this disturbed looking at your door at night. 

Yes, you've seen him at night plenty of times (in more ways than one) but this sight is just troublesome. It tugs at your fragile heartstrings and makes you want to console him; something he would probably scoff at you for. 

"I..." He can't get any words out, honestly not too sure what the deal is himself, and it shows. 

You bite your lip and silently deliberate over your options, and, after a moment, you offer for him to join you. 

"You can come in. Here, have a seat." You say. 

As if he were waiting for a proper invitation he steps in further and closes the door carefully, approaching your bedside in silence. 

"Here." You reach out and pluck the handled candle holder from his hands and place it next to your own, crossing your legs over each other as you pat a spot in front of you for him to sit. 

Once again he heeds your encouragement and settles in the spot you offered. 

You're not quite sure if you should talk or not, still unclear on his reason for being here, but eventually you lean forward a bit and try to catch his eye and break the silence. 

"Do want to talk? We don't have to, you can just stay here if that's what you want." 

As curious as you are there's no way in hell you're gonna force answers out of him, because you know very well how quickly that can make him shut down and cut you off completely. 

"I suppose the issue here is that I'm not quite sure what I want to say." He mutters after a while, sounding equally exhausted and perturbed. 

He's never anxious, but here you can see the slight tremble to his hands and the faraway look in his eyes. 

"You can start with telling me why you're here?" You offer, smoothing your blankets of creases. 

"How am I supposed to do that when I don't even know myself?" He asks slightly harshly, immediately softening his tone when he realizes that he's letting his anger out on you, "I'm just having a tough time. It's pathetic." 

His fingers clench around the fabric of your wooly blanket as those images play behind his eyes once more, mixtures of things that could be and have been. 

Noticing this you slowly reach over and ghost your fingers along the back of his hand, countenance relaxed and understanding. "Why are you having a tough time, do you think?" 

This time Levi doesn't respond, he only looks down at your hand and studies the slow movements with unfocused eyes. 

"Here, I'll try an easier question." You begin, placing your palm over his hand, "Can I touch you?" 

He says your name with frustration and snatches his hand away as if your skin burned his own, "Damn it, that's not why I'm here-"

"Not like that, Levi. Trust me, that's not on the list of things you need right now." 

"Then... then what?" He inquires, sounding much less gruff this time around. 

Jesus, this man needs a hug. 

"Well if you say yes then I'll just show you." You don't really know how to explain it, what you're aiming to do and accomplish, which is why you're hoping he'll just say yes and let you give your theory a test. 

"Yes?"

You can practically hear the patience draining out of him, so you take his consent and run with it before he can change his mind and flee. 

You reach up with both hands and wrap them around his neck, pulling his head down to rest against your sternum carefully. 

It's a simple touch, a simple comforting gesture, but it catches Levi off guard. 

The Captain doesn't move, practically frozen to this spot as he tries to process what you're doing. 

The two of you have been intimate before, but this, this odd feeling of comfort is different from everything else; it's different from those passionate, fleeting moments where both of you just need to forget, because instead you're inviting him to show something more. To express his troubles and make peace. 

You close your eyes and lean back until your head presses against the wall, the digits of your right hand carefully running through those silky black tresses of his. 

As if possessed, he actually scoots closer and slowly raises his arms to wrap them around your middle, something you welcome and encourage with a slight squeeze to the back of his neck. 

This, whatever this is, feels nice. No, it feels more than nice. It feels amazing in a way he never knew he could feel outside of brief sexual contact or triumph over something that bothers him. 

He's not stupid, of course, he knows what cuddling and hugs and shit are, but he can't recall the last time he's felt such a tender embrace with no ulterior motives. 

You're here hugging him because you think he needs it, not in the hope that he'll do something for you or pay you back, and it makes that horrible weight on his chest feel just a bit lighter. 

He responds so easily to your caresses that you find yourself planting a delicate kiss to the top of his head without a moment to think better of it, and, to distract from this embarrassing action, you lightly scrape your nails along his scalp in what you hope is a comforting gesture. 

You feel more-so than hear his content sigh, his breath fanning out across your chest through your thin night shirt, which sets your skin alight with goosebumps. 

That's how the two of your sit for god knows how long, a pleasant silence stretching out through the room, and it gives Levi a good amount of time to release his woes and relax his tension. He takes all the comfort from your gesture that he possibly can, attaching himself to you as he drags this moment out for all its worth. 

Eventually, though, your legs do start to fall asleep, and despite your best efforts to ignore the slightly uncomfortable feeling, your mind just won't shut the fuck up about it. 

Very slowly you shift your legs, hoping not to disturb him or break this calm spell between the two of you, but the moment he feels the movement he releases you and sits back up. 

He directs his attention to your blanketed legs and watches as you stretch them out in front of you, hearing the quiet pop of your knees as you get more comfortable, but he doesn't move to do much else after that. He just watches.  

"That wasn't a subtle hint to get you off of me, I'll let you know." You clarify after the fuzziness in your limbs starts to fade. "My legs were just going numb." 

Levi's gaze slides back up to your face, the weariness and hidden anguish lessened and replaced with a sleepy droop. 

Wowie, he sure does look cute, you find yourself thinking, the very thought making your skin heat up. 

While he doesn't say or show anything outwardly, he does feel an immense sense of relief since he actually was concerned that his child-like clinging was beginning to bother you. Shockingly to him, he feels the urge to ask for more of what you were offering, but he doesn't know how he should do it, much less if he even should in the first place. 

Almost as if you could read his mind or sense his hesitation you lift your cover and shimmy further down in the blankets, a silent offering for him to hop in and stay longer if he so desires. 

The brooding man doesn't move to accept or deny the place in your bed at first, he simply looks at the empty spot next to you; it's practically calling his name. 

You almost make a short joke regarding there being plenty of space for the both of you but ultimately think better of it when he finally moves and slides under the covers next to you. 

The blanket plops down on his chest when you let it go and fold your hands on your lap uncertainly, not sure if he actually wants you to hold him again or not (something you 100% don't mind doing). 

"Can you-" Levi begins, clearing his throat when his voice comes out with a slight waver, "Can you..." He can't quite seem to say it; to voice what he wants. 

It's the mental conditioning no doubt. Emotions and weakness are terrible vices that get you killed or taken advantage of, something that he's always had to deal with alone in the seclusion of his own room or far off in the woods somewhere. The mere thought of being any more vulnerable than he is right now is enough to halt him from putting his desires into words and actions, but, luckily, you get the hint. 

Taking his broken hints as a go-ahead you shift away from the wall and right next to him, laying your head down on his shoulder and wrapping one of your arms around his back as a start. 

For a moment he doesn't move or even breath really, and then, as if something inside of him finally snapped, he turns fully and tightly winds both arms around you, pulling you right up against him. 

As soon as he wraps himself around you and drags you down to lay on your side, you slide your hands up and place them around the back of his neck and squeeze him lightly. You dip your head and press your forehead against his lightly, eyes closed so you can't see the expression he's making. 

It's kind of a strange position at first until one of his knees finds itself between your own, followed by his other leg being thrown over the three tangled limbs. 

Honestly, the pair of you are just a big jumbled mess of arms and legs, like two koalas clinging to a eucalyptus tree for dear life; only, you're both the tree to the others koala it seems. 

A good short while passes by where you both just stare ahead at your respective walls, not saying or doing much else apart from feeling one another, but it's eventually broken by Levi's tired and slightly grumbly voice. 

"Can I stay the night?" 

He's never stayed the night before, much less come to your room at this time for anything apart from less PG-13 activities, but in this moment you find yourself puffing out a soft laugh at the question. 

His heart sinks at your laughter, but your response lifts it back up even higher. 

"Of course. Any time you like..." You try to fight the creeping edge of emotion in your voice and internally pray that he didn't notice, but if he did, he doesn't mention it either. 

"Thank you." 

This time when Levi closes his eyes, slowly succumbing to the ever calling sleep, he doesn't see any images of mangled corpses or strewn about limbs and other various body-parts, because you're holding him together, and he's equal parts holding you together as well. 

His grip tightens around you as his consciousness begins to slip, and before he knows it he's being sucked into a dark void of restful sleep. 

---

Light has just barely began to pour through the curtains in your room when Levi's eyes flutter open, a slight movement next to him disturbing the peace. 

When nothing else moves for a few beats he allows his eyes to close once more, hoping to steal just another hour of sleep before getting along with his day, but the feeling of a pressure on his chest and restriction of the hand resting on his stomach is much too difficult to ignore. 

He peeks down with one eye at the warm mass beside, and slightly on top of, him and is immediately met with the sight of your disheveled hair and sleepy face. 

You aren't looking at him, rather at the motionless intertwined hands resting on his stomach. 

The dark-haired Captain watches you while you watch your hands, silently observing the peaceful look on your face that lacks all thoughtfulness. 

It's like you're just looking for the hell of it, not thinking about what it is, how it feels or what it means, and, he realizes after a moment, that he's basically doing the same thing. Looking at you with a blank but content face that both exposes nothing but everything at the same time. 

"Did you sleep well?"

Your voice suddenly breaks the silent spell and manages to catch him off guard, not having realized that you were aware of his state of wakefulness. 

"Did you?" He counters without hesitation, still not moving to release your hand or get up. 

"Answering a question with a question first thing in the morning? I expected better from you, Levi." You say softly, a small smile climbing upon your face. 

He scoffs good-naturedly and shifts his gaze to the ceiling, fighting off his own little simper as he considers how he'll respond. 

"I'm surprised I didn't fall off the bed," he begins, adding right after, "These beds weren't made to be spacious." 

Ah, now is the perfect time to employ that short joke from last night. 

"Oh, I don't think that's something you and I have to worry about. I mean y-" 

"If you know what's good for you, you won't finish that thought." He knew exactly where you were going with that, and while he is, in fact amused, he prefers to keep the air calm for now. 

Soft laughter puffs past your lips and fans out across his pajama-ed chest, and he finds that he can't quite hold back the upturn of his lips this time around. 

"Alright, I won't, I won't." You reply, releasing his hand so you can sit up and get a better look at him. "How are you feeling?" 

He looks up at your face and observes the way your eyebrows knit together in concern and your teeth stress at your bottom lip; something about the way you look right now is very alluring, so much so that it's almost reflexive when he reaches up and brushes his finger tips along your cheek. 

Instantly upon his touch does your face erupt with hot embarrassment, a coy and slightly anxious smile brightening your face. 

The way you look now, bathed in the early morning light, clothes crumpled and hair slightly tousled from sleep, takes his breath away. 

Never has he woken up to such a wonderful sight, much less been asked about how he's feeling after a rough night like the last, and it does things to his heart. Unexplainably wonderful things that he misses before it's even gone. 

The look you give him tells him all he needs to know: that you're here and willing to give so much that he didn't want before, but now, in this moment, he realizes that he does want it. He wants you, your warmth and your company, and he expresses it all in one little phrase. 

"I feel... good." 

Chapter Text

Oh how dreadful it must be to bear the weight of 'Titan Transformer' in a group full of skeptical, mistrusting, and trigger-happy men and women. 

You've seen the toll all this is taking on Eren's soul, seen how much pressure he puts on himself to preform perfectly at every opportunity, and you find that you don't envy his position in the slightest. 

Of course as painful as it is to see him struggling so, good thoughts and a nice heart aren't enough to keep you from seeing it. 

After obtaining an injury during The Battle of Trost you were decommissioned for the weeks following your decision to join the Scouts and given the job of 'Hanji's lab assistant' until you could finally be useful again in other things. 

It's really just a simple break-fracture-thing in your fibula, but it's enough to put you in quite a bit of pain and to keep you out of most chores. 

While not having to do any chores or kitchen duty is something most recruits and full-time scouts would kill for, it's something you don't much prefer at all because of the nature of your 'assistant work.' 

Really it's just busy work, but Hanji is adamant that your notes and conversations with Eren are vital, and while you don't have the guts to disagree or gall to talk back, you still find yourself dreading the disappointed look in his eyes each time he talks about the way the government has treated him or how he wasn't able to do this or that. 

After all he did for this god forsaken place you'd think people would treat him with a bit more respect, but instead he's treated as if he's some sort of unhinged guard dog that you need but that might also snap at any moment. 

He's not crazy or particularly irresponsible (with his gift at least), so why treat him like this? Why lock him up at night and poke and prod him like some sort of lab project? 

Okay, to be fair you don't know all the in's and outs or reasonings behind all their actions, but from where you're standing it seems pretty damn unfair; especially since you can see how hard he's trying, how much he wants to help everyone and keep you all safe. 

And this morning is no different. 

Walking up to that huge hole in the ground and seeing him covered in blood made your insides churn and head a little woozy, but you couldn't bring yourself to turn away either. 

The fleshy red bite-marks, the crimson waterfalls streaming down his chin, the defeated, frantic look in his eyes... all of it makes you feel unimaginably angry- no, not angry, sullen; frustrated; straight up unhappy. 

How he manages to climb back up to ground level with his hands like that is beyond you, but as soon as he's within grabbing distance you hobble over and grab his arm, helping him up even if he doesn't particularly need it. 

"Ah, geez. Are you alright? They're healing, right?" You ask worriedly, adjusting your crutch beneath your arm after releasing him. 

He looks a little annoyed because of your harping, something you're used to by now with the way Mikasa treats him, but he doesn't have the heart to tell you to knock it off since you're still injured yourself. 

Instead he just grunts out a 'no' and walks with you towards the table set up outside with food for you all. 

"It's not healing?" You try to clarify, not quite sure what this could mean. 

"No... not this time." 

"Oh... well, come with me and we'll bandages those bites then, okay?" It's more of a demand than a request, but you form it as a question to maintain politeness. 

He sighs but doesn't deny your offer for help, because, let's be real here, it hurts like a bitch. 

You take him over to the little first-aid kit and take a seat on the ground, stretching your sore leg out in front of you as you begin to dig through the box in search of some ointment and gauze. 

Eren sits down next to you and just waits, watching your concentrated face fondly while attempting to ignore the throbbing and burning in his hands. 

He realizes that he quite likes how you look in the sunlight, yellow rays shining on your face and hair, illuminating all your best features and giving you a lovely sparkle to your eyes. 

The way you focus so intently on even the smallest task, how you nibble your bottom lip and express yourself through your eyebrows, hell even the way you're sitting with one leg stretched out and the other tucked underneath you is endearing. 

He comes to the conclusion that you're cute, very cute, which brings a slightly red hue to his cheeks. 

Once you've got what you're looking for you set the little box aside and hold out your hand, looking at him expectantly. 

The brown-haired boy stares at your offered hand then glances up at your face, dumbly unaware of what you're asking for as if he's forgotten the whole point of coming over here.

"Your hands, Eren." You inform him patiently, smiling sweetly in what you hope is a reassuring way. "I promise I'll be gentle." 

The blushing boy nods his head and places his left hand in your outstretched one, feeling slightly embarrassed that he didn't process the situation despite how obvious your intentions are; how you straight up told him you were gonna help wrap up his hands. 

You don't make fun of him, of course, you just carefully apply some of the ointment to his red suffering skin and allow it to settle for a moment before applying the bandages. 

With careful consideration, you raise his hand up closer to your face and lightly blow on the ointment spread along the wounds, hoping to speed up the 'settling' process so you can get that white paper on him ASAP. 

He jumps slightly when the puff of air reaches his skin and he feels his face heat up all over again despite the flames of coyness finally dying down, so he turns away and prays that you won't look at him. If you notice him blushing like some sort of love-struck child then you'll surely laugh at him, or maybe even tease him a little... which wouldn't be totally terrible but he'd still rather you didn't.

A couple moments pass before you're satisfied with the state of the ointment, and once you are your deft fingers begin to wrap and wind the gauze around his hands to both prevent and halt any bleeding now or in the future. 

"Alright, your other hand please." You demand, placing his own hand in his lap as if he's unable to move it himself. 

Eren nods once and surrenders his hand once more, less tense this time as you apply the ointment, blow, and wrap it up. 

This whole process takes only 5 or so minutes, and when you're done with his other hand you pause. 

Instead of letting it go, you raise it up to your face once more and plant a kiss right where his knuckles should be, feather soft and ghost like touch-wise. You don't want to risk adding too much pressure, but you couldn't help the sign of affection either. 

When you were younger and you got hurt you mom would always give you a kiss to 'make it feel better,' and while it doesn't physically work, it does wonders for the mind. 

"There. It should be all better now." You chime sweetly, looking up at his face to gauge his reaction. 

That lovely hue of pink settles upon his cheeks once more and even spreads to his ears; it's a sight that draws a laugh from you, though it's a fond one. 

"Oh, you're really cute." You find yourself saying before you can stop yourself, immediately going warm yourself once you realize your filter has failed you. 

"Y-You think I'm cute?" He asks in a slightly too high-pitched voice, looking at you with wide, slightly surprised eyes. 

Well, this is awkward. 

You clear your throat and look away, reaching up to cup your cheek and feel the heat seep into your slightly cold hands, "Would you believe me if I took it back and said no?" 

"No." He replies quickly, a grin beginning to tug at his lips despite his previous sheepishness. It's almost as if your own shy demeanor was enough to punch confidence back within him despite his red face, "Tell me more about how 'really cute' I am, hm?" 

Oh lord you did not sign up for this. You didn't mean to say that, and here he is teasing you! 

"W-Well I, um, you see the thing is-" you cut yourself off and shake your head, bringing your other hand up to fully hide your face from view, "Er, I, well I do think you're cute but- I mean I don't, well not that you're ugly but I definitely don't- I didn't mean-" 

Without further prompting Eren bursts out laughing and shakes his head, forgetting his filter this time. 

"You're even cuter." 

Once he realizes what he said he stops laughing and immediately regrets it, because now you're both just two blushing fools sitting on the ground giggling and laughing like you haven't a care in the world. 

And, well, it's actually pretty nice now that he thinks about it. Not having to think about all this titan business for a while, ignoring the searing pain in his hands and just relaxing, doing what people your age should be doing: living normal lives. 

Well this isn't exactly normal, he'll admit, but it's the closest thing to normal either of you have experienced in the last three or so years. 

The two of you sit in silence for all of five seconds before you both relax and start to laugh again, this time together instead of at each other. 

The giggles and guffaws run their course, and, once you're both calm again and catching your breath you speak. 

"Oh, we're a mess..." You breathe, shoving the first-aid materials back into their box.

Eren grins in response and leans forward so that your faces are much closer, mere inches apart, "Thank you." 

"T-Thank you?" You repeat dumbly, owlishly wide eyes blinking in his direction since you aren't quite sure how to react to this close proximity. 

"For this-" He raises his hands to eye-level to make his point, "It feels better already." 

Ah, you see. 

A shy scoff passes your lips and you advert your gaze, unsure how to deal with his gratitude. "It's nothing... your titan healing has probably just kicked in is all." 

The brown-haired cadet doesn't reply at first, too busy studying your bashful expression, but when he does his voice is sweet as honey. 

"No, I'm sure it's because you kissed it better for me." 

"N-No way!" You shake your head in an attempt to ward away the hotness climbing up your neck, but it doesn't really work. "It was just a reflex- my mom always did it for me." 

Eren drops his hands back to his lap and cocks his head to the side slightly, curiosity sparkling in his emerald eyes. 

"What is your mom like?" 

His question catches you off guard, both the sudden subject change and shift in atmosphere practically giving you mental whiplash. 

"My... my mom?" You say it thoughtfully, gaze gliding back to his while you try to determine what you should share.

"She... she was a very lovely woman." You begin, a slightly sad undertone ringing in your voice at the word 'was'. "She took really good care of me; tucked me into bed at night, sang for me when I asked, and she used to wrap up my little cuts and scrapes just like this." You hold only fond memories of her, the poor ones fading with time as all you have left of her is what you can recall. "One time in specific, I was climbing a huge tree in our yard that she told me many many times to stay out of, and, as she predicted, I fell one time. I scraped my knees so bad, there was blood everywhere, and, well, she brought me inside and wrapped it up. I asked her if it would ever heal, and she just gave it a kiss and said 'It'll heal even faster if I kiss it better." It's stupid, I know, but when you're so young like that... well..." 

You didn't even realize you were rambling on until you ran out of things to say following your little story, and right away you feel sheepish at having been carried away. 

"She... she sounds like she was an excellent person; a wonderful mom." Eren whispers after a while, reaching forward to place his bandaged hand over yours. "Kind of reminds me of mine, actually." 

That comment brings a smile to your abashed face, and he mirrors it easily. 

"I guess we both got really lucky, huh? With our moms." You say in a small voice, looking at his hand over yours. 

"Very lucky." He agrees. 

You run out of things to say after that, unsure of how to further this conversation without making yourself or Eren sad; so, you wrap your fingers carefully around his healing hand and bring it back up to your lips, leaving a feather soft kiss to the gauze like before. 

"So it'll get better faster." You explain, not feeling shy or embarrassed this time around. 

Eren seems to have gotten over his coyness as well, because his smile is much more mischievous this time around. 

"I can think of a better place for you to-" 

"Oi, brats! The hell are you doing over there?" Captain Levi's voice breaks the comfortable spell and has you both jumping away from each other like frightened cats, matching guilty expressions on both of your faces. "In case you didn't realize, it's meal time. Get your asses over here." 

The dark-haired captain stalks away after saying his piece, but you two stay glued to your spots, mortified. 

And then Eren begins to laugh. 

"What's so funny?" You growl, getting up to your feet unsteadily. "We just got yelled at." 

He doesn't reply right away since he's still recovering from his laughter, and when he does he gasps out, "The captain really has wonderful timing! Great!"

Oh lord, it seems the captain may have broken him. 

"I think the blood loss is getting to your head. Come on, let's get some food in you." You shuffle closer and grab his arm, 'helping' him to his feet even with your one good leg. 

His wrist is warm against your palm as you drag him in the direction of the outdoor meal table, the warmth of the sun being its only rival in this moment. Maybe, you find yourself thinking, after he heals you'll be able to feel the warmth of his hand instead. 

You don't get very far because he plants his feet firmly in the ground, tugging you back towards himself carefully. He does have a goal in mind but he doesn't want to knock you off your feet or hurt you in any way. 

"Thank you," he repeats, saying your name with a smile, "Really." 

This sudden gratitude in the middle of your retreat to meal time was unexpected, but you don't deny it this time and return it with a smile. 

"Any time, Eren." 

Chapter Text

When Head Instructor Keith Shadis first informed the 104th regiment that you would be maintaining a regiment-wide garden there were many silent groans, invisible eye rolls, and hidden complaints later in the evening. 

It serves to both supply the kitchen with food (should it bear any results) and also teach you all a thing or two about responsibility and the meaningfulness of working for what you consume. 

There were many who didn't like the idea, much less the fact that they had to do it in the first place, but where there are doubters there are also believers. 

Most thought it dumb, but a select few like Krista, Sasha, Bertholdt, and yourself all seemed to enjoy it quite a bit. 

The garden bears no weight on your final ranking in the training, but Shadis kept a close eye to see who participated properly and who didn't, rewarding those who did with leniency on chores and such. It's almost like an extra credit assignment, one that you find to be relaxing and fun. 

You aren't quite sure how it happened, but you ended up taking care of the majority of the planter boxes in your area by yourself, not wanting to see the plants die because their guardians had no interest in nurturing them. 

Of course, you don't blame any one for not wanting to take part since even you struggle to find the necessity of it, but just because you question its logic doesn't mean that you can't like it. It's like a little escape into a world of your own control and design, untouched by others (because they don't care) and entirely your own. I mean, you practically own the other 3 boxes in your area, so you always get first dibs on the best tomatoes, carrots, and salad veggies. 

Sasha helps you quite a bit, wanting to dig into those ready to eat foods without anyone to stop her, but, as she must be constantly reminded, the food is for everyone, not just those who planted it. But then, so does Krista. Her love for things that grow and desire to help others drew her to this gardening job, and you were more than happy to have some help with the weeds and things. Bertholdt was assigned to a different planting area from you so you two didn't really work together, but his little square seemed to be flourishing just fine as well, and occasionally you'll help each other out just for the hell of it.

Your section is by far the most successful of them all, what with your and the girls combined efforts, but you do sometimes wish that the others (Mikasa, Eren, Armin, Jean, Connie) would participate a bit more. 

As fun as it is, all this work cuts into your free time. 

Yes, you have no obligation to continue caring for the garden, but the benefits both from the leadership and mentally are too great to let down. 

The compliments are also pretty nice too being as there have been many occasions where your plentiful tomatoes will serve as a side or appear on salads alongside someone else's efforts, but is the constant grind really worth such minimal reward? You aren't sure. 

At the very least you keep moving forward to maintain the one thing in this damn base you can actually control, feeling so powerless in your normal life knowing that every day brings you closer to the titans. 

These thoughts bring you to rip harder at the weeds invading your beautiful space, loathing how they leech off of your lovely wards and steal their nutrients. 

The black, damp soil crumbles and gives beneath your strong yanks, releasing the unwanted pests and their roots all in one go; sometimes you forget how strong you've become with all the hard labor and training. 

Some dirt flies onto your face and gets stuck there, but you merely wipe at it with your shoulder and go back in at the various inedible greens that don't belong there. 

Oh, if only you could grow more flowers. 

Because of your devotion to the craft and mothership over the entire block, Shadis allowed you to grow a one foot square of whatever you wanted, and you chose to grow a small patch of nasturtiums. They're small, pretty, and very edible. They go well with the salads, and Shadis seemed to appreciate your attention to usefulness within your chosen reward. 

Originally you wanted to grow roses. Beautiful, fragrant, and also edible, but the bushes are much too big, and they tend to bully other plants. Whats the point of something lovely if it destroys everything else wonderful to get to such a marvelous state? No, you couldn't have that, so you settled fro nasturtiums. 

Sweat has begun to bead at your forehead, trailing down your skin in long, uninterrupted lines while you continue to break up and yank out the unwanted weeds, and your focus makes it so that you don't notice the person kneeling just beside you. 

It isn't until you've snatched the last bit of undergrowth that you realize the gorgeous Mikasa is next to you, looking at the pretty orange and yellow bulbs beginning to bloom in your flower square. 

"These are lovely." She whispers, keeping her gaze trained on the nasturtium patch. 

A surprised inhale is your response, your head snapping in her direction. 

How did she manage to sneak up on your like that with all the gravel beneath your feet? It causes a terrible racket, but not for her, apparently. 

Kneeling there with her hands on the side of the planter box and hair framing her face, she reminds you of the darkest Black Dahlia you've ever seen. 

Her hair resembles the petals, and her face is the sharp, but lovely, light inside. 

"M-Mikasa." You breathe, glancing down at the flowers that caught her attention. "I'm glad you like them..." 

"Yes, I noticed them in the salad last night and wondered where they came from all of a sudden. I guess this is my answer." Finally her dark gaze flickers over to you, her eyes soft and expression somehow softer despite her usually blank and sharp appearance. "They're peppery." 

You can feel your face getting warmer as she compliments (at least you think it's a compliment) your work, and you only manage to nod your head in acknowledgement. 

"Did you...," she trails off as her eyes catch the sight of the 4 flourishing boxes around you, "Did you do all this yourself?" 

"No... not myself. I had some help from Krista and Sasha." 'Some help' really means a check in a few times a week to pluck some weeds and help harvest some produce, but just because it's small doesn't mean you don't appreciate it. 

"So by yourself then." She hums, nodding her head along as she lightly touches the sunshine-like petal of a blooming zucchini plant. 

Well if that's how she wants to see it then you won't correct her. 

A silence, mostly comfortable, stretches out between you two; her watching the plants and you watching her, until eventually you grow weary of the quiet and decide to break it. 

"What brings you here?" You finally ask, leaning back with your heels pressing into your haunches. 

The lovely, flower-like girl turns fully towards you with a suddenly intense expression, seemingly thirsting for some sort of knowledge or direction. 

"Why do you do it?" Is all she says. 

Your eyelids flutter as you blink a few times, unable to compute exactly what she's asking you. 

"H-Huh?" 

"Why do you do it? Tend to the plants, grow the tomatoes, weed the garden- why?" She pauses for you to speak, and when you don't she continues, "A lot of people think it's ridiculous that you pour so much time and effort into it, because we aren't being graded by it at all. You get some benefits, we see that, but lax chores and some compliments hardly seem worth it to me." 

The brutal honesty is something you expected, but what you didn't expect was the fact that people talk about your garden; your effort. 

"I didn't realize it was so ridiculous to want tomatoes with dinner." You comment dryly, a little defensive even though you know you have no reason to be ashamed.

Mikasa says nothing, she just stares at you, silently willing you to answer her question properly.

When the silence begins to reach awkward territory you heave a sigh of defeat and yield, opting to explain yourself properly. 

"I don't know. If I were Krista I'd probably say it's because I want everyone to enjoy a heartfelt meal, or if I were Sasha it'd be because I wanna eat as much as I can before it goes to the kitchens... but, I don't really care about either of those things." You begin, spilling your guts much easier than you thought you would, "I mean yeah, the food is nice and the praise is pretty cool too, but, well, I feel like this is something that's completely my own, something that needs and relies on me." 

"Why does that matter?" She asks, hoping to get you to go deeper with it. She wants to understand more than anything, mostly because it reminds her of how people are about her and Eren. 

People scoff and talk, constantly wondering why she spends so much time and effort taking care of the 'suicidal maniac,' just like they do about you and your plants. It's almost as if she hopes to find her own reason by prying into yours. 

"Well because- because I..." You take a deep breath and admit sadly, "No one needs me. Not really. I can do all the combat training and ODM work as much as I want, but in the end I'm still an expendable soldier that no one really needs. In here... well, I make an actual difference. These plants need me to survive; if I just up and leave, let the weeds grow out, then they'll die. No one else will take care of them, and when they die there are no more special treats at dinner or rewards for hard work. People will miss it because they didn't realize just how much they actually looked forward to it, just like I'd miss it if I were to suddenly give up." 

When you look back at Mikasa you see that her eyes are a bit wider, lips slightly parted as if she were surprised. 

"I know it's stupid but-"

"No!" She cuts you off swiftly, determination sparkling in those deep black pools, "It's not stupid. Not even a little bit." 

Well, you certainly weren't expecting such a passionate stance in your favor from her, that's for sure. 

Mikasa, arms moving almost on their own, grabs both your hands suddenly and holds them up between the two of you, her expression soft and understanding; like she feels exactly how you do. 

"You're right, and... and you shouldn't give up on it. Because the fact of the matter is that we do look forward to whatever seasonal vegetables you've grown, and we would absolutely miss it if they were to suddenly disappear. It matters, and even if no one else says it, know that it matters to me." 

You have a feeling that this is about more than just some fresh kale, but you choose to not mention that. 

"Thank you..." You whisper, looking down at your dirtied hands with a smile creeping onto your face, "I didn't realize you were so passionate about salad." 

Mikasa noticed the slightly teasing edge to your voice immediately, and it actually makes her smile slightly as well, "Yes, they are very important to me." 

When she returns your good-natured teasing with some of her own you are stunned. It was surprising enough to have her supporting you so enthusiastically when you began to doubt your reasoning for doing all this for the garden, but to have her actually return your humor with some of her own, well, you were expecting that even less. 

"M-Mikasa-" You say without thinking, looking at her with awestruck eyes, "Would you like to eat dinner together tonight?" 

The dark-haired cadet looks at you with mild surprise once again, her smile gone and her head cocked to the side slightly, "You want to eat dinner together?" She repeats, her lack of immediate acceptance making your heart sink. "I think that would be nice." 

Oh...

Oh.

Oh. 

A huge smile breaks out on your face when you finally register her acceptance, and you bow your head to avoid the urge to pull her into a hug. 

"A-Alright. Well, dinner is soon so I'm going to go wash up. I'll... I'll meet you there?" You form it as a question, not wanting to be presumptuous about her schedule. 

She only nods and turns her gaze back to the flowers, placing her fingertips delicately on the nasturtiums orange petals. "Yes. We'll see each other there..." 

She seems lost in thought almost as she gazes at the fiery beauties, so you decide to leave her with her thoughts and head off to the showers. 

---

The showers in this place don't always offer the warmest showers, especially depending on what time you go to take one, but every Thursday and Sunday you get early bathing privileges following your work in the gardens, which means you get first dibs on hot water. 

It's one of the few rewards of yours that others actually envy, and it's the one you would miss the most if you were to quite the garden business completely. 

You leave the bathing hall fresh and clothed, ready for dinner and absolutely stoked to eat with Mikasa. 

You had more time to think about it while you were soaking, and it gave you time to realize just how much you really admired her; no, not just admired, liked in general. She's strong, resilient, brave, confident, loyal, intelligent, and, to top it all off, beautiful. She's the whole package, yet she still finds a way to be impressed with the likes of you? The weird plant person that others talk down on because you take so much time during break growing things instead of lounging. 

It's flattering, to put it plainly. 

These thoughts fuel the little skip in your step as you head to the dinning hall, excited to eat dinner with the dark-haired warrior girl. 

Upon walking through the double doors you see Mikasa and her blond friend Armin, both of whom are standing just to the left. 

Mikasa is leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, listening to Armin as he recounts something that happened to him during training. 

Right away you wonder where Eren is, those two are practically inseparable, but it doesn't take you long to see him guarding 4 sets of food at a table surrounded by some more of their friends. 

Your eyes light up when they fall upon the black-haired Mikasa Ackerman, sparkling in the dim candle-lit dinning area when her own eyes meet yours. 

The softest of smiles tugs at the corner of her lips and she dips her head in greeting, her hands clasped behind her back firmly as they usually are. "There you are. I told you she was coming, Armin." 

The blond flushes when she calls him out like that, but he says nothing in defense. Instead he addresses you kindly. 

"Hey, we got you your food already- we hope you don't mind." 

"No, I don't mind at all!" You tell him quickly, a surge of gratitude washing through you, "I really appreciate it, actually." 

Mikasa's small smile widens by a few centimeters, but she hides it by turning away quickly and urging you both to head to the table. 

You follow along like a lost puppy almost, never having sat with this group of people before. It's a little intimidating, actually, being surrounded by the well known top 10 recruits in the 104th division. 

Hell, all of them are here. From sweet Krista to tall and tough Reiner; you feel very out of place, being as you rank at only twenty out of the one-hundred or so people within this branch of the 104th. 

Okay, it's actually not that bad you suppose, but compared to all of them it's nothing. 

You take a seat across from Mikasa and next to Armin and Sasha near the middle of the table, feeling your face become hot when a couple pairs of eyes fall upon your form. 

Those of them who know you better greet you kindly and move on, continuing their various conversations as if nothing has changed, but you can still feel some curious eyes glancing at you every now and then, and it absolutely freaks you out.  

"Inviting new people over again, are we Eren?" Jean's slightly condescending voice pipes up, obviously referring to you. 

"What? I-"

"No. I did. Is there a problem?" Mikasa says quickly, eyeing him boredly with a slightly dangerous glint in her eyes, practically daring him to say something rude or negative in the slightest. 

There's a stunned silence for all of 3 seconds before Marco pipes up just as kindly as always, "That's great! I'm glad you could join us!" 

Some of the tension in your shoulders releases when the sweet freckled boy is the first one to speak up. He's always been a complete sweetheart so you weren't worried about him, but being as he spoke up first, now you have even less to worry about... probably. 

"Y-Yeah, thanks." Your voice comes out a bit weaker than you intended for it to, thus causing a snicker or two from the right. God, you feel so self conscious for literally no reason. 

"Hey, these are yours, right?" Marco pipes up again, trying to cover the snickers with his voice as he tilts his bowl towards you. 

Inside you see the nasturtium petals and some of the tomatoes that were harvested from your four boxes earlier today, the rest of the greens having come from other peoples planters (you're not the only one into it, just the only one in your general area). 

"Um, just the tomatoes and nasturtiums..." You confirm with a shallow nod, confidence rising a bit since this is a topic you can actually contribute to. 

"You must grow a whole lot of tomatoes to land some in all of our bowls! I always look forward to eating the stuff you grow." He praises excitedly, leaning over the table a bit so he's closer, "How did you make so many?" 

Well, it's not that hard since tomatoes are fairly easy to grow and they can produce hundreds of pounds of fruit in one plant, but you don't say it that way for fear of sounding narcissistic or something.

"Oh, well, they're cherry tomatoes so they grow pretty quickly once the plant is matured, and I've got a couple of them so it can produce hundreds of tomatoes in one season. I-It's nothing really." You take the tomato from your bowl and raise it up, pinching it lightly between your forefinger and thumb while you look at it. 

Your planting companions and the curious freckled guy all smile at your 'knowledgeable' answer, though you feel kind of dumb for how unspecific and unscientific you sound. 

You know that there are a lot of cadets who think your devotion to the plants is ridiculous and a waste of time, but you actually feel really appreciated right now; like all the time and effort actually matters is someone of his rank can be excited about your produce, even going so far as to say that he looks forward to it. It makes your heart flutter and doubts dissolve momentarily. 

Only, it doesn't last for long. 

"Okay, but why?" Jean asks with furrowed eyebrows, looking as if he's trying so hard to not roll his eyes. "Instead of studying and working out you... you what? Babysit plants? You do realize that it doesn't do anything for your grade, right- ow!" 

Marco elbows the dual-hair-toned Jean in the ribs and looks at him with a disappointed frown, but it's too late. The damage is done. 

"I'm wondering the same thing, actually." Connie agrees, arms crossed over his chest, "I really don't see the point, they don't actually expect us to care for some leaves with lives potentially on the line, you know." 

And, now, you feel like you're being interrogated- like the dumbest suspect in history. 

"W-Well I-" 

As if they've been waiting months to pounce on you for your actions, more pile on. 

"I think you should worry a bit more about gaining some meat on those bones instead of pawing at the dirt, it'd do you a lot better than some extra hot water." Leave it to Reiner to know about your extended shower privileges.

"You see I actually-" 

"Seems like a huge waste of time; some shitty tomatoes aren't going to stop titans from eating you." That's Ymir, her harsh words don't come as much of a shock. 

"No it's-"

"It's not extra credit or anything, or is it?" Damn, even Armin is getting in on it a bit. 

"Stop it!" Mikasa snaps, slamming her hands down on the table as she shoots to her feet. 

And then the whole table goes silent, everyone looking at the usually composed girl with varying degrees of shock. 

She bends her elbows and leans down a bit, glaring at Jean, the one who started it, "Instead of being grateful you're complaining and whining on behalf of the person who gets us fresh food for these god awful dinners? Judging for... for what? Why do you care so much? Why is it any of your business? Do you even know what rank (Y/N) is at?" 

Nobody knows what to say, how to respond or even process the fact that Mikasa is defending you, that is, until you finally speak up.  

"Twenty. I'm rank Twenty." 

And cue the shock once again. 

You didn't think it was all that good, but apparently this throws them all for a loop. 

"Y-You're rank twenty?" Krista asks in shock almost, wide blue eyes making her look so awe-struck - as if she isn't in the top 10 herself. 

"Yeah... I-It's not great or anything compared to the lot of you but I-I really am trying. I just get so stressed out and it's like- it's like a little getaway where I can do what I want and control the outcome of my actions... I get it, I'll never get into the Military Police or make it to the top 10 like any of you, b-but is it really so ridiculous that I have a hobby? That I do something just because? I don't do it for the extra credit or the rewards, I don't do it for any of you specifically. I do it for myself because it keeps me from going crazy in this shitty ass world." Your voice evens out at the end as you find your courage to speak up for yourself, not having realized before just how much you doubt yourself; just how much of a perfectionist you are. 

It seems like most of them never considered the fact that you might just like to do it, because now those who ridiculed you have even less of an idea of what to say than they did before. 

"I... I guess I never thought of it that way before..." Connie mumbles, looking at you with an abashed moue. 

"You know, I think it's pretty dumb that you guys are getting on (Y/N)'s case since Krista and I also do that gardening stuff-"

"More like Krista does and you just eat what you can." Ymir accuses, unapologetic for her words but no longer judgemental towards you. 

No one says anything following Sasha and Ymir's words for a good few seconds, then the flower-like black-haired girl speaks up once more. 

"Rank 20 is excellent when you consider just how many people you're up against." Mikasa defends, slowly settling back into her seat as she looks at you from across the table. 

For some reason you're more uncomfortable with the praise than the judgement, probably because even though you stand by your reasoning, you're still slightly ashamed for spending so much time in the gardens. 

"I guess some of us should probably be thanking them instead of whining about- oh, what was it again? Getting fresh food which is, might I remind you, a luxury?" Eren's slightly mocking voice pipes up with a sneer focused in Jean's general direction. "Who cares if someone has a hobby? Are you guys really that insecure about not having a life outside of 'Top 10'?"

"You know it's actually kind of funny that you say that Eren because..."

The conversation turns away from you finally as Jean begins to argue with Eren and make fun of him for also not having a life like the rest of them, and, after this, you actually begin to feel somewhat comfortable. 

Everyone moves on, you get a few compliments as people finish their food, and the rest of dinner passes by normally. 

At the end of it you and Mikasa are the only one's left, everyone having retired for the night at various points throughout the night. 

It's not quite curfew yet so you both hang around and converse quietly about dinner, training, and some other things. 

"M-Mikasa..." You whisper after a comfortable silence washes over the both of you, suddenly filled with gratitude for the words she spoke in your defense during that pretty awkward first part of dinner. 

"Yes? What is it?" She inquires, brows furrowed together in what you assume is a slightly concerned expression at your hesitant voice. 

"I well..." You trail off, not entirely sure how to proceed, before saying 'fuck it' and just being straightforward. "Thank you. F-For tonight I mean. The stuff you said... oh gosh." You dip your head as your face begins to heat up, embarrassed and also slightly anxious since you're not quite sure if a simple thank you will suffice. 

The beautiful girl purses her lips when she notices your insecurity, and, while she's not the best at advice or talking to others, she does still try, "You don't need to say thank you. I invited you to sit with me because I like your company, not to be berated by those idiots."

She heaves a heavy sigh, and you realize at this moment that she actually feels guilty because of what happened. 

"No, I do!" You fire back, reaching across the table to grab her hands without thinking, "Even if I got scolded a bit, you didn't have to stand up for me. I mean, as far as they knew they were right. Hell they might still be, but you stepped in because you believed in me and, well, that's more than most of the people in my life can say they've done. It matters to me- it really, really does." 

Her gaze focuses in on where your hands are grabbing at hers, and, after a moment, she curls her fingers around yours in return. 

"I... I know tonight didn't really go all that well, but would you like to eat with me again tomorrow? We can sit by ourselves, I promise." She sounds coy almost, like she's not entirely sure if she should be asking you to eat with her at all. 

Honestly, a normal person would probably say no to avoid another 'tonight' at all costs, but you find yourself inclined to accept even so. 

The two of you have talked and done stuff together in the past, it's not like you were strangers before today, but you actually feel like you're getting a glimpse into that secretive life of hers. Like you're being let in, and you don't want to go pushing her out right as she's choosing to trust someone who isn't Armin or Eren- right as she's choosing to trust you. 

A bright smile livens up your face, and without any more deliberation, you agree and begin making plans for tomorrow. 

Chapter Text

Of all the people you could've gotten assigned as a partner, why did it have to be him? 

Reiner Braun: everyone's big brother (apparently), tall, handsome, a little strange, and undeniably, unceasingly... jocular. He's a tease; he flirts, he jokes, and, even despite his naturally protective nature, very fond of flustering people. 

You don't want to call him a bother because he really is very nice and an all around swell person, but let's be real, he's quite fond of bothering you. 

Whether it's incessant teasing, flirting, or just general flexing, there's always something he's doing that gets on your nerves. 

Honestly, you're not quite sure why it bothers you so much, but each time you think about it you always remember how flustered you always get. 

You can't help it really, how embarrassed you get and how easy it is to ruffle your feathers, but what you can help is your reaction when he catches you off guard or says something that gets to you one way or another; you can, but unfortunately you don't. He makes a joke about your technique and you let it fuel your movements; he compliments you offhandedly and you stutter and blush while trying to formulate and unnecessary response; he raises the push-up count when you walk in the room and you feel the need to roll your eyes instead of ignoring it. 

Okay, maybe you don't really have much right to complain about it when you're always reacting which makes him want to do it more...

Nah, you've definitely earned the right to whine... maybe. 

Your uncertainty prompts you to go to Bertholdt for advice, hoping that since he's his best friend that he might have a good solution for you. 

Then again, what exactly are you hoping for? That he'll leave you alone? You don't really want that. Maybe you'll ask for a better way to deal with it, advice on how to dish it back or get him to ease up or something.

You wait anxiously for Bertholdt to join you outside a few hours before the training exercise that you and the buff blond are partnered for, trying to sort out your thoughts and concerns before he gets there. You figure if you can get straight to the point then you can have more time to mentally prepare yourself for the next day, assuming, of course, that he has any advice you can actually use. 

It's maybe a minute or so later that his form comes into view; and just in time because you finally decided on a line of questioning (also because he's like 15 minutes late). 

"Oh, there you are." Bertholdt sighs, speed-walking over in your direction, "I thought you were at the other entrance and waited there for 10 minutes before realizing that you probably meant this one." 

You try to hide your amused chuckle but fail miserably, because you wind up giggling behind your hand instead of just out loud. 

"I-It's not that funny." He mutters, glancing off to the side as pink begins to climb up his neck. Bertholdt clears his throat with an awkward cough and crosses his arms over his chest, trying to appear stern, "A-Anyways, you said you wanted my help with something. Is everything okay?" 

Oh, yes, that. 

You drop your hand back to your side and heave a heavy, dramatic sigh, really milking the weary soldier look.

"It's about Reiner." 

"Reiner? Oh, I guess he finally asked you out!" A big smile climbs onto his face and leans down a bit to get a better look at you, "Did he ask in a weird way? I can talk to him for you if you want- I swear he doesn't mean to freak you out he just gets really nervous around you and says the first thing that comes to mind! But... ah, wait, I thought he was going to do that tonight..." 

Cue the silence. 

You stare up at him owlishly, eyes wide and lips slightly parted in surprise. 

At your clearly stunned reaction, realization, which quickly turns to horror, paints his features. It seems to dawn on him that he completely misread the situation and just said something he wasn't supposed to, and he hasn't the slightest clue how to mend his mistake. 

The dark-haired boy is practically frozen in place as he mentally scrambles for an excuse or explanation for his strange words, but he knows already that there's nothing he can say to convince you it's not what it seems like. So, he just goes for the denial route.

"Ahaha, what?" He drags out the 't' in 'what' and crosses his arms over his chest, looking away from you with a nervous sweat lining his hair-line. His anxious laughter doesn't make his words any less suspicious, and neither does his jittery body language. 

"Why do I get the feeling you've just told me something you weren't supposed to?" You ask after watching him squirm for a moment, not entirely sure what to make of his words or his reaction. 

"M-Me? What? No way! I was just, you know, I was just... um... the sun, didn't know it was you..." His voice gets weaker near the end and you realize that you've got him. 

"Bertholdt, is Reiner planning on asking me out?" You hound, trying to squeeze every bit of info out of him. "Tonight during the training mission?" 

The tall, lanky recruit looks everywhere but at you, his shaky smile not reaching his eyes which hold only panic. "No...?" 

"Oh, well, I guess that explains it then..." You mumble mostly to yourself, assuming the 'thinking man' position with one arm crossed over your chest and the other's elbow resting on it so you can place your cheek on your fist. "You said it's because he get's nervous around me?" You clarify, ignoring his aghast and sheepish actions to get to the root of your new dilemma. 

"What? Yes, I mean no! No! Why would he be nervous? There's no reason to be nervous!" He exclaims, laughing guiltily as he tries to hold out against the inevitable. 

"Okay, Bertholdt you're really not doing yourself any favors here, sooo just tell me what I want to know and maybe I won't let Reiner know you're the one who told me."

He's such a sweet person and his defeated expression is almost enough to make you let him off the hook, but blackmail is the only leverage you have to learn more at the moment. 

"I-" He pauses and purses his lips, seemingly thinking it over for a time before asking somewhat hesitantly, "Are... are you going to turn him down?" 

His question gives you a pause, because up until this point you've just been wondering how you're going to get him back and fluster him for once. 

Are you going to turn him down? Or are you going to accept? 

---

After your conversation with Bertholdt you were left with a lot to think about, because, unfortunately, the shake down didn't really give you much else to go on other than the fact that he's a lot less self-assured than you originally thought. 

And, well, now you've got another thing entirely to think about. 

Before you were just worried about surviving this training exercise without dying from shyness or embarrassment, but now? You don't know what to do anymore. 

You were supposed to be planning for tonight but instead you just spent the whole time mentally freaking out about what this must mean for you and the brawn Braun. Is he really planning on asking you out? Tonight? In the middle of a dark forest that you two will be residing in for at least one whole day - alone? 

The training mission is an escape mission of sorts; the two of you, partners, are supposed to spend a day in the forest and then find a way out of it in 24 hours time. You'll get flares in the case of something bad happening or if you give up, but you don't suppose the two of you will need them. He's smart and strong, and you're very clever and crafty. Surviving out in the wild like this will be a cinch for the two of you just based on skill, but, unfortunately, that's not the problem here. 

You spend the final hours leading up to the assignment worrying over the emotions of it all and, ultimately, end up giving up on planning. You figure it's probably just best to go with the flow and hope for the best. 

Reiner is behind you a few paces while you try to scout out a proper place to set up camp for the night. It'll have to be somewhere off the ground because there could be bears or other predators out here at night, so you keep your focus upwards for the most part. 

As much as all this romance business has been bothering you, you manage to push it away until you're at a good resting point. 

"What about that one?" His deep voice calls from behind you, causing you to pause and look at him. 

He's pointing off to the left a few yards ahead at a large tree with thick, protruding branches. It looks pretty good, but you notice the thick twisting roots below and smooth trunk right away. 

You don't have your gear for this training mission, so you don't much see how he'll haul himself up that tree with nothing to hold on to. 

"Um, well, it's a good tree..." 

"But?" 

"But I don't think we can climb it. There's no foot holds, we'll just fall off and get hurt in the roots." You look at the tree closest to it and purse your lips, trying to gauge if it's close enough for you to jump onto it. "Maybe... here, let me try something." 

You turn to the tree in question and jog closer, looking up at it with furrowed brows for a time. 

A mental route slowly forms in the back of your head, and, after a moment of internal deliberation, you jump up and try to reach the lowest and thinnest branch, but it's a few feet too high for you to wrap your arms around; not to mention it might be too think for you to get a reliable hold on. 

You huff out a sigh of frustration and shove the straps of your backpack off your shoulders, leaning down to dig through it for a moment. 

"Need a boost?" Your partner asks, suddenly right besides you. 

You practically jump out of your skin at his sudden closeness; you were so focused on a solution that you forgot he was there. 

"W-Well I can do it with a boost, but you won't have anyone to boost you up." You reply, standing up straight again so you can look up at him properly. 

"I don't think I'll need one, short stuff." He shoots back smoothly, a toothy grin taking over his rough features. 

A sour pout pulls at your lips as heat begins to climb up your neck, but you try to push the embarrassment down and work with him. 

"F-Fine, let's give it a try I gues- woah!" 

Before you can even finish your sentence a large pair of hands are wrapping around your waist and hoisting you up towards the just-too-high branch, giving you barely enough time to react and wrap your arms over the girth of the branch. 

His hands move down to your legs and push you further up, and before you know it you're pulling yourself fully into the tree. 

It's just big enough for you to sit semi-comfortably on but not quite big enough for you to lay on, though it's thickness doesn't even come close to that of the huge tree just next to this one. 

You look down at Reiner from your spot and see him looking up at you already with an unreadable expression, and, given that he says nothing when your eyes meet, you stare back at him for a few moments before reaching up and grabbing ahold of the loose bark which gives you leverage to rise to your feet.

"Okay, I'll see how high I can get, you stay there." You don't even wait for a response before proceeding to climb further up, the job being made easier by the numerous branches that thicken the middle of it.

"Hey! Be careful!" He calls as you ascend higher and higher towards that specific branch in the mega tree next to you. "As nice of a view as this is, if you fall I'll have to haul your ass around instead of admiring it." 

You pause halfway up another branch, not having expected such words at a time like this. 

"R-Reiner!" You shriek, looking down at him with a positively scandalized expression on your face. "Shut up!" 

His laughter bellows beneath you as you look away and start climbing up a little faster, hoping to escape his lecherous comments. 

Okay, you know that he's not actually looking at your butt and that he's actually worried about you falling, but jeez that's a horrible way to express your concern. Honestly such words are more likely to make you mess up and fall, not less!

"I'm almost there!" You call after five minutes of climbing, having gotten a good ten or so meters off the ground. 

It's probably high enough to be considered safe, but the thick branch that would hold both of you easily in the next tree over is just so close! 

"You're getting pretty high up, you know, watch your step!" No mischievous comment this time, just pure, unadulterated unease. 

"Not afraid of heights are we now?" You call back, hauling yourself onto another branch. 

It's like the perfect little obstacle course here. The trees leaves and branches aren't too concentrated that you can't get through, but they're just big and frequent enough that you can make good steps out of them. 

"No way! I'm just afraid of angels falling from the sky!" 

Lord help you. 

"Hey, Reiner!" You yell down, aware that it's getting harder for him to hear you. 

"Yeah?" He cups his hands around his mouth to amplify his voice, though you don't think it's all that necessary. 

"How much do you weigh?" 

"How much do I- Um, I don't know, 200 pounds or something! Why? You think I'll crush you?" 

You don't reply right away and observe the thinning out ladder like branches, trying to figure out if they're thick enough to hold him. 

The last thing you'd want is for one of these branches to snap and send him hurtling back towards the ground, but with the state of them you're not quite sure that he'll be able to safely make it up. 

"Do we have any rope in those packs?" You yell instead of answering his question, also not dignifying his flirting (was that even flirting?) with a response, hoping that you can just tie a rope to the branch and have him climb up. 

You assume he's rummaging through the packs since he's quiet for a few moments, and when he calls back you're pleasantly surprised. 

"Yeah, about twentyish meters of rope in both our bags!" 

Okay, you can work with that- probably. 

---

It takes about 30 minutes but you finally manage to do-up a little rope climbing system for the both of you. 

You do end up having to tie your jackets and extra shirts to the rope to give you some more room to work with, but it's really just a small price to pay for convenience and safety since you double up on the rope to ensure it's reliability. 

Bringing the makeshift rope up to your desired branch isn't the most fun thing to do, or the easiest, but once you've got it up there and secured it, you're beyond relieved. 

It's a bit of a workout and it's not exactly the safest, but that's why you've got the flares incase of emergency, so you settle for a rope climb to get to the desired home-branch. 

Once you've got your camp ready on the two meter branch you slide down the rope and join him back on the ground, a pleased smile brightening your features. 

"Alright! Now, time to look around, right? We'll come back here when the sun starts going down." 

"Sure thing, Captain." He teases, pulling his bag onto his back again. 

You pulled yours up using the rope since you didn't really need both your bags, but he insisted on bringing his incase you catch some fish or something. 

"They didn't pack us any food or water, so I guess we should start there." Reiner says after you both take off in one direction without a proper plan. 

"Mmhm." You look around the huge trees, the small ones, and admired the beauty of the forest. As much of a pain in the ass all that climbing was, you're really glad that this place is, at the very least, pretty. 

"I wonder if there's like a river or something..." You mumble after a while, excitement sparkling in your eyes at the thought of it. 

Ever since you were little you lived in the city, so you've never seen an actual huge body of water like that before. The mere thought of getting to see a big lake or river in an unfamiliar place like this fills your soul with excitement, images of the shimmering, blue water filling your head. 

"We can look for one if you want." Reiner finds himself saying without much thought, temporarily forgetting about the whole point of this journey. 

"Really?" You ask excitedly, not having expected him to agree to look for one so readily. 

Red begins to color his face when he catches a look at your excited features, unable to keep himself from thinking about how cute you are. How could he say no to such a face? It's impossible for him, really. 

"W-Well yes, we need water of course! And I know some excellent purifying techniques so we won't get sick." 

Chapter Text

For such a big guy Bertholdt has such a small personality. 

He's a follower, really, with attributes of a leader that only come about when you're all at your lowest. 

At times when Reiner blocks things out and allows himself to think that you guys are really one of the scouts, one of the Paradis people, he reminds him what you're all there for. He reminds him, you, all three of you really, that waiting for you at home is a good life for your families and honorary Marleyan citizenship. 

By eradicating these people... your friends... you'll be paving the way for a better life for the Eldians back in the internment zones around the world.

Besides, they're all living a lie here anyways, so they'll probably be better off dead anyways. 

That's what you tell yourself at least to justify the things you've taken part in. 

Anyways, it's at times where you doubt yourself that Bertholdt reminds you that, in the end, you guys are just doing what you need to, to save the world and the people you love from total annihilation. 

Even though he says these things, though, you can tell he doesn't really believe in it much anymore; especially after what happened to Annie. 

You know he's stuck in a difficult place, but you don't think it's all that fair that he carries so much blame for what you're all taking part in. Not to say that you don't think any of you should feel ashamed, but more so that he shouldn't need to feel insecure about himself on top of all the mental baggage. 

After dinner you find your feet moving on their own practically towards his room after noticing that he didn't join you guys tonight. 

Reiner urged you to smuggle him something to eat since he could tell you were going to go find him, so you took his apple and shoved it in your shirt, waltzing out of the dining hall naturally to keep a low profile. 

You're outside his door before you even know it, and, expecting him to be moping, you make the mistake of barging in without so much as a knock. 

"Okay Bert, I know that you're feeling down but-" 

You freeze in place when you finally spot him: in the middle of his room with his shirt basically off and arms just now coming out of the arm holes in front of him. 

He looks just as shocked as you feel, his large eyes opened wide and limbs tense and stock still; in this moment he heavily resembles a deer caught drinking in a watering hole, vulnerable and completely flabbergasted. 

To be fair this is his room, his safe space where he's supposed to have privacy 24/7 unless he allows otherwise, yet here you are in the doorway while he's in the middle of changing into his pajamas. 

Only about three seconds pass before he reacts, though his reaction is really just his face exploding with red and shirt clad arms coming up to shroud his exposed flesh with his crumpled garment. 

"I uh, you- I didn't realize-" You begin to stammer and stutter uncontrollably, stuck in an endless loop of not knowing what to do. 

"Close the door!" He exclaims incredulously, because really that's the obvious thing to do. 

Unfortunately your dumbstruck mind doesn't quite process his demands properly, so instead of stepping out and letting him change in peace you move aside and close the door with you still inside. 

"Y-You're right! Oh jeez there could be people in the hallway!"

You only realize how dumb you're being when he looks at you with a helplessly baffled look, because obviously he was telling you to get out too until he was done. 

"Uh..." Realizing your mistake you turn around and cover your eyes, rushing out an apology. "I'm so sorry! I swear I'm not looking!" 

But it's too late, the damage has been done. 

You saw a lot, how tan his skin is compared to the majority of the people here, the definition of his shoulders and the muscles that are often hidden by his slightly baggy shirt. He's pretty narrow but even despite that he's built excellently, strong and muscled from years and years of training. 

It's probably wrong for you to be thinking like this since you only saw him that way on accident, but you really can't help it since you can hear him scrambling to get changed just behind you. 

The rustling of clothes and occasional stomps come to a stop after about thirty seconds, but you wait an additional ten before asking if he's dressed. 

"Are you decent now or..." You don't drop your hands from your eyes or turn around just yet, thinking better of just whipping around as soon as you think he might be done. 

"Y-Yes, I'm done." 

Just for good measure, you wait a moment before dropping your hands and turning back around to face him. 

You suppose it took him so long to get changed because he also put on more comfortable trousers instead of just his usual grey-green shirt; you're not entirely sure what to make of this information. The expectation on your part was just that he'd throw on his shirt and be done with it, but he just went ahead and completely changed even with you in the room not five feet away. 

Maybe it's better if you just move on from that. 

"So... how about this weather, huh?" 

Bertholdt glares at you half-heartedly with that unmistakable blush still painting his face and ears (you feel guilty to admit that he looks pretty cute like that), but you can tell he isn't actually mad at you, not in the slightest. 

He says your name with an edge in his voice, but it's only from nerves since he's actually quite ashamed of his thin, bean-pole body. 

"I'm so sorry, Bertholdt." You repeat your apology from earlier sheepishly, approaching him with hesitant steps, "I thought you were- well I assumed more like, that you were upset and just chilling up here by your self so I didn't even stop and think before barging in..." 

The shame is very apparent in your voice as you try to explain why you were acting so brashly, but you know even as you're saying it that there's no good excuse for what you did. 

The dark-haired scout heaves a heavy sigh and smiles at you hesitantly, trying to alleviate the obvious distress yourself through due to your guilt. 

"I'm not mad, I just really wasn't expecting that, is all..." He rests his elbows on his knees and leans forward slightly, a shadow casted by his hair obscuring his eyes from view. "You were worried about me?" 

The setting sun doesn't provide too much light through the window on the left wall of his shared room, but the soft orange and yellow glow is more than  enough for you to see (you do miss the electric lights back at home a lot, though). 

"Yeah, I mean you missed out on dinner and I was afraid you were upset..." You perk up when you remember the apple safely tucked away in your shirt and take it out, "Here, I brought this for you in case you get hungry later." 

Bertholdt looks at the ripe red fruit and a more genuine smile brightens his features, like he wasn't expecting such a kind gesture but he's savoring it all the same. 

You take a seat next to him on his bed and place the apple in his lap, slumping to the side so you can lean against him. 

A moment of silence passes by before a thought occurs to you, "You know, I'm so relieved that I walked in on you and not Reiner. He'd never let me hear the end of it..." 

"Yeah, if he even remembered." He replies bitterly, aiming his dim gaze towards the ground, "There's no telling who he is these days." 

A frown tugs at your lips, not thrilled that he's saying such things. 

"That's not fair, Bertholdt..." You whisper, knowing that he's right even despite your protest. "This is hitting him harder than it is us in some ways, I think..." 

"You say that like any of this is fair in the first place." He shoots back, turning his gaze to you instead. 

You pull away from Bert, immediately missing his warmth, and look up at him in return, "Well you're right. None of this is fair, but too much has happened for us to just give up... but... I don't think we can completely go through with it either." 

Surprise makes his eyes widen and his face go pale, and you see him glance towards the closed door briefly before he leans in close and grabs your shoulders. 

"W-What are you saying?" His words are hissed out quietly, like he's afraid someone might be listening just on the other side of the door. 

You frown deeply and look away from him with a deep frown darkening your usually bright features. 

Truthfully, you don't actually know what you're saying. All you know for sure is that you don't like this, any of it, and you're beginning to doubt if you have it in you to just kill your friends. 

"I mean... it's not like we can actually kill them, is it? What we did to Marco hit Reiner so hard that he's not even himself anymore, a-and we knew him back when things were good. Now? We've battled together, we've fought and watched people die together... are you really telling me that you've still got the heart to just stab them all in the back?" 

His grip on your shoulders tightens to an almost painful extent and his nails dig into your shirt, his body hovering over yours as panic strikes his face. 

"Y-You can't say any of these things around Reiner- ever." His voice is low and there's a frantic tremble in it that fills you with unease. "Hell, you shouldn't even be saying it around me. I could have you replaced if I were to report you! Your family executed!" 

You visibly shrink upon hearing his threatening words, tears beginning to swim in your eyes, and stare up into his distraught face fearfully. 

He wouldn't report you- no, not after everything you've been through together. You three have been a team for what, seven years? Maybe more? You're certain that he wouldn't betray you like that, but that doesn't stop your body from reacting with panic. 

When he realizes what he's done his hands relax their grip and he hangs his head shamefully, never having meant to hurt or scare you like that. If anything he's just intensely concerned for you, petrified at the thought that you could be taken away from him just like that if the officials back in Marley knew of your doubts. 

Reiner wouldn't report you, there's no question on that, but he's not so confident that the blond wouldn't hurt you. His 'warrior,' which is just all the ruthless, horrible parts of his best friend, wouldn't hesitate to beat the hell out of you to right your mind, and what's even worse is that he might just make Bertholdt participate to make sure you both got the message. 

It pains the lanky boy to think about one of his closest friends in such a way, but it's an undeniable fact. Reiner, the real Reiner, would be absolutely destroyed by it too once he came to realize what he'd done- no. He won't let that happen, none of it. 

"I'm sorry..." He whispers, sniffling quietly as he keeps his own tears at bay. "I could never hurt you, but I wouldn't be able to protect you either if Reiner were to snap after hearing you talk like this. I know what you mean, I understand, but we cannot let our emotions exceed pity and remorse. We can't feel for them, mourn them, anymore than we already have. We need to think about ourselves, our mission, our families first. "

"I know." You breathe, shakily raising your arms until you can wrap yourself around him, pressing your face firmly into his chest. "B-But... maybe there's a way for us to do this, to get Eren, without hurting anyone? I-I know it's cowardly but... all we need it Eren, right? We won't have to- have to..." 

You've grown so close to Sasha, Connie, Jean, Armin, all of them over these past few years, you can hardly imagine killing any of them yourself. 

"I know what you mean... Reiner and I have discussed it actually. Now that they've found out Annie we could be next any day now, so, if we're ever backed into a corner then maybe we could just... ask Eren to come with us?" 

Wait, they've been discussion strategy without you? 

To be fair they do share a room so it's easier for them to talk, but the fact that they've talked about something so important without you- you don't even know how to take that. 

So instead you just focus on their half-put-together plan, mulling over it in your mind for a time. 

"Do you really think that would work, though? After all we've done? After... after his mother? He'd never do it." 

"Maybe not, but it's a last resort. Only if we're absolutely certain that bargaining is our only option." 

You have to admit that it's better than nothing, but you're still not confident such a flimsy case would get the strong-willed Yeager to turn his back on everything. 

It's around this time that your head begins to pound painfully, the beginnings of a horrible headache hitting you out of nowhere. 

This happens from time to time, and you're fairly certain that it's due to your titan ability. Every time you use it to heal, transform, or even to hear or see something slightly better it happens, putting you at a severe disadvantage. 

"Ugh, okay. I'm done talking about this." You grumble, releasing him so you can instead rub at your temples. 

"Is it happening again?" He rushes out worriedly, noticing your shift immediately. "It is, isn't it? Why did you use it?" 

He knows you pretty damn well since he caught on so quickly, and while you want to tell him, the reason you used your powers is... embarrassing. 

"I... didn't."

You can almost feel the disbelieving glare he sends you as he begins to massage the back of your head delicately, "You know I don't believe that. Tell me what happened." 

Ah jeez. 

"W-Well you see, I was doing some ODM gear training earlier because I was bored but..." You trail off and feel heat climb up your neck, already feeling sheepish about it. 

"But what?" 

"But I missed a tree while I was swinging and broke my arm. I couldn't come back with a broken arm and tell on myself for going out without a buddy, so I just healed myself and came back after a few more hours of training..." 

Bertholdt doesn't say anything to you right away which is somehow worse than him instantly berating you, but you don't even try to get a peek at his face to gauge his expression since the head massage feels so good. 

"I'm telling Reiner." 

"No!" You whine, dragging out the 'o' in no childishly. "He'll make fun of me!" 

"But then he can also-"

"Tell Reiner what?" 

You both freeze and peek towards the door; speak of the devil and he shall appear, you guess. 

Based on his raised eyebrows and slightly amused sparkle in his eyes you can tell he didn't hear the former part of your conversation, but that just means he's caught the two of you... what is this, actually? Semi-snuggling? You're not quite sure, but whatever it is, he's caught you doing it. 

"You two dating now or something? In which cause I would like to know so I can get the hell out of here when-"

"I broke my arm today during training and had to heal it so now I have a headache and Bertholdt is just giving me a hand." You rush out before he says something mortifying to tease you both. "You help me with it too so you can't even joke about us." 

The large blond raises his hands in surrender and shuts the door behind him, immediately moving to take off his shoes. 

"Are you gonna stay the night? Cause hallway patrol is gonna deploy in a few hours and we've got some stuff to discuss." Reiner sounds disinterested but you can tell he's trying to play wingman or something based on his assumptions. 

"Ugh, I guess. Which one of you assholes is gonna give me a bed?" Being around both of them always turns you into an insulting but also loving friend, so they both know you don't mean it. 

"I will-" Bert begins only to be cut off by Reiner. 

"Just share with Bert, he won't mind. He might kick you in the face though." 

His words leave you both embarrassed and with hot faces, and you can see from his expression that he's basking in the ease in which he can wind you both up. 

"You're making my headache worse." You deadpan, thumping your head against Bertholdt's chest again to block out the light. 

"Need a hand?" 

"Nope, Bert's got two." 

"He could get your neck, maybe?" 

"Just be quiet!" 

Chapter Text

This years batch of recruits, the 104th regiment, is very intimidating, to put it bluntly. 

The best amongst your ranks, the top twenty or so, aren't just fighters, but they're also survivors. 

You're no fool, you know the vast majority of you are dead men and women walking, simply waiting for your moment to meet with Death. 

All of you claim to be fighters, survivors, but that's an easy thing to say when the enemies you're fighting are made of wood and foam. Fighting the real thing, real titans, will be nothing like what you do in training because they don't try to grab you. They don't jump or bite or pull, they just stand there waiting to be killed. 

Real titans don't do that, you know all too well. 

But, even though you know there's an early gravestone waiting for you, you still want to fight. You want to learn to be a survivor, to train to be someone who protects people so that no one who chooses to stay safe within the walls has to die ever again. 

That day when Wall Maria fell you lost everything. Everyone who ever loved or cared for you died that day either protecting you, or because they never had a chance to begin with. 

Your parents, your older and little brothers...

To this day you can still hear the screams of the rushing crowd, see those huge disproportionate creatures as they get closer and closer.

Your older brother had grabbed you and handed you off to your neighbors, telling you to go with them and he'd be right there. 

If you'd known that, that was the last time you'd ever see him you would've told him you loved him just one more time or fought to stay and die with them, but you didn't. 

He went back inside, grabbed your little brother and began to run. Your parents were most likely already dead since they were near the gate when this all happened, but you didn't have to see that. You didn't have to watch them be snatched from the ground, you didn't have to see your parents arms being pulled off and devoured like candy. 

And just like that you became an orphan, whisked away with the crowd; completely and totally numb inside as the images and screams play back in your head over and over again. 

You got very lucky after that, having been brought to an orphanage without perverted adults or mean kids. 

No, you were all much too empty inside to bully one another. 

Most would attribute your will to fight and desire to kill those wretched monsters to what happened to you when the Wall fell, but, actually, what really got you to join the trainee corp was the stories some of the other kids would tell about the life you could get there, about what a hero you could become. How you were needed and wanted there. 

The majority of the orphanage's inhabitants around your age joined the 104th regiment, all hoping to be the next hero that will finally have someone to love them. 

It's pathetic, really, especially because you're apart of it. 

You're not bad by a long shot, you're actually fairly low in the ranks at number eighteen, but you need to be better. 

It's during the first part of your training that you meet Annie Leonhart, a lovely young woman with blonde hair and striking blue eyes; you know right away that she's going to be someone you look up to. 

She aces everything while you silently marvel from the sidelines, watching as she flips boys double her size and zips through the trees like she was made for it. 

Undeniably impressive. 

It's after the first five months that you finally gather enough courage to speak to her, and after you do you both become acquaintances of sorts. 

You follow her around and talk to her and she comes to join you at mealtimes even though she acts cool and apathetic towards your existence. 

If you were bothering her she'd let you know, that's one thing you know for sure, so you just continue to talk, train, and become stronger; and before you know it, it's been a whole year.  

"Hey, Annie?" 

"Yes?" She raises her gaze from her book and looks at you with a raised eyebrow, the inquisitive look enhancing her sharp features. 

You don't say anything right away, seemingly elaborating on what exactly you're wanting to tell her, before saying fuck it and just beginning, "Y-You know... I really look up to you. I have ever since I met you, actually. You're just so... strong. You're strong in every way, I-" You pause and stress at your bottom lip for a moment before finishing, "I know this is completely out of the blue I just... I really wish I was more like you, I guess." 

Her icy-blue eyes flicker around your face for a moment as her expression darkens, her words coming out much harsher than she means for them to. "Well don't. You need to focus your sights somewhere reachable, somewhere that will keep you out of a titans mouth and on the ground." 

"O-Oh, well, yeah. You're right, I guess I just thought that..."

"Thought what? That if you were strong enough you could take on all the titans by yourself? People like that die, I thought you knew that." She slowly drops her book to her lap and leans forward, pinning you in place with her suffocating stare. "Unless of course that's what you want? Do you want to be a hero?" 

"A hero? W-Well I mean, doesn't everybody?" You're suddenly regretting speaking at all, not having expected such a reaction from her. 

"Are you ready to die like one, then? Because that's all people like you ever do- die. And with your skills it might just be sooner rather than later." 

After she says it she realizes that she's been too harsh. The way your face falls and your eyes begin to glisten pains her, but she can't bring herself to take it back either. 

It's not exactly what she really thinks, though there is some truth to it. In reality she was really just aiming to scare you into safety, thinking that the right words could convince you away from a heroic death that she knows awaits most of the people here. 

God you don't want to cry in front of her, so you abruptly stand and force a shaky smile, "O-Oh shit! I completely forgot. I've got kitchen duty with Sasha! W-We can finish this conversation later, okay?" 

You're gone before Annie can so much as breathe, and her heart sinks all the way down to her stomach. 

She really fucked that up. 

---

It's been two days since Annie said those cold things to you, two whole days since you've last talked. 

Every time the blonde tries to catch your eye you bury your head in a book and just disappear altogether, and you're always out of the dining hall before she can even take a step inside. It doesn't take a genius to know you're avoiding her, and it doesn't take a saint to know that Annies rough treatment is the reason why. 

Even now she can't fully understand why she said all those things or why she had to go so far. 

Yes, she was doing it to protect you in her own weird way, but there's no excuse for the stuff she added after that. No excuse for basically telling you you're shit and that you're going to die because you're stupid on top of it. 

Annie couldn't hear herself in the moment, but she can imagine just how sharp the razors in her words were; she can imagine just how deeply she cut you with her declaration of no-faith and distrust. 

It's the second day that she finally tries to smooth things over, because while at first she thought she could get along without you there to bother her and make her do things, she quickly found that she missed you very dearly.

She misses the small talk where she just grunted and gave half-assed answers and you said things to try and make her smile; she misses how flustered you'd get when she teased or you did something silly; she misses how you complained about running and the bland food. 

She misses you, but she hasn't the slightest clue of how to win you back since you won't even look at her anymore. 

Once she runs out of ideas on her own for apologies, finding that all her 'ideas' suck, she finally caved and decided to speak with Ymir. 

Ymir is a very... prickly person. Hard to love and even harder to talk to, but she would have to know something about how to mend a situation like this. Annie is almost one-hundred percent certain that Ymir has hurt Krista's feelings in the past, so she just needs to ask her what her secrets are to expressing a sincere apology.  

The two girls meet outside after training before lunch on the third day, Ymir looking annoyed but also vaguely curious and Annie seeming all around uncomfortable. Well, she would seem uncomfortable to someone who knows her, like you, Ymir doesn't notice (or care to notice, really). 

"So, what'd you call me here for, huh? I'm a very busy woman I'll have you know." 

Annie just stares at her, unamused. 

"Jeez ice-queen, it's that bad, huh? What'd you do to upset 'em?" 

That actually catches Annie off-guard, because as far as she knew you and herself were the only ones who knew something was wrong in the first place. 

"Oh don't look so surprised! Everyone knows something's off, we were talking about it at dinner, and I find it hard to believe our sweet number 18 did something to start a fight." A smirk makes its way onto her face after she lets the apathetic girl in on their gossip. "So, what did you do?" 

It's beyond frustrating to the platinum-blonde girl that Ymir was able to read her so easily, but she can't go and deny it if she expects her to help out. 

"I... Well, to get straight to the point, the other day when we were talking, the subject of heroics came up and some things about motivations and admiration were thrown around... and then I got a little worried. So I said some things-" 

"Said some things you didn't mean hoping that you'd convince them to give up on the heroics and go the safe route. I see, I see." 

Ymir reaches up and strokes her chin thoughtfully, confidents exuding from her because of her body language. It's clear that she's had to apologize for such things on multiple occasions given how she knew exactly where Annie was going with this. 

Annie crosses her arms over her chest and juts her hip out to the left, displaying her impatience just as openly so Ymir will get the hint that she's not in the mood to play around. 

"I can help you." Ymir declares finally, her eyes sparkling with hidden knowledge.

"But?" There's always a catch, Annie knows. 

"You gotta do something for me. Like my chores for a few days or something."

Annies eyes narrow slightly at the demand but she doesn't deny it outright, trying to determine if the information is worth the cost. Of course, she expected that Ymir's help would come with a price, but there's no guarantee that any idea she give's her will actually help out in any way. What if all her solutions are trash and Annie is suddenly stuck with an obligation to help the lazy brunette with no ideas to go on? Then she'll be juggling extra chores and having to create a plan to apologize. 

Ymir, sensing her hesitation, shrugs her shoulders and turns away, a mischievous jingle in her tone as she speaks, "Hey, trouble in paradise is my expertise. It's either my help or help from someone who doesn't know what they're talking about- unless of course you just go for the no help route in which case you two will never make up and you'll go back to being all alone again. You're not exactly the most charming person." 

Wow, resulting to cruelty to convince Annie to go along with it. Well played. 

A sigh passes through the troubled girls lips and she, ultimately, concedes, hoping that the advice is worth a few days of extra chores. 

---

Piercing blue eyes sweep across the courtyard countless times during the afternoon of the rest of the day, actively seeking out the very source of her troubles these past few days. 

Left to right. Right to left. 

She's out there for just under thirty minutes when you finally emerge from the dark-wood structure just ahead, looking gloomy even though Annie can tell you're trying your hardest to keep up a happy facade. 

You're alone at the moment, probably just finished eating lunch, and there's an hour of free time before training continues for the day; this will give her more than enough time to chase you down (if you try to run off again) and apologize in the only way she knows how. 

Her and Ymir went over countless options to apologize but each one seemed either insufficient or just downright unnatural, which led her to an apology that is more actions than words; she's no good with words. 

As soon as you leave the building Annie pushes off the shed she'd been leaning against and makes a beeline for your wandering form, determination fueling her hasty movements. 

It's not until she's right on you that you realize someone's basically charging at you, but as soon as you notice her you visibly shrink away and frantically look for an escape. This is the confrontation you've been desperately avoiding, anxious above all else about how she'll chew you out for running off after claiming that you want to be stronger; to be fearless like her. 

Of course, little do you know that she is far from fearless. Fear is what fueled her hurtful words towards you the other day, after-all. 

"Don't run." Her voice is commanding and oppressive, and she realizes right away that such a forceful tone will only make you shut her out. So she adds in the softest voice she can muster up, "Please." 

Her plea barely comes out as a whisper and her eyes shine with desperation, you can practically feel the distress emanating from her body. 

You've never seen her like this before, so you stop and you listen. 

Yes, the things she said to you the other day really hurt. It made you feel just as powerless as you always have been and it only amplified that feeling of isolation that you've felt ever since you were little, but even stronger than your inner turmoil is your desire to have her, Annie, by your side again. 

The little talks you'd have at dinner, her silent amusement when something funny happens, all of it. You miss all of it, but you're too scared to approach her again on your own. 

The fact that she approached you at all filled you with a spark of hope that maybe she didn't mean the things she said, but you don't dare let it fester since she hasn't even told you what she wants yet. A simple please shouldn't have you forgiving her right off the bat. 

"O-Okay." You breathe, looking her right in the eyes. 

She wasn't expecting such direct eye-contact from you like this, because if she had been then it wouldn't have shot an arrow of regret right through her. 

The light bags under your eyes and just all around sorrow making your lips droop and usually sparkling gaze dull adds extra weight to her already heavy heart, and she finds herself tempted to hold your face and rub your cheeks, to tell you everything is okay and that she didn't mean any of it. 

Of course, her conditioned filter doesn't allow her to do that, so she just takes a deep breath and starts talking. 

"The things I said the other day- the way I talked to you...," she trails off, seemingly at a loss for words even though she just started, "I shouldn't have- I should've-" 

"It's okay." You say it without much thought, actually, not having realized just how much you were wanting to hear those words. 

"No. It's not." She snaps back, taking a step closer, "It's not. I had no right... not after you were being so kind with the things you were saying. You've only ever made me feel welcome, done your best to be kind to me, and in return I criticized you for wanting to be stronger. For wanting to protect others." 

You don't say anything this time, not having expected such heartfelt words out of her.

"There are people I want to protect too, and you're one of them. I said what I said because I thought that I was helping you, but the fact of the matter is that I wasn't. But I... I just w-want you to be safe." She mentally berates herself for how small her voice is and the pathetic stutter at the end, but she doesn't stop to strengthen her voice. Instead she gets to her version of the apology. "I could... I could help you." 

"What?" You ask in surprise, eyes widening slightly. 

"I mean I-I could train you. I could help you learn self-defense, teach you some of the things my father taught me when I was younger and the techniques I use for ODM training." 

Not only is the most emotional you think she's ever been around you, but this is the most of her past that you've heard too (and this was only a small mention). 

"If I want you to be safe then I need to help you become stronger, not make you insecure. I think I could help you- only if you want, that is." 

The apology you were anticipating given her opener, but this? You never expected her to offer lessons like that- hell you never dared to ask because you thought it was just something that would bother her; but here she is offering it up as atonement for her words the other day. 

Without even knowing why you begin to smile. 

A dazzling, bright smile that takes over your face and livens up your previously dull eyes. It's as if you've just suddenly come back to life, like her words were enough to bring your determination back from the dead. 

Your voice is airy and stunned when you finally find your voice, your tone matching your sunny countenance, "You would really do that for me?" 

"Yes." 

Without hesitation you grab both her hands and hold them up between the two of you, joyful tears swimming in your glassy eyes, "I would be overjoyed- no, honored, to have you teach me!"

Your excited voice and suddenly delighted features cause the barest hints of a blush to dust her fair cheeks, and while usually she would condemn your touchiness and bubbly personality, she just lets you hold her hands and waits for your bouncing to calm. 

"I just... I want to protect you in the only way I know I can, so it's a bit selfish..." 

Once again she mentally kicks herself for trying to down-play the thoughtfulness of her offer, but you don't let her get away with it anyways. 

"Absolutely not! It's anything but- oh, I'm so excited! Thank you, Annie!" 

The way you say her name does dangerous things to her heart that she must never reveal to anyone, but she doesn't push the feeling away despite knowing that this is very bad. Instead she relishes in it; she internally rejoices that her apology blew over well and that things may just go back to normal now. 

Very slowly the smallest of smiles begins to lighten Annies face, and with the warmest voice she can muster up, she replies.

"Of course." 

Chapter Text

Most days you aren't quite sure what to make of this place; this weird fucked up version of earth where humanity is apparently on its last legs. 

The way you wound up here is still a mystery to you and the scouts that charged you as their ward, all anyone knows is that you suddenly appeared in the dining hall one night in the middle of a meal. 

One minute everyone was eating peacefully, joking and enjoying a nice night's dinner, and the next some screeching person comes crashing from the ceiling and into a table of soup. 

All you remember is looking down a seemingly endless stairwell, floor after floors worth of stairs stacking as far and high as you could see. You peeked down the middle and followed the spiraling pattern with your eyes, the further you looked the darker it got until you could see nothing but pitch-black, and then a force so strong that it might've broken your back sent you hurtling over the edge and towards eternal darkness.

This particular memory is not something you recall all that fondly.

Anyways, after you literally crashed dinner you and the poor new recruit you kicked in the head were rushed off to a scout doctor and a bunch of people went looking for the hole in the ceiling you came tumbling from only to find nothing, that the building was just as structurally sound as it had always been. 

You got a visit from quite a few important people following that night, and even more in the weeks after as a mixture of 'regiments' fought for custody over you. Inevitably, the scouts won you since you did fall into their dining hall, but there was a promise that you would be checked up on constantly to ensure you haven't done anything and that you're being treated right. 

You're fairly certain that last part was just something Erwin said to make you feel better. 

Speaking of Erwin, that guy is pretty great. 

Yeah, he's boring and kind of a workaholic, but he's got character (and a nice smile).

He was very nice to you and not outwardly suspicious when he was interrogating you with his less than friendly and overly enthusiastic scout captains, Levi and Hanji. 

Hanji wanted to poke and prod you right away, rambling on an on about science and probabilities and stuff that you don't have the patience to think about, but Erwin saved you from immediate experimentation (you did have to participate in trials eventually, unfortunately). 

Levi, on the other hand, immediately started setting up a cell for you right next to one Eren Yeager, grumbling about you being a threat, a nuisance, annoying, bla bla bla bla. 

Okay, maybe annoying wasn't too far off, you can barely stand to listen to yourself. 

Regardless, Erwin didn't let him do that either.

You were treated like an esteemed guest, taken care of to the fullest extent of their medical capabilities and filled in on everything this world had to offer- every gruesome death that awaits you outside the walls and awful detail regarding their situation. 

Pity would be the primary thing you felt for them if you weren't stuck in the situation yourself. 

It'd be one of those 'man that sucks' kind of things where you wish you could help but not really because then you'd have to be apart of it. Only, you are apart of it so maybe you just feel pity towards yourself? 

Probably. 

As fucked as this world is, though, you actually don't hate it all that much. You haven't had to experience any of these titans or anything yet so it's easy for you to think that way, but that doesn't mean you don't take the threat seriously. You've just had it good so far, the reason being one blond Erwin Smith. 

Yeah, he's a pretty cool dude, and, well, he called you special once and that really got your heart a-thumping. 

He could probably do with less hair gel and maybe a hug given that dark look constantly held in his eyes, but that latter part applies to most people here. When they think no one is looking you are actually looking, and you see the sullen, traumatized eyes most of them have. 

You're certain that you're here for a reason, but you aren't sure what you could possibly do to help these people. They're all messed up big time, survival being one of the only things on their minds most nights you're sure. 

You're not sure that you can help them all, but you hope above all else that you can at least help Erwin. 

The two of you have become quite close in the recent months all things considered. He's a very busy man, but also an extremely thoughtful one. 

The scout leader found time to visit you every day you were in recovery, and he tried his best to share a conversation any time you crossed paths, but even more than that, he let you have a place in his office any time you wanted to talk or even just chill. 

Okay, maybe it's mostly due to your circumstances but... he didn't have to try to be friendly with you. He had no reason to actually talk to you or treat you like a person, he could've just sent you off to be watched by someone and only come around when he wanted answers or something. But no, he gave you his ear when you were freaking out and reassuring pats on the back when panic would choke the air from your lungs. 

You're certain the two of you are actual friends. 

That's what you tell yourself as you trudge to his office, kind of woozy because the red-headed mad scientist Hanji was running tests and took some of your blood, only they got a bit carried away and took more than originally intended.  

Hanji apologized multiple times but you just waved it off, saying it was fine, and made your way to Erwin's office. 

He's almost always in there so you don't hesitate going there for even a second; where else would he be? Asleep in his room? Socializing? Ppft. 

Before you know it you're in front of his door and you barging in without a second thought.

The door bursts open and creaks as you open it most of the way, thus gathering the blond man's attention without pause.  

Erwin looks up hastily from the papers on his desk and raises a single eyebrow once he realizes it's you, his deep voice following your loud entrance, "You know, I prefer it when people knock before entering." 

Damn your manners.

"O-Oh, right. Here, let me try again!"

You step back out into the hallways and rush to close the door before he can tell you it's not necessary, then raise your fist and rap against the hardwood with the cliché 5-knock rhythm everyone uses back on your version of earth. 

"Who is it?" 

His response makes your jaw drop; you 100% weren't expecting him play along of all things. 

You clear your throat and call back after your initial shock, "Captain Levi, sir!" 

There's a brief pause followed by the sound of his chair creaking, and then he replies. 

"As long as (Y/N) isn't there you can come in." 

Oh he's in a good mood today if he's joking like that. 

You open the door back up and send a pout his way, stepping inside without invitation since he's not angry at your lack of manners. 

"Oh, it's you. I thought it was someone else." His voice is bland and his face is blank, but in his eyes you can see the amusement. 

"Well we all know my Levi impression is top-notch. We could be voice twins."

You close the door behind you and amble forward before freezing, realizing you should've asked if you could stay first. 

"Don't worry about it. I was only messing with you." He waves his hand and crosses his arms over his chest, having noticed your sudden hesitation with ease. "You look a little pale, are you alright?" 

Oh, right, the bloodloss, you forgot about that. 

You shake your head and offer a half-smile his way, explaining simply, "I'm fine, just a bit tired. Hanji wanted to run some blood tests and got a bit carried away, but, again, I'm totally okay." 

He looks at you skeptically and you return the stare with ease, willing him to agree that it's perfectly fine. 

"Well, I will instruct them to take more caution next time. Here, come take a seat." 

You nod your head carefully, not wanting to make yourself dizzy or anything, and approach with much more confident steps now that you're certain he's not cross with you, but instead of sitting on one of the wooden chairs in his office you round his desk and hop up on top of it. 

"Thanks for the offer, boss." You hum happily, kicking your dangling legs shallowly, "Whatcha workin' on?" 

The papers on his desk have some formation plans scribbled on them, and you can tell right away that he's not an artist. 

Erwin scoots his chair forward, looking down at the papers with dismay, "It's a draft. I'm trying to figure out what this configuration is missing for the test run in a few months." 

Oh, you remember him mentioning that before, the Shiganshina thing that you're definitely not supposed to know about. 

"I see. You're trying to protect Eren, right?" You inquire curiously, leaning over to get a better look at the hastily scribbled wagons and arrows. 

His hand clenches around the writing utensil in his hand and he sighs heavily, like there's something he needs to say but can't quite bring himself to say it. 

Your eyebrows knit together, confused by his reaction, so you decide to ask about it. "What's wrong?" 

"I... you see, the protection is not just for Eren."

That's news to you.

"Oh, who else?" You ask curiously, not expecting the answer he's about to give. 

From the uncertain look in his eyes and worried frown you begin to guess, but his words drive the nail into the coffin. 

"You." He answers, looking up up at you with sympathetic eyes, "I was going to wait to tell you but... we've decided that it's best to take you with us. It's just a practice but it's also a realistic one. Everyone going on the real mission has to go now, and... that includes you."

A deep frown settles on your face as you think over what he's just told you, because while you've heard the horror of the titans and the stories of what they've done, you've only imagined them as being half real up until now. 

You'll actually have to go out there and face them at some point, some point in the near future actually, and it's a terrifying thought. 

"R-Right... I forgot the training wasn't just in case." You mumble after a time, looking away from the papers, away from the formation you might just be in soon, and gaze out the window behind him. 

The chair he sits on squeaks again as he moves to try and catch a glimpse of your face, a painful throb punching him right in the chest at that intimidated grimace on your face. 

"It is just in case. You'll be somewhere in the middle, somewhere safe, but it's better to prepare for the worst." 

You nod just a bit and turn your head further to the left so he can't see how freaked out you're getting or the tears gathering in your eyes, but the movement only gives it away more. 

Erwin stands abruptly and steps in front of you, reaching down with both hands to grab the sides of your face delicately. He turns your head towards him slowly, carefully, and looks you right in the eye, seriousness emanating from him, from his touch. 

"I will do everything in my power to keep you safe."

You believe him right away, both the determined glint in his eye and caring, protective hold contributing to your trust in him, and it also fuels your next declaration even though your anxieties haven't gone away. "I-I know... You're one of the most capable people I've ever known without a doubt, so I trust you completely..." 

Those mesmerizing crystal blue eyes of his widen a fraction at your bold declaration of faith, and his stomach twists with the arrival of an unknown emotion rising inside of him. It's a mixture between endless gratitude and acute adoration, and it draws him even closer to you. 

After you spoke your piece you were half expecting him to retract his hands and retreat back to his chair, but instead his gaze remained unwavering, searching your face as if the answer to the meaning of life itself was hidden there.

You just stare back at him wordlessly, both literally and figuratively stuck in place. 

This strange sort of stare down only occurs for about five or so seconds, and what finally breaks it is your gaze very briefly flickering down to his mouth which is just so goddamn close to your own. 

There was an internal battle raging inside your brain the whole time because of the will-power you needed to have to avoid looking at his lips, but you eventually got distracted by his eyebrows and ended up looking down anyways. It wasn't even necessarily a coveting peek either, honestly you're not sure why you were so drawn to looking. 

The action was really no more than a glance, a half second, but Erwin caught it all the same and, in turn, found his eyes were tempted to view yours.

Instead of looking, however, the blond man opts to feel. 

As if some foreign entity had suddenly taken over his body Erwin closes the distance between the two of you and delicately grazes his lips against your own, cautious incase you don't actually want him to kiss you. 

When no objection halts him he plants a feather-soft peck onto your awaiting lips, testing the waters still even with your unspoken consent. 

It takes you a moment to realize that this just isn't quite enough for you, and when it does occur to you, you don't hold back. 

Your hands fly up practically on their own and wrap carefully around his neck, pulling him in closer so that you can get a proper kiss from the man, and he responds in kind. 

When you jerk him forward one of his warm hands slips from your face and slams down on the desk next to you, steadying him so that he doesn't topple over on top of you or just trip in general; that would be a very hard thing to live down. 

In this moment you're sure you've just died and gone to heaven, because never in a million years did you think something like this would ever be happening to you with someone as amazing as Erwin Smith. The whole situation is surreal, but you quickly find that you were craving it. This is exactly what you wanted, maybe even needed, and it leaves your heart thumping rapidly against your chest and butterflies fluttering around in your stomach. 

You're enjoying the moment so thoroughly that you forget that humans have to breathe, so you tilt your head back briefly and catch some air only to be pulled back in a second later. 

The hand on your face urges you back forward and into him, and you surrender to the gentle coaxing without delay. 

It's different this time with a new sense of passion driving the way his mouth moves against yours; driving you to bury your itching fingers into those carefully groomed blond locks of his. 

Almost as soon as he feels your hands in his hair does he drop his other hand from your face and wrap his nicely muscled arm around your waist, easily yanking you forward towards the edge of the desk.

Your legs fall open to give him space to stand between them, and you're only vaguely aware of the way his fingers dig into your soft flesh and fist into your shirt. 

This moment is magical and quickly evolving from PG-13 to R-Rated with the way his mouth works yours and your jerky hands tug at his hair, but neither of you much care having lost yourselves in each other the moment you let go.

With each passing second you're lowered further and further back, his larger body pressing into you more heavily as the wandering hands, greedy mouths, and twitching muscles dictate each graze and grasp. 

No matter how you pull his hair or how he squeezes your sides it's not enough, each pant and shudder leaving one or the other craving more, and it's just as you're about to reach that threshold when the thundering knocks resound around the office. 

You flinch and accidentally yank his now completely messed up mane because of the shock of it, but Erwin, ever composed, just moves back a few inches and looks over your shoulder at the door. 

"Who is it?" He calls, sounding way more composed than he looks at the moment. 

"Captain Levi, sir." Comes the bored reply from just outside the door, the exact same words you spoke earlier when you barged in without knocking. "You wanted to discuss the practice run formations." 

Erwin frowns deeply and glances at your coy face briefly, noting instantly that you won't be able to look Levi in the eye or keep your cool if he were to come in, so he opts to send him away. That and... he finds that there's something else he'd rather be doing at the moment than discussing strategies. 

"Yes, right. Unfortunately, I have some things I must do before dinner, so we will have to postpone." 

A spark of excitement rushes through you when your eyes meet as he speaks to Levi through the door, fresh waves of anticipation and shyness washing over you. Due to this, you look away from his intense eyes and at the white shirt adorning his chest. 

You feel like you're drowning in a sea of mixed emotions, for each time you think you're going to find solace on the beaches of desire or joy you're whisked away by the crashing waves of a new emotion all over again. And while this would normally scare you, you find that you're only awaiting more. 

A brief silence passes through the hall and into the office, Levi seemingly contemplating what Erwin said, before he speaks again. 

"Fine. I can come back after dinner." All that follows are the sound of fading footsteps, and then you're both in the clear. 

Very slowly you raise your gaze back up to gauge the commanders expression and are surprised to see him already looking at you once again, a softer look much more innocent than your previous activities resting on his face. 

You clear your throat and shift around a bit to straighten your bent spine, muscles twitching when your thighs graze his hips, and smile uncertainly, "W-Well that was crazy bad timing, wasn't it?" 

Like before when you first entered his office he raises a single thick eyebrow, only this time hints of a smile begin to upturn the corner of his kissable (as you've come to learn) lips. 

"I suppose it was." He hums in agreement and drops his hand from your waist to rest on your other side of the desk, leaving him in an imposing and trapping position that would normally be very intimidating. 

You laugh nervously and slide your hands from his hair to his shoulders, leaving them to rest there for a time as you try to find something to say, but he beats you to the punch. 

"Would you like to try again?" 

His words give you fleeting flashbacks to the beginning of this whole fiasco, you barging in and then leaving to try a more polite approach, and it causes a more comfortable smile to grace your lips. 

"I would, but I don't know if you can handle me, Erwin." You shoot back smoothly, sounding much more confident then you feel. 

Erwin leans in close like before, foreheads bumping lightly and lips merely brushing yours, and replies just as confidently with half-lidded eyes, "You don't have to worry about that, I've got hours to figure it out." 

Chapter Text

You don't blame him for the state you find him in given the impressiveness of the scout headquarters library, but you do judge him for the frequency in which you find him this way. 

Armin Arlert is, to put it shortly, a sponge - and not because of his golden hair. 

Okay maybe that's actually a small part of it, but what you're referring to specifically is the way he absorbs information.

Books are the water to his dry sponge brain, thus you're never surprised when you catch glimpses of him heading into the large room or settled at one of the tables or on one of the comfortable chairs within. 

It's one of the nicest rooms in the entire compound, and your theory is that it's that way to encourage scouts to educate themselves so that they don't turn out like... Eren and Jean. Mindless, angry, testosterone filled men who used to constantly fight during dinner instead of reading. 

It's just a theory though, and a pretty flimsy one at that given the fact that there are plenty of benevolent people like Sasha who- actually she's not a great example. 

Mikasa isn't a great example either because she actually does visit the library fairly often, and neither is Connie because of his chaotic energy; not Levi because he's one of the calmest but also prickly-ist men you've ever known, not Hanji because of the whole 'mad genius/scientist' thing, but then you can't use Floch either because he's a very cunning but also hot-headed guy that you rarely see in there...

You've run out of fucks and people. 

Maybe there is some merit to your theory? Something to do with being a specific kind of person in order to properly appreciate life and information? No, probably not.

Where were you going with this again?

Right! Armin. 

You see, on your way down the hall from the communal bathrooms you passed the library and noticed a dim orange glow emanating from behind a bookshelf, thin beams of light reaching out into the darkness in a desperate attempt to illuminate the gloom. 

You stopped short at the entrance of the library and listened for a few moments, straining your ears for any signs of life within, and when you notice none you hurry inside fearing that someone left a candle lit in literally the most flammable room in the whole fucking building. 

It only took a moment to find the source of the light, and once you did you breathed a deep sigh of relief. 

There sat Armin with his head resting on his arms on the desk while using a thick book as a pillow; his legs are limp and knees pointing in different directions, but what really gets you is the peaceful look softening his features. 

Ever since everything that went down in Shiganshina he's been different; darker with that traumatized look in his eyes that washes away all life when he thinks no one is looking. 

The exhaustion and weight of his new immeasurable responsibility drags him down and steals his free time, his training regiments, even his dreams. 

You're certain that having to eat one of the people he once called friend eats at him in return, and it's disheartening knowing that you'll never be able to truly understand. 

Now, in the moment, though, you see a semblance of the Armin you once knew. 

It looks like he's having a dreamless sleep, a proper rest, so you're hesitant to wake him up and urge him to head to his room. 

You reach down cautiously and brush some stray hair away from his face, catching a glimpse of his shut eyes and the light purple patches beneath. Sleep seems to be evading everyone recently, a fact that effects you as well. 

Experiencing the gradual shift, watching the hope leaving your friends eyes and the mental fatigue change them is a hard thing to watch - hell you even find yourself missing Eren and Jeans incessant fighting sometimes (it does still happen on occasion but not nearly as much). 

This sight is a nice one with that in mind, the way he looks calm and peaceful for once. 

Your fingertips carefully graze along his cheekbone, noticing the curvature of his face and the way his features have sharpened with time. He's so handsome now, you realize, his face still boyish and soft despite the definition in his jaw and cheekbones.

You observe him for a time with your hand still reached out to him until you realize he's much colder than he should be. 

"How long have you been in here?" You whisper to yourself aloud, moving your hand so that your palm presses firmly against his chilled face. "Maria, you're freezing..." 

The heat from your hand draws the sleeping scout in, his unconscious brain urging him to press into the comfort of your body heat. 

Something sounding suspiciously like your name huffs past his slightly parted lips as he shifts closer to you, thus causing your cheeks to warm and your hair to stand on end. 

Surely you just imagined it - there's no way he's saying your name in his sleep, right? 

You raise your other hand and press it carefully against his nose, feeling the icy cartilage immediately begin to change temperature. To avoid cutting off his airway you just lightly keep it there and look around for a chair to pull over, trying to find a possible solution that doesn't involve waking him up. 

There's a chair sitting just two or so feet behind you, so you turn your body ninety degrees and hook your foot around the ankle of the cushioned wooden chair and slide it closer slowly. 

It makes a squealing sound as you drag it forward, the noise making you stop short to check and see if it's bothering the resting blond, but a quick glance tells you that it he's either deep in sleep to notice or it's just not loud enough to bother him.

After you confirm that the noise didn't get to him you yank it the rest of the way forward and remove your hands from his face carefully, practically jumping out of your skin when he sniffs and shifts around a bit as if he's searching for the lost warmth in the depths of his slumber. 

Hopefully you're not being creepy, because you really don't mean to be. He just looks so sweet and his body is so cold; you can't help but try to help out. 

You hurriedly yank the blanket from your shoulders (you put it on to accompany you to the bathroom since the building gets quite chilly at night, as one can tell) and drape it over your arm. 

There are no other blankets or anything in the library so you pull the second chair over until it's right up against his, then you settle on it and wrap one arm around him and lay the big wooly blanket over the two of you

Your right leg presses against his left and you lean into him, resting your head on your free arm so that the two of you are face to face. 

His soft breaths fan out and tickle your face and you're sure yours do the same, but you just scooch a little closer and watch him with the smallest of smiles adorning your face. 

At some point as you wait for him to resume a proper temperature your eyes start to droop and brain begins shutting off, and while you fight off sleep with all your might, you eventually lose the battle and succumb to that lulling tug at your consciousness.

---

Armin's eyes flutter open sometime mid-night or very early morning, the sun still sleeping while the moon take's its place in the sky, due to the feeling of something shifting beside him. 

The very first thing he sees when his blurry gaze clears is your resting face, inches away and laying on the table next to him. 

He doesn't remember falling asleep, much less falling asleep with someone, yet here you two are. 

It takes him a moment to realize that he's covered in a warm, wooly blanket, but once he does he figures you probably found him sometime in the night and tried to help warm him up. It gets horribly cold in some parts of the building when the sun goes down with the only thing to warm the ground is darkness.

The only reason he's able to see that it's you is because of the white moonlight pouring through the windows of the library, illuminating every surface it touches in a duller version of it's authentic color. It's soft beams are just as kind to your face as it is to the rest of the room, making you look angelic almost. 

It paints your face in an ethereal glow and adds to the tranquil smoothness of your placid expression, a sight that leaves his sleep-addled mind awestruck.

The blond raises his head from his arms slowly, reaching forward with one of his now free hands to lightly trace the shadows casted along your neck from your jawline; he's careful but also curious, because in his unclear mindset he wonders if you might just be a wisp of his imagination. Maybe what he's seeing before him is just a mirage created by his brain because of his sudden waking in the middle of the night. 

When you don't dissolve or disappear he realizes that it's all real, and a small, sleepy smile adorns his face. 

The longer he's awake, unfortunately, the more he's aware of the growing pain in his back and neck, and eventually he has to break out of the trance-like state and find better accommodations for the two of you, lest you both suffer through terrible body aches for the following days. 

Isn't it crazy how you can ruin a whole few days just by sleeping a little funny for a few hours? 

Armin carefully removes the blanket from around his shoulders and drapes it fully over you, rising from the chair slowly because of the way his muscles and limbs groan in protest. 

Several pops from his knees to his elbows can be heard clicking throughout the room, but it's not nearly loud enough to bother you. 

All the whipping through the air and training gives you all old people joints, ones that crack and creak each time you stretch.  

He does a sweep around the room and determines that the fancy cushioned chair with one of those pillowed footstool things will suffice for the two of you. 

Cut the man some slack, he's barely awake right now so his brain doesn't realized that the two of you don't need to continue sharing a space. 

After he's spotted a good place he returns to your side and slowly pulls your chair away from the table, stepping right next to you so you won't flop over and wake up on the ground. 

The sudden movement causes you to jerk and your eyes to flitter open and look sightlessly ahead, your eyebrows knitting together because of the disturbance. 

"Whah's goin' on...?" You slur sleepily, slowly raising your head from your lead like arms. 

Armin mentally curses when you wake up and immediately tries to console your sleep-addled form, "Shh, everything's alright, you can go back to sleep in a moment, just come over here..." He whispers lowly, petting the top of your head adoringly. 

"Mmkay..." You grumble, dropping your arms from the table and rising to your feet, a bit wobbly since your fine-motor skills aren't exactly at their highest at the moment.

Your sleepy library buddy wraps an arm around your blanketed shoulders and leads you to the large grey chair in the far corner of the room, hopping on it without hesitation. 

Each second that passes by makes his eyes droop down further and further, his body slowly shutting down because, now that it's had a taste of restful sleep, it doesn't much want to let it go. 

Neither of you are actually processing much of what's going on, because awake-you would never climb into the chair, plant your butt in the junction between his hip and the chairs arm, drape your legs over his, and, to top it all off, grab the hem of his shirt dangerously close to his upper thigh.

As soon as your weight lands on top of him he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into him like a stuffed bear or blanket. 

All of this takes only about 2 minutes, not nearly enough time for either of you to exit your languid states or realize that this'll be mortifying in the morning. 

Your head rests comfortably on his shoulder and, after you've stopped your moving, his head comes down to rest on top of yours, and the final picture is one for romantics to behold. 

The two of you are as snug as two bugs in a rug, and warm too, the epitome of comfortable and hours away from awkwardness. 

Both fatigued scouts fall asleep mere moments later.

Chapter Text

Everything always ends in a fight with these two. 

I mean seriously sometimes when they're passing each other in the hallway they'll glance around, lock eyes, and then suddenly they're screeching about how one looked at the other the wrong way. 

They fight like true siblings, that's for sure, though recently their fights have become a little less frequent and a lot more 'violent.' They usually wind up hitting each other, kicking and busting out the skillful killer moves they've acquired over time. 

It's like, you know they aren't genuinely trying to kill themselves but there are times where you begin to wonder. 

You're all between the ages of 18 and 19 nowadays, so where you're all more calm in some areas, you're more vicious in others.

A part of you almost hopes that it'll never end simply because the end of their incessant rough-housing will indicate that they've just no longer got the motivation to do it anymore. 

The seriousness of watching your friends die working towards liberation from the titans weighs on you heavily, the darkness overtaking your faces becoming more prevalent over time, but one thing that has yet to dissolve is the fights. 

Jean and Eren are family, you all are, which is why they can get under each others skin so damn easily. 

One of the most recent fights that really stuck out to you started when Eren accidentally stepped on the back of Jeans shoe, causing it to slip and scrape the back of his foot. The accident isn't what started the skirmish, what started it was Eren deciding that one was not nearly enough. 

So the brown-haired titan shifter followed behind Jean, who is now taller than him, and continued to stomp on the backs of his feet until Jean finally exploded and yelled at him to knock it off. 

Jean threw the first punch, naturally, after Eren taunted him about being too afraid to fight back, and then the brawl started. 

It was just so damn ridiculous because that didn't even need to be an argument really, but there they were throwing down. 

Eren had been trying to get someone to do some hand-to-hand training with him for ages, no doubt the crippling boredom brought on by months of inactivity, but after days and days of no takers he finally decided to create his own, you suppose. 

It's just a theory that he did it to purposefully turn the fight physical, but a pretty damn good one at that if you do say so yourself. 

The wounds the instigator bore healed very soon after the incident, but Jean had a black eye for 3 whole weeks. 

Levi put them both of bathroom duty for that one. 

How they're still so close after having fights like that is beyond you, but you opt not to delve too deeply into 'well-enough.' 

What started this most recent fight in the dining hall was so stupid your brain can barely comprehend it, so you chalk it up to them just being bored and needing to let off some steam; recently they've only gotten physical when they're overly bored or the tension is high.

It starts with Jean, as per usual, speaking condescendingly about Eren's tactics during workouts that morning, sending some well thought out and indirect jabs in his direction about sloppiness and people getting lazy, and Eren takes the bait eagerly. 

"It's so interesting that you say that Jean considering how much smaller you've gotten lately. I think what you really need to be focusing on right now is laziness; I mean come on, all that eating and no working is going to turn you back into... oh, well, you know." 

You internally groan and visually roll your eyes, looking at Mikasa with an unamused frown. Said girl returns the frown and shakes her head a bit, silently telling you that she thinks it's just as ridiculous. 

Jean yells the ususal, "What?!" Eren doubles down, more insults are thrown and then before you know it both Eren and Jean shoot up from the table and start to yell at each other, the latter of the two stepping around the table and getting up into Eren's face whom you were sitting next to. 

Your assumption about boredom is reinforced when a few people begin to get up so they can see better, the occasional shout of 'fight' echoing in the background. 

Their shouts make your head throb and spikes of frustration shoot through you, thus causing you to release an annoyed groan, rising from your spot as well to tell them off. 

"Okay you know what-" 

No one gets to hear you tell them to shut the fuck up, because, very suddenly, the back of Eren's head disappears and a flying fist comes rocketing straight at you.

---

Everyone in the dining hall watched on in horror as Jean's flaming fist of fury charged towards Eren's face only to miss and hit an unintended target when the brown-haired man ducks away from harm. 

Eren managed to dodge the punch, but in doing so he left you to fend off a blow you weren't expecting. 

Jean realizes too late what has happened, and before he knows it his clenched fist is connecting with your nose and the spot between your eyes and you are sent falling back into Sasha who sat next to you as well. 

The brown-haired girl catches you before you can bounce off her and crash to the ground, her eyes round and wide and lips hanging open in shock. 

The whole room goes dead-silent, various expressions of shock, anger, and horror painting most faces, but the most striking faces are those of the perpetrators. 

Both Eren and Jean look appalled, shocked, absolutely mortified, and like this is all some horrible nightmare they're going to wake from any minute now. 

They, of course, don't wake from this 'dream', and neither do you, apparently. 

You've been knocked out cold, as it appears, blood streaming from both nostrils and pathetically limp in Sasha's arms. 

The shock of it all fades after 10 or so seconds, and once it does Sasha and your other friends jump into action and whisk you away to the healers. 

---

It's only 2 minutes later that your eyes blink open and brain regains full function, and it's at this moment that you're the most confused. 

Just a few seconds ago you were about to yell at Jean and Eren about fighting, Jean accidentally punched you, and suddenly you're in an entirely new room? 

"You're awake!" Someone yells, relief clear in their voice. 

You see Connie's face come into view only to be shoved roughly away by Sasha's hands, her face taking over your vision next, but it's only for a second because they're both knocked away from you by Mikasa who commands them to give the doctor some space. 

"S-Shit, what happened? When did I get here?" You ask shakily in a strange voice, sitting up slowly only to flop back down when your headache worsens. 

Wow, you really did get punched. 

"You can talk about that later- first I need to make sure you don't have a concussion." Doctor Erika snaps, snatching the taper next to her on a table with her left hand. "All of you- get out." She doesn't do anything until the two of you are the only ones left in the cramped medical room, and once you are she speaks in a much softer tone of voice while handing you a cloth, "Wipe your face with this and hold it over your nostrils- yes, good. Now, follow the light with your eyes." 

---

The whole process takes 10 minutes and once it's over with, Doctor Erika leaves. Within seconds of her disappearance multiple faces flood into the room, all of which hold varying degrees of concern and anxiety. 

"Woah, you're all here to see little 'ole me?" You ask jokingly, your dull tone causing most of them to grimace; 'most' being Armin, Connie, and Mikasa. 

"Are you okay?" Armin blurts out, stepping up to your bedside with downcast countenance. "Everything happened so fast- we were all worried!"

"You fell on me so hard I thought I was gonna get knocked out too!" Sasha chimes in, standing next to Armin on your other side. 

Oh, you don't really remember that part. 

"Tell us what Doctor Erika said." Connie urges. 

A sheepish expression crosses your face as you try to explain what was discussed between the two of you, Mikasa's expression gradually getting darker as you describe her uncertainty, the pounding in your skull, and the way it hurts when you talk.

"I'm going to kick their asses." Is all she says once you've laid out all the facts, shockingly not excluding Eren from that practical death threat. 

A small smile works its way onto your face at her declaration of violence, a similar and less visible quirk lightening her own face. 

Of course, you can't actually let her beat them up no matter how much you'd love to see that, so you opt to call it off, "No, it's... well, it's not okay, but you don't need to do that. I'll just ignore both of them until they give me a heartfelt apology." You proclaim weakly, adding after a pause for thought, "And until they bribe me with gifts." 

The fact that your sense of humor is still intact makes them all breathe a sigh of relief, though your swollen nose and bruising face put a damper on the humor of it. 

It's sad to see someone they care about in such a state, and even worse knowing that two of their other close friends contributed to it. 

"Where are they anyways? I kind of expected at least one of them to be begging for forgiveness at my feet by now." You comment after a moment, voice wavering slightly when the movement of your face causes the pain to increase. 

Armin takes a seat next to your stretched out legs and observes your face for a moment before answering your question, "Levi is punishing them. I know he doesn't usually care when they fight but someone else was involved unwillingly this time so he isn't letting it slide." 

You would nod your head but it'd just make you feel worse, so you just hum and lean your head back against the wall, staring up wordlessly at the ceiling. 

"Okay, well, we should probably leave you alone for the time being. I'll tell Erika to come back, okay?" Armin whispers, seemingly sensing your quickly fading energy. 

"Alright, though it's not like I can sleep until, oh I don't know, forever anyways. She says it's not safe but didn't really explain why."

"Oh, right..." 

You shrug weakly, and before you know it you're by yourself again (at least, until Doctor Erika returns 2 minutes later). 

---

The next 10 or so hours are spent doing whatever you can to keep yourself from falling asleep upon Erika's orders, though it's not the hardest thing given how many people have come in to talk to you, check up on you, or just see the damage done to your face. 

Mostly your friends but there were a couple surprises in there too. 

Captain Levi, for example, dropped by to tell you that you look like shit, but when he did it he pat you on the head fondly which made up for the harsh words; everyone knows he's not the type to gush or panic over something like this, though he definitely will/has kicked the perpetrators asses on your behalf (they're in for a lot of those in the near future). 

Anyways, it's the moments where you're by yourself that it's the hardest to keep your eyes open, because you were injured during dinner you've been up for a good 20 to 23 hours at this point. 

It's gotta be around four or five in the morning and Erika's visits have slowed to a stop; she hasn't been in to see you in about an hour now, having once come in every 30 minutes to check up on you, so you're fairly certain she fell asleep doing something. 

She's a very devoted woman so you have a hard time believing that she'd just ditch you without saying anything, but a confirmation of your assumptions comes in a very surprising form as your eyelids begin to droop and mind grows fuzzy. 

Your heavy eyes were just closing and body just relaxing when the door creaked open, the shrill squeaking making you flinch awake again. 

The dim candlelight illuminating the room once so calming and lulling you to sleep now accentuates the shadows and causes your heart to beat faster, not knowing who, or what, is coming through the door. 

It's definitely not Erika, that's for sure, because she opted to burst into the room each time to startle you out of exhaustion, but then who could it be?

Your eyes burn as you stare intently at the slowly opening door, heart pounding erratically in your chest and brain imagining the absolute worst. Logically you know that it's just a regular person here to grab something, maybe someone checking on you, but your fatigue dialed up your paranoia to 100. 

Instead you brain is telling you a demon has come to collect your soul and that if you don't cover your feet it's gonna grab them and drag you down into hell. 

The process of the door opening and you internally panicking only lasts about 15 seconds, but this short quarter of a minute feels like a life time. 

In the end it's just Jean sneaking into the room like some kind of robber, something that takes a good few seconds for your brain to register. 

He whispers your name into the dim room, unable to make out whether you're awake or not or where you are, and you immediately relax at the familiar tone despite him being the very person who landed you in the healers. 

You open your mouth to let him know that you're awake but are stopped last second by the sudden petty urge to throw something at him. 

The pettiness wins out so you reach behind you and carefully slide the pillow out from behind you, pulling your arm back and taking a moment to aim. Once you're locked onto your target you fire, successfully nailing him right in the head. 

"S-Shit!" He gasps, whipping his head from side to side in search of the throw-er. 

His eyes fall upon your bed in the far corner and his tense shoulders sag, "I guess you are awake, then." He grumbles, leaning down to pick up the pillow. 

You say nothing in favor of keeping true to your 'silent treatment' plan from earlier, 

"Damn, I can barely see in here, I'm gonna light a few more candles." He seems to realize you're not going to say anything, so he just talks to the air and looks for the materials to brighten the room. 

Once the room is better lit and he can see five feet in front of him he spots you, swiping one of the candle holders in the hand not holding the pillow you used as a weapon.  

The dual-tone-haired man approaches your bedside and holds the taper up a little closer to your face after dropping your pillow onto the bed, looking worse for wear and really disheveled.

When your face becomes more visible he shrinks down and his guise manifests as horribly guilty and dejected. "Are you not saying anything because you can't talk, or because you won't?" There is no accusation in his voice given his accusatory words, only shame and an underlying level of understanding. 

You grab the stiff cushion you flung at him and shove it back behind you, leaning back with your torso upright as you consider responding. You could give him a hard time both by staying silent or by berating him, you're just not sure which one to do. 

"I'll take it that you won't, then." He surmises, nodding his head shallowly and taking a seat next to you. 

"You got me really good." You say without much thought, noticing the way you sound stuffy almost from the punch to the nose. "I'm lucky you didn't break it." 

You haven't been able to see yourself yet but you can assume that it's not pretty. No doubt you've got one hell of a bruise probably stretching from under both eyes across your nose, and there might even still be a little swelling; you're not entirely sure. 

The sheets pull beneath you when he clenches his fist into them, his jaw tightening and teeth grinding together as he gets to properly see his handy-work. 

It's true you look like you got properly punched, but it's actually much better then it had been all those hours ago when you first got hit; the swelling has gone way down and left you just really bruised and a little weird sounding, though you've had an on and off headache and lots of throbbing in your nose for ages.

Doctor Erika also told you that you could possibly be susceptible to frequent and random nose bleeds for a while until the internal damage to your nose has healed, but she wasn't 100% certain. 

All Jean can see in this moment, however, is your limp form, face covered in blood and eyes closed as if you were dead. 

The horror that filled him in that moment, the dread dragging his heart all the way down to his feet, was suffocating, because he did that. He did that to you, he hurt you, knocked you out, and maybe even gave you a concussion and all he got was chores, extra training, and a scolding. 

You were brought to the healers bloodied and unconscious and he just got an earful and some minimal punishments? 

The guilt will no doubt live with him forever. 

Jean sets the metal candle holder down with shaky hands, his eyes shining with moisture and self-reproach as he tries to find the words, any words, that may paint a proper picture of how sorry he is. 

And he should be sorry - concussions can be detrimental to your brain health, they could disable you forever, and you're lucky that Sasha had been there to catch you instead of the cold, unforgiving surface of a wood floor or stone wall. 

The contrite Jean looks you right in the eyes despite his eyes threatening to spill tears, knowing that no apology worth a damn comes from someone who can't even hold eye-contact or that speaks in a wavering voice, "I didn't- I shouldn't have... ah, fuck, I'm such a piece of shit..." He growls through gritted teeth, face twitching and burning hot with mortification and unfathomable amounts of shame.

'Damn it, I can't even say anything...' He berates himself internally, squeezing his eyes shut as he racks his brain for any intelligent thoughts. 

His eyebrows knit together tightly as if a sewing needle brought them together and his jaw sets so tensely you think his teeth might crack, and it's at this moment where you begin to feel uncertain. 

"Why don't you start with, sorry?" Your soft voice pipes up after watching him struggle, needing to hear those words and for him to calm himself. 

A loud puff of air goes out through his nose as he takes your words and mulls over them, and very slowly he releases the linen beneath his fingers and opens his eyes up to face you properly. 

He knows he hurt you yet here he is making the whole situation about himself; he can't help but be disgusted with himself.

"I... I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry." He breathes, hesitantly grazing his fingers over the back of your right hand resting on the sheets. 

Jean leans forward a bit and looks you directly in the eyes once again, more confident as if your suggestion gave him the clarity to find the right words, and continues, "I'm an idiot. Eren and I both are. We fight and we bother everyone with it and this time we hurt more than just each other- I hurt more than him. I hurt you, and you had nothing to do with it." 

You nod your head once to let him know you're listening. 

"You're one of the best things in my life, one of the reasons I fight; because I want you to be safe, to be far away from harm, yet here I am delivering it straight to you." 

"To my face, to be exact." You chime in before you can think better of it. 

The pained twist in his face makes you instantly regret the joking jab, so you try to smooth it over with a smile to show that you're not saying it to wound him anymore than he already is. 

"Yes... My point is: there's no excuse for what I did to you, and there are no words I can say to make it okay. What I did was unforgivable, and we're lucky that things turned out the way they did so I... I hope that one day you'll be able to at least not hate m-" 

"Woah, woah, wait!" You exclaim when he starts talking about you hating him and stuff, "Hey man, you punched me in the face not killed my whole family! I don't hate you!" 

He looks genuinely surprised when you say that, showing you that he didn't throw it in there for pity points or to gaslight you. He's being authentic, because he really did think that you'd hate him for this. 

"B-But you should... I could've killed you." He argues, not doing great for his 'please don't hate me' case. 

"I think you're giving yourself too much credit, Jean. You couldn't kill me even if you tried." There are hints of humor in your words but you mean them as well, because as scary as the situation was, everything is fine. You're okay (as far as you and Doctor Erika know that is). 

You've decided that you'll accept his apology, and to show him this you lean forward and plant the gentlest of kisses against his hot cheek. 

His eyes flutter rapidly at your unexpected sign of affection and all brain functions seem to cease in that moment. He cannot compute what you just did, unable to comprehend it. 

"What you did was horrible, but it was also an accident. And, well, I don't think I can forgive you right now but I can't hate you either. You're one of the most important people in my life too, you know." 

Jean looks at you owlishly, blinking rapidly as he tries to formulate a response but to no avail, so you take matters into your own hands by taking his hands.

You grab the hand you're fairly certain he hit you with and slowly bring it up to your face, tightening your grip when he tries to pull it away like he's afraid he'll hurt you again just by being too close. You press the back of stiff hand against your cheek close to your ear, tilting your head slightly to feel the warmth of it more clearly while Jean remains absolutely mesmerized by your actions. 

He can't believe what he's seeing. The very hand that caused those awful bruises is touching your face by your own volition, hell you're kind of forcing him to do it, and he's even more shocked to see you react as if you like it.

Surely you'd be even slightly scared of him after what he did to you, right?

Wrong. 

"Wow, can you believe that I didn't just explode into flames?" You ask sarcastically, flipping his hand so his palm now rests against your face. "Wait- maybe I will. Lemme check the other side." 

You still don't. 

"I-I'm sorry I just," he pauses and takes a breath, "I just wasn't expecting you to... do that." 

You shrug your shoulders nonchalantly and drag your fingers down the back of his hand, letting him hold you himself now as you make a downward path from his knuckles to his wrist until your hand eventually drops to the bed. 

"You know if you kiss me I might think a little more about forgiving you." You chime after the silence drags on for a bit too long, blinking up at him with faux-innocence. 

Jean's heart is going into overdrive, pounding mercilessly in his chest as his thoughts run circles around his reeling brain, so he's not quite certain how to move forward. 

I mean, you gave him permission so...

The short-circuting Jean raises his other hand to rest on your opposite cheek and he leans closer slowly, pressing his hesitant lips against yours very lightly since he's not certain of the extent of your pain. 

When you feel none you lean in a bit closer and press your lips more firmly against his own, smiling when he jumps almost imperceptibly. 

It's a nice kiss, simple, chaste, gentle, and once you've had enough you pull away and look at his face. 

He doesn't open his eyes or say anything despite the lost of contact but a small smile begins to climb onto his face, the corners of his eyes crinkling and warming his once frozen expression.

"You know-" Jean pauses and clears his throat, trying to strengthen his voice, "I don't think I've quite earned your consideration yet..." 

A pleasant closed mouth smile lifts your cheeks and lightens your eyes, and instead of replying verbally you just hum. 

He slides his left hand from your cheek to drop down on the pillow laying flat behind you and cups your cheek with his right, leaning in close to caress your lips with another gentle press. 

The moment is bliss and helps you to momentarily forget the pain in your face, though you're shocked that he's still attracted to you even given how horrible you definitely look right now. 

Jean, once sitting with his feet planted on the floor, is now sitting partially on his hip with his upper body twisted towards you. 

Just as he's scooting closer, as his hand begins to trail a bit lower, the door slams open and Doctor Erika's authoritative voice booms throughout the room.

"Sorry I took so long, you better not be slee-" She stops short when her eyes fall upon the two of you. 

You and Jean both freaked out when she barged in like that all of a sudden, the latter practically jumping out of his skin when he yanked his face away from yours. 

"O-Oh..." A light blush dusts the doctors cheeks and she adverts her gaze immediately. She can read the room quite easily, it seems. "I see you two have made up, then." 

Oh Maria. 

"I'll just, um, leave you two alone then. I don't want you sleeping until tomorrow night so... stay awake however you see fit I guess." 

You're not entirely sure if she's insinuating what you think she is or if it just came across wrong but regardless you and Jean both tense and avoid looking at one another.

Now you're wondering if it really was going that way or not. 

Slowly your downcast gaze rises to look at the man just across from you only to find him already looking at you sheepishly, his face bathed in pink. 

Despite his embarrassment and violent blushing a smile works its way onto his face and you know he's about to say something along the lines of her possible suggestion to tease you, so you beat him to it to fluster him instead. 

"So, about tonight..." 

Chapter Text

She means the world to you, she is your world, and without a world to stand on and keep us safe, we are nothing. 

You've known for a long time that she fell in love with the Marleyan chef, Niccolo, that he held her heart and she held his (even if they never made it official), and while it's something that pains you each and every day, it's also something that has encouraged you to be the best friend that you can be. 

Just because you'll never be able to feel her lips on yours, to hold her at night when you have nightmares or just for the hell of it, you still get to be a part of her life. You get to fight with her, cry with her, work hard every day with her, and become better people together. 

Your love for her will never pass that threshold separating friends and lovers, but that's okay; being an important person in her life is good enough for you. 

Jean and Connie are well aware of your feelings towards the ever hungry Braus and sympathize with you, but even more than that, they admire you. How you allow yourself to separate your romantic feelings from situations. 

The four of you are tight-knit and very close, the only real secret you have being held only from Sasha because it has to do with her. 

Every evening before a big mission like the one you're currently heading towards is spent in a dreadful silence, everyone looking at one another wondering who won't be going home. 

You've been on this blimp thing for a long-ass time now, waiting, preparing mentally and physically for what is to come, but in the end none of you are sure what to expect. 

The inhabitants of Paradis island know the gist of this place, they know a lot more than they did before including information about their artillery, vehicles, and approximate populations. 

According to all laws of logic you guys should be completely screwed, but with Eren's time in the city and the plans he's drawn up, you guys should be able to defeat the Marleyan military, eliminate huge players on the board, and possibly capture titan shifters as well. 

You have faith that everything will work out, because in this moment it's all you've got to keep your grounded hundreds of feet in the air. 

"Hey." 

A soft voice breaks you out of your stupor, whispering your name since they realize you're lost in thought. 

You, of course, know that voice from anywhere. 

Sasha has a slightly worried expression painting her lovely face, eyebrows conveying her concern and eyes drooping. She looks just as restless as you feel and sounds even more-so, but even with that she's still the most beautiful woman you've ever seen. 

"Hi." You reply, offering her a half smile in return. 

The brunette settles on the floor next to you, pressing her shoulder into yours, "Just talked to Connie and Jean. They're barely holding it together." 

You can hear the humor in her voice, knowing that she's both projecting and also serious which makes your smile wider and more genuine. She always makes you smile without even trying, one of the reasons you love her so much. 

"Yeah? I can imagine, those two are idiots after all."  

She laughs and pushes your arm playfully,  both agreeing and absolutely scandalized, "Oh come on! We're all idiots." 

Fair, fair. 

"Oh!" A thought suddenly occurs to you, and so you reach into your pocket and rummage around for a moment in search of your prize. 

Your fingers lightly graze the napkin wrap and you grab it without hesitation, ripping it from your pocket with excitement. 

"Look what I've got!" You whisper yell, unwrapping it carefully, "Some of those hard honey candies, I stole them from the pantry before we left." 

Her eyes positively light up and sparkle with delight when the golden little lumps of sweetness meet her eyes, drool practically pooling out of her parted lips. 

"I brought some for us and the guys, but you can't tell anyone." 

"What? If I did then we'd have to share!" She exclaims with an eager waver to her voice, fingers twitching with anticipation of you allowing her to swipe some. "C-Can I have one now? Oh, please? Pretty please?" 

You close the napkin as soon as her quavering fingers get too close and shake your head decisively, a mischievous smile creeping onto your face. "Uh-uh, no way. They're for after we get Eren's ass back." 

A pout so sad darkens her once enchanted features and she looks at you with disappointment, and it's almost enough to make you give in and let her have one right now; but you stay firm and shake your head, putting the candies back in your pocket. 

"After." You repeat, booping the tip of her nose with your pointer finger. 

---

Six of your comrades didn't make it back from Marley, their corpses left to be collected and probably burned by the enemy. 

Six of your friends that you'll never see again. 

Six peoples lives cut short with families back home awaiting their return. 

As painful as it is, however, none of you can deny that the price is worth the reward. The Beast and Warhammer Titans are now in your possession alongside the Founder and Attack Titans. 

This is a huge win for Paradis, for all Eldians, and while there will be time for mourning later, now is a time for celebration. 

Everyone is cheering, smiling, laughing, excitement coursing through all your veins; because for the first time since the liberation of The Walls, you feel as if you all might have a chance at a better life for all Eldians. 

Lobov decided to hang back so you and your three buds could board the ship and rest after all you had to go through today, and you're elated that Sasha, Connie, and Jean all made it through harm-free. 

The amount of concern you held for them was nearly crippling, leaving your heart heavy and in a constant state of dread due to not knowing what's to come, but now that it's all over, that you're all okay, you feel like you can finally breathe again. 

You manage to catch Sasha's eye after clapping Floch on the back, a grin so bright that it nearly blinds you gracing her lovely face. 

The beginnings of heat climbs up your neck but you fight it off and approach her confidently, relieved. You spring at her and wrap your arms around her tightly, pulling her into a bone-crushing hug that displays just how much it was weighing on you. 

"I'm so glad you're okay..." You breathe next to her ear, squeezing your eyes shut as she embraces you in return. 

"Can't get rid of me that easily." She whispers back, sentiment lining her joking words. 

The two of you are engulfed in a larger pair of arms, Jean's, followed by a 4th pair, Connie's. 

"The four of us are unstoppable!" Connie cheers, letting go when you start to squirm with faux-discomfort. 

"You guys are squishing us!" You snap, though there's no real bite behind your words. "You're going to make us into paper like that." 

Jean bursts out with boisterous laughter and lets his arms drop to his sides, "Stop whining." 

You and Sasha shoot withering looks his way and Connie laughs, so the brown-haired woman changes the subject. 

"Anyyyyways..." Sasha chirps, turning her sights to you with a sudden predatory glint in her eyes. "Where's the candy, huh?" 

The word 'candy' grabs both men's attention, causing them both to look at you with similar hungry expressions. They don't even know what she's talking about but they look fully ready to jump you and steal it if you withhold it any longer. 

"Yeah, alright, alright. I've got these awesome honey candies that I swiped from the kitchens." You explain, reaching into your pocket to retrieve the napkin. 

They're all looking at you with anticipation, but Sasha's head suddenly turns and her expression shifts from excitement to confusion. 

"I just heard something." She says, causing the three of you to look at her. 

Given that she's not thinking about the candies anymore, you're all inclined to believe her.

"Hey, quiet down!" Jean yells at the celebrating soldiers ahead of you, his expression setting hard as he steps forward to get them to shut up.

They, of course, get louder and start yelling about raising their voices, and while it draws Sasha's gaze you keep yours planted where she was previously looking. 

It's impossible that she would've heard anything other than Lobov, that's who it is of course, but then why do you have such a bad feeling?

He's taking a bit longer than you thought he would, as Connie and Jean are now talking about. 

The empty doorway shows nothing by the landscape zooming by for a good few seconds so you advert your gaze down to your pocket to dig out the napkin. Once you've got it clutched in your hand you look back up in time to see a rolling body holding along range gun. 

The girl cocks the gun and begins to aim, and you line it up right away. 

"Sasha!" You scream, lunging forward as the gun explodes behind you. 

Your shoulder collides with her and sends her flying into Connie, and the bullet rips right through you. 

It penetrates through your sternum and throws you onto the floor on your side, blood spurting out of the wound as a cough works its way from your lungs to your throat. 

In this moment everything becomes fuzzy; the yelling voices around you, the second bang, the pounding of foot steps, even your sight, it all becomes so unclear. 

You can feel all the warmth in your body begin to steadily drain out of you, wetting the ground with a deep crimson. 

Things begin to focus again as you're rolled onto your back, but the overwhelming exhaustion that washes over you makes even blinking a chore. 

Their faces are the first thing that registers when your blurry vision evens a bit, though it's hard to focus. 

Sasha's face is what your gaze locks on to, the light hanging above you bathing her in an ethereal glow. It could be the haziness or just your mind slipping into a delirious state, but she looks like an angel here to guide you in death. 

Your name stutters past her quivering lips, her countenance showing just how lost she is, and she gasps, "N-No, hey! Please stay with me. Look at me! It's going to be okay, you're going to be okay!" 

You try to lift your hand to touch her face because the sight of her pain enhances the weight in your chest, but it just rolls, feeling 100x's heavier than it did moments ago. In fact, your entire body seems to have been jam packed full of lead, seeming so heavy that you might just take down the whole blimp. 

A wet cough bursts from your chest all of a sudden making your eyes squeeze shut and whole body convulse, and to stop your shaking two pairs of hands grab you and hold you in place. 

Connie and Jean's faces finally register and you remember the candy you were just about to share with them. 

You try to smile but your face won't move upon your command, so instead you put your strength into saying something. 

"T-The candy..." You whisper, clenching your fist over the napkin holding the 8 little goodies, "Two... two each... we g-gotta share..." 

No one moves to take the candy like you thought they would, thus causing your irrational mind to feel a spark of annoyance. You went through a lot of trouble to get this candy, risked a weeks worth of cleaning from Levi if you were caught, and they don't even want them? 

The horrified expressions on their faces would've made you scoff if you could; are they really that worried about you getting bathroom duty? It's just some candy, very worth it if you do say so yourself. 

Jeans voice booms above you, frantic and almost as hysterical as your rolling brain, "Someone get a tourniquet! We need to stop the bleeding, hurry!" 

Tourniquet? Did someone get hurt? Is that what that bang was? 

Oh...

Oh, wait. You're the one who's hurt. 

"Sasha," you gasp, unfocused gaze sliding back to her, "Y' okay?" 

The tears are rolling down her cheeks like a stream after a storm, dripping down her face onto you though you can't feel it. 

"I'm okay, t-thanks to you, I'm okay." She whispers, grabbing your hand tightly in hers, "And you're gonna be okay too. Just stay with us, okay? We can worry about splitting the candy later when you're better." 

Despite her pleas to look at her your gaze slides away towards the ceiling of the blimp. This thing is really amazing, now that you think about it. I mean, you're so high up in the air and it's just flying, you are flying.

Two pairs of running footsteps thunder upon the ground towards you, Mikasa and Armin, to gauge the damage; and it's not looking good. 

At first they thought you were already dead, still with your hand held captive by Sasha's desperate grasp, but the slight twitch of your nose and flutter of your eyelashes lets them know that you're still there. 

Your name leaves their lips too, but you're not really seeing anything anymore. 

"I love..." Each word is beginning to stab into you, like a sharpened knife shallowly piercing your lungs each time you take a breath to form any words, "Love you guys..." 

You love them so much; you love all three of them in your own way. Sasha you love in a different way, but that doesn't make you love Connie or Jean any less. 

What are they going to do without you, you wonder? 

A small smile finally forms on your face despite your past efforts and your distant eyes begin to fade away, a deep cold spreading throughout your entire body. 

Everything is numb and fuzzy now, the surrounding voices and movements dying away with you, and as the edges of your vision begins to fade all you can think about is that they're safe; your friends, Sasha, all safe. And your life is well worth that. 

Sasha, holding onto your hand with the candies for dear life, feels you go limp. She feels your life drain away, feels the candies slip from her hands and clatter to the floor into your blood.

The golden treats are now coated in blood, looking grotesque and making the brown-haired woman feel sick. 

Your name is but a ghost on her lips as she stares at your still face, willing you to move, to smile, to flinch even a bit, but there's nothing. 

She says your name louder, and then she starts hyperventilating, shivering and trembling non-stop. Her hands and feet bring her all the way to the wall, her back slamming against it as she starts to claw at her face and pull at her hair. 

Why would you do that? Why did you do that? How could you? 

In an instant you're just not there even though you're physically there in front of her surrounded in a pool of your own blood. But your eyes are vacant, lifeless, dull, as if there's nothing inside of you; as if your body is just a mere shell left behind when your soul departed. 

Connie looks at your unmoving form with wide, shocked eyes, shaking just as much as Sasha though he manages to keep it together a bit better.

Jean doesn't even know yet, he didn't get to be there for you in your last seconds because he went to tell everyone else, and from the state of Sasha, Connie knows he'll have to break the news. 

Mikasa and Armin (when did those two even get there, he wonders) wail and cry above you, pleas to wake up falling upon deaf, dead, ears. 

The cool tears falling upon your face illicit no reaction and neither do the loud cries or deafening silence from the once celebrating soldiers, because you're gone. 

Gone after all you've been through, after everything that has happened. 

After everything. 

Gone. 

Chapter Text

I literally just finished reading chapter 138, the second to last one, and I cried like 3 goddamn times I literally cannot right now. If you're reading this and didn't notice the spoiler warning I'm gonna go ahead and say it again:

*Spoiler Warning, do not read if you haven't read the recent chapters*

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Anyway, what happened to Hanji, Jean, and Connie is not okay and I am literally so fucked up rn I literally cannot. I've got some hope in my soul that the founder can transform them back in the last chapter but considering what Isayama, the creator, said about the ending not being happy I'm not all that confident. My soul has been crushed, stomped on, resurrected, and then smashed all over again. I already had some of it spoiled because some very vocal Manga readers are assholes who spoil things for others because they think it's fun so I knew Connie and Jean were fucked but man it's so much worse seeing it. 

And, of course, the Ackermans always end up on top so RIP to my heart and soul once again.

Hajime Isayama is a fucking excellent story teller and I am blown away by how devastated he made me. 

Anyways end of this I just wanted to say something because I'm hurting 😙

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End of Spoilers

I'm still going to update a chapter tonight I just wanted to make this now cause I just finished reading, I believe tonight's chapter is a Connie/Reader so look forward to that if you want! I'll be posting it in 3-4 hours

Chapter Text

Being faced with such a trivial problem as this was 100% not apart of the plan. 

After retaking the walls and ridding the island of titans the Survey Corps began to issue survival missions. 

Before it was never all that necessary, though they did it on occasion, because getting stranded outside the walls meant death- no exceptions. However, now that certain doom no longer awaits you all outside the walls, they've begun to realize the importance of surviving in the wild.

So, they started to issue survival missions both individually and with groups/pairs following extensive lessons. 

You've done somewhere around 10 of these missions now, each one going better than the last, and for the most recent one you were paired with one Connie Springer. You'll be inside of Wall Rose since they're not comfortable sending out individual teams outside the walls yet incase there are titans hiding somewhere unreachable, but that's how it's been since they started these. 

Great guy, super funny and awesome company, but... well, you're a bit nervous that it's him. You've got some more than platonic feelings towards him that you're fairly certain he doesn't reciprocate, and now the two of you are going to be spending 3 days uninterrupted together in the middle of the vastness of the wilderness with nothing but each other and the trees around you? 

There's no guarantee that you won't make a fool of yourself or that the mission itself will go well, so there are many factors you need to take into consideration here. 

And, well, it doesn't exactly help that you're thinking about all of this instead of helping Connie figure out water and food. 

He says your name and asks with furrowed eyebrows, "Did you hear what I said?" 

"U-Uhm, no...?" You answer honestly, pursing your lips at your own foolishness. 

Instead of being annoyed or rolling his eyes he just smiles and repeats his words kindly, "That's okay. I just said that I think we might be nearby a lake or something cause I just saw some deer running by." 

"Oh, that's great! We can knock out food and water if we find it." You mentally kick yourself for stating the obvious but don't take it back, instead sticking by what you said. 

You dip your head and readjust the bag on your back, glancing his way slyly to avoid being caught. 

The way he's grown out his hair looks really nice, you think, and he's gotten a lot stronger from when you guys were just kids in the Training Corps. His features are more defined and golden eyes even brighter than before despite the toll time has taken on all of you, not to mention his sense of humor has gotten much better. He's clever, you have to admit, and very resourceful on top of being an all around nice person. Really, he's got it all and it's just not fair for your weary heart. 

Those honey-dipped pools of his drift your way and your eyes meet, and while he smiles at you kindly your face only gets hot because you were caught staring like some sort of creep. 

You look away quickly and turn your attention to the side like you were surveying and just caught sight of him on accident, and in doing so you catch sight of glimmering blue.

A very audible gasp comes from you and you point it out immediately, ecstatic that you were the one to find it. 

"Oh! There it is! A river!" You cry, bounding towards it without waiting for your partner. 

Oh how you want to wash up and get comfortable; to drink some water and relax by the waterside while you wait for dinner to walk on by. 

Connie yells your name and calls for you to wait up, but you keep on running with a slight skip to your step. 

"Oh, it's beautiful!" You yelp, dropping your bag as you run up to the bank. 

A small grove of trees to the left, rolling hills to the right, and the sun hits the water in a way that's just magical. It shimmers and shines like the finest of jewelry, reflecting the soft color of the sky even as it ambles past you. 

Running water is the only water you should even consider drinking, and here it is. It's perfect. 

You plop down on your but and begin to take off your shoes and socks, wanting to feel the cool stream between your toes and on your hot feet. 

Connie stands just a few paces behind you, his eyes caught on your form instead of the beautiful sight before him; because, well, the sight he see is beautiful. 

Your excited face, bright eyes, big smile, it's gotta be the loveliest thing he's ever seen in his life. 

"Connie, get in with me!" You exclaim, bouncing like a child who just got told they've got a gift to open. "We'll cool off and then get to work, hm?" 

How can he say no to that face? Spoiler alert: He can't. 

You're not even worried about it anymore, all your focus pointed towards the rushing water. 

"Oh, grab the water skins too. We've got to boil the water then, right?" 

You've done this a few times but you're hoping that they've packed you guys something to make this part of the job easier. 

"Yeah, I think so." He confirms taking his backpack off to rummage through it, "But we were given sanitary drops, the ones that make the water drinkable." 

As you were hoping, now you don't have to spend time boiling the water. 

"Great, then we can collect some water and relax while we wait for it." 

"Do you think we should set up camp around here? There's water and food..."

You purse your lips and think his suggestion over, considering the variables and possible situations.

On one hand it would be very convenient because there's a good water source, probably fish in the river as well as animals that come around to drink here, but then, if you guys found this place then you can best your ass that other predators have too.

Bears are what first come to mind, roaming around at night looking for something to eat only to stumble upon you and Connie and make a meal out of one, or both, of you. 

"No... I think we need to find somewhere easy to defend or some sort of shelter. There's definitely wild cats and bears out here somewhere, and I don't think it's too farfetched to think that they might be attracted to this place too." You explain hesitantly, feeling guilty that you're shooting down his idea. 

Connie, ever the agreeable man, nods his head and looks down at the ground thoughtfully, "Good point; I'd hate to be mauled by a bear while I sleep." 

"No way, I'd be the one who gets eaten- I'm delicious!"

Your nonsense declaration garners a smile from your short-haired partner and he shakes his head, "Disagree. I would make a great dinner, you're more of a dessert." 

"Dessert?" You inquire, standing up straight and looking him right in the eyes. "And why's that?" 

His reply makes your heart skip a beat, "Because you're so sweet, obviously." 

Butterflies flood your stomach and make you all light and fluttery inside, heart exploding with coyness as his words work their way through you. Hot embarrassment claws it's way up your neck and spreads across your cheeks, causing you to turn away and step into the water. 

A nervous giggle bubbles from your chest through your lips and your gaze sweeps over him and back to the river, "S-Sweet? Me? N-No, no way!" You counter stepping into the water to cool off your feet and, hopefully, your flaming face. 

You hear shuffling behind you and seconds later Connie is splashing into the water next to you, a bright, cheesy smile framing his sharp features. 

"You calling me a liar?" He asks with a mischievous lilt in his tone. 

Oh god, you need to change the subject. 

You swipe one of the water holders from his hands and crouch down closer to the ground, tilting the opening against the flow so the river will fill it up for you. 

"C-Come on, Connie, lets get the water going." 

---

The two of you, instead of relaxing, decide to walk along the river in search of a good place to set up camp while waiting for your water instead, hoping for a little cave or maybe a large tree, but you don't find much right away. 

The reason you stay along the river is because you don't want to stray too far from it, because who knows if you'll be able to find it again if you get lost. 

Around thirty-minutes after setting off down stream something catches your eye off to the left, just a small glimpse of pebbled grey. 

You stop short and turn your head to look for whatever caught your attention, the sudden halt causing Connie to run right into you. 

"Woah!" Connie yelps, reaching down to grab you when he sends you jolting forward with his own body. "Shit! I'm sorry!" He exclaims, digging his fingers into your waist lightly to keep you from slipping and falling. 

Luckily he stopped you from smashing face first into the rocks and mud beneath your feet, giving you room to turn and look up at him with a sheepish, guilty look. 

"Sorry, I just, I thought I saw something." You explain lamely, looking into those molten-gold eyes of his. 

He's so close, right there with his hands resting lightly on your waist, an invisible string trying to tug you closer to him. 

You, of course, resist the urge to close the gap between the two of you and offer him a smile, reaching up to rub the back of your head. 

Connie nods his head slowly, turning his head to the left in search of whatever you may have seen while walking without letting you go or stepping away. If anything he just holds you a bit tighter, his fingers pressing into the soft skin of your sides. 

"Oh! It's a building - we're saved!" He exclaims, looking back down at you with excitement sparkling in his eyes. 

All the wealth in the world couldn't compare to the richness in his eyes, golden eyes rivaling every bit of jewelry and bit of treasure you've ever seen in your whole life; the way they glimmer when he's excited and shine when he's smiling makes every bit of money you've ever held seem so insignificant, because the joy of just being with him leaves you richer than you could ever be. 

A moment of silence washes over the two of you while he stares you down, and you quickly realize that you've both been caught in some sort of staring spell. 

You clear your throat and smile shakily, nodding your head along to show that you're down to learn more. "R-Right, lets go check it out." 

Even with your words which clearly display a motivation to break apart and move on, neither of you pull away or part from the other. You just keep staring, looking deep into one another as if searching for some unspecified thing within. 

Connie swallows the lump forming in his throat and slides his right hand up from your waist slowly, leaving burning skin in its wake. Both your hearts are beating so hard, so loudly, that you're both scared the other will notice, and then his foot slips as he's shifting closer.

The sudden jolt causes you to lose your footing as well thus leaving the both of you at the mercy of the muddy ground; Connie lands on top of you and you're sprawled out on your back, hands, legs, shirt, hair, everything being attacked by the mud. 

Your eyes are wide and his are even wider as he uses his arms to hold himself up and off of you, shock leaving the both of you frozen and speechless for a time, and then you start laughing. 

Boisterous giggles and loud guffaws due to the ridiculousness of the whole situation, and Connie finds himself laughing right along with you. 

It's just all so comical, the cliche-ness of it all, the way you're both acting like little kids again who can't get control over themselves, and, yes, the mud too. 

You dig your fingers into the damp ground and gather a handful of the wet silt as a dazzling smile takes over your face, mesmerizing the hovering Connie, and then you reach up and rub it all over his face as a sort of payback even though it wasn't technically his fault. 

His laughing stops short and he looks at you with a blank stare, face dirty and painted in mud and moss that's already starting to stick and dry weirdly to his skin. 

"Oh, you're going to regret that." He grumbles, digging both hands into the mushy ground and gathering two huge handfuls to mire your front. 

You start to squirm and screech at him to get off, wiggling around violently to, hopefully, throw him off, but all the techniques you've learned over the years seems to have just vanished in a second at this crucial moment. 

"Mercy! Mercy!" You yelp, pushing his head to the side as he sits up and raises both full hands up to show you his weapons, "I'll kill you!" 

"You can't ask for mercy and threaten me at the same time, it just makes me want to do it more." He deadpans, attempting to fight off the smile creeping onto his face. 

Connie yanks his head away from your shoving hands and reaches down, successfully smearing both handfuls of mud over your face and neck, sure to get it everywhere. 

"Sonofa-!" You scream, bucking your hips upwards with all your strength to throw him off. 

It works, for he's sent hurtling forward towards the ground which allows you to roll out from beneath him and away from the riverbed. 

The short-haired scouts entire front gets sent half into the river and half into the mud, and you're left sitting there triumphantly as he scrambles to sit back up and escape the slippery quagmire. 

Your laughter can be heard throughout the clearing as he rolls over onto his back and stares up at the sky, defeated and just as dirty as you are now. 

"Well, I would say that we need to pick a winner but I really think we both lost." He comments after a while, sitting up so he can get a look at you.

"Good thing we've got our very own bath right here then," you begin, pausing thoughtfully before adding, "it's going to be pretty cold, though." 

He snorts in a very unflattering way and stands, hands on his hips as he eyes you from above, "Your gonna let some chilly water defeat you?"

"Course not, we can wash up after we check out that building." You reply nonchalantly, missing the way his face explodes red at the insinuation that the two of you will just bathe together. 

He nods robotically and follows you silently as you take off towards the stone structure, mud and water dripping from your clothes and sliding down your skin but also simultaneously drying because of the light breeze wafting through the trees. 

It's not a very big building but it's got a door, a roof, and even some windows. You immediately come to the conclusion that it was someone's house, but given the rundown outside you assume no one's been here in a long time. 

You reach up and turn the handle lightly and are met with resistance, but it does shudder and open a sliver. 

Pushing your face up against the door to peek through you see a little fireplace, lots of dust and cobwebs, and some furniture, a very promising sight. You grab the doorknob again and slam your shoulder into the door, one forceful push being enough to make it burst open. 

The stone floor kicks up a cloud of dust when you barge in which makes you cough and hack, but once it clears you're left with a very dirty but also charming little house. 

"Would this be cheating?" Connie asks after surveying the room with you, standing at the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest. "I mean, we're supposed to be roughing it out in the wilderness, so this feels a little..." 

"Connie you just attacked me, don't pretend you care about morality now." There's a teasing edge to your voice that lets him know you don't actually see it that way, but he does also get your point, "We've done so many of these and we've got more in our future, why not rest like royalty for once?" 

It doesn't take much for him to be convinced and look the other way, because he concedes without anymore prompting. 

"Okay, before we do anything else we need to clean up." You declare, looking down at your mud caked clothes. "We can clean up in the river and wash our clothes... we've got to have a spare pair of pants and shirt, right?" 

"We have jackets..." He replies hesitantly, pink dusting his cheeks. "There are no extra layers other than that." 

Well that's unfortunate. 

"Okay, guess we'll just have to survive in our underwear, jackets, socks, and shoes, then until our stuff dries." You sigh and shake your head like it's just a minor inconvenience, not wanting to be the one of you two who's freaking out. "Come on." 

You step out of the entry way of the structure and make a beeline for the river, pausing when you don't hear his footsteps following behind you. 

When you crane your neck to look back at him you see that he's just standing there watching you, and when he sees you looking he starts to stutter and stammer. 

"I-I can wait until you're d-done! I'll just... sit here and then when you come back I'll..." He trails off once he gets a glimpse of your expression. 

One of your eyebrows is raised and you look like you're listening to someone rambling about something nonsensical, and he immediately stops speaking and just looks at you sheepishly. 

"I'm not about to bathe by myself in nature like this, Connie. We don't have to wash each others backs or anything but we probably shouldn't go off on our own either."

And while one may think this is some elaborate plan to do whatever, you actually mean it. The very thought of being naked, cold, alone, and so fucking vulnerable is horrifying, so you'd rather risk mind numbing awkwardness or mortification to being eaten by a bear while you're in the nude. 

Connie seems to have similar thoughts once he gets his mind out of the gutter and his blush has calmed down, a more thoughtful expression taking over his face. 

"You're right... we should've thought about this before we started playing in the mud, huh?" 

"Yeah, I'm starting to think that myself." You agree, the corners of your lips tilting upwards slightly, "But it was fun." 

A matching smile tells you that he doesn't regret it for a second, and his words just confirm it. "Very fun." He chimes back with a pleased jingle in his tone, "We should probably clean up before the sun starts to go down." 

You nod your head in agreement and look up at the sky, trying to gauge the time based on the position of the sun. 

"Mhmm, I'd say we've got three or four hours before the sun'll start to set." 

Your short-haired partner looks up at as well, raising a hand to shield his eyes, and nods his agreement. "Plenty of time. We can sort out food after while our clothes dry." 

Mmm. Dinner. 

"Sure thing. Lets head a bit down stream so we aren't washing mud and sweat into the drinking part of our water, yeah?" 

"Yeah." 

And without further ado, the two of you head downstream in search of an adequate place to wash.

Chapter Text

No one ever wants to be sick; the feeling of not being able to breathe right, the headaches, the way that everything is just off which makes it hard to fall asleep and impossible to wake up, it's all miserable. 

The actual act of being sick sucks, but what doesn't suck so much is the stuff you get out of when you're stuck in bed trying to regain your strength. 

In Marco's case, he gets to skip out on training and cleaning duty which is something most would love to be exempt from. 

However, he actually feels an underlying level of guilt because of his inability to help out instead of relief; who is having to pick up his slack, he wonders? Is anyone getting in trouble right now because of him? Will the chores stack up and make trouble for the staff? 

He doesn't much like being a burden, but then he might just cause more trouble by trying to fight through it. Also... well, even though he does feel bad for having others do his chores and the guilt is definitely there, he also feels good knowing he has nothing to do except get better. 

It's kind of a feel a little bad to feel much better later, thing. 

Also, one thing he's much more hesitant to admit is that he may possibly enjoy the way certain people dote on him. 

Jean, for example, opted not to be the sarcastic bastard he usually is since Marco wasn't 100%, something that the black-haired cadet was immensely grateful for. 

And, well, there's also you. 

On his first day of sickness when he'd been ordered to stay in the medical-bay due to his fever, you came around and visited him. You'd heard of his state from Jean unsurprisingly and immediately dropped your lunch into Sasha's hands and went to check on him. 

It would be a lie if either of you said you didn't have a 'thing' for the other, everyone knows it after all, and your concern and the way you harp over a simple sickness only further proves it to everyone else. 

Marco has been unwell for a total of 3 days now, and while his fever has eased up and his horribly sore throat and stuffed nose are doing better, he still isn't ready to be put back into action. 

You made it your goal to see him at least three times a day following or preceding every meal. On the second day you managed to sneak in an hour with him between lunch and dinner because an excellent day of training got Shadis to take mercy on your souls; and despite the freckled boy insisting over and over again that you should be out relaxing or hanging out with some of your other friends, you stayed put and did your best to entertain him.

After dinner on the third night you go to see him again like you have every night since he first got sick. 

A soft knock resounds throughout the silent room Marco rests in, a private medical room for those who need to be isolated, in tender condition, or just have to stay within monitoring distance for multiple days, and right away his heart flutters. 

He knows it's you, and even though he insists that you need not constantly come and waste your time with him, he still finds his heart lifting and stomach filling with happy little butterflies each time he hears your cheerful little 5-toned knock tune. 

Marco, who had been laying on his side reading a book, rolls over onto his back and rests the open reading material on his chest, calling in his hoarse voice, "Come in." 

As soon as you hear confirmation to enter you open the door and step inside, eye's locking on his form immediately. 

Your gaze flickers from his face (studying the detail in search of signs that he's doing better) down to the book on his chest, a curious shine in your eye. 

"What are you reading?" You ask thoughtfully, closing the door behind you as you approach his bed. 

As if he forgot what he was reading not 30 seconds ago he glances down at the cover and smiles sheepishly. He isn't quite sure why he feels nervous answering your question since it's literally just a fantasy book, but the feeling is still there. 

"It's, um, a book about a world where magic exists and people are born with really cool powers that they use to fight evil." He explains, feeling his face grow hot as he does so. 

What if you think he's childish for reading something like this? He doesn't want that. 

A bright smile adorns your face after he gives you a quick rundown, and your reply surprises him somewhat. 

"That sounds cool! Can I borrow it when you're done?" 

He wasn't expecting you to accept it, much less you asking to read it yourself, and it brings an involuntary grin to his once coy features. 

But of course you would like it, because you're amazing like that. 

You take a seat next to him on the bed and reach down to place a delicate hand on his forehead, gauging his temperature by touch. 

It seems like his fever is almost gone now, because where it once felt like his face was on fire, it now just feels like he's just slightly overheated which is a huge improvement from before. The color seems to be returning to his face as well, and his eyes no longer look as fatigued as they did before. 

Seeing him so much healthier like this fills you with relief, the thought of him suffering from a horribly stuffy nose and sore throat making you sad.

He's one of the sweetest people you've ever known, always doing his best to make everyone comfortable and to make them feel like they're appreciated all while maintaining an air of intelligence and sense of duty. He's a very noble soul who knows when it's time to motivate and when it's time to focus, something you admire deeply about him. 

How one person got all of these wonderful traits and good-looks is beyond you, and, honestly speaking, it's just downright unfair that he gets to be so perfect. 

That doesn't mean he deserves to be sick though, just that you feel extremely lucky to be around someone so wonderful and irritated that whatever forces at play decided to let such a person suffer for no reason. 

After you finish checking his forehead you glide your hand down and rest it lightly against his cheek, noting the comforted look that crosses his tired face. 

"Your hands are cold." He comments softly, eyelids drooping slightly as your gazes meet. 

"O-Oh, I'm sorry. I'll-"

He shakes his head slightly and sighs in content, leaning his face more heavily into your outstretched hand as his eyes slide closed. "It's okay. I like it." 

Well that's good, you suppose. 

You reach up and place your other hand on his opposite cheek, realizing that your hands are, in fact, quite chilly. You didn't even notice until the warmth in his face began to even out the extreme temperatures. 

"How's this?" Your voice is barely a whisper since the two of you are so close, something he's internally grateful for since he's had on and off headaches today. 

"Good..." He murmurs back, opening his eyes a crack to get a look at you. 

He's slightly surprised to see that your face is only a few inches from his own, but he just looks and smiles. 

You're like an angel sent to heal his body and his heart, cooling his skin while also warming his heart, but, he doesn't want his guardian angel to get sick too...

"Don't get too close or you'll end up like me." He grumbles, though he doesn't actively move to push you away or stray from your grasp. 

A small shrug is your only reply, because you actually aren't worried about it. Surely he's past the contagious stage by now, otherwise Doctor Erika would've gotten on your case for coming by so often. 

Your lack of concern eases Marcos hesitation and he releases his worry and just enjoys the feeling of your chilled hands. 

"Why are your hands so cold?" He asks after a moment, having realized that it's a bit strange. 

Excellent question; you're actually not sure. "It's probably just because it's getting cold outside again, I think." That's the only possible reason you can think of not that you think it's all that important. 

"My feet are also pretty cold, so if you're still too warm..." Your feet are cold, but you're only messing around.

Seeing one of his lovely smiles would be wonderful right about now, and he certainly delivers. 

A small, tired smile tugs at the corner of his lips and he chuckles softly, a little breathless because he can't breathe out of both nostrils yet. 

"Thank you for coming to visit me." 

As he expresses his gratitude he reaches a hand up and grabs your right wrist, pulling your hand down to his feverish lips. The kiss he plants on the palm of your hand shoots nervous butterflies through you and causes heat to claw up your neck and spread throughout your face. 

Despite your coyness due to his actions you can't help but notice how much weaker he feels in his unwell state. 

His grip which is usually strong and powerful is now weak and loose, and the muscles in his arms appear smaller almost even though he's only been like this for a handful of days. 

The sick Marco closes his eyes and presses your hand back into his cheek again, sighing sleepily as he enjoys the comfort of your presence. 

You lean down and press a kiss of your own to his slightly overheated forehead and stay there for a time, feeling the heat seep into your fingertips and slightly chilled lips. 

It's a very nice moment, one that you don't much want to pass. The two of you may not have a defined relationship, one formed with words like 'boyfriend' or 'couple,' but it doesn't really matter to you. All that really matters is the calm moments like this where the two of you are there for each other, relaxing and comforting. 

Here you're doing your best to comfort him, and you're sure that sooner or later he's going to be doing the same for you for one reason or another.

When he does finally get better you'll be sure to give him a proper kiss, if he's okay with that, and you find that the idea is more than enough to fill you with excitement for the future (even if it's a future just a few days away). 

Chapter Text

Night steadily approaches as the sun begins to set, painting the sky brilliant hues of orange, red, and yellow.

The streetlights are just beginning to flicker on as you rush about your small room in search of something to wear. 

Porco, your life-long friend and now... boyfriend? Asked you out on a date this lovely evening, and you're thrilled about it. 

Your heart feels light as you get ready for your date, butterflies fluttering around in your stomach as you think about all the possibilities the night has to offer. 

Due to Porco's honorary Marleyan status the two of you get to venture outside of the internment zone for the night without obstacles, something that fills you with uncontainable excitement. 

He promised that he'd take you to get ice cream, something you've never had the opportunity to try, and for a walk in the grand park in the middle of the city. 

You've heard that it's gorgeous; full of big trees, green grass, flowers, and even a pretty lake. Of course you've seen pictures and heard detailed reports of what it looks like, but you have never had the pleasure of seeing it for yourself

God, he's so generous. He's doing all this for a regular Eldian like you, someone who's life surmounts none, much less his. Hell, he is worth 100 of you yet he still gives you the time of day? 

The two of you met when you were just 3 years old, having became easy friends because that's just how little kids are, but it stuck throughout the years. 

Through thick and thin your friendship remained strong, each hardship becoming the other's, every triumph celebrated by both, it was only natural that you'd remain together forever. 

It was no surprise when you fell for one another. 

You're not quite sure who realized the romance first, probably your parents or Marcel, but once it became apparent to you both there was no going back. 

After he was accepted into the Warrior Program and made it so far into it that he almost inherited a titan you quickly began to feel inferior even at your young age, realizing that you aren't good enough for one of Eldia's saviors. 

He, of course, didn't see it that way, which is why the two of you are where you are today. He persisted and never gave up on you, and eventually you began to believe that you were worth a damn to him. 

Porco was very insistent that you were more than good enough for him, especially since no Marleyan would want to be with him anyways regardless of his status. 

When he inherited the Jaw Titan following the capture of that Paradis girl you felt a horrible sense of dread both due to his now shortened life and new standing within the military, but still he continued to reassure you that everything was okay and he cared for you all the same.  

You decided to believe him, and he was proven right it seems. 

There's a joyful skip in your step as you go out front to meet him, having seen his form lingering outside your front door after peeking outside briefly to gauge the time, and as soon as your eyes fall upon his form your breath is taken away. 

He's always been handsome but today he really cleaned up; his hair is perfectly groomed, clothes crisp and clean, and his shoes are even shined. He really is a sight to behold. 

When he sees you emerge from the doorway a bright smile adorns his face and his lively gray eyes crinkle at the corners, an expression he always carries when he sees you. 

"You look great." You chirp, planting your hands on his shoulders firmly. "As usual." 

"I could say the same about you." He replies smoothly, hands falling upon your hips easily, naturally. "You're beautiful." 

Receiving is so much harder than giving as it turns out, because your cheeks get hot right away and a bashful expression makes way on your face. 

"W-Whatever." You huff, bouncing up to peck his cheek. "You owe me ice cream, Mr. so let's go!" 

Your enthusiasm draws a fond chuckle from the dual-hair-toned man, and he obliges and leads the way. 

----

Unfortunately, ice cream was not your first stop but the second, because apparently responsible people have dessert after dinner. 

Oh well, you've got ice cream now and you get to enjoy it while you walk through the park with Porco, so you find that you don't much mind. 

You hold your cone firmly in your left hand with your right curled around his arm, letting him lead you through the park to see all the best spots. 

If it weren't for the lights littering throughout the park you wouldn't be able to see a thing, because the sun has long since set at this point leaving you both with nothing but the moon and these streetlights to guide your way. 

If it's this beautiful at night then you can only imagine how gorgeous it must be during the day with the sun shining down on the pretty little blooms and glimmering through the leaves of the trees above you. You'll have to convince him to take you out here during the day some time. 

Walking out here at night would be scary normally given how spaced out everything is here, but with Porco you don't even feel an ounce of fear. He's strong with or without his titan, and he's taught you a thing or two about keeping yourself safe so you could double team it probably.

Your gaze slowly rises to rest on his face when your thoughts wander to him again; to every time he's defended you, taught you how to throw a punch, or comforted you. He has done so much for you but you have yet to give him much in return, something that fills you with an illogical sense of guilt that you can't quite explain.

What can someone like you do for someone like him? 

"What?"

You blink away any and all thoughts and realize that the two of you have stopped walking and he is now looking at you in return with confusion.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I don't deserve you, not even a little bit." You say without thinking, bringing your hand up casually to take another lick of your ice cream as if you didn't just say something so self-deprecating. 

A brief moment of silence washes over you before his confusion morphs into anger, his shoulders going tense and face setting sternly, "I thought we were past this- you shouldn't talk about yourself like that." 

Why not? You were just being honest - even if it was random honesty.  

When you don't say anything in response he shuffles closer and reaches up to grab your face, his thumb and other four fingers squishing your cheeks a bit tightly as he speaks, "You deserve the world, and if you keep saying otherwise I'll kick your ass." 

Tough love. 

You manage to pout despite your squished cheeks, and while the action is a little childish you don't take back your words.

Instead, you opt to deflect and say in your squished-face voice, "I don't know why I said that all of a sudden." 

"I don't care 'why,' I just want you to take it back." He snaps, his countenance much harder than his grip on your face, which is gentler but also firm.

You shake your head 'no' shallowly (since his grip doesn't offer much room to move), not intending to take it back since you 100% meant it with all your being. 

So what if it was out of the blue? It's not like it isn't true; you really don't deserve him - and it's only partly due to your low self-esteem derived from an entire life of being made to feel less than. The main reason is just because of everything he's even done for you, everything he has promised, said, given you, you don't deserve any of it. He's a savior of Eldia; valuable and heroic, meanwhile you're just you; worthless and greedy. 

"Take it back." Porco repeats, irritation replacing his anger (it's hard to be mad when your face is all squished and you're pouting at him like that). 

"No." 

He sighs and drops his hand from your face, not intending to squeeze it out of you or anything, and looks away. 

Okay, the thought of squeezing you until you take it back did cross his mind very briefly, but knowing you it wouldn't be all fun and games because you'd hold out until your head popped off. 

The mere thought of anything bad happening to you is enough to fill him with dread, but something bad happening to you because of him? That's nearly unbearable.  

"You really piss me off sometimes." He grumbles, running his fingers through his hair just to give them something else to do. 

"Yeah, I know." 

When he finally looks back at you again his hard countenance softens. His frown is less cross and more sad and his eyebrows slant down dejectedly instead of up with aggravation. 

"I'd do anything to keep you safe, you know, because you mean the world to me. I don't ever want you to forget that." 

"I'll do my best to remember." 

----

The subject quickly changed following your bold declaration and his adamant denial and the rest of the night carried on smoothly, the both of you having finished your ice cream and ventured to another topic more suited for a date. 

You would stay out here in this park forever if at all possible, mesmerized by the greenery and top-notch upkeep of the whole place. There is nothing quite like it in the entirety of the internment zone, something that makes you a little sad since you'll never be able to see it without Porco at your side. 

He's your ticket into this place after all, not to say that's all he is to you, it's just a fact. 

It's around the time when you're both getting tired and leaning towards heading back home when it happens, when the man emerges from the shadows and starts to yell at you both. 

"You fuckin' Eldian bastards! The fuck er'you doin' in tha park?" He slurs angrily, clearly drunk and off his rocker. 

You say nothing, frozen in fear since you're far from home in a place where the law will incriminate you no matter what. 

The horror stories you've heard from others who came out here about assaults, abuses, and discrimination always petrified you within the zone, but now that you're out here living it? It doesn't even compare.

Porco raises his hands in 'surrender' and makes himself as unthreatening as possible, but the movement only draws the mans gaze to his 'honorary Marleyan' armband. 

His enraged face twists further and disgust fuels his scowl, his hand reaching towards his pocket menacingly. 

"Oh, you're one of 'em titan fuckers! Goddamn monster comin' out here illegally!" He screeches, swaying slightly as he digs in his pocket for something. 

"Sir, please we were just about to-" 

"Shut yer goddamn mouth fuckin' Eldian tramp, before I make you." 

This is like something out of a book, only it's much scarier when you're actually living it.  

Porco's expression darkens but he doesn't do much more than step forward in front of you with his hands still raised. 

"We can talk this out, I'm sure. We've got our papers if..." He trails off when metal glints as he takes something from his pocket, his blood running cold when he realizes it's a gun.

Your eyes go wide when you see it, watching as the drunk man raises it and steps forward towards you two. 

"The world'd be better off withou' any of ya'." He hisses, raising his arm and pointing the barrel directly at Porco's head. "Dun move, fuckin' trespassers." 

Neither of you even breathe, actually, both scared out of your minds that this bastard will hurt the other. He's clearly fucking insane enough to do it, it's just a matter of whether he's able to in his current state. 

He gets closer and closer until the gun is basically pressed to Porco's head, but you're unsure if he means to scare you two off or actually kill him.

That question is answered for you when you both hear the gun click as he pulls back the hammer. You know right away that he means to shoot, something that causes your heart to freeze, your brain to go numb with an overload of thoughts. 

Without even thinking really you lunge forward and shove the barrel of the gun, forcing it to point off to the right as you slam your shoulder into him and send him sprawling backwards. 

A loud bang makes your ears ring and resounds through the once quiet park, causing every cricket, bird, and rodent to go silent in fear. 

You're frozen in place as you look down at the sprawled out Marleyan, a small trickle of blood running down the side of his head from where it smacked into the ground. 

The man groans but before you can see any more a hand closes around your wrist, yanking you away in the opposite direction. 

"Shit shit shit!" Porco yells, running with you quickly back the way you came, "Fuck, goddamn it!" 

He just keeps cursing while you try to keep pace with him, stumbling and just barely managing to stay with him at the rate he jogs at, and you know why. 

The both of you run until you're a good distance away, and then you make a beeline back towards the internment zone with nothing filling the silence other than your panting. 

It isn't until you're both back within the zone and in your house that he finally lets you go and looks at you, distress written all over his face. 

"You know what this means." He breathes, eyes glassy as if he's on the verge of tears. "I-If he remembers what happened, they'll arrest you- they'll kill you." 

"Or worse." You add numbly, looking at him with wide eyes and a lost expression. 

You can hardly believe that any of that just happened; that there was a random man threatening to kill Porco that you attacked. You made him bleed; you touched a gun; you attacked him.

Death sentences take many forms for Eldians, and three of them you just committed yourself to.

The things that happen to Eldians in Marleyan prison are horrific and cruel, all sorts of punishments inflicted upon them before they're either killed, set free, or brought to Paradis. Those are more stories you've heard, ones even worse than that of those who just ran into trouble in the city. 

Porco strides towards you and grabs your shoulders roughly, shaking you back and fourth a bit, "Don't you get it?! Not only did you touch a weapon but you harmed a Marleyan! " 

After he yells at you and stops to catch his breath he realizes you're shaking, shoulders trembling beneath his bruising grip and knees buckling as you hang your head.  

"I-I didn't want him to hurt you..." You whisper, slowly bringing your face up to look at him again with tears already rolling down your face. "H-He was going to s-shoot you in the head!"

He slowly relaxes his grip and just looks at you, caught between a feeling of guilt and panic. 

It was never his intention to hurt or scare you, but at the same time he is hurt and scared himself. 

If that man remembers your face, either of your faces, or his red armband then you are screwed. They'll drag you away and he will never see you again; all because he didn't do anything to stop that man and his goddamn gun. 

He was frozen in that moment, afraid that if he did anything the man would try and kill you. You're not like him - you don't just regenerate or heal like he does; when you get shot you die. But yet his apprehension to act because of your safety put it directly in harms way. 

"I won't let them take you." He states decisively, remembering that this isn't about him, it's just because of him.

Yelling at them for saving my life, what a man I am, he thinks bitterly, hating himself beyond belief right now. 

He brings his hands from your shoulders up to your hot cheeks, rubbing at your tear stains with his thumbs gently in an attempt to comfort you. hHat's what he should've been doing from the beginning instead of yelling at you.

A soft sniffle comes from you as you process his words, and once you realize what exactly he's saying you jerk your head back and shove him away. 

"No! You won't do anything if they come to take me." You argue back, shaking your head, "I-If they come for me you aren't going to do anything, because if you do then we'll both die." 

The blond man stumbles back when you push him and when you deny his assertion his fists clench at his sides. He makes no moves to grab you again, though. 

"I don't give a shit. It's my fault-" His voice gives out and cracks when he admits his guilt, those unshed tears threatening to spill, "It's my fault this happened. I should've... should've done something. Anything. They would've given me immunity if I had done something." 

It doesn't matter if that's true or not, because even despite your obvious fear you would do it again. 

Your gaze drops back to the floor again and you take a few unsteady steps back, plopping down on the side of your bed as your legs don't seem to be working anymore. 

"I'm going to die..." You breathe, the reality of the situation setting in. 

Porco doesn't say anything or dispute your shocked words, he just watches you wearily as if you're about to collapse even though you are just sitting down. 

A long silence washes over the two of you, one that feels like seconds but could have been hours for all you know, before you finish your thought. 

"But... it's going to be okay." 

How you can say that right now he isn't sure, and it shows clearly on his face. 

"What the fuck are you even saying? It's not okay! We need to do something-" 

"No, Porco." You shake your head as you cut him off and look at him again with a hard set gaze, "There's nothing we can do. If that man remembers what I did then that's it. We do nothing except accept it, because one of us is better than both of us." 

How you were able to accept it so quickly is beyond him, but he's not ready to give up like that. 

"No, neither of us is better than either of us you fucking idiot! Instead of quitting like a pair of bitches we need to figure out what we're going to do next, how we're going to fix this." He doesn't mean to talk to you like that, hell you're one of the few people he consistently speaks to in a fond manner, but in this moment it's all too much.

His harsh words make you flinch but you don't dispute it because you understand his point. 

"What we're going to do next is make the most of the time we have left. Whether that's just tonight, tomorrow, or a week from now, we need to make the most of our time and accept that it's either over or perfectly fine. If you try to stop them they'll kill your family, me, and you, but if we... accept that this is how things were meant to be, then it'll just be me." 

It physically hurts for you to say this, each word feeling like poison on your lips. Giving up so readily is painful, but you know that if you try to fight you'll just hurt him in the process. 

Honestly, you're not even sure where you found the strength to say these things to him; maybe it's because of the way he's panicking that keeps you grounded in this moment. 

"W-Why..." His voice is just a ghost in the air, soft and barely audible despite the undertones of a growl in his voice, "Why are you just... giving up like this? This isn't like you!" 

He's right but then he's also wrong. It is you, the you who wanted to do something meaningful for him just once, the you who loves him so much that a world without him is an unbearable thought. 

"I'm giving up because I care about you." You reply, reaching out a hand for him. You would get up and actually go to him but you're not entirely confident in the integrity of your legs at the moment. 

He steps forward and grabs your hand carefully, taking a seat next to you on the bed while thinking over your words. His leg presses against yours and his hand holds yours tight meanwhile his eyes slide shut, images of the events that just transpired flashing through his mind. 

There's a slight tremble in his hand and his right leg is bouncing up and down irritably, anxiously, so you squeeze his hand in what you hope is a reassuring way. 

"I love you." You say after a while, turning your head to look up at him. "I always have, and I always will."

At your confession of adoration his eyes blink open and he finally looks at you owlishly since it's the first time you've ever said that to him.

All he can think to do in this moment is return the sentiment. 

"I love you to..." He whispers back, your name dropping past his lips in his heavy tone. "I'm sorry. You're in this mess because I froze up yet all I can do is-" 

"Porco, please." The desperation in your voice extends to your facial expression as well and your grip on his hand stiffens, "I just... I want to forget about it for now. I don't want to spend my possible last night feeling guilty or talking about how it could've gone different." 

He understands where you're coming from completely, but this might be his last and only chance to apologize. 

No, this isn't about him, it shouldn't be. 

The light-haired man sighs in defeat and does his best to smile convincingly, reaching over to take your other hand in his free one.

"Okay. Then instead we can... we can talk, or sleep if you want. We can do anything you want." 

You know he's doing this partially to keep you from trying to convince him against protecting you anymore, but you find that you don't really care. No matter the motivation the end result is still the same; you get to take your mind off of how your life turned upside down in a matter of hours while also spending as much time with the one person in your life who has never left you. 

With that in mind, you pull your hands away from his and press them against his cheeks lightly to bring him closer, expressing everything you're feeling with just a few simple words. 

"I just want you, Porco."

Chapter Text

It takes about an hour but you two do eventually come across a charming little river running through the middle of the forest. 

You initially noticed it because you heard a splash somewhere off to the left while walking through the thick forest with Reiner, though he didn't hear it himself, and lo and behold there it was. 

Wide, large, and rushing down the bend towards some unknown location. 

"I don't see any fish." You huff from the bank of the river, looking down into the mostly clear water with a frown on your face. "The bastards are all hiding!" 

Reiner chuckles and steps up next to you, leaning over to peer into the water as well probably to help you spot fish. 

"Well, you said you heard a splash so maybe that scared them away." He comments after a while, turning his gaze towards your concentrating form. "We're gonna be here for a while so maybe they'll come back out." 

He makes a good point, one that you can't refute, so you nod your head and glance his way to make sure he saw it; of course, he was already looking at you so he did. 

The beginnings of heat works its way up your neck when your eyes meet, so to avoid becoming awkward you clear your throat and look back down at the water again, "Y-Yeah okay, sure. You get the water boiling I'm gonna watch, maybe I'll see a deer pass by or something."

The tall blond nods and unclips his waterskin from his pants, reaching down to swipe yours as well. 

"I'll be right over there if you need anything." 

"And I'll be right here if you need anything." You shoot back, squatting down to get a closer look at the surface. 

--

Reiner gets a fire going to purify and store as much water in the water skins as possible, meanwhile you wash your face in the steady stream to wake yourself up a little more after waiting for 10 whole minutes for fish to show up. 

You saw a couple emerge from some invisible holes in the mud beneath, mumbled something about it, then proceeded to clean up a bit. 

The water is icy against your skin and does wonders for your energy when you splash it into your face, probably because it hasn't had much time to warm up since Spring has only just sprung. 

The feeling of eyes on you catches your attention after you finish wiping the water from your face, and when you look over in the direction of your blond partner he hides his mesmerization with a confident smirk.

"Oh, don't mind me. If you're going to w-" 

"Don't finish that sentence." You hiss, feeling yourself growing coy already even despite him not finishing his thought. 

Because of this you don't turn to look at him, you just stare down into the reflecting water. 

You can only slightly see your reflecting since it's running past at a medium pace, but it's enough to distract you and trap you in your thoughts. 

Now that you're in a perpetual state of waiting you have time to think about all that business from earlier; to think about the fact that he's planning to ask you out because he actually holds some attraction towards you and isn't just a total flirt. 

What the hell are you supposed to do with this information? How are you supposed to counter these butterflies in your stomach and this heat in your face? 

It's like he always has the upper hand with his smiles and witty comments. The delivery is always so confident and he seems to have an endless supply of comments, but... but according to Bertholdt, he actually get's really nervous around you. 

You turn your head to the side a bit and allow your gaze to slide over his face, but you see no hints of insecurity or shyness. The only time he's ever been even slightly unsure is... well, when you've caught him off guard. 

Hm. 

Maybe he doesn't need to feel bashful or sheepish because you never do anything to make him shy; you just soldier it and feel all the diffidence for him.

An idea begins to form in the back of your mind, a way for you to get him before he can get you.

What you need to do has never been so apparent to you, but there's the matter of having the guts to actually do it. 

Your gaze slides over his broad form discreetly, eyes raking over his hard facial features, large chest and shoulders, all the way down to his bent legs, and you finally ask yourself the hard question; are you only doing this for revenge? Or do you actually feel something deeper? 

It would be a complete lie if you said you weren't attracted to him, even more untruthful if you were to say that his attention was something you loathed, but your frustration originally sprouted because you thought it was all just a game for him. Now that you know there's some actual emotional substance to his actions you can't help but be a little more open to the idea of dishing it back. 

Since he wasn't doing it just for the hell of it but because he actually liked you, you have a hard time justifying doing it just for the hell of it in response; but now that you're thinking about it, you realize you have no intention of rejecting him. 

A small smile forms on your face as you think it over, one that turns devious now that you can mess with him with a clear conscience. 

You have no intention of rejecting him if he manages to ask you out, that is. 

The smile slips from your face when two and two come together: you can try and fluster him all day, but if you don't have the confidence to do it then you never will.

Your best bet is to act on instinct, to do first and think later because you will definitely psyche yourself out if you mull over it for too long... kind of like you're doing right now. 

Well, it's now or never, you suppose. Maybe you can just test the waters first and see how you do. 

"How's the water coming along?" You ask after a moment, standing from your crouched position by the riverbed and turning in place to look at him fully. 

"It should be done five or so minutes after it starts boiling." He replies nonchalantly, leaning forward a bit to gaze into the small metal bowl, pot thing you were given with the packs. "Why, you thirsty already?" 

You stare at him blankly and attempt to sound just as calm and collected, "Um, I just spent the last hour climbing and hiking with you, so I would say so, yeah." 

The blond doesn't respond to your sarcasm and just leans back against the tree he's been using as a rest and closes his eyes, the space between his legs suddenly looking very inviting to your scheming mind. 

That would be one bold move, sitting in his lap like it's nothing, but one that takes a lot of guts. Have you got it in you to do that? 

You shuffle closer and stare down at him with a contemplating frown tugging at your lips, because you're really not sure if you'll be able to just go in for the kill full confidence like he does without losing it. You'd have to strike without thinking to keep your mind from making you chicken out, but that's already something very difficult for you in the first place. 

He doesn't react when you move closer and the leaves crunch beneath your feet, in fact, he doesn't do anything until you step up right next to him and block the thin lines of sun streaming in through the trees. 

One of his honey-like eyes flutters open to look at your hovering form when you stop moving, and when he sees you not only standing there but also staring he opens both eyes and looks at you questioningly. 

"You alright there? You look like-"

"Is this seat taken?" You blurt out before he can finish making fun of you or whatever he was planning on doing.

A confused smile pairs with his furrowed eyebrows at your odd behavior, but he chooses not to comment on it this time around since you're acting so off. Maybe you're just nervous? He's not quite sure, but if that's the case then he doesn't want to make you feel bad for that. 

"You don't have to ask to sit with me, a tiny thing like you doesn't even take up much space anyways." He replies smugly, closing his eyes again in a very falsely collected way. 

In reality he's a huge mess on the inside. I mean, you're asking to sit next to him! Even though there's plenty of trees and spots around for you to sit at! It's a very pleasant and welcome surprise. 

"Excellent, sitting against trees is awful." 

Before he can ask what exactly you mean by that there's a sudden 'you' sized weight leaning against him, settled right inside the space between his bent and parted legs. 

His eyes snap open and he completely freezes when you lean your head back to lay on his shoulder, gaze pointed up at his face which is upside down from your perspective.

Reiner's hands, which had been crossed over his chest, fall to rest between his upper thighs and stomach and his eyes go comically wide, but you somehow manage to keep a mask of indifference settled on your face. 

He's at a complete loss for not just words but everything. He can't think straight at the moment because he's not even entirely sure that his mind didn't suddenly make this up to fuck with him. 

Are you really there right now? Sitting in his lap like that? 

"Y-You- why a-are you- w-why," he can't find any words to make himself seem smooth or confident in this moment, hell he can't even pretend that he doesn't care because he can just feel how red his face is. 

"You said I could." Is all you say, reaching up with one hand to lightly touch your left hand to his cheek, "You look funny upside down." 

After you're certain that you've left him completely speechless and at a loss you remove your head from his shoulder to alleviate the strange way your back had to bend to make it possible for you to watch his reaction. 

The weird position was totally worth seeing his face, though. 

Beet red, eyes wide, jaw tense, and lips pursed together probably to prevent them from quivering. 

Suffice to say, you're very pleased with the effect you have, so you just snuggle back into him some more and enjoy your reward of extra body heat and satisfaction at messing him up in a matter of moments. 

The stuttering and broken sentences went on for a good few moments before you touched his face and made that comment, successfully shutting him up. 

After he goes quiet the two of you sit in silence, but you don't much mind it since you can practically feel the heat of his blush from where you sit. 

All Reiner can do is switch between looking straight ahead and down at you with a very stiff expression and beads of sweat forming on his forehead. 

"Oh, the waters boiling." You say thirty-seconds into the sudden quiet, leaning forward into your knees to peer into the little pot. "You said five minutes, right?"

When you get no response you turn back and look at him with an impatient stare, really playing up the nonchalance, "Reiner? Hello? The water?" 

A few rapid blinks later realization dawns on his face.

He shakes his head and glances away nervously, grumbling in an uneasy voice, "Y-Yeah, five minutes." 

"Alright, wonderful. Five more minutes to relax, then."

You very obviously snuggle back into him and bring your knees up to your chest, leaning your head back against him to give your poor neck a rest. The initial point was to tease him, but you're actually quite comfortable at the moment which is a very pleasant surprise. 

Unfortunately, you grossly overestimated just how long your actions would leave him dumbstruck, because after the previous minute of his mind racing he's begun to work out why you did what you did and how he should respond. 

The conclusion he came to is that this must certainly be an invitation and that sweet, innocent little you would never do something like this for any reason other than genuinely being uncomfortable- which is half true, it's just your purpose started out as a revenge plot. 

Once he's convinced himself that this was meant as an invitation he raises his prone arms slowly, hesitantly, to lightly grab yours. 

Both of his large hands land on your upper arms lightly, sliding up and down as if to warm you up or something.  

You can't help it when you jump slightly upon feeling his hands on you because you really thought he'd be frozen for at least another minute which would give you time to retreat. 

His careful hands, much gentler than you were expecting, release you after a moment only to return completely around you milliseconds later. 

After talking himself up the buff blond wraps his arms fully around you, crossing his forearms and resting opposite hands on your shoulders, pulling you tighter against him as he presses his nose and mouth into your hair; his bent knees slide closer and rest on either side of you, leaving you completely trapped. 

Reiner's much larger body practically engulfs yours, both his muscle mass and height overtaking you easily. 

As much as you weren't expecting this, you never would've guessed how you'd react to it. 

You find that you feel oddly safe, in his hold like this- safe and very comfortable despite the almost restraining way he holds you; it's most likely due to how gentle he is even though he could very easily snap you in half, there's no malice or foul intent coming from him, and it's because of this that you don't shut down right away and go into mortification mode. 

Your once crossed arms fall to your lap and you just sit there in his tight embrace for a time, eventually slumping to the right and wrapping your arms around his knee. 

It's almost like you're on autopilot, doing whatever your instincts tell you to in the moment, and it seems to work because now that your hands aren't just awkwardly sitting there you feel much better. 

The two of you sit there for god knows how long, definitely cutting it close to the boiling time limit right in front of you, and it isn't until Reiner is in the middle of saying something that there's an interruption.

When he speaks his breath tickles the back of your neck and his baritone voice rumbles through his chest and onto your back. Everything about him is usually so tough, but in this instance his voice is a bit too nervous to be considered all that strong.

"H-Hey, um," he pauses and clears his throat, very anxious since he's decided now is the best time to ask that question that's been eating away at him, "I was wondering if you wanted to-" 

POP. 

A loud metallic bang causes the both of you to practically jump out of your skins, not realizing right away that it came from the pot which isn't much liking the concentrated heat anymore. 

"Shit, the water!" You hiss, breaking out of his grasp easily to swipe it from the fire with the excess of your shirt as a mitt to protect you from the heat. "There's no such thing as over-boiling, is there?"  

"No... not unless it's all turned to vapors, that is." 

Oh, well that's a relief. 

You carefully place the water on the damp ground and scoot away from it, slowly realizing that you should probably say something, anything, when the silence persists. 

"S-So..." You begin, remembering that this is your moment where you're supposed to fluster him, "Let's finish this up and then head back, hm? It's gonna get late eventually, so we should get back to set up our sleeping arraignment." You keep 'arraignment' singular to get his mind soaring, a sweet smile brightening your features as you look at him. 

Reiner swallows nervously and nods his head robotically, scrambling to grab the waterskins from his pack so you guys can get a move on. 

"We can try to fish here for a bit while we wait for the water to cool down then we can relax when we get back." 

Your use of the word 'relax', given the context of what just occurred, causes his cheeks to redden once more, but he doesn't comment on it. He only nods his head, grabs the pot, and puts it in another cool patch of mud so it can cool faster. 

"S-Sure, sounds like a plan." 

---

While Reiner worked on the fire earlier you swiped some wire from his pack and formed two little fishhooks that you attached to lines of unraveled rope you cut when making camp in the tree, something Reiner praises for you now because he thought he'd have to do that. 

The both of you gathered some worms from the dirt beneath some greenery to attach to the hooks and before either of you know it you're casting the line into the water and praying the fish are dumb enough to bite. 

This goes on for about an hour, in which time Reiner has gained back the upper hand by increasing the frequency in which he says flirty or teasing things. 

You can't much sit in his lap or touch his face when you're fishing which is unfortunate because physical retaliation is the very basis for your teasing. Coming up with things on the spot out of nowhere isn't your forte in the slightest. 

The fish in this river are of the dumb sort because you guys manage to hook 7 fish together in the 40ish you've been fishing, Reiner having caught 4 and you 3. 

"This should be enough for now, right?" You ask after 20 minutes of no bites for either of you, bringing you to the hour you're at now. 

Reiner looks down at the small pile between the two of you and says nothing for a while, thinking it over. 

"I'll probably eat two or three myself and you'll have, what, half of one? I think it should be enough." 

"Um, excuse me I happen to be very hungry so I'll definitely have a whole one!" 

You internally berate yourself for reacting to his words like that because you ended up giving him exactly what he wanted given the smirk that pulls at his lips. 

Damn it. 

The glare you send his way isn't nearly as threatening as you thought, for Reiner only finds it to be cute. 

Damn it x2. 

"So are we gonna put this right in the backpack or..." 

He shakes his head and pulls a bit of netting from his bag, a full smile taking over his once smug features, "We've got this." 

Great, now you don't have to worry about his backpack getting all gross. 

"I'll carry it." You offer after he makes a makeshift bag from it and shoves the fish inside, reaching for it without waiting for him to respond. 

"No you don't have to-" 

"Hand it over." You demand before he can finish protesting, grabbing the little tail left from the bit of rope he tied it with. 

His hands don't release it despite you trying to snatch it from him which irks you, and when he starts to raise it you know right away he's going to hold it over your head and tease you about your height in comparison to his own, so you act first.

As soon as you feel that upward tug you wrap one of your arms around his and hold it tight to your chest, putting on what you hope is an alluring pout to pair with your sad tone, "Reiner come on, let me help you..." 

The moment you grab him he goes still and his smile wavers, pink rising to his face instantly. He has the conflicting emotions of sympathy, attraction, and embarrassment swirling inside of him; he's no match for you, it seems. 

The make-shift mesh bag is released and you've got hold of it, your once pathetic expression now bright and cheery. 

"Cool, lets get going!" You chirp before skipping off in the direction you came from. 

All he can do is watch your retreating form as he tries to calm his flaming face, following behind much slower. 

Chapter Text

The next time one of you wakes it's actually morning. The soft rays of the rising sun have just begun to stream through the windows and peek through the bookshelves, bathing the room in an elegant orange glow. 

It's the light that finally wakes the golden-haired Armin, holding tight to his resting friend that found him sleeping here in the middle of the night. 

Just before he woke the two of you were settled in the chair, sleeping as the epitome of restfulness. 

You were both so emerged in the depths of slumber that you hardly moved throughout the night; your head resting on his shoulder and his resting on yours, one of his arms wrapped around you with the other resting on his stomach. 

The only thing that changed was the positions of your hands. Instead of gripping the front of his shirt or wrapping around his back, both of your hands now lay on your outstretched legs (still draped over his), but he still holds you tight. 

Who would've know that Armin was a sleep-clinger? 

This is the way he wakes, holding onto your prone form as the two of you snuggle as easily as two lovers. 

His sleepy eyes traced the lines of your face, the curvature of your body molding into his, all with a vast nothingness running through his mind. The only thoughts pestering him are those of a newly-woken up person just processing where they are after sleeping hella good. 

Which is why he stares, blinks, and breathes in and out as if this is the most natural thing in the world. 

Your form there in his arms doesn't become real to him until you groan and shift around, trying to escape the light stabbing consciousness into your brain. 

Once he realizes what exactly is going on his eyes go wide and jaw sets, now filled with thoughts of confusion, surprise, and curiosity. 

Why are you here? Why is he holding you? Why did he sleep so damn good? 

So many questions that you're not awake to help him answer, though you will be awake soon enough if the sun has its way. 

Your head tilts slightly back and you press your face into the crook of his neck, breathing out when the harshness of the light softens. 

Your sleepy sigh fans out across Armin's neck and gives him goosebumps, leaving his hair standing on end and face steadily turning pink, but even despite his embarrassment he still gathers the blanket up and pulls it further over you, sure to cover you properly. There's really no risk of you getting cold given the fact that Armin is right there, but he still does it just in case he isn't enough. 

Now what? He doesn't just want to sit there and look at you creepily, but there really isn't anything else for him to do because all the books are too far away for him to reach. What a conundrum. 

Waking you up is absolutely not an option given how heavy the bags beneath your eyes have been getting recently, hell he's actually tempted to just pull the blanket over your heads and try to fall back asleep himself, but now that his rational mind has come back to the surface he's a lot more unsure. 

Luckily for the blond he doesn't have to decide because the feeling of your eyelashes fluttering against his neck alerts him to the fact that you've opened your eyes. 

The movement below you is what began hacking away at your rope-thick connection to sleep, each shift mixed with the brightening room sawing the thread down just a bit further each time, until eventually your eyes slide open to a wall of skin. 

Your gaze points to his neck and collarbone due to your position and your right temple is pressed into the bare-skin of his shoulder, his sleeve having drooped through the night. 

At first you don't do anything, just staring as your proper brain functions begin to run again, and once your mind catches up with your current predicament you lift your head from his shoulder and look up at him with wide eyes. 

"U-Um, good morning." He mumbles with pink cheeks and a nervous smile. 

"Right, yes, g-good morning." You greet back, reaching up to place a hand against his clothed chest so you can remain steady as you lean back, "This is going to sound really dumb but, uh, w-when did we, er, get here...?" 

Now that is an excellent question. 

He only remembers bits and pieces from the night before, having been too tired to retain much information, but he's got a vague idea of how the two of you got here on the chair.

"W-Well, I woke up last night and I think we were asleep at the table s-so I moved us over here because my neck was hurting." After he says it he feels dumb for not realizing that the two of you could've just gone to your rooms or slept on separate chairs. "I guess... we were both too tired to think straight..." 

You nod your head slowly and drop you hand from his chest, looking down at your legs draped over his outstretched ones. 

Damn, the two of you really went in last night. 

"How..." Your voice cracks near the end so you clear your throat and try again, "How did you sleep?" 

It seems he wasn't quite expecting your question, for he suddenly looks very bashful and unprepared. 

"H-How did I sleep? Uhm, w-well, I," he pauses and the embarrassment morphs to thoughtfulness, as if he's just realized something, "actually, I slept very well." 

Oh. 

Huh.

You concur. 

"So did I..." You murmur, adverting your gaze from his soft blue eyes over to the wall behind his head, thinking it over. 

Both of your embarrassment seems to steadily drain out of you to make way for curiosity and consideration, neither of you having expected the other to sleep as well as they did. 

Without thinking you sit up and shift your position; you straddle his hips and reach up and grab his cheeks gently, smoothing your thumbs across his cheekbones while you observe the light purple patches beneath, noting that they're much less prominent than they were the day before. 

The position you're in doesn't occur to you since you're focusing so hard, but it definitely gets to Armin. 

Your knees press into the cushions on either side of him and your fingers press into the side of his head lightly as you hold him in place, but what he really notices is the way your butt presses down onto his legs and your comforting weight pinning him down into the chair. 

Thinking about the position only makes his flushing worse, unfortunately. 

The red flooding his face makes it a little hard to gauge just how much better it is, so you frown and grumble, "Stop blushing I'm trying to check something." 

"C-C-Check something?" He stutters back, reaching up to grab one of your hands.

He holds your captured appendage lightly in his own and looks up at you with owlish eyes, the morning light reflecting in his gorgeous ocean blues in a way that is mesmerizing. 

In this moment you forget all about your previous motivations for grabbing him all of a sudden, the hand he holds going slack as you are seemingly entranced by the way he looks.

Slowly, carefully, you pull your captured hand away and bring it back up, using your pointer and middle fingers to brush some of his hair out of his face for some reason you can't pin-point. 

Armin's prone hands rise and settle on your hips despite his short-circuiting brain, simply acting on instinct; an instinct that tells him that the best place for his hands is on your posterior.

Neither of you move at first, both caught up in this little staring contest, before you lean in to his left side, drop your hand to his shoulder, and whisper close to his ear, "You're cute."  

You feel him shiver beneath you as your breath tickles his ear, the action drawing a few short puffs of laughter from you and causing his fingers to press more firmly into your skin. 

He's had every chance to push you away or say something but he didn't, so you take that a sort of go ahead to do whatever you want. 

You turn your head and press your lips delicately against his cheek, tracing circles on the junction between his shoulder and neck with your right thumb all the while. 

Everything around the two of you slowly fades away in the background; the yellow light from the sun, the soft sound of birds outside, the bookshelves - everything. It all disappears leaving only you, Armin, and the chair you're sitting on. 

The light peck against his cheek transforms into an array of smaller traveling kisses, each one leaving hot flesh in its wake, and when he still doesn't stop you, you trail them from his cheek, down to his jaw, and further inward towards his mouth. 

Hell, you aren't even really sure what you're doing right now, just that you love the feeling of his flushed skin against your lips, the way his limbs tremble and breath hitches with each brush and graze. 

He swallows heavily as his eyes sweep over you and your mouth trails lower, and, without really knowing why, he tilts his head further back in a way that would give you more access.

The intrusive sound of distant footsteps draws the both of you out of your disconnected world and reminds you that you're in a very public space, so you pull away and drop your hands down to your lap and lean back a bit to just look at him.

There's an unmistakable blush that reaches over his nose and washes over the expanse of both his cheeks, and you can see his nostrils flare as he tries to steady his breathing and compose himself; he bites a his bottom lip in an almost nervous way and his eyes lock onto yours pretty steadily considering what just happened, a fact that causes bubbles of adoration to rise inside of you. 

"Sorry, I think I got a little carried away." You chime after having your fill of just looking, raising a hand to much more innocently pat his cheek, "I was checking to see if you looked well-rested." 

Oh right, that. He forgot all about you 'checking' him. 

"...do I?" He asks slowly, curious as to whether he looks as good as he feels. 

You nod your head and pinch his cheek with your thumb and forefinger, replying just as cheerily, "Yep! You look like you slept a whole 8 hours, which is crazy."

How you manage to act like you weren't just littering his face with affection is beyond his comprehension, but he tries to act nonchalant about it as well since you seem to be pulling it off so easily. 

"Yes, right. Well, I guess I probably did, but I don't really remember you coming to join me last night..." 

"Oh, that's because you were already asleep when I found you. You left a candle burning and I found you when I came to put it out." 

A simple explanation that, somehow, makes him sheepish all over again. That had the potential to be very dangerous. 

"Why... did you stay?" He sounds very uncertain when he inquires about your reasoning, as if he's unsure whether he wants the answer or not. 

The answer is actually quiet simple, however. 

"You were really cold so I stayed to warm you up- only, I accidentally fell asleep myself."

Now you're starting to feel that shyness that once only affected Armin, realizing how careless that makes you sound. 

Only he doesn't take it that way, he just nods his head in understanding. "We've all been really tired, b-but thank you. I don't think I'd be able to live down getting sick because I fell asleep in the library." 

Your head bobs as you nod your understanding. 

The pair fall into another spell of silence, neither knowing what to say or do now that you've got answers and already hit your awkwardness quota. 

Luckily, your stomach figures it out for you. 

A deep, guttural growl from your stomach signifying just how hungry you are reaches both your ears, and you finally have the sense to feel properly flustered because it really was quite loud. 

You rip your hands away from him and wrap them around your stomach tightly, glancing at his face with pursed lips and hot cheeks. 

"I think you might be hungry." He teasingly says after a moment, a smile working its way onto his face when he sees how freaked out you are over something so silly. "Do... you want to get breakfast together?" 

After that? No fucking way. 

That was literally so embarrassing after how confident you'd been acting, there's no way you can face him after this- no way whatsoever. 

---

The two of you get breakfast together and eat by yourselves, being two of the earliest to get up today, and it really is quite nice. 

One day a week everyone is permitted to get up at their leisure, that being this day, which is actually very lucky for the two of you because on a normal day someone probably would've stumbled upon the two of you in the library by the time you were just waking up.

The conversation flows easily between the two of you while you chow down, neither of you bringing up the kissing or the cuddling to both avoid being overheard but also because it's a bit too fresh to think about right now. 

You need some time to think and figure out how you'll move forward, because no matter how you look at it there was nothing platonic about this morning, not even a little bit. 

You'll just have to talk to him about it later, maybe tonight maybe tomorrow morning; sometime when you've both got free time. 

---

You don't see much of Armin for the remainder of the day because your schedules are pretty different, his consisting of strategy planning, different kinds of training, and some other stuff that you don't know much about. The stuff you've got to do befits regular scouts without Titan powers, like ODM gear stuff, and survival training, to name some.

An extra hour in the dining hall waiting for Armin to come around proved useless because he had dinner in some office somewhere, and, resigning to the fact that you'll just have to wait until tomorrow to see him again, you head off to your room. 

It's a bummer that you didn't get to see him again but waiting around would only be a waste of time and sleep; sleep that you now know you're capable of getting. 

Where has it been these past few weeks where you were only sleeping for a max of 4 hours a night? 

Well, it's whatever now because you've got a very inviting bed calling your name, your very inviting bed. 

The fact that your brain has been withholding sleep from you when you could literally fall asleep in the most uncomfortable position ever last night is total bullshit, so you plan on cashing in on those full hours you've been missing out on. 

Only, little do you know that the circumstances of the night before actually had an effect on how you slept. 

You only manage to sleep 2 hours that night.

---

The following day you are tired but not exhausted given you got at least 8 hours the night before, so you manage to escape the grumpy state that you're usually in and actually appear to be somewhat like your old, cheerful self. 

Armin and yourself don't cross paths again, unfortunately, for the next 2 days due to one of his Titan shifting expeditions with Eren, Hanji, and a few others (they try not to take too many people on those), and you hardly sleep in that time either. 

Over these three days you get only 10 hours of sleep.

You can lay in your bed for an hour just trying to sleep, yet each creak, every rustle, all of it manages to bother you; all the while your mind is running a mile a minute. 

From topic to topic, from every worry to concern, all of it comes washing over you while you lay there, each thought stacking upon one another and planting that desired 'rest' higher and higher up. 

Every time you get close, each time you jump just high enough to reach it, some other thought sweeps you off your feet and brings you all the way back to the base of the ever growing stack. 

Tonight the issue is just that everything is off. The bed is suddenly too hard, the blanket too heavy and then too light; your feet are too hot but when you poke them out paranoia makes you pull them back in. 

Nothing is wrong, necessarily, but it's not right either. It's just off enough that you can't take your mind off of it, and once you think about it, it leads to you thinking about a million other things that you couldn't care less about right now. 

Eventually you opt to give up, sitting up abruptly in your bed as frustrated tears begin to gather in the corners of your eyes. 

"Fucking goddamnit!" You hiss, scrambling to light the candle on the table next to your bed. 

As soon as the sparks take to the wick a small drop of fire appears, casting the room in a dim, warm glow that would normally be comforting were it not for your current state. 

After the candle is lit you slam the lighter down onto the wooden table and immediately bury your hands in your hair and attempt to control your heavy breathing and stinging eyes. It doesn't work, of course, because before you know it the tears of frustration begin their descent down your cheeks. 

Now that you've had a taste of what being well-rested feels like it's so much harder to go back, painful even. You feel an overwhelming emptiness growing inside of you because you're just so fucking tired, but you can't fill that hole with sleep so instead bitterness and anger rise within it. 

It hurts in a way that isn't painful, much to your dismay, because at least real pain makes you feel something other than this awful dragging within your soul. No, you feel nothing but pure unadulterated exhaustion. 

Soft sniffles and small whimpers come from your suffering form, and you hate yourself all the more because now you're crying for no good reason. 

A light knock resounds throughout the room right as you're reaching the peak of your self-pity and mental anguish, and you immediately stiffen and begin to roughly wipe at the wet streaks on your cheeks and at your runny nose. 

"W-Who is it?" You call, sounding very stuffy and much weaker than you intended to. 

"Armin." The quiet voice calls back, an air of hesitation lingering on the edges of his tone. 

Shit, you can't let him see you like this. 

You keep wiping at your salty tears with both hands until your eyes are dry and irritated, hoping that you just look... tired, instead of like you were crying. 

You only invite him in once you're satisfied that you don't look like you were just bawling like a baby, "You can come in." 

The hinges of your door squeal quietly and the floor boards creak beneath his feet as he steps inside, but you're used to it by now so you don't really even register it. 

Instead you're focused solely on him, a confused expression twisting on your face. 

When he steps inside your lone candle gets some help lighting up your room because his taper provides an extra wall of brightness, making it so that you can see his face better and, consequently, so that he can see yours. 

As soon as the door clicks shut behind him and his eyes drift over your seated form you feel a sense of insecurity, wondering if he can tell how tired you are or that you were crying. 

There's no doubt in your mind that you, at the very least, look pretty rough right now, so it's a matter of him deciphering what your issue of the day is. 

"Were..." He trails off for a moment as if he thinks better of what he's about to say, only for him to say it anyways, "Were you crying?" 

When he guesses right you realize you shouldn't be surprised; of course he'd notice, not only is he a certifiable genius but also unfortunately good at reading you. 

You advert your gaze to your blanketed legs and avoid looking at him at all costs, not wanting to look so weak or pathetic even though you're fairly certain it's too late for that. 

For some reason you can't bring yourself to be honest about it, though you desperately want to, so you tip toe around the question, "M-Maybe..." 

The stutter paired with the hoarseness in your voice sounds pitiful and you immediately regret letting him come in at all. What kind of person maintains respect when they're freaking out over something as ridiculous as sleeping?

You don't get to see the pained grimace that covers his face nor the vague understanding because you refuse to look at him, vision flickering from your legs to the wall, basically anywhere but him. 

Armin walks over and places his candle down next to yours and sits on the side of your bed, tilting his head a bit to try and catch your wandering gaze. 

"Do you want to tell me why?" He pauses and smiles sheepishly, adding right after, "O-Of course, you don't have to! I just thought I'd ask..." 

You shake your head and reach up to tug at your hair again, distress emanating from your very being. 

"I'm just being stupid, Armin..." You mumble, glancing at him nervously, "You'll think I'm dumb." 

"No way! I could never think that." He shoots back quickly, reaching up to pull one of your hands from your abused hair and into his lap. 

You drop your other hand to your lap and look at him with a frown, doubting that he'll still be thinking that if you tell him. 

Despite your apprehension, however, there's still that feeling of desire to get it off your chest; to tell someone else about it and feel like your issues actually aren't as ridiculous as you tell yourself they are. 

"It's..." You trail off and observe his face for a moment, seeing the genuine concern and curiosity shining in his eyes. Looking at his eyes, of course, draws your gaze to the dark purple patches beneath, "You look tired." 

Your sudden mention of how he looks makes him laugh despite himself, amusement taking over his concern for a time. 

"Yeah, I feel tired too. Tired enough to lose it, actually, but it's... hard. To sleep, I mean." 

Oh.

You didn't expect those words to come from him when you were just about to speak them yourself. 

"M-Me too..." You mumble, looking back down at your single hand in your lap, "That's why I was crying, actually. I'm just... just so tired but every time I try to fall asleep there's always something that keeps me awake. It's fucking torture." 

His grip on your hand tightens and he raises his other hand to place comfortingly on your back. 

"I thought that because we slept so easily in the library the other night that maybe I was getting better, but not a damn thing has changed. If anything I just feel worse. It's like... I lay in my bed but it's just too cold so I get another blanket, but then I'm too hot so I take it back off. Or I open my window but it's too loud, but then when I close it it's way too quiet. I lay there thinking about nothing and a million thoughts come at me at once, and when I try to think of something instead I can't focus... I feel like I'm being p-punished-" Your voice breaks at the end and you force yourself to stop, not wanting to burst into tears again. 

When he hears your struggles to continue he scoots a little closer and rubs his hand along the expanse of your back, fingertips gliding along the fabric of your sleep shirt in what he hopes is a soothing way. 

You hang your head and avoid looking at him mostly because you can hardly handle the way he's being so understanding and empathetic, because in some ways it'd be easier almost if he treated you like you were being ridiculous. At least then you could find a way to bottle it all up and bury it deep down inside never to be seen again. 

He whispers your name in the softest way you've ever heard, all sorts of emotions being expressed in the simple phrase, but you still can't scrounge up the nerve to look at him. 

When you still refuse to turn your gaze up at he drops his comforting hand from your back and reaches up to instead grab your chin, trapping you with his thumb and index finger which he uses to tilt your head up to look at him. 

"Wanting to feel good and not constantly exhausted isn't ridiculous in the slightest." He begins, soft blue eyes piercing into your soul even though there's nothing intense about his expression in the slightest. "I actually know exactly how you're feeling because that's how it is for me almost every night, too." 

You look at his tired eyes again and realize that he looks pretty similar to you, all things considered. Tired, disheveled, like he's on the brink of collapse. 

A thought then occurs to you: maybe you could try to recreate library night? If you slept well with him before in such an uncomfortable place then maybe you can do it again here. 

"Armin..." You begin, actually returning his gaze now, "Will you stay the night?" 

He seems taken aback at first by your request at first but very quickly it morphs into a soft smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners as warmth emanates from him. 

The blond releases your chin and moves his hand to your cheek instead, replying with no small amount of adoration, "That's part of the reason I'm here, actually." 

That's certainly news to you. 

Your eyebrows knit together in confusion and you look at him questioningly, thus prompting him to elaborate. 

"I got back with Eren a few hours ago. I couldn't sleep the whole time we were gone and I... well, I kept thinking about you. About how I f-felt when I woke up that morning in the library with you..." Pink dusts his fair cheeks as he admits this very embarrassing detail about the past few days, but that doesn't stop him from continuing, "I guess I was just hoping that you'd want to try sleeping together... again..."

He hesitates a lot at the end, seemingly realizing that it sounds so bad even though his intentions are genuinely pure, and luckily for you his uncertainty seems to pump you up with a little confidence. 

"Oh, Armin, are you asking to sleep with me?" You ask innocently, pressing your face more fully into his hand. 

The coyness once affecting him turns to faux-exasperation, but you can see the amusement sparkling in his eyes paired with his anxiousness. 

"I know what you're doing and I'm going to tell you that you can't just play it off by flirting with me." 

Damn it, he's got you figured out completely. 

A small childish pout tugs at your lips but it only lasts for a second because moments later you're smiling, excited to have someone to suffer with you through the night.

You lean forward quickly until your noses are just barely touching, lips grazing one another, and purr, "Maybe only a little, but you can't tell me you don't like it." 

Unfortunately the close proximity only accentuates the black bags weighing down your eyes and the hidden fatigue in all your movements, thus causing him to say your name in a warning tone. "You can mess around all you want tomorrow, but it's really late so..."

You watch him for a moment to see if he's really serious about it, and when he doesn't waver you sigh exhaustedly and mumble, "Well if that's what you really want. I promise I'll keep my hands to myself." You pause then add, "Unless, of course, you don't really want me to." 

Gosh, you're going to be the death of him. 

He chooses not to dignify that with a response. 

"Do you mind moving over so I can get in?" 

You do so without hesitation. 

The pair of dead-tired scouts both get situated in the none too spacious bed and leave a few inches of space between themselves for a time, simply staring and waiting for the other to do something, but neither person moves.

Very desperately do you want to get closer and cling to him like a child, but you hold yourself back incase he doesn't want that. 

Armin, on the other hand, is waiting because he's a bit too nervous to make the first move himself. He's hoping that your casual flirting will get you to just scooch forward and attack him with affection that he's too scared to give. 

An air of impatience surrounds you as you begin to grow bored of the staring contest until you finally explode and ask, "So, are we gonna snuggle or what?"

Not exactly the forwardness he was expecting, but he welcomes it regardless. 

"R-Right. I'll just..." 

He shifts closer and shoves one arm beneath the pillow and wraps the other around you, drawing you close carefully and slowly incase you want to do something else; you do. 

You wrap your arm around his waist and shift one of your legs over his, practically throwing yourself over him as he rolls over onto his back. 

It wasn't exactly what he was going for but he likes it still, your weight pinning him down is actually pretty comforting. 

Almost immediately the feeling of his arms around you and the sound of his soft breathing cause your eyes to droop and your brain activity to slow, each second of stillness and silence drawing you into rest, and it's the same for Armin. 

How he can give you in mere moments what you've been searching for for days is beyond you, but you relish in it and allow it to affect you entirely. 

"Good night..." You whisper right as you start to doze. 

His reply is just as soft, his speech already beginning to slur, "See you tomorrow." 

Chapter Text

Finding a spot down stream to wash was done swiftly and without issues, but when it came time for you two to actually get to the meat of it and start cleaning up... well, it got a lot more complicated. 

"U-Um, should I-" Connie stutters, clearing his throat before continuing, "Do you want me to turn around?" 

"Er, yeah probably. I'm gonna take off literally everything cause I don't wanna get my undergarments wet, and I'm pretty sure you don't wanna see that." 

The subtle insecurity in your words doesn't go by unnoticed but the short-haired man doesn't comment on it; making you uncomfortable is the last thing he wants, so pointing out that he may actually wanna see it is a big no no. 

Without further discussion he turned his back to you and started to toy with the hem of his shirt, looking down at his feet while he considers your words. 

Were you just joking, or do you genuinely don't like how you look? 

The mere thought of you believing that he would ever dislike how you look in the slightest horrifies him because the exact opposite is true, actually. 

The gray-brown-haired scout turns and opens his mouth to say your name, the words dying on his lips when he sees you. 

It had only been a few seconds but there you are with your back to him - your bare back, to him, looking down at your muddy shirt. 

He can't help the way his eyes trace the lines of your back, the smooth skin that just goes down, down, down until...

Connie turns back around quickly with a flaming hot face and focuses instead on getting undressed, realizing just how much the mud is starting to bother him as it dries to his skin and puts him in a constant state of itchy and chilly.

In moments his shirt, pants, undergarments, and footwear are all off and the dirty pieces are tucked in his arms, ready for washing in the river. 

He hears a splash just behind him but manages to avoid turning around like his instincts tell him to, because he knows it's just you. 

"I'm in the water, Connie, it's really not deep but kinda cold so..." 

"Yeah, thanks for the heads up." He replies glumly, not looking forward to washing up in a chilly stream. 

It's his only option though, so he just has to suck it up. 

He splashes into the water without further ado and is relieved that it's not nearly as bad as he thought it'd be; yeah it's cold and the breeze will definitely make it worse, but the sun is also warm as it beats down on his back. 

The mud washes away steadily with each scrub and scratch, lines of foggy brown washing down with the softly rushing water. 

It actually feels pretty damn good, all things considered; it's energizing, but also freeing because the caked on mud was beginning to feel like some sort of shell they needed to shed. 

Everything goes by smoothly. Until it doesn't. 

One moment you're both washing, sharing some not awkward conversation back and fourth, and the next your screams fill the air. 

Something long and small brushes against your leg while you're picking at they dry mud on your collarbone and you immediately screech and jump 50 feet in the air to get away from it, splashing and freaking the fuck out. 

You slip and fall backwards into the water and begin to thrash, flailing your arms and kicking your legs incase the damn thing is near and looking for a you-sized snack. 

Connie yells your name and turns without hesitation, looking at your struggling form as you manage to spit out the words, "Snake!" 

He goes into action instantly and rushes towards you, watching his feet carefully since it could be anywhere. 

Once he reaches you he grabs your arm and yanks you up easily, speed-walking with you towards the edge of the bank since it's hard to run in the water. 

His mind is running a mile a minute as he tries to process everything that happened, one thought in particular getting to him after seeing your downed form, "Did you get bitten? We need to fire a flare right now! It could be poisonous!" He turns you around and looks down at your bare legs with panic in his eyes, searching every inch for blood or holes, "Are you feeling okay? Tell me if you need to sit down- where's the bite?" 

You didn't get bitten, luckily, but you're beginning to wish that you had because now you actually have to tell him you didn't; that you freaked out just because it touched you and now you guys have seen literally everything because of it.

"I-It didn't bite me." You breathe, taking a step back as you advert your gaze and look anywhere but him. 

On instinct your arms come up to cover your chest and nether region, heat clawing its way up your neck and spreading throughout your newly cleaned, but also bashful, face. 

Now that he knows you're safe there's room for him to feel embarrassed too, bright red filling his cheeks and attacking his neck as he, too, looks anywhere but you while also covering himself.

Well, this is mortifying. 

"U-Um, let's get dressed." You grumble, zooming for your 'clean' undergarments, socks, shoes, and extra jacket. 

The undergarments are just that: undergarments; the socks are sort of long and reach up to your ankles and the shoes are a shallow pair of boots that's mouth only reaches up mid-calf. The extra jacket, on the other hand, is probably the nicest thing you got. It's thick with pockets and many straps that remind you of the scout uniform, only there's no ODM gear to go with it. 

It's not much but it's also more than being stark naked, so you'll take it; plus these jackets aren't cropped to make way for the maneuvering gear, it's a full jacket that's hem reaches all the way down to your mid-thigh.

Even after you're both 'dressed' (or at least as dressed as you can be) you still can't look at each other, embarrassed for many separate reasons. 

Your biggest stresser is the way you reacted to the snake, believe it or not, though him seeing all that definitely plays a part as well. 

Silence stretches out between the two of you while you set out your shirts and pants to dry in the sunlight on the branch of a tree, the light breeze carrying the flimsy parts with it before they fall and hang once more. The stream still rushes on as if nothing happened and that snake that may not have been a snake is nowhere to be seen. 

Connie continues to avoid your eyes out of shame for having seen more than you wanted him too, something that happened out of his good intentions that he actually has no reason to feel bad about; meanwhile you don't look at him because you're just embarrassed about everything. The snake, your screams, seeing him, him seeing you, and the fact that you're too shy to look at him now. 

It's just unnatural because the two of you usually bounce back from awkward and anger so easily. 

"T-Thank you for coming to help me-" You begin to say. 

"Sorry for getting in your space like that-" Connie says at the same time. 

You both stop short and look at each other simultaneously, equally coy expressions on your faces; but accompanying the shyness, now, is a small smile. 

"You first." 

"No, you go first." Connie insists, raising his hands to shake them and show that he really doesn't want to go first. 

Fair enough. 

You reach up and scratch your cheek despite not actually being itchy, the smile you wear becoming a bit more nervous as you start again, "Thanks for helping me. I fell over but didn't have half a mind to get up- I was being an idiot cause it freaked me out, but if it'd been an actual snake I could've been hurt which would've definitely been a drag for you. So... thanks." 

Huh, that's really not how he thought about it at all. 

"Also, sorry. I swear it wasn't some elaborate scheme to get a peek at you, I'm not a creep I promise." You add anxiously, afraid that he'd come to that conclusion somehow given the horrible lack of a snake. 

Truth be told, he actually thought that you'd think that about him. 

"It's funny you say that, actually, because I was afraid you'd think the same thing..." He reaches up and rubs at the back of his head nervously, his quirk similar to your face scratching, and adds more like you, "I was going to apologize for, um, touching you and stuff. I was afraid you'd been bitten by it and I wasn't thinking." 

That's what he was upset about? You really misread him; you thought you made him uncomfortable. 

"Don't say sorry for that! If I had been bitten then your reaction would've been great, so why isn't it just because I wasn't? I'm not mad at you for that at all- especially since we were tackling each other in the mud earlier." 

Fair point, he has to admit. 

"I guess we were both freaking out over nothing then." He says after a while, flashing you a much less uneasy grin. 

You only nod and look at the water again, thinking back to that moment; was it really a snake? Did your mind make up something that wasn't there? Or was it just something that you mistook for a snake in the moment? 

You'll probably never know, unfortunately. 

"So, you're saying that there was no snake?" Connie inquires, stepping up next to you to catch a glimpse at your face. 

The smile threatening to overtake his mouth makes you pout because you know right away he's going to make fun of you, but you allow it since you probably scared him half to death. 

"N-No, I don't think there was..." 

And cue the big, toothy smile, "I never knew you to be so jumpy. I don't think I've ever heard you scream like that either- crazy." 

Your face is practically on fire now but you're glad that the tease is relatively merciful; he had a whole lot of material there to work with but he went with something pretty tame, no doubt because he could tell you were bracing yourself for it. 

"Well I'm usually not! I just... I hate not being able to see what my feet are touching and when it slid against my leg I lost it. It really felt like a snake in the moment!" You insist, defending yourself even though he's not accusing you- just teasing. 

He raises his hands in surrender then slinks one over your shoulders, leaning into you as he changes the subject, "Okay, whatever you say. Let's go find some food, hm? I'm getting hungry and our clothes need time to dry." 

His unbelieving dismissal irks you but you opt to ignore it, looking at the hand belonging to his arm wrapped around you. 

You reach up and grab one of his fingers to lift his hand and drop it from you, trying to seem stern as you reply, "Fine. You check the water for fish and I'll look for edible plants and land animals. Fair?" 

He nods and holds out his hand for you to shake, "Fair." 

---

The search for food doesn't go as well for you two as you thought it would, because the river/stream is much too shallow for fish to hide but then the whole snake fiasco from earlier warned all the birds and deer to steer clear of this area; thus, you're left collecting nuts, berries, and roots that you've learned are edible after months and months of survival training. 

You were lucky that you found a large patch of wild bilberries (European Blueberries) along with a bunch of dandelions and a walnut tree. 

It won't be the most substantial meal but it'll definitely give you energy and nutrients. 

After you've gathered a good amount of the three you meet back up with Connie and find that he gave up and started gathering plants as well. He collected lots of ground elder and rose hips. 

This place is pretty abundant with life, so even though you don't have any meat or fish you'll still make it through okay. 

"We're going to have one hell of a salad." You comment after looking over his spoils, lumping them all in together in the square of fabric you had in your bag. "Are you hungry yet?" 

"A little, but we should wait until tonight so we're not starving in the morning and end up binging." 

A fair point. 

You nod your head, close up the square, and then open up your jacket to loop it onto one of the straps within for safe keeping. 

After it's tucked away you start to redo the buttons and glance up at Connie when you feel eyes on you, said man turning his head away quickly with a blush dusting his cheeks. 

An amused quirk tugs at the corner of your lips but you choose not to tease him since he gave up on the snake thing; mercy recognizes mercy, after all. 

Then again where was the mercy when he was smearing your face with mud before? 

Hm. 

"How long has it been? An hour? Do you think our clothes would be dry yet?" You ask. 

Connie looks back at you again and replies cooly, "No, not yet. They'll need at least a few hours, maybe more if the sun goes down." 

Damn, you were hoping they'd be ready for you by the time night hits to avoid the cold, but it looks like that won't be the case. 

As if he could see your disappointment he decides to change the subject, instead offering something for you both to do since you're pretty much set; not having to worry about setting up a safe camp shaved off hours of the exercise and gave you both a good amount of free time. 

"How about we head back to the house and clean up? With all the dust there was we might suffocate if we try to stay there as is." 

You were beginning to have similar thoughts when the idea of 'tonight' crept into your mind, for the very thought of sleeping in an old ass bed crawling with spiders and grime makes you shiver uncomfortably. 

"Yeah, good idea. Let's go do that." 

---

Who knew Captain Levi's incessant nagging about chores and cleaning would actually end up being helpful in the real world? 

Definitely not you, that's for sure. 

As soon as you both stepped inside of the smalls tone cottage and looked around you were surprised by how quickly your brain began to sketch out a game plan for getting this place into shape. 

You've got to start from the top down, from the back to the front; dusting the tops of everything, taking down spiderwebs in the top corners of the room, those things all need to come first. Sweeping and floor stuff will need to be done second to last, while the bed and other things you're going to be using need to be cleaned last so any additional chores won't undo the cleanliness of the most important thing in the whole building. 

It won't be an easy task, but at least it's one you're prepared for. 

The pair divides the tasks equally and sets to work almost immediately after arriving, stripping themselves of their jackets to avoid dirtying them. 

Cleansing this old, musty house in your underwear isn't really how you thought this training mission would go, but surprisingly it actually stops you from getting too warm and leaves you a pretty comfortable temperature; what isn't as comfortable, however, is the way the dust and grime stick to your damp skin and put you in a weird state of moist-dry. 

It's like, your throat feels dry and areas like under your neck are coated in thin layers of dust that suck the moisture from your skin and leaving you feeling like you're made of chalk. 

The worst of it is in your hands, the mixture of aching and fullness beneath your fingernails as well as the floury, dehydrated feeling of your knuckles and insides of your hands makes you want to wash your hands a hundred times over, your skin craving even a drop of water. 

Both you and Connie work through this deep discomfort and manage to clean the room in a record breaking hour, each surface left dustless and clean enough to touch. 

Unfortunately, the two of you are dirty again, but it's nothing another quick wash in the water won't fix. 

"Wow, okay. That was a lot." You breathe after smacking the shit out of the last pillow outside. "Did you take care of the mattress?"

"Yeah- Well, I mean, I didn't it beat as ruthlessly as you but I got the dust out and draped my sleeping roll on it so we-" As soon as the word 'we' passes his lips he stops and suddenly looks very sheepish, "W-Well, maybe not we- I-I don't want to assume..." 

"You don't expect me to sleep on the floor, do you?" You ask with a frown, teasing him not-so-obviously. 

His golden eyes widen a fraction at your words and he raises his hands and shakes them along with his head, "No! No, that's not what I meant! I-I mean, well, I can sleep on the floor, I-I just didn't mean to assume that-" 

You look at him with a raised eyebrow and cross your arms over your chest, jutting your hip off to the side in a way that makes you look impatient. 

When he catches a look at your demeanor he stops stuttering and struggling with his words and just looks at you coyly, shoulders hunching forward. 

An awkward silence stretches out between the two of you, winding the air so tight that it just might snap at any second, and when it does you're the one to flick the metaphorical elastic band right at his metaphorical forehead. 

"Oh no, there's only one bed." You deadpan, clearly recognizing the ridiculousness of it all, "Whatever will we do?" 

His bashful countenance morphs into an irritated smile and a single twitching eye, discerning your mocking tone with ease. "You are the worst." He says with quivering lips, both trying to not laugh but also still agitated. 

"Listen, I'm not going to sleep on the floor, and I'm not gonna let you either." 

"Let me?" He repeats, his eyes wide with hilarity like what you said is just completely ridiculous.  

"That's what I said." You shrug your shoulders and walk over towards him with the pillow tucked beneath your arm. "What, are you scared I'll do something? Sleep is the only thing on my mind." 

His attempt to steer the conversation back into his control fails as you manage to fluster him with your words again; he may be very good with humor but your nonchalance is hard to beat. 

"H-Hey! It's the only thing I'm thinking about too!" He protests, cheeks hot and resembling a raspberry. 

"Aw, you're so cute." You purr sweetly, delighted that you've got him all flustered with just a few words, "I didn't realize Mr. Funny-Man Connie could get shy so easily." 

You reach up and press your hand to your cheek and smile faux-adoringly, like he's an adorable puppy you stumbled across.

The way you're talking to him is very irksome, but for some reason he can't seem to come up with anything to say in response. Where did all of his one liners and jokes go? Why can't he find them? 

You brush past him and rest the pillow back in it's original place at the head of the bed and glance over his handy work, smiling to yourself because it actually looks fairly inviting. 

"A-Anyways," Connie begins, huffing and puffing his cheeks out childishly as he tries to ignore the way the bare skin of your shoulder brushes against his, "I feel disgusting and I'm pretty sure you do too, so we should go wash again." 

An agreeing hum from the back of your throat reaches his ears and he's pleased that you've dropped your arrogant teasing. In some ways he's used to it because of Jean and Sasha, but from you? You never tease him like that so he's wholly unprepared. 

"Sounds like a plan." You confirm, giving him a smile and a thumbs up. 

---

This time when you both wash up in the river (in a different place from before incase the snake was real), you're both a lot less nervous and freaked out since you both: A. already saw everything and B. cleaned and worked in your underwear for hours. 

Of course that's not to say either of you were openly staring or facing each other, but the awkwardness was toned down to a 3 instead of an 8 out of 10. 

Also near the end you turn and splash water at him for fun, something that he returns in kind since he doesn't wish to be outdone. 

Who knew people could have fun naked without feeling weird! 

No, not like that, obviously, but that's a pretty good line you could use on him later if he gets on your nerves. 

While you're squeegeeing off your legs with your hands and getting ready to redress Connie goes to check your clothes to see how dry they are, disappointed to find that they're still damp. 

Looks like you guy's will be sharing the bed in... in just your underwear. 

The sun has begun to sink below the horizon-line, leaving normally brilliant oranges, yellows, and deepening blues in it's wake. While you would normally be entranced by such a sight you're only filled with nervousness, for the tall trees cast huge shadows over the forest. Every snap of a branch and rustle of the leaves have you flinching and sharp needles of pain shooting through you. It could be anything (or nothing), the unknown state of it horrifying you. 

"H-Hey, Connie, we should probably head back now. It's, uh, it's g-getting pretty dark." You call, turning your head towards him while you pull on your last boot following your hasty dressing. 

Only, he isn't there.

Not 10 seconds ago he was buttoning up his jacket and readjusting the drying garments, yet the only thing you see now are the gently swaying pants and shirts; abandoned with no Connie in sight. 

You look around nervously and call out his name again, a strained squeakiness heightening the pitch of your voice. 

The shadows of the trees grow larger and larger while you helplessly turn in circles in search of your brown-haired partner to no avail, and it's at this moment where ice-cold fear grips at your heart. 

Logically you know he's just off using the bathroom or maybe just messing with you, but the less logical fight or flight part of your brain whispers awful thoughts and ideas that leave your mind reeling with unease. 

What if he got attacked by a stealthy bear which is why you didn't hear him go? 

Okay that's stupid, you know, but still an undeniable possibility given his strange disappearance. 

You're starting to wonder if something bad actually happened to him since he probably would've jumped out to scare you by now if that were the plan, a thought that thoroughly fucks with your brain. 

What if he's hurt and can't say anything? What if you never find him?

Dread spreads from your chest throughout your entire body while the worst case scenarios fly through your brain, but you try to get control over your shaking since you need to find him.

"C-Connie?" You squeak, worry mixing in with your trepidation, "A-Are you okay? Where are you? Please say something!" 

The desperate plea in your voice is what gets him to come out from behind the tree next to you, a disappointed frown tugging at his lips.

He had been so ready to jump out from behind the thick trunk to scare the fuck out of you, but the way you sounded and worried about him caused guilt to gnaw at his resolve. 

"Damn it, why'd you have to say it like that?" He asks, stepping up close to you. "Now I feel bad." 

Even with the confirmation that he was messing with you, you're filled with immense relief when he steps into the light, the rapid pounding of your heart becoming less painful now that you're not alone and you can see he's fine. 

You reach up and wrap your arms tightly around him when he gets within grabbing distance and press your face into the crook of his neck, practically squeezing the life out of him with how strong your grip is. 

Connie is taken aback by your reaction, by the way you crush him in your embrace so tight like he might be whisked away in a second, and it only increases his guilt. 

"H-Hey..." He reaches up and wraps you up in his arms in return, leaning his cheek down on top of your head, "I'm sorry, I thought it would be funny." 

While you hold him your brain begins to catch up with everything that just happened, and a horrible sense of irritation washes over you in heavy waves. 

How is it that he heard your first few calls and cries and did nothing, but when you begin to worry about him he comes stepping out like that? This is a training mission not a game of hide and seek! 

Your grip on the back of his jacket turns into tight clawing as your desire for revenge wins over; so you yank him down, hook your foot around his, and toss him easily on the ground at your feet, with your agitation showing clearly on your stern face. 

As soon as you sweep his foot out and pull him downwards he loses his grip and falls without issue, landing on his back as shock makes him freeze up. 

You were on the verge of tears and clinging to him mere seconds ago, and now you're taking him down like he's nothing. 

"It wasn't funny! I was so worried you asshole!" You yell, planting your hands on your hips while you lean over his splayed out form.

"I-I'm sorry-" He stutters as he starts to sit up, elbows pressing into the dirt. 

Before he can get more than a few inches off the ground you raise your foot and plant it firmly on his chest, forcing him back down into the ground while you lean further over him and apply pressure to the place your foot rests. 

"That was so messed up!" You continue, showing that you weren't done chewing him out, "You know what, I should've let the stealthy bear eat you! It would've saved me the trouble of having to kill you myself!" 

At this point you're really just playing up your anger to teach him a lesson, not actually all that angry since your main emotion was concern when he disappeared from your sight. 

You guys are in charge of each other out here, you have to work together, and you basically lost him even if it was by his design. That's an awful feeling!

The brown-haired scout laughs nervously and grabs your booted foot with both hands, putting upwards pressure on it to alleviate your weight pressing down into his ribs, "K-Kill me?" He stutters your name uneasily and pushes at your foot with a gentle force, not willing to admit that your current demeanor and position are doing things to him, "Come on now, we can talk this out." 

Your sour frown and angrily furrowed eyebrows don't change but the fire in your eyes dims, something that he can see even in the dimness of the forest clearing. 

This time around you decide to be merciful. 

"I'll forgive you just this once, but if you pull that again there will be consequences." You hiss, ripping your foot away from his hands and returning it to the dirt beneath you. 

Consequences sounds scary, it should, but for some reason he just feels a spark of anticipation when the word leaves your mouth. 

He chooses to ignore that. 

Connie doesn't move to get back up at first, unsure about whether you'll stomp on him again or not, but when you don't move to do anything else he slowly rises to sit up. 

You're not merciless or actually that angry, so you reach down and offer him your hand to get out of the dirt. 

He, of course, accepts the help and is pleased when you actually haul him to his feet instead of dropping him or something to show him that you mean it. He's lucky that you're feeling merciful. 

"Okay, enough games. We need to head back." You grumble, dropping his hand as soon as he's on his feet. "Lets take the clothes with us and let them dry inside. They should be good by morning." 

He nods, goes to grab the clothes, and follows after you back towards the house. 

It's going to be a long night if he doesn't get this thumping in his heart under control.

It's going to be an even longer night if you don't get your emotions in control along with it. 

Chapter Text

"I just want you, Porco." You whisper, looking right into those stunning gray eyes you love so much. 

He was frowning deeply with furrowed eyebrows tightly knit together but the moment those words left your lips his expression softens. 

The frown is no longer so deep, though it doesn't completely disappear, and the wrinkles in his forehead ease up as the tenseness slackens.

The change is immediate and it brings a smile to your face despite everything that's happening, the normalness of that look on his face filling you with joy. With how this night went you were afraid you'd never see the grimace leave his face. 

"You want me to do what?" He asks after a moment of silence, his hands still resting on your legs from where you abandoned them. 

You almost roll your eyes at his obliviousness but manage to stop the reflex last second; instead you just look at him with a raised eyebrow that says 'really?'

Realization dawns upon his face and a light blush settles on his high cheeks, suddenly feeling sheepish because your words were actually pretty straightforward. 

His prone hands finally move and rest on your hips, the smallest of smiles upturning the corners of his lips.

He was frowning so hard for so long that you were beginning to wonder if he forgot how to smile (but to be fair there hasn't been much to smile about in recent hours), but now that you see it you're overjoyed. 

"Dying a virgin would be pretty lame." You mumble, rubbing your thumbs delicately at the skin underneath his eyes. 

And here comes the frown again. 

"That's not funny." He deadpans, pressing his fingertips firmly into your sides. "Get better jokes." 

"I won't be able to make jokes in poor taste if you shut me up." You reply cheekily. 

Both of your hands slide back from his face to around his neck, your fingertips toying with the short hairs at the back of his nape, as you try to come across as alluring and flirty. 

If he weren't in such low spirits he'd probably laugh at your attempts at being seductive but he instead decides to give it to you, pulling you closer into him so he can crush you against his chest. 

Not the 'shutting up' you were looking for, but you take it. 

You press your face into the crook of his neck and squeeze your eyes shut tight, willing all your anxieties and fears to rest for the time being. There's nothing more you want at this moment than to be with him, and while you were implying at something else, you still like this. It's nice. 

His hands fist at the fabric of your shirt and his cheek presses against the top of your head as he embraces you in a restricting hold, his body still trembling slightly even despite his efforts to completely calm himself. 

You're not sure how long you sit there in his arms, leaning against him fully, completely, letting him hold you together and keep you grounded. 

Eventually he loosens his rigid arms and grabs the sides of your face with strong but still gentle hands, angling your face upwards so he can press a full kiss against your unsuspecting lips. 

The sudden shift wasn't exactly expected but it's certainly welcome. 

The intensity in which he kisses you leaves you breathless and your heart pounding mercilessly in your chest, but you return it just as fervently. 

Both of your hands bury themselves into his light-colored locks as you lean into him and try to get as close as possible, upset to find that while you're kneeling on the bed his legs are still hanging off the side which makes complete closeness very difficult. 

Sensing your struggle, Porco keeps one of his arms wrapped around you and places the other on the bed next to you as he brings his legs up and turns his body towards you, his knees pressing deep into the mattress as he urges you to lay back and lean against your pillows. 

Of course you comply without resistance, pulling him down on top of you as your lips work in tandem to get the sparks flying. You find that you quite like his weight pressing atop you like this, pressing you down in a secure way; you feel as if nothing could possibly tear you away from this moment, away from him, as long as he keeps you grounded (both physically and mentally).

He's your rock, the very reason you're not losing your goddamn mind right now even though death might be at your door in mere hours. 

A warm weight settles in your lower abdomen and you feel as if the sudden heat has just stolen all the air from your lungs, but, weirdly, this brief 'suffocation' actually feels good. 

Porco pulls away from the kiss when your urgency dies down as you run out of breath and presses his lips against your cheek firmly as the beginning of his downward descent. 

He starts at your cheek and moves down to your jaw, eventually making his way to your neck when you tilt your head further back to broaden his access. 

One of his arms braces him so he doesn't lean all of his weight on you while the other squeezes your hip, all the while his lips move against you and his knees press into your thighs. 

His front teeth scrape lightly against your hot skin as he focuses on a spot under your chin next to the column of your throat, gentle nibbles and kitten licks attacking your neck. 

Soft noises of appreciation for his actions hum from the back of your throat and encourage the slightly hesitant Porco to be bolder, all the while you're tugging at his hair and squeezing the various parts of his shoulders and back that your fingers come across. 

A loud sigh puffs past your lips as Porco's hot mouth sucks and nips your neck at his leisure, his non-bracing hand gripping and grabbing at any and every part of you he can reach. From your hips down to your thighs, then back up to your waist. 

The moment is pure bliss and more than enough to get your mind off the awful things awaiting you, because your senses are all filled to the brim with him. All you see is him, all you smell, all you can hear and feel; it's just him. 

And as you both venture into the depths of something you've yet to experience with one another, something intimate beyond anything else you've ever done. 

You want him more than anything else, and not just like this but in general. You want him, all of him, and even though you may very well be dead or damned tomorrow tonight you're going to make the most of your time with him. You're going to savor this time together, you're going to take care of him while he does the same for you, and, in the morning, you can talk to him one last time. 

The only thing you can hope for is that your death doesn't ruin him; that he forgets about you in a reasonable amount of time and gets to live the rest of his 13 years in peace. 

After all, it's only you.

---

A soft sigh puffs past your lips and fans out across Porco's bare chest while you stare at the wall on the opposite side of the room, fingertips idly tracing indiscernible patterns upon his skin. 

One of your legs is thrown over his while you lay your head on his shoulder, immensely comfortable.

You feel blissfully calm and properly sated, your flaming desire easily doused once you let go of that feeling of incompleteness. It's one less thing for you and him to regret if the worst happens, after all. 

Porco's right hand glides up and down your arm as he, too, stares at the ceiling with a satisfied and relaxed face. 

The rest of your bodies are as bare as his chest, the thin sheet you sleep with in the summer resting atop you and covering the lower halves of your bodies from the air, and you must admit that feeling him fully like this is wonderful. 

Unfortunately, all good things eventually come to an end. 

It started out with you thinking about him, about how wonderful the last hour was, which eventually became you thinking of how lucky you are to have him, and then, ultimately, why any of this transpired the way it did in the first place. 

First it's the man holding the gun to his head, then it's the way he practically broke down yelling at you for giving up so easily.

You've had it so good with him, it's only natural that the universe comes along to ruin it. 

You're just you; nothing special.

But Porco? He's special. He's very special. Both to you and the world, because he's a hero.

The soft sound of your name reaches your ears while you lay there and soon after you feel a hand on your wet cheek.

Wet? When did I start crying, you wonder. 

His tilts your head up so he can get a better look at your face and sees the wet streaks across your nose and cheek, a small amount of wetness left on his chest from where your tears fell. 

That's how he noticed your crying, actually; by the feeling of a delicate drop dripping down onto his skin. 

Porco sits up and your head drops to the pillow beneath his arm, but you don't try to sit up as well. You just lay there and look at him from where you lay. 

He leans over you and rubs his fingers along the hot skin of your cheek, his eyebrows furrowed and lips drawn down worriedly. 

You look up at him for as long as you can before your vision blurs completely with tears, your bottom lip trembling uncontrollably as a sob breaks past your pursed lips. 

Your hands fly up to cover your face as the waterworks begin. 

Obstreperous whimpers and cries stutter past your lips as it all finally sets in, and you lose control over yourself in moments. 

Choked gasps resembling cries wheeze out of you as you desperately try to get yourself under control to no avail, and your laying down position does nothing to help it. 

A strong hand forces its way beneath you and pulls you to sit up, said arm bringing you in to press tight against a solid form. 

While you tremble and weep Porco gathers you up in his arms and does his best to calm you down by rubbing your back and whispering soft comforts to you. His lips press against your forehead and he looks at the wall above your head, fighting his own sorrows back with all his might.

It all feels so hopeless, like there's nothing waiting for you in the future anymore even though it's not yet set in stone. 

Your tears only last for so long before you haven't got anything left in you, so pretty soon you're just breathing heavily and gripping at his arms as your shaking dies down. 

Once your sobs cease and the room is plunged back into a much more tense silence you try to speak, your voice too hoarse to be understood at first. 

When your first attempt at words fails you clear your throat and try again, finally managing to say in a relatively clear, but still thick with sorrow, voice, "I don't want to die..."

His arms around you squeeze you tighter and he plants another kiss to your forehead, immediately trying to console you, "You're not going to die. I won't let-" 

"But I don't want you to die even more... so... I'm going to turn myself in." You say before he can finish his sentence, the words tasting awfully on your tongue as you speak them. 

Porco is left in stunned silence as he tries to comprehend your words, his mind unable to wrap around it. His hands fly to your shoulders and he pushes you back so he can see your face, panic returning to his hard set features. 

"W-What did you say?" He asks softly, certain that he must've heard you wrong. 

You look up at him sadly and repeat yourself, "I'm going to turn myself in-"

"No!" He yells right after, his nails digging into the flesh of your shoulders as he shakes you much like earlier, "Do you even hear yourself? Why the fuck would you ever do something like that?!" 

You figured he would react this way the moment the thought occurred to you, and he doesn't disappoint. 

A shaky sigh leaves you and you ignore the stinging in your skin left by his nails, "Because then you won't have to see it- any of it, and I'll get to go on my own terms. They won't know you had anything to do with it and they'll leave you and your family along. M-Maybe they'll even be merciful if I do." 

He scoffs bitterly as if that's the dumbest thing he's ever heard, and it kind of is. 

"Merciful? You're kidding, right? They won't take mercy on you unless you call cutting of your goddamn fingers and r-" He cuts himself off this time and clenches his teeth, eyes squeezing shut as he forces himself to breathe through his nose, "You can't do that. I won't let you do that." 

You flinch and bite at your bottom lip, thinking over his words carefully before finally whispering, "Okay..." 

Porco's anger quickly drains away and turns to confusion when you concede so easily because he honestly thought this was going to be more of a fight. But when he thinks about it you've been giving up pretty easily here; your emotions are all over the place, so he chooses to accept it. 

"Good..." He grumbles after a moment, releasing his harsh grip once it occurs to him that he might be hurting you. "I-I'm sorry for yelling..." 

Somehow you manage a smile, looking up at him with shiny but also sweet eyes, "It's okay, this whole situation is so stressful, we're both acting impulsively." 

The tenseness in his shoulders eases up when your smile registers, because it's absolutely lovely, mesmerizing. 

The back of his right hand grazes along your cheek delicately and his gaze is so much softer now that you find yourself calming. 

"I don't want you to even consider it. If you really care about what happens to me, you won't." He whispers, his eyes going glassy as tears well up within in, "Please." 

You press a light kiss to his lips and caress his cheek gently, forcing the tears away. 

You nod and confirm sincerely, "I won't consider it again, I promise." 

---

At some point in this never ending, yet also painfully short, night Porco manages to fall asleep with you wrapped up securely in his arms. 

He fell asleep to the soft sounds of your breathing, the light thumping of your heart and gentle caresses of your fingertips. 

It isn't until light begins to pour through the windows that he stirs, shifting his weight and finding that he's much lighter than when he fell asleep. 

Porco grumbles with displeasure at you having moved away and pats his hand along the sheets in search of you, not wanting to open his eyes and lose the wonderful feeling of restfulness. 

His hand glides left then right, up then down, each pat touching nothing by mattress. 

You're not there. 

When his search comes up empty he finally peels his eyes open and looks around, noting immediately that it wasn't a dream and he's definitely in your house; but then, where did you go?

He looks around the bed and sees no sign of you. 

With the speed of a striking snake he sits up and looks around violently, eyes wildly scanning every inch of your small home to find you; but it's empty. 

A horrified cold spreads throughout his chest and fear grips his heart in a suffocating squeeze, stealing the air from his lungs and turning his blood to ice in his veins. 

Where the fuck are you? 

If Marleyan soldiers came for you then he definitely wouldn't still be asleep right now; they would've burst in and made an entire fiasco out of it to prove a point to the other Eldians, so that means that you left on your own. 

But where would you go? You have no reason to go anywhere, especially since you claimed over and over again that you wanted to spend as much time with him as possible incase the worst happened. 

So, what then? 

You left on your own even though you-

The feeling of fear increases tenfold when it finally hits him. 

You went to turn yourself in. 

He jumps out of the bed at top speed and immediately searches for his clothes, saying fuck it when he can't find his underwear and just yanking on his pants with shaking hands. 

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck!" He hisses, shoving his foot through one pants hole and then the other. "No no no, goddamn it!" 

It feels like the world spontaneously opened a hole up beneath his feet and swallowed him whole, a numb horror spreading from his chest to the rest of his body. 

And then the door opens. 

His head whips up at the sound of the door opening with his pants halfway up his thighs, but modesty is the last thing on his mind. 

There you stand in the doorway with, yet again, tears streaming down your cheeks and the brightest smile he's ever seen. The sight is deeply confusing yet also grounding; returning the earth beneath his feet as the black hole spits him back out.

Your name breezes past his lips as he tries to process what he's seeing before he yanks his pants the rest of the way up and strides towards you purposefully. 

"I-" 

Before you can get more than a word out he crashes into you and wraps his arms tightly around your body, crushing you to his chest and not pulling back or loosening up even when the force of his rushing forward knocks you both into the door. 

Your back slams into the hardwood with a loud thud but you pay the throbbing no mind and wrap your arms around him as tightly as you can, pressing your face into the crook of his neck. 

He squeezes the life out of you for a good minute before he pushes your shoulders back into the door and looks at you with wild eyes, water swimming but not yet spilling down his cheeks. 

"What the fuck happened?" He demands while looking very stern and crazed almost.

Guilt washes over your joy and the smile you once wore falls from your face, but even despite how much you don't want to tell the truth, you do. 

"While you were sleeping I... I left to turn myself in so you wouldn't be able to stop me." You admit softly, dropping your hands from around him to hang at your sides, "I thought it was the best thing to do to keep you safe." 

He grips your shoulders painfully for a moment when you confess only to relax seconds later, his voice shaking when he acknowledges your admission. "Y-You promised me you wouldn't. You fucking promised." 

The brokenness in his tone makes your heart clench painfully and your guilt increase drastically, but you still try to rationalize it, "No... I promised not to consider it, not that I wouldn't do it." 

His eye twitches with agitation when you use weasel words to explain it away but he doesn't criticize you openly. 

"Why... did you come back?" 

You sniffle and clasp your hands together in front of you anxiously, going on with your story, "I-I wrote you a note and left it on the table before I left, secretly hoping that you'd wake me up and make me stay, but you didn't. So I left and headed for the border to talk to the officers but then..." You trail off as you recall the details, then finish, "I overheard some people talking about a man who hit his head in the park and was hospitalized last night around midnight. They said that he had a concussion and couldn't remember a thing and he's in trouble for public intoxication and openly brandishing a weapon." 

A story like this isn't normally something that would make someone smile, but when you heard this all you felt was immense relief. 

"S-So I came back as quickly as I could because I figured you'd be losing your mind." 

Porco goes silent, saying nothing for a long while as his head hangs and his bed-mussed hair hangs in front of his face, and then his shoulders start to shake. 

At first you thought he was crying, but when you searched his face for tears you instead saw that he was actually laughing. 

"You're an idiot." He chokes out as his laughs fill the already stuffy room with tension. 

Anger and sobbing you could handle, but laughter? You're not sure how to deal with this. 

He lets you go and presses one of his hands to his forehead, his smiling coming across much more unhinged than it sounds. 

"You are a complete fucking idiot." He repeats, his smile falling as tears start to leak out from his eyes again, "That justification was such shit." 

Fair point, but it still deals a painful blow to your chest. 

His laughs morph into sobs and his legs buckle beneath his weight, and before he knows it they're giving out and he's landing on his knees. "You're the worst, the absolute fucking worst." He chokes out, reaching up to wipe rapidly at his wet face, "Goddamn you." 

You slowly sink to your knees next to him and reach out carefully to brush at the hair hanging in front of his face, both offended but also completely understanding. 

He's always had a hard time expression his emotions in a proper way, things like arrogance and anger constantly weighing him down despite his best efforts to change for the better, so you don't take it to heart. If anything you're feeling pain for him because he's saying these things to himself just as much as he's saying them to you. 

When he feels your delicate touch on his forehead he leans into it, his distraught stormy gray eyes searching your face as if he's not entirely convinced that you're there in front of him, unharmed and off the hook. 

Given that he doesn't smack your hand away you take it that he's worked past the anger, so you press your other hand into his cheek and guide his head down to rest against your shoulder, a smile rising to your face. 

"We're going to be okay." You whisper, pressing a light kiss to the top of his head. "I'm going to be okay. And I'm going to spend the rest of our lives making it up to you." 

His heavy hands grasp the back of your shirt while yours smooth up and down along his bare skin, and you both just sit there for a while, clutching one another and letting the relief sink in slowly. 

"I... I'm so glad you're okay." He mumbles into your shoulder, turning his head to the side a bit to look at you, "I'm the worst." 

You shake your head and bring a hand over to pinch his cheek lightly, a small smile making it's way onto your face, "We're both the worst, which is why we go together so well." 

That actually makes him smile, the corner of his lip stabbing upward in a little simper. "I'd agree with that." 

"I really am an idiot, though." You admit with a soft sigh. 

Hindsight really is a bitch, because now that you're seeing his reaction, having heard his sobs and seen him completely lose it, you realize you had no right to just leave. If you didn't want him telling you what to do then you shouldn't have been doing the same even if you thought it was for his own good.

"We're both idiots." He counters, using your words from a second ago. 

There are no replies for that, you've run out. 

You're not sure what to do now, because you're all cried out and feeling pretty damn awful all things considered. 

I mean you got up early after staying up late having sex and panicking about dying an early death and now you've been slammed against a door, berated, and filled with guilt. You don't even want to think about the emotional rollercoaster these past 12 hours have been, so you figure it's better not to. 

"I want to go back to sleep." You declare once you grow tired of the silence, something that he can agree with. 

"I do too..." He grumbles as he removes his forehead from your shoulder, slowly pushing himself to his feet. "Here." 

He offers you his hand and hauls you up with ease when you take it.

Porco lets your hand go right after you take it and shuffles back towards the bed with you in tow, looking just as exhausted as you no doubt. 

You crawl into your bed under the sheet right away and watch the brown-haired man with interest when he stops next to the bed, but he doesn't look at you in return. 

Instead he looks down and unzips his pants and kicks them back off, the sight making your cheeks heat up. 

"W-What are you doing?" You ask with a stutter, both excited and made anxious by the sight. 

He looks at your clearly embarrassed and shy expression and rolls his eyes, a small smile tugging at his lips as he answers, "Relax, I'm just getting more comfortable." It's true, he much prefers minimal layers when he sleeps, and whether you want to join him in that is completely up to you. 

You watch with ample interest as he climbs in next to you and throws the sheet over his legs and you decide that you much prefer to feel his skin on yours, so you slip off your shirt and get rid of your pants much like him and flop down against the pillow. 

Porco wasn't actually expecting you to do the same, his mind was just being kind of smug, so when you're suddenly very much nude like him his face turns a light shade of pink that matches his still slightly sorrow-swollen eyes. 

But then he stops caring. 

He snatches you from your side of the bed with ease and pulls you right up against him, squishing his cheek against yours obnoxiously as he relishes in the feel of you. 

This could've very easily never happened had you gone to the police before you heard the news, but he forces those thoughts from his brain before they can fester and build. 

You wrap your arms around his neck and squeeze him tight, smiling tiredly. 

"I love you, Porco." 

"I love you, too. So, so much." 

Chapter Text

You're not her real mother, not by a long-shot, but by god did you wish you were. 

You wish you could've been there through all those hard times to hold her, to tell her that someone loves her even when she thought no one in the whole world gave a shit. 

Historia started as your foster daughter after the orphanage took her in following the murder of her mother, and very quickly you grew attached to her. 

She was sweet and very gentle, but even more than that there was a sort of broken sadness in her eyes that you desperately wanted to ward off. 

At one point you offhandedly mentioned that you'd love to just adopt her already and have her as your real daughter and the way her eyes lit up with hope and excitement just solidified your decision. 

You could hardly imagine what your everyday life would be like without her, for she had been a huge part of it for over a year at that point. 

Historia is, and has been, your legal daughter for 2 years now. 

Watching her grow and learn has been wonderful, but even better than that was seeing her emerge from her shell and become comfortable around you. 

She used to walk on eggshells around you, every movement silent and request minimal and followed by apologies or a million 'thank you's.' Another quirk you've since worked out of her is her instinct to ask permission before doing anything. 

You'd be watching TV together and she'd ask if it's okay for her to use the bathroom; you'd serve her up breakfast and she'd ask if it's okay for her to start eating; hell, she even asked if it was okay to get water with her meals half of the time. 

Each time she'd express surprise when you reminded her that she didn't have to ask to do any of those things your heart would clench painfully; what kind of life did she have before to be so timid about everything?

You knew the basics, of course, about the neglect and the emotional trauma caused by her biological mothers habits, but not many specifics. All you had to go on really were your assumptions based on her behaviors, but these assumptions and your dedication to the small blonde-haired girl made it possible for you to get through to her. 

Eventually she stopped asking to do even the most basic things and no longer tiptoed around the house as if any noise above a whisper would blow the house up. 

She began to run, to play, to giggle, to just be a kid, and it made you so unbelievably happy. 

The first time she accidentally broke a dish and cleaned it up without apologizing for hours you nearly cried. The first time she called you 'mom,' you actually cried. 

Now? She's finally getting to enjoy the childhood so unfairly ripped away from her before she came to you. 

Your fingers glide carefully through her blonde hair as her head lays idly in your lap, her right hand gripping at your knee as her soft blue eyes flicker around the TV screen.

The couch you're both sitting on is comfortable and plush against your back as you lean back into the cushions and flick through the movies and shows in search of something to watch, that'll entertain both of you. Maybe a Disney movie or cartoon? 

There are plenty of films and series that cater to both kids and adults, it's just a matter of finding the right one to match the mood of the day. 

The cursor highlights a horror movie as you make your downwards descent towards 'family friendly,' and Historia immediately perks up and rises her head from your knee using her hand for leverage. 

"Oh! Can we watch that one?" She asks excitedly, looking up at you with shinning eyes. 

You glance down at her and raise a single brow questioningly, moving the cursor over the brightly colored cartoon next to it, "This one?" 

"No, the one you were just on!" She clarifies, reaching across your lap to press the 'next' button, "I wanna watch this one with you." 

"The Conjuring." You read with amusement, "I don't think so." 

A cute pout pulls at the corners of her mouth and she juts her bottom lip out in a way that clearly shows how displeased she is. 

"Why noooottt?" She whines, sitting back on the couch while staring you down.

You reach down and pat the top of her head fondly, finding her actions both enduring and also amusing. "Because you're not old enough to watch scary movies yet, sweetheart." 

Simple and informative, two things Historia doesn't want to accept. 

"I am old enough!" 

To prove her point, Historia reaches up and puts both index fingers in the corners of her mouth, stretching her lips wide to show you her teeth.

After she shows you the inside of her mouth she looks at you expectantly and talks as if that proved her point completely, "See, I've got 4 adult teeth!"

"How about once you have all of your adult teeth, then we can watch it together. Sound fair?" 

Her pout returns when you don't agree with her logic, but she doesn't want to push her luck so she deflates puffs out her cheeks and furrows her eyebrows inward; the twist of her face and big bottom lip is just adorable, but you much prefer her smile. 

"Let's turn that frown upside down!" You coo, reaching down to pinch her cheeks gently. 

That doesn't work, so you try something else. 

"Don't smile..." You say with a grin of your own, grabbing her arms and pulling her into your lap, "Dooooon't smile." 

Shockingly, neither does that. 

By the second 'don't smile' she's usually hiding her mouth with her hands so you won't see her delighted grin, but she somehow manages to maintain her displeased frown. 

Looks like you'll have to resort to drastic measures. 

The moment your fingers start to wiggle and climb up her sides she knows you're going to start tickling her, thus a high-pitched squeal erupts from her lips as she tries to shimmy away. 

You tickle her sides with light fingers and relish in her loud giggles and screeches, laughs of your own mixing with hers as she wriggles around and flails her arms back and fourth in an attempt to escape your evil intentions. 

The tickle attack only lasts 10 seconds but by the time you're done she's smiling, having forgotten all about wanting to watch the scary movie, and decides she wants revenge. 

Her little hands shoot up and shove underneath your armpits in an attempt to tickle you back, but her fingers are much too small to elicit more than an entertained laugh. 

"How do I tickle you?" She asks in frustration, trying your neck next which also doesn't seem to work, "Are you not ticklish?" 

"Nope, just like the last time you checked." 

And here returns her pout. 

---

The sun has long since set and the hour grows later and later.

After you refused to watch that movie together with her Historia began to devise a plan to watch it and prove just how grown-up she really is; said plan requires a lot of waiting, but it'll be well worth it, because if her plan works and she manages to prove you wrong then maybe you'll push back her bedtime! 

Historia was sent to bed hours ago but lay awake reading and playing, waiting for the sound of the bedroom door just outside closing, which signals you going in for the night. 

Of course Historia knows that her you usually don't go to sleep right away, but the TV room is far enough away that she can watch the movie without raising suspicion. 

The little clock on her nightstand reads in small red letters '1 AM,' and, as if the universe put this moment together by hand for perfect timing, the soft sound of muffled footfalls approaching her door alerts the small girl. 

She reaches across and turns her light off quickly and ducks underneath the covers, turning her back to the door and half covering her face with the blankets so she won't smile and accidentally give it away. 

The door to Historia's room creaks open and the dim hallway light floods into her room, lighting up the carpeted floor and reflecting softly off the walls. 

Those same soft steps enter the room and approach the side of her bed so Historia closes her eyes and puts on the best sleeping face she can muster to hopefully convince you that she's actually asleep. 

Her mattress dips behind her and the feeling of something looming above her registers followed by steady fingertips brushing away her hair and a delicate kiss being pressed to her forehead. 

"Good night, Historia..." You whisper afterwards, retracting your lips from her forehead and your knee from her bed as you move to stand up straight again. 

You take a few steps back, turn, then leave the room and shut the door behind you. 

The blonde-haired girl doesn't move to get up until after she hears your bedroom door creak open then shut softly. 

She sits up and looks at the crack separating her door from the carpet and sees that the hallway light is off, but she doesn't dare to go and try to watch the movie now. She'll probably have to wait for another 10 minutes before she can go incase you forgot something or want to get water after settling in. 

So that's what she does. 

She sits and she waits, watching the seconds tick by and turn to minutes, and once the clock reads 1:19 AM, Historia kicks her blanket off and hops down from her bed. 

Excitement rises within the eager child at the thought that she gets to prove to you how mature she is, thus prompting her to hastily tip toe over to her door, open it quickly, and make her way down the hall with fast feet. 

Moving silently on a variety of different surfaces is second nature to Historia because of her old home, so her journey from her bedroom to the living room is a piece of cake. 

Historia is situated with the movie up and running in a matter of minutes, but as the opening of the movie plays she finds that her heart is thumping for a much different reason. 

The first jump-scare at 3 1/2 minutes in makes her flinch and squeak fearfully but she doesn't back down, letting the movie play out even though she doesn't understand half of what's going on. 

Somehow Historia manages to watch 40 minutes of the movie with varying degrees of fear and anxiousness plaguing her, and she's come close to turning it off on multiple occasions; however, she hasn't screamed or covered her eyes one single time, amazingly. 

The only thing keeping her from giving up and running back to her room is her goal of showing you how brave and grown-up she is by being able to watch this whole movie by herself, so she soldiers on and keeps her eyes glued to the screen. 

42 minutes in and her entire plan falls to pieces, all because of that horrible monster.

The music swells and screeches as an awful monster is shown on top of the little girls closet, and before she can stop herself Historia screams.

It's a blood curdling scream that travels through the living room and into your bedroom down the hall, one that stabs a knife of alarm through your chest. 

"Historia!" You yell, scrambling to get out of bed and to find the source of the fearful wails. 

You practically kick your door off it's hinges and see that hers is already open, so you turn and run down the hall towards the room she's in. 

When you burst into the living room and catch sight of a horrified Historia covering her eyes as 'The Conjuring' plays in the background you freeze and try to process what exactly you're seeing here. 

Why is she awake? Why is she watching this movie? Is she okay?

Oh, you should probably check on her. 

You swiftly leave the entrance of the room and go to her, saying her name in a soft voice to avoid frightening her anymore than she already is. 

As soon as she feels your presence next to her she lunges forward and wraps her arms around your neck tightly, small limbs trembling as fat tears roll down her cheeks. 

You gather her up in your arms and have her sit on your forearm so you can hold her with one arm and turn off the TV with the other, tossing the remote to the side as soon as the room is plunged back into darkness. 

When the light from the TV disappears she twists her fists tighter into your shirt and whimpers, so you take her over to the light-switch panel and flip them on, immediately illuminating the room in a light yellow. 

After the TV is turned off and the lights are turned on you walk back over to the couch and take a seat, settling her down on your lap but keeping her close. 

You rub small comforting circles into her back and sway with her back and fourth slowly, occasionally whispering that it's okay and that you're right there. Before you question her you want her to calm down, no good answers come from a hyperventilating child, after all. 

Her sobs rack throughout her whole body and her gasping breaths make her shoulders shake and mouth hang open, but such intense bawling never lasts for too long. 

The wails turn to whimpers, the cries turn to sniffles, and the loud wheezes turn into soft little gasps and hiccups, and, once her breathing has calmed slightly you finally pull her back a touch to look at her face. 

"Historia..." You begin, wanting to get her attention before you start talking at her, "What happened?" 

You have a good idea of what happened, that she disobeyed you and came to watch the movie even though you told her not to, but you want to hear it from her. 

She looks up at you with her crying-swollen eyes, her bottom lip still trembling and nose running, and stutters out between uncontrollable breaths, "I, wanted, to, w-watch the, movie," She starts, each pause caused by an erratic breath, "S-So I-I..."

"Shh, it's okay, sweetheart. Here, take a deep breath with me." 

Historia nods her head and reaches up to rub her eyes with her small fists, breathing in deeply and letting it out slowly in tandem with you. 

The two of you take 3 deep breaths together with you leading the charge, each of your careful inhales followed by one of her shaky inhale and quivering exhales.

After the blonde girl regains control over her breathing she pulls away and swipes her fingers at her damp cheeks again, sniveling still but much more calmly. 

"Are you alright?" You ask in a soft voice, reaching up to brush her unruly hair out of her eyes. 

The redness in her face and swelling at her tear-stained eyes makes your heart throb sympathetically but you resist coddling her since she did disobey you; you also delay in scolding her, however, wanting to give her a chance to recognize her mistake herself. 

Little Historia hiccups once, then audibly replies, "Y-Yes..." 

"Okay good, good." You keep her settled on your lap and press in that same gentle tone, "Tell me what happened, sweetheart." 

She nods again and explains much easier this time around, "So I... I waited for you to go to bed and came out to watch the movie b-but then... t-then-"

Historia starts to get worked up again as she remembers that scary monster woman on top of the girls wardrobe and feels tears well up in her eyes once more.

Not wanting her to spiral out of control again you squeeze her into another hug, hushing her and reassuring her that she doesn't need to continue. 

"A-Are you mad at me?" She asks in a small voice, little hands fisting in your shirt and face pressing into your shoulder. 

Your hand glides up and down her back as you take a moment to consider how you'll answer her question; you aren't angry, but you're not pleased either. She ignored you and chose to watch the movie despite you telling her not to, but then the terror of the moment is more than enough punishment. 

"No, I'm not mad, Historia." You tell her, standing up from the couch with her still cuddled in your arms, "I do wish you would have listened and I'm a little disappointed that you ignored me." 

The feeling of her head bobbing up and down weakly registers as you head out of the living room and down the hall towards her room, so you repeat, "But no. I'm not mad. And you're not in trouble either, because I'm sure you understand why I didn't want you watching them now, right?" 

"Y-Yes, momma." She confirms, peeking out from behind your shoulder to watch the carpet pass below. "I'm sorry." 

"I forgive you, sweetheart. Let's go to bed for real now, okay? You're going to be really tired in the morning as is." 

You step up to her door and reach down with the arm not wrapped around her to grab the handle, but before you can open it she squeezes you tighter and stutters, "W-Wait! Can I sleep in your room? Please?" 

The metal door handle is cool against the warm skin on the inside of your hand as you pause and think over her request, 100% intending to allow it. 

"Of course." You agree, turning and going into your room instead. 

She clings to you the entire way to your bed and only lets go once you loosen your hold and set her down on the left side, and she watches you with sleepy, round eyes as you go to the other side and climb in next to her. 

Historia scooches all the way over to you and shimmies under the blanket as soon as she's situated herself into your side, and you do the same and gather her into your arms. 

"Momma?" She whispers after a while, her tone hesitant and quiet, "T-The monster from the movie was fake, right?"

"That's right." You concur, looking up at the blacked out ceiling thoughtfully, "But if they were real they'd go for you right away- you look so tasty." You tease, tickling her sides lightly. 

The small girl giggles and squirms around in your hold a delighted smile adorning her face. She thinks what you said is silly, and even though it's still fresh on her mind she finds that it isn't quite as scary as it was before. 

A thought occurs to the child and she adds confidently, "But you'd scare them all away before they could!" 

"I sure would." You confirm, closing your tired eyes with her little form clinging to you. 

"Because you love me?" 

"Because I love you- so much." 

Chapter Text

The efforts to liberate the walls following the retaking of Shiganshina and the battle for the Founding Titan were very successful, for the most part, due to the anti-titan mechanisms made from Eren Yeager's hardening, crystallization abilities.

Countless titans were slain at the wall with the 'Executioners from Hell,' as Hanji calls it, and before you know it the flood of titans goes to a trickle until, eventually, they stop coming around altogether. 

After three weeks of not a single titan coming to the walls Commander Hanji began to draft a plan for an expedition outside the walls for exploration and absolute extermination purposes, and the team is to consist of the original scouts, Hanji's research team, and volunteers. You belong to the former group, having been one of the only surviving members of Hanji's squad back during the Battle of Shiganshina, and while you're not thrilled to be going out there without confirmation that the titans are all gone, you don't refuse to go either. 

Though when you really think about it the only reason a titan would be out here at this point is because it couldn't get to the walls, so if there are any (like Connie's mom) then they're probably not a threat. 

Probably. 

Even if there are threatening titans out there you're fairly certain that everyone will make it out alive because, luckily, humanities strongest soldier is on your side. 

Levi Ackerman is the fastest, strongest, and smartest man you've ever met - he's also the angsty-est and moodiest. Though you always give him a pass on that considering anyone would be grumpy if they lost as many people and got as little sleep as him. 

Interestingly enough, he seems to tolerate your presence much better than most. 

It probably has something to do with the effort in which you put into everything you do and your refusal to quit something until it's been done to your standards; spoiler alert, your standards are very high. 

The two of you are pretty similar in tendencies, though personality and skill aren't on the same level at all. 

You do your best to make others happy and keep up a façade of comfort more often then not, and your skillset isn't even slightly as impressive as his. 

Due to Hanji's promotion to commander you were transferred to Levi's team, being as there's only a few of the original scouts left, which is how the two of you got to know each other. 

He likes you because of your attention to detail and lack of stupidity, and his first impression was a pretty good one. 

You maintained impressive, but not overbearing, eye-contact and complimented him right of the bat. 

Now he's not an egotist or anything, but that unexpected praise actually got to him a little bit for reasons unknown to him. 

Even better is the fact that you're not fucking annoying; you know when to shut up and when to speak freely without having to be told, but you also don't tip-toe around him like he's some sort of angry bear ready to strike at any moment. 

You kind of just treat him like a real person, and he finds it refreshing since Hanji was really the only other person like that still alive and in his life. 

There's also your reliability that he can also depend on, something that he's taken advantage of on multiple occasions when he needed something done a particular way. 

He trusts you, and trust is something he doesn't throw around all that easily.

And because he trusts you, he suggests to Hanji that you'd be of more use leading your own team of volunteers for this upcoming expedition. 

When he told you about the promotion you were elated, thanking him a million times over and insistent on doing something for him in return. 

You offered to make him some tea but he quickly denied that suggestion; he's tasted your tea before, and to this day the mere thought of that atrocity you called tea makes him internally shiver. 

Instead he suggested you help him clean out an old storage closet, both because you're one of the only people he can trust to do a satisfactory job (other than Eren) and to talk to you for a bit about the upcoming exploration mission. 

The night before the expedition, following weeks of getting acquainted with the volunteers, you went to his room after dark, knowing that he was definitely not asleep, and asked to pick his brain about leading a team of unskilled newbies. 

Sensing your obvious anxiety and concern Levi conceded and let you stick around, knowing fully well that neither of you will be able to sleep the night before a huge expedition like this, and answered your questions to the best of his ability. 

The advice was pretty trash since he's not really all that great at that kind of thing, but you pretended that it was enlightening. 

He knew it was awful and that you were only pretending to find it helpful, but he sort of appreciated that you weren't trying to force him act as some sort of motivational speaker. 

You stuck around in his room for the entirety of the night studying the plans, asking questions, and talking, and before you knew it the sun was rising. 

Embarrassment was the first thing you felt when the sun broke the horizon because you hadn't meant to take up his whole night but, as if he could just tell, he refused your apologies and gruffly stated that he knew what time it was and that if he cared he would've sent you away. 

Promptly after you were on your way out, but you didn't leave without pulling him into a speedy side hug and a cheery and heartfelt 'thank you.' 

That moment was on his mind up until it was time to get ready to go. 

---

The first day of the exploration expedition went by without trouble. 

It's as if the universe decided that it was time for a day of complete success because the only things the mission came across were wildlife and a lot of nature. Not a single titan in sight. 

Of course at night when the group set up camp there was some tension and uncertainty, but Hanji assured everyone that all titans (minus the shifters) are inactive at night because the sun isn't out to give them energy. 

There were a total of 8 people on watch at all times, the shifts going by in 1 hour rotations. 

Everyone was up right before daybreak and camp was broken down the moment that bright yellow ball in the sky has begun to touch the horizon. 

The next day goes by just as smoothly, and so does the day after that one. 

Three days of accomplishment after accomplishment had everyone in high spirits, but all this success made you sloppy. 

On the fourth day, expecting another day of smooth sailing, the expedition takes a long break in the middle of the day to give the horses some extra time to rest and some time to fill up on supplies. 

Hanji has everyone stop at a large lake surrounded by greenery and trees, the mini-camp being set up in a large clearing near the trees, and you and your team go out to check the perimeter. 

It was clear, no titans or predators in sight, so you send them back to rest while doing another round trip by yourself just to double check and search for any game. 

Still you see nothing, so you head back towards the direction of the group at a leisurely, relaxed pace. 

That leisurely pace turns to haste when the screams began to echo throughout the forest. 

For the first time in days you use your ODM gear with purpose, slinging through the thin, tall trees with fear coursing through your veins and charging your movements. You fear the worst, abnormal titans or maybe bears, but you'll have to get there to be sure. 

A huge flash of tan registers in your peripherals as you rush forward, and on instinct you turn your head in time to see it.

A grinning titan with wide, blue eyes.  

It's as if the world had been put into slow-motion, every movement and shift inching forward minutes at a time, yet it also feels so fast. 

That horrifying smile shoots a spear of terror right through your heart, but even though the world has slowed, you're going too fast to do anything about this huge beast. 

You zoom past the titan and continue toward the source of the screams, heart thumping erratically and loudly as the wind ruffles your hair and slaps against your face. 

In seconds you're back at the camp, and the scene you spring upon is bone-chilling, but also somewhat relieving. 

There's no blood, no death, no gore, but there is  a bunch of scouts running around with their metaphorical pants down and 3 multi-class titans emerging from the trees. 

A 5-meter, 3-meter, a possible 10-meter. The one you passed in the forest was easily 8 meters long, so, suffice to say, if these people don't whip into shape soon a lot of them are going to die. 

You and your team are the only people in the air with their gear on because you had to go out with it, so at the moment you and them are the first line of defense. 

People scramble to get their gear on while you zip by above their heads, going straight towards the 3-meter which had been moving along much faster than the other two. 

Very quickly is the small terror upon one of the new girls with her gas canister half in the slot. She freezes and looks up at it with wide eyes, tears welling up in them as it reaches down for her with eager, hungry hands. 

"Shit!" You hiss, pulling the trigger on your swords to catapult you further, closer, and faster. 

Before it can grab her your blades tear through it's flesh and your feet come up to ram into its face. Your goal is to get it further away since you can't kill it from the angle you're at, but it seems to work just as well. 

The momentum of your move and power behind your double footed kick sends the 3-meter toppling backwards and crashing into one of the trees, but the time to celebrate your triumph will have to wait. Mid-air you throw your arm back and use that to change direction and turn, looking up at the 5 and 10-meters with a hard set, focused expression. 

"Over here you fuckers!" You yell with ferocity lining your voice, hoping above all else that they'll follow you instead of attacking your unarmed comrades. 

They both turn their attentions to the closer, easier access prey, i.e. you, and amble in your direction instead since there's no trees blocking them from you.

You're ready for them, ready to charge past their feet to lead them further away, but you need them to get a little closer first. 

You wave your arms and yell at them some more, throwing various insults around and staying still so they won't lose interest in you, and it works very well. 

They're meters away at this point, almost on top of you, so you get ready to zoom off a few trees down and wait again. 

The 3-meter is out of your line of vision so you assume it's healing from where you cut its arm up, maybe even taken down, so you keep your focus pointed at the bigger titans until, once again, they're only a little ways away. 

You lead them further and further away for who knows how long, and just as you're getting ready to charge away once more the feeling of a looming figure behind you registers in the back of your reeling mind.

When you turn your head to look back all you see is a large hand reaching out towards you, practically on top of you, one that's fairly low to the ground and still steaming. 

The 3-meter. 

In this moment you realize that you're about to die; all because you were too stupid to watch out for the little one. 

And then a sudden gush of blood flies past it and you see Luca, one of yours, flying by with his blades bloodied and expression set hard. 

As much as you'd love to thank him and relish in not dying, you instead shoot your wires into a tree just past the 10-meter down close to the ground and fly past the other two's feet, cutting at the tendons behind the 5 meter's knees as you go. 

It falls to the ground as soon as you slice into those huge, disgusting feet, and while you were prepared for the 10-meter to attack while you flew past, when you look up you see that it's just staring at you stone-still. 

They don't watch and wait like this usually, so you know right away something is wrong. 

"I've got it!" Luca yells from above you, zipping towards it at top speed with his blades at attention in front of him. 

It's sizing you up; it's planning. 

It's an abnormal. 

"Luca, no!" You scream once you realize, reaching out with one hand towards his flying form. 

You watch in horror as it's eyes shift over to the side, looking at Luca in its peripherals, and as soon as he gets close that huge head turns fast, mouth open; so fast, in fact, that you think it's neck might snap off.

He charges right towards those awaiting chompers with no way to stop himself, going too fast to maneuver away or dodge, but moments before he becomes the next meal on this monsters menu a blurry figure snaps into existence and snatches Luca out of the sky and away from the awaiting titan. 

The titan has quick reflexes as well and reaches up to snatch at the glinting wires that stole his lunch, but all it does is snap the line from the tree and make the swift savior shoot it into another one. 

They're both gone before you can register anything else, and you're alone with the 10 and- oh, the 5-meter is dead. That was fast. 

3 is dead, 5 is dead, 10 is distracted. You shoot your wires up at the branch nearest to its head and reel your arms back, ready to strike, but the booming sound of new footsteps disturbs your concentration. 

It's only a split second of your brain breaking away from the task and searching for the source of the noice, but it's enough for the intelligent titan to raise an arm and swat at you. 

The huge arm crashes into you and smacks you into the branch of the tree you were swinging from, successfully knocking the air from your lungs and filling you with pain as the branch snaps off and snags your wire. 

Despite your lack of air and heavy body you manage to shoot your non-stuck wires into the tree which abruptly halts your descent and leaves you hanging, but there isn't much else you can do from here.  

The wire connected to the broken branch is all tangled in the smaller twigs and around the girth of it, so while your one good wire keeps you connected to the tree the other one weighs you down and pulls you the opposite way.

Liquid drips down into your eye so you reach up and wipe at it with shaky arms, noting the red as soon as you bring your arm back down, but you've got enough to worry about so you just wipe it away and try to figure a way out of this. 

Your body feels like it's on fire and you still can't quite breathe right because of the way your back slammed into the bark, so you can't do anything but look up at the place keeping you from crashing into the ground and splattering your brains all over the ground. 

A fall from this height, 5ish meters up, could very well kill you depending on many variables, but you can't get your blades to move an inch to cut the bottom one. 

Your wires have been pulled taut and made your blades immovable, forcing you to release them and pull uselessly at the wire caught up in the large branch below.

The only thing holding the tree and the branch is your body and the broken equipment, so, at this moment, you are completely stuck; helpless. 

Eventually you look up and see the 10-meter a couple trees away watching you and completely still. Your best guess is that it's watching to see if you're going anywhere else, if you're still dangerous. It has a survival instinct which has actually bought you some time. 

A wheeze finally works its way through you and you find that you can breath somewhat once again, though each gasp leaves your lungs burning and aching. 

You look away from the observing titan to guide your hands to reach down and try to get your tangled wire disconnected somehow, knowing that your good hook can only remain buried in the tree for so long, but no matter what you do it won't give. 

Your best bet is getting this thing off and climbing higher, but you can't do that with the branch weighing you down. 

"Fuck!" You cry, feeling tears begin to well up in your eyes as you look back at the abnormal again. 

Here you are helpless and hanging, a ready treat for this 10-meter tall asshole; it's not going to stand there devouring you with it's eyes forever. 

The ground shakes and underbrush cracks and crunches as a new pair of huge feet move closer, belonging to an entity, a titan, you can't see. 

It's not the 10-meter, it's still looking at you, but then the shaking and booming stops. 

The feeling of new eyes on you gathers your attention, and, slowly,  you look back towards the direction of the feeling. 

First you see the pale skin, the thin lips drawn into a huge smile, and, finally, those huge blue eyes staring straight at you - through you, almost. As if you're a steaming meal that has just been served up to him. 

It peeks at you from behind the tree you're hanging in with large hands at it's sides, and you know that you're actually going to die this time. 

"No no no- fuck!" You look up and grab the wire attaching you to the tree tightly, trying to somehow pull yourself up, but the wire only trembles and slips slightly. 

Time has run out - this one won't hesitate to eat you. 

The 10-meter starts to close in once the new one arrives, intending to eat you before this one can, and your heart drops all the way to your feet. 

When you can't pull yourself up you reach for your blades and try to yank them out of their tight spots, but they don't budge either, so you instead grab for the extra blades only to find that they've all clattered to the ground below. 

It's hopeless. You're out of options. 

Those unshed tears from earlier come back and you begin to wonder where everyone went. 

Where is Luca? The rest of your team? Commander Hanji? Levi? Where are any of them? Why are you all alone like this? 

"Damn you!" You yell as a huge hand comes up to grab you, using your strong legs to kick and beat at the outstretched appendage as blood and tears mix together and make it hard to see. "Where is everyone?!" You half-sob, the futility of the situation filling you with despair. 

Alone, afraid, bloody, and in pain: this is how you're going to die. Being pulled to pieces by these two titans as they fight over who gets to eat the squishy bits, over which one gets to pull off your arms and legs. 

Your last ditch attempts do very little other than stall for time, and in this moment you make the decision that you'd rather take your chances with the fall than succumb to the deaths previously mentioned. 

You reach up to yank at the wire keeping you to the tree to escape the grasp, intending to either die via falling or live and be injured, but you stop in your tracks when that greedy hand goes limp and the whole titan collapses to the ground. 

Though you can't see very well the blurred image of one of the titans collapsing registers, and then the other hand reaching for you explodes in a wall of blood. 

Before you know it the swift abnormal is down, crashing into the ground with waves of steam rolling up from it's wounds and towards the sky. 

The combined sounds of hissing air and whipping metal makes you look up and wipe rapidly at your blood and tear-stained face, and right away you recognize the form hurtling toward you. 

"Levi!" You half-call half-cry, that feeling of abandonment and devastation making way for remission. 

His feet strike into the tree next to your hanging body as he goes to your side, brows creased with a deep-set frown tugging at his lips as he takes in your helpless form. 

"Shit, how the hell did you manage this?" He asks, reaching down to yank at your prone blades in hopes of freeing them for you. 

Down below he sees your tangled wire and the thick branch pulling you down to the earth and up above is the other wire hanging on by a splinter. 

When your weapons don't move so much as an inch he raises his left arm and slices the broken wire to alleviate the weight and keep you from plummeting to the earth, looking back down when the branch crashes into the ground with a loud bang. 

That could've been you. 

The relief is immediate but brief as the weight detaches and disappears; following the relief is pain. 

You feel like some sort of fiery-vacuum has been inserted into your lungs, equally stealing your breath and burning you from the inside out, and your face immediately twists with pain. 

"Ah, s-shit!" You gasp, wrapping your hanging arm tight around your midsection as if to keep yourself from splitting apart. 

The throbbing is in your back, stomach, chest, arms - everywhere, the moment that extra weight is no longer pulling you in two directions, and your head pounds like someone is hitting you in the brain over and over again.

Your free hand flails around wildly to find purchase on something as black spots dance in your vision, the concentrated weight in your legs and stomach from your harness enhancing this awful feeling as uneven gasps and painful whines explode from you. 

Levi, unsure what to do and internally pained by the sight of you, tells you in a falsely calm voice, "We need to get you back to the camp, don't move, okay?" 

The fact that he's asking for confirmation instead of just going for it would stick out to you were it not for your current state, but all you do is breathlessly nod your head and squeeze your eyes shut tight to ward off the dizziness. 

He reaches around you and carefully pulls you into his side with his forearm, clutching the handles of his weapons tight, and kicks off the tree hard despite your moans of discomfort when he touches you.

The movement snaps your final wire from the tree and draws another pained groan from you, but he doesn't dare stop with the state you're in. 

"We took care of the titans." He says as he aims to take you back to camp, knowing that they'll be able to take care of your properly there. "Luca is safe." 

Despite the horrible pain burning you from the inside out, that news manages to calm you somewhat. 

You even manage to take a quiet, but still shaky, breath, but you don't try to speak. 

"No one died." He adds after a moment, looking straight ahead with his jaw still set. 

"G-Good." You choke out, watching the ground fly by below you; you didn't realize you got so far away. 

"Oi, shut up." He growls, glancing down at your form sharply only for him to try and mend it with a more gruff, "You're going to hurt yourself worse." 

Fair enough. 

The two of you make it back to camp in a minutes time, the black-haired Ackerman was going slower to avoid agitating your already awful injuries, and a few people are relieved to see you when Levi comes plunging into the camp with you at his side. 

The sound of your name being yelled from across the camp reaches your ears followed by some chattering and words your dizzy mind can hardly make out, but you don't care to figure it out right now. 

As soon as Levi's feet touch the ground you plant your own feet down and start to stand, placing your hand on his shoulder to use it for stability as you try to straighten up, only your body refuses to listen. 

The moment you stretch your stomach past a hunch you curl in on yourself, forced forward and towards the ground by gravities abusive punches. 

"Stop that." Commands the man who just saved you from a horrible death via cannibalism or falling, securing his arm back around your waist, "If you try to walk you're just going to eat shit." 

Once again, fair. 

He tries to take a step forward with you but finds immediately that you can't even manage a shuffle, so, sighing as if he's been minorly inconvenienced, Levi reaches down and tucks his other arm underneath your knees, pulling you up and into his arms easily (that Ackerman strength really comes in handy for most things). 

"You look like you're already half-dead." He states when Mikasa waves him over, walking as lightly as he can to avoid hurting you worse with rough steps. 

Mikasa looks at you with worried eyes and tells Levi quickly, "Erika is working with Luca right now but I think she'll want to prioritize this." 

Levi gives a curt nod and continues on his way with you carefully tucked in his arms. 

When he brings you to the medical area Erika jumps up and away from Luca's broken arm after having seen you, her tanned face going ashen at how frail and, well, dead, you look. 

Blood is smeared all over your face, body limp, huge bruises already climbing up the back of your neck; you look half-dead alright. 

She rushes forward and orders him to place you on one of the empty bags, inquiring right after, "What's the damage?" 

He explains it to the best of his ability, trying to keep his report as clean and direct as possible, but, truth be told, he doesn't know the extent of your injuries or everything that happened. You didn't get a chance to tell him how you ended up like that. 

Seeing you, bright, conscientious you, like this makes his heart twist in a way similar to the time right before Erwin died, to the time when he gazed upon the bodies of countless friends and comrades. 

Logically he knows you're not dead yet, but looking at you right now his brain can't help but whisper about how you might be dead soon if the injuries are bad enough. 

How you might be dead soon because of him, just like everyone else. 

This marks the end of the expedition. 

Given that 4 titans came around like this out of seemingly no where it was deemed necessary to head back as soon as possible, needing to get the injured back for proper treatment and to avoid any more surprise attacks. 

Erika works with you for an hour while everyone packs up and gets ready for the long, straight ride back; the other wounded are loaded onto a wagon while you're still laid out, unconscious and half-naked while she observes the deep bruises on your back. 

You're rolled over on your stomach with your arms at your sides and bare back exposed while she observes the bruises and abrasions. She had to pick out bark and large splinters-like twigs from your marred flesh with tweezers, constantly checking to make sure you were still out of it. It's a horror scene back there, scraped off skin, tears, bruising, and small puncture wounds littered throughout. 

Levi hovers nearby the whole time, pretending that he's directing people from where he stands but really just wanting to stick around incase Erika finds something or you wake up, and he finds that each time he looks in your direction that painful stabs of regret go through him.

She determined that you don't have a concussion but your body shut you down after laying down, something that relieves him immensely, but she's unsure about whether you're bleeding internally or not. 

Erika has him hold you up while she wraps gauze all around you, saying that he looked like he wasn't doing anything important so he could come help.

He, of course, did so without hesitation. 

Eventually she's done as much as possible so you're loaded up onto your own little wagon with Erika and the rest of the supplies, and before you know it the journey back to the walls is initiated. 

---

They ride at varying speeds for a day straight before they have to rest for the horses, by which time you've woken up and are in great pain, but also a state of calm. 

You, along with Luca and the other wounded, rest in your own area of the camp doing nothing but healing and getting visited on occasion. 

Sometime after dinner is served, long after the sun has set and most are asleep, one Levi Ackerman comes around to see you. 

You're not allowed to sleep until tomorrow during the ride incase you actually do have a concussion so you lay awake thinking about how you almost died. 

Flashes of big-blue eyes, bone-chilling smiles, huge hands and eager teeth play behind your open eyes, followed by completely made up versions of your possible death; your limbs being pulled from your body with skin ripping and tendons stretching, your head exploding beneath hard white teeth while your legs are being munched on just below. 

You feel sick, but the sound of someone approaching manages to ward off these awful thoughts. 

When the soft footfalls reach your ears you turn your gaze towards the source and see Levi approaching with his usual frown and tired eyes, movements purposeful with his gaze locked onto your prone form. 

A small smile works its way onto your face despite your woes and you greet in a hoarse voice, "Hi there, Captain." 

He doesn't reply, just lays out a cloth on the ground and sits down next to you. 

His eyes travel from your battered body to your bruising neck all the way up to your exhausted and dirty face, wondering how you're laying on your back right now and why you're still filthy. 

Dirt, dried blood, sweat; the sight disgusts him for a multitude of reasons. 

Yes, because it's gross, but also because you're like this because he chose to bring Luca all the way back instead of putting him somewhere safe and going to help you right away. 

He thought you could handle it all on your own like an idiot - though to be fair to himself he didn't know that there was another titan on top of the abnormal and that no one else was coming to provide you with back up. 

A stupid assumption made by him almost cost you your life... when will he stop making decisions that hurt the people he cares about?

"You look disgusting." He says without thinking, mentally cringing right after he says it. 

Despite the harsh words you laugh weakly. 

"I can only imagine. Sorry." 

Levi adverts his eyes and reaches into his pocket for something, only looking back at you when he's got his prize clutched in his hand. 

The thing he holds is a large handkerchief, pristine white and bone-dry, and he's decided that he's going to clean up your face a bit; it's the least he can do. 

He takes the water cup next to your bedroll and pours some of the liquid on it, tucking his hand into it so that none of his skin shows before reaching down and pressing the cool kerchief onto your grimy face. 

"Erika is the one who should be apologizing. You'd think she'd have the sense to clean you up after what you did." He grumbles, carefully wiping away the dirt and blood to both avoid hurting you and getting any of the filth on his hands. 

If you didn't know any better you'd think he was doting on you, but you don't dare voice such thoughts. 

"It's okay. She's really busy, I think my hygiene is the least of her worries." Of course you defend her, she saved your life secondarily, after all. 

He grunts but doesn't dispute your words, knowing that that's the truth, and just focuses on cleaning you skin with gentle strokes. 

Watching his immaculate cloth turn red and brown isn't the best feeling, but seeing that relaxed, comfortable expression on your face is well worth it. 

The feeling of the cool cloth pressing into your hot skin is unbelievably nice, one that draws a few sighs from your chapped lips, you almost wish it would never end.

"That's nice..." You mumble tiredly, wanting so desperately to fall asleep to this wonderful feeling. 

"Hey!" He snaps in a quiet yell, dabbing your face a little hard, "Open up. Erika said you're not supposed to sleep." 

A displeased frown tugs at your lips as you open your eyes back up and blink away the sleep, asking grumpily, "How'd you even know that?" 

"Because I asked her." 

Hmph. 

"You were asking about me?" You inquire, watching his face while he focuses on rubbing at your left temple. 

His movements pause for a few seconds when you ask that but resumes seconds later, his frown deepening as he thinks it over. "I guess." 

A smile replaces your pouting lips as you consider the implications, both flattered and glad at the same time, but you don't say anything else about it to avoid bothering him. 

He's grateful for that. 

You can feel his fingers through the cloth tracing the fine lines of your face, each swipe and glide removing more dirt and blood and leaving your face feeling so much better. 

Eventually the dabbing and gentle rubbing stops and he pulls the cloth away, admiring your now clean face with satisfaction. 

"Better." Is all he says. 

"Thank you." 

He doesn't respond to your thanks and instead crumples up the cloth and tosses it into the small trash pile a few feet away, glad that your nice facial features aren't obstructed by such an unsightly film of grime anymore. 

If your hair were washed he'd probably be tempted to brush it out of your face, but instead he touches your now clean cheek and tilts your head to the side to check the bruising on the back of your neck, the simple actions shooting electricity through you in your fatigued state. 

"Looks about as terrible as I thought it would." He comments mostly to himself, dropping his hand from your cheek and to his lap. "It should heal fine."

"I'm so relieved, Doc." You tease.

He aims a glare at you but it's insincere, in actuality he's actually glad that you're able to joke around; it means that you've got fight left in you - you won't be dying anytime soon. 

If there was more he could do for you in this moment other than saying you look terrible and cleaning your face he'd do it, but he's no Doctor Erika or miracle worker, so instead he stays silent and observes you. 

You, on the other hand, can only look back at him for so long before his unwavering eye-contact beats you down. So to distract yourself you shift around in your bag and free your arms up, using your elbows to sit.

Before you can rise more than a few inches from the ground there's a hand on your shoulder pushing you back down. 

"Hey, what are you doing?" There's accusation and annoyance in his voice, and his grip is firm but also light. 

"I want to get up." You reply nonchalantly, trying to fight against the urging grip of his hand. 

"No you don't." 

You look at him weirdly and argue back, "Yeah, I do."

"I don't care. Lay back down." 

"But I want to get up." You repeat, letting him push you back down despite your protest. "I'm tired of laying down."

He 'tsk's' disapprovingly and keeps his thumb pressed into your shoulder while he criticizes you, "That's stupid. You're going to hurt yourself more." 

Ugh, he's like your mom and Erika mixed into one person. 

"Then will you help me?" You ask with shining eyes, trying to come across as pitiful and needy. "Oh please? I would simply love to sit up and stretch my poor arms, Levi. Pretty please?" 

It doesn't work on him; he just snorts in amusement and gives a single word reply: "No." 

You stare at him with those same eyes, willing him to say yes and give in, but he doesn't. He just stares back, willing you to give in yourself. 

Eventually you fold and roll your eyes; no one has ever won a staring contest with him except maybe the late Commander Erwin, but he's gone so it's back to no one. 

Looking away from him pointedly you grumble, "Fine, whatever. I didn't wanna get up anyway." 

You both know that's a lie, but he doesn't correct you. 

"As I said." 

Wow, he got you to falsely admit that you didn't actually want to - touché. 

You turn your gaze upwards and shift your position, hissing quietly when you irritate the raw skin on your back but remaining focused on the sky. 

The small clearing plunges into silence with you looking up at the starry sky and him looking at you, but it's actually a nice silence, a familiar one. 

Moonlight reflects on your tired eyes in a way he can't help but to notice, but he immediately shakes the thought away and points his gaze upwards as well.

The same night sky he's seen many times before with many different people - many different dead people. 

He looks away quickly, suddenly feeling superstitious. 

"Thank you for saving me." You pipe up suddenly, thinking about the way you hung in the trees so helplessly; about the way you tried to detach your wire and possibly die to avoid being eaten. "If you hadn't show up when you did I would've done something really stupid." 

That certainly piques his interest. 

When you don't elaborate he demands with an impatient tone, "Explain." 

"I was going to disconnect my top wire so I'd fall instead of getting eaten. My choices were definitely die or possibly die, so I figured I'd go with possibly die." You explain somewhat sheepishly, realizing now that you sound pathetic; like a quitter. 

His full blown frown returns when you confess your intentions had he been a little later, but he doesn't necessarily blame you for it. Some titans can be... cruel. Tearing their victims apart before eating, going head first, eating them alive; he's not entirely sure he wouldn't do the same if he were in your position. 

"Well, good you didn't." He huffs, looking slightly down at your blanketed legs with furrowed eyebrows. "That would've been..."

Been what? Unfortunate? Tough? Bad? 

"It's good that you made it." 

"Mmhm. So, thanks." 

His gaze slides up your legs back to your face as he scrambles to find a decent reply, but his mind just goes blank. 

How do you reply to a thank you like that? 'You're welcome' seems conceited, 'no problem' is too relaxed, but 'of course' just doesn't sound right in general. Should he say that it's his job? Then that'd be writing it off and he doesn't want to do that either. 

His window to say something, anything, is quickly closing, so, finally, he grunts a simple, "Sure." 

That reply makes you laugh again, soft and airy, but it hurts, so to hopefully alleviate the pressure you start wiggling around again and incidentally make it feel worse. 

Your pain presents itself clear as day, so Levi reaches down and grabs your face, squishing your cheeks to shut you up and make you stop your squirming. "Stop that. I told you, you're going to make it worse." 

When you open your fish-ed lips to speak he glares and squeezes your face lightly, turning your head towards him but suddenly at a loss for words. 

What was he saying again? 

Your face is... nice... distracting him momentarily and making him forget this thought process. 

He opts to change the subject when he's left staring with his hand still holding your face to avoid it becoming weird.

"Are you going to fall asleep if I leave?" 

Definitely. 

"No." 

He looks at you disbelievingly and lets your face go, realizing that he'll have to keep you awake himself if he wants Doctor Erika's wishes to be fulfilled. 

"If you're going to lie then you might as well not say anything at all." 

"I'm not lying!"

You are. 

"Only an idiot would believe that." 

You deflate and pout your lips petulantly, disappointed that he read you so easily, "Yeah I was lying..." 

The corner of his lips juts upwards just slightly in an half amused and half smug way, but it disappears when he states his intentions. 

"It doesn't matter. I'll stay here and keep you awake." 

Heat climbs up your neck because of the way he says it, but you try your best to hide all signs of coyness since he definitely doesn't mean it in any particular way. 

"Y-Yeah, okay." 

"Why do you look like that?" He asks, watching your bashful features with a new confused frown, "What's that face?" 

You just shrug and advert your eyes, unsure of how to explain your sudden shyness. Your mind wanders while you withhold an explanation, wondering how exactly he plans on entertaining you. 

"So." He begins, racking his brain for something to get you yapping again. He decides to take a page from Hanji's book for this one, "Titans..." 

It's gonna be a long night. 

Chapter Text

When Connie broke the news that Sasha was dead that day in the airship you nearly collapsed, pushing past him to see for yourself as if it wasn't real; not until you saw her laying there in a pool of her own blood, Mikasa and Armin sobbing over her body. 

Things weren't the same after that; after her life was cut short in the blink of an eye. 

She's gone, and none of you are going to see her ever again. 

The reality of the situation is a hard thing to wrap your mind around, so much so that some mornings when you wake up you actually forgot all that's happened. 

You get up and you momentarily forget that she's buried 6 feet under in the cemetery, her name carved on a stone that you know Connie often visits in the later and early hours of the day. 

It's only been a week but if feels like years, like you haven't seen her in ages even though just 7 days ago she was in your dining room while she, Connie, Jean, and yourself all enjoyed dinner together. 

Sasha stayed with her family mostly but the four of you shared this little house near the scout HQ, and none of you have gathered the courage to go through her things yet. 

You just pretend they aren't there, that she never existed in the first place so you don't have to face the fact of the matter; someone immensely important to you has died. 

None of you have been the same this last week with varying stages of grief affecting your behaviors and moods, the most notable change being in Connie. 

Before you'd wake up and he'd be there every morning, he'd talk and laugh and torment all of you for fun, but now? He's just quiet. 

He doesn't smile or laugh, he doesn't wrap you up in his arms when he sleeps, he doesn't even look at you or Jean when you talk to him anymore. It's like his mind is somewhere else even though he's physically there, and it only adds layers to your already crippling pain. 

You try to broach the subject with Jean but he's just as lost as you are because juggling your own grief while trying to help someone else with theirs is no easy task. 

A few times you've tried to catch him before he leaves in the morning but you find that he somehow always manages to evade you; you tried talking to him during dinner but he barely registered that you were talking to him. 

What's weird about it, however, is that he never cries. He just stares in silence like nothing is real. 

Sasha and Connie were two halves of a whole, twins basically and best friends, and now his other half is gone forever. 

Her death hurts, but you can't even imagine what it's doing to him. 

This morning is the same: you wake to an empty bed, oh he left a note today, let by Connie going to visit her grave, you eat some gloomy breakfast, and wait for him to get back or for Jean to come waltzing through the door.

Connie is the first person to arrive, walking stiffly with a blank expression on his face as he heads for the the kitchen, most likely hungry. 

You greet him when he walks in and he says hi, sounding somewhat normal, so you chance trying to start a conversation.

"Where were you this morning? I missed you." You say softly, clutching your tea in your hands. 

"I was..." He pauses and trails off as if he forgot, then he nods his head in realization, "I was visiting Sasha." 

It's bad. 

Anguish shoots through you but you try not to let it show, instead you nod your head, "Right. Was Niccolo there too?" 

"Niccolo... yeah. He had flowers." 

If there's anyone taking it worse than Connie it's Niccolo. He was very clearly in love with her and her ever empty stomach, so him taking it poorly and visiting her grave comes as no surprise. 

"I see. Did you two talk?" 

"Talk?" He repeats, shaking his head of the fog building up in there, "A little bit. He's... having a hard time." 

You're certain that's an understatement. 

"Connie." You say his name gravely and get up from your spot, putting your mug down on the little table as your approach, "You know we have to talk about... about her at some point. What you're doing- what we're doing, it isn't good. We need to deal with our feelings before it-" 

"What the hell do you know about any of that?" He asks in a quiet voice, dull eyes staring right through you, "You didn't know her like I did... you didn't care about her like I did! You and Jean, neither of you get it!" He yells, fists clenched tightly at his sides. 

You fall quiet and let him speak, both hurt but also glad that he's finally talking. 

"The two of you walk around like nothing happened- like she didn't fucking matter, you sleep in and never visit her like she never existed in the first place!" The accusation in his tone makes you flinch and adds salt to the open wound in your heart, but still you say nothing. "How can you do that? How could you do that to her? Did she mean nothing to you?" 

As much as you want him to get it all out you can't help the tears that begin to well up in your eyes or the way you hang your head, refusing to say anything despite it. 

"She's dead! She's fucking dead and there was nothing I could do to stop it! I was right there- right there and I did nothing. I just- I-I just..." His voice gets weak as the anger seems to all drain out of him at once, tears welling up in his once dry eyes, "S-She's dead..." 

His gaze strays away from you and goes to the floor as if he's just realizing it, as if he didn't quite believe it until he admitted it to himself. 

You take a step closer and place your hand carefully on his arm, looking up at him with sorrowful eyes and quivering lips. 

"She's dead." He says again as the tears begin to slip, leaving glistening trails of moisture on his cheeks, "We're never going to see her again..."

He worked it out on his own which you're glad for, you didn't much want to explain it to him while he was angry like that, but his words hurt you in a new way now because you have to face reality too. You can't just ignore it, ignore him, ignore the world just because it's hard to face it. 

You can feel his shoulders tremble beneath your fingertips and you can physically see his knees buckle, so before he can collapse to the ground you wrap your arms firmly around him and hold him tightly to you, squeezing your eyes shut as your own cries begin to rack through your body. 

Connie clings to you like a lifeline once you grab him, his hands fisting into your shirt and weight pressing into you heavily (but not enough to knock you over), as the grief works through him. 

Each sob, shake, and cry from either person is absorbed by the other, every hiccup and gasp muffled by hair or shirt. 

It hurts, but, in some ways, it also feels freeing. 

Your back presses against the wall as he leans the majority of his weight into you, legs too weak and shaky to support him, and you look over his shoulder at the ceiling as thick tears stream down your warm cheeks. 

"Promise you won't leave me..." He whispers into your hair. 

He has lost everyone in recent years, Sasha, Jean, and you being some of the only people who haven't died or turned to titans, and now that list of people has shortened once again. 

You can't in good conscience promise him that; things happen all the time at the most unexpected times, and if you make him a promise like that only to die or something then you'd be a liar. 

"I..." You aren't sure how to reply, what to tell him, but you don't want to hurt him anymore than he already is, "I'll do my best..." 

It's not an answer really but Connie knows it's not a fair thing to make you swear; putting that weight on your shoulders and making you pledge to always stay with him. He knows it's not fair, but wants to hear it even so. 

"P-Please just-" He chokes up and pauses to clear his throat and regain his voice, "You don't have to promise just... just say it..." 

The way he sounds right now, the weakness in his voice and shaking in his words, breaks your resolve so, against your better judgement, you concede with a frail voice, "I won't leave you, Connie. I won't, n-not if I can help it." 

He tightens his hold on you and takes a deep breath, trying to get himself under control. 

"T-Thank you..." His voice trembles just as much as his body, but when he hears you say those words he feels a heavy weight lift from his shoulders. 

Of course those words don't actually mean much since life is unpredictable, but still he finds comfort in them. 

"I know you loved her..." You whisper, "We all did... b-but, we can't- we can't let this control us. She would want us to smile a-and eat good food, to live together and remember her for who she was when she was alive, not lose ourselves now that she's gone..." 

You feel him nod his head in understanding but he says nothing, not reacting with anger this time or succumbing to another wave of tears. 

Instead he just thinks about it, rolling your words around in his mind and considering it. 

And, eventually, he smiles even though his glistening eyes burn and his heart still hurts, because you're right. She'd be concerning herself about what they've had to eat this past week, if they've had enough and how much they saved for her. 

If she knew how much food he wasted in the last week she'd probably smack him, a thought that keeps his sorrowful smile in place.

"Yeah... yeah, that sounds right." The words are but a ghost on his lips, spoken softly and fondly. 

Slowly you pull away from him and look at his tear-stained but still smiling face, the sight of him expressing actual emotions filling you with relief; the crying was enough to prove to you that he wasn't broken, but the smile tell you he's going to be okay. 

You don't get far before he's pulling you back into the hug, not ready to let you go yet, but you don't resist. If he needs it then he needs it - you need it too, you're just getting tired of standing. 

"Lets go sit down." You suggest. 

Connie doesn't say anything or confirm that he heard you audibly, he just shuffles forward with his hands around your waist and feet on the outside of your own. 

The backwards slide-walk is weird and you can't see where you're going, but you trust that he's not going to run you into anything - and he doesn't. He leads you to the small couch and immediately flops down, dragging you into his lap as he goes. 

You bring your legs up onto the seat and stretch the out across his lap to the left and wind your arms around his middle, pressing your head carefully onto his shoulder, all the while he looks straight ahead at the wall. 

His smile has disappeared and he just looks numb and tired, but you still think that's better than the vast emptiness he was exuding before. 

"I'm sorry for yelling at you." He says after a while, remembering the awful things he said before, "I don't know why I said those things... but I didn't mean them." 

"I know you didn't. I won't lie it... it did hurt to hear you say those things, but you were closer to her than even Jean and I so... I get it." 

Even though you had already forgiven him before he even apologized it still feels good to hear it, to know that there wasn't truth to his words.

"Can I go with you to... to her grave tomorrow?" You probably don't have to ask, but you do anyways. 

"Yeah." Comes his one-word reply, adding after, "I think... some company would be nice." 

You hum your acknowledgement and remain quiet; you have nothing to say, you just want to sit here and let your mind finally rest. 

The pair sit like that in tranquil silence for ages, neither knowing exactly how long, and it isn't broken until the front door swings open. 

Your wandering gaze slides to the door and you see Jean standing there with a paper-bag nestled in his arms, eyes on the two of you. 

He looks mildly surprised but mostly just tired, but the momentary confusion quickly turns into a smile when he realizes that Connie is there and not hiding somewhere alone. For the first time in many days he feels a spark of hope that this bumpy road might finally be evening out. 

"Hi Jean." You greet, raising a hand to wave. 

Connie, seemingly realizing that a new person has entered the room, turns his head and looks at his brown-haired friend and smiles himself, glad to see him there. 

"Hey guys." Jean replies, stepping further in so he can close the door behind him. 

It clicks shut behind him but he doesn't move to do anything else, still trying to process this sudden shift between the two of you. Connie has been like this at all since Sasha died, but now that he is Jean isn't sure how to react. 

Connie's gaze slides down to the bag he holds and feels a spark of curiosity, so he asks, "What have you got there?" 

Seemingly remembering that he's got a bag Jean looks down to remind himself of the contents, and when he's ready to respond he looks back up, "I got some stuff from the market. I... I was going to make dinner tonight." 

At the mention of dinner you perk up, suddenly feeling much hungrier than you had before. 

"That sounds... like fun. Do you think Connie and I could help?" 

When you volunteer him the short-haired man almost protests, but then, it doesn't sound half bad. Maybe it really will be fun. 

"Yeah, of course. I can have you cut up some stuff and stir..." 

His suggestions make it seem like he doesn't trust you two to do anything else, but, then again, that's probably fair. He's very particular when it comes to things he has a specific vision for. 

"When are you gonna start?" Connie inquires, glancing out the window to gauge how high in the sky the sun still is. 

Jean shrugs his shoulders and turns to go into the small kitchen area, not entirely certain. 

"A few hours probably." 

"Come sit with us!" You call as he starts to put things away, leaning forward in Connie's lap to watch him around the corner. 

"In a minute." 

You lean back again and look up at Connie, seeing that he's still watching Jean with a new frown tugging at his lips. 

You wait and watch to see if that frown turns upside down, and when it doesn't you look down at your legs. Of course he isn't just going to suddenly be fine because you talked it out a bit, it's fresh, he's still trying to deal with it. A distraction will help but it won't just undo all the pain and trauma of what happened. 

"A distraction will be good for us, all of us." You tell him softly to avoid alerting Jean. "And we can go together tomorrow morning." 

His eyes slowly slide down to your face, seemingly seeing the sadness you've been hiding for the first time, and he nods. 

It's a lot, and a night of cooking and some company at the graveyard aren't going to change that, but at the very least it's a start. 

Walking around like a zombie, emotionless and confused all the time, was a horrible feeling, and he finds that he much prefers the heartache and anger over numbness. 

Jean emerges from the kitchen finally and heads straight for the two of you, draping his tall body vertically along the couch with his arms propped up along the top and his head thrown all the way back, eyes open and staring at the wooden ceiling. 

"I'm not third-wheeling, am I?" He asks after a moment, raising his head to look over at the two of you, "I mean you guys are..."

"You're not. We're just hanging out." You correct matter-of-factly. 

Jean nods his head and just looks away again, barely any energy to do anything other than sit here with you guys. 

"Well maybe you are a little bit-" Connie begins, a smile working its way onto his face. 

"He's not." You reinforce, feeling your cheek get hot. "We'd have to be doing something for it to be interrupted." 

"For all he knows-" 

Before he can say something mortifying you yelp, "Stop!" and smack his arm lightly. 

Both of them laugh and the arms around your waist tighten slightly, and while them laughing at your expense is irritating it's also a sight for sore eyes. If you have to be the butt of the joke to see Connie smile then you'll let it slide; just this once. 

"Yeah, whatever." You huff, trying to fight a smile of your own from surfacing. 

This - this is good. It's normal and natural, and it makes you feel like everything is going to be okay, somehow. 

For the first day in a week you've all had a pretty good morning, hopefully the next few will live up to it. 

Chapter Text

Mikasa Ackerman gets on your nerves. 

Like really really gets on your nerves.  

She's so damn competitive and smug, always getting the one up on you no matter how hard you try. Smart, confident, competitive, strong, drop-dead gorgeous - she's basically perfect, and you hate it; you hate how inferior she makes you feel. 

You could both be putting the bare-minimum effort into something and she would still manage to surpass you by multiple points which is a testament to how smart she really is; you'll run into her at the gym and while she's bench-pressing almost 200 pounds worth of weight you're barely doing 70. 

What you hate more than anything, however, is the fact that she doesn't like you - at least that's the impression you get. 

Despite everything else you actually like her, a lot. Yeah, she pisses you off but you admire her all the same; the way she stands up for herself and her friends, her confidence, her strength. All the things that make you feel inferior also inspire you, something that is deeply confusing for your already fragile psyche. 

You first noticed her because, well, she sat right next to you in your Monday Wednesday class. 

It would've been impossible to not notice her in such close range given how much she stands out despite her dark hair and eye colors, that and how she literally finished each assignment so quickly after it being assigned. 

She never asked questions, rarely participated in class, yet always managed to make it to the top spots on the class's grade boards.

Names aren't posted next to grades but it was pretty easy to figure out which one was hers given how she'd always look straight at the top at student number 00048962. 

You'd always be somewhere in the middle-top, not at the tippy-top but far away from the bottom, and that's when you're trying your absolute best. 

You ask questions, you study, you work really hard, but somehow she always manages to surpass you. 

One day after a test that you did so-so on you decided to finally ask her what her secret was, both because you admire her and also figuring that you could maybe get closer to her this way.  

"Mikasa?" You said, looking at her with a sheepish expression on your face. 

Her gaze slid over to your seated form and she appeared mildly surprised that you were talking to her, "Yes? What is it?"

You cleared your throat nervously, suddenly very anxious, and decided to just get out with it, "I... Well, I was wondering how... how you always did so well on the tests and assignments? Like do you have a secret to studying or...?" 

"If it's a secret then why would I tell you?" She asked nonchalantly, her eyes sparkling in mocking amusement that made you hot in the face. 

"O-Oh, yeah, I-I guess you're right..." You weren't sure how to reply to that, feeling both stupid and 10x's more awkward than you were before. 

"I suppose you just need to work harder." 

Those words stabbed right through you and made you feel like shit, and from that day forward you tried your best to beat her somehow. To make it to the top and show her that natural intelligence isn't enough to get you the world. 

On the very next test you were 2nd, pushing her number all the way down to 6th which is the lowest it's ever been. 

That day when she went to look at her grade her eyes shot straight up to the top 4 places, and when she didn't see her name there her eyebrows furrowed with confusion. 

Down down down her eyes scanned until, finally, they landed upon spot number 6. 

She looked shocked, or at least as shocked as she possibly could, and when she looked back up towards the new number that hadn't been there before her gaze snapped towards where you were standing. 

How she knew that was your number you don't know; you had never been in the top 10 up until that point so there would've been no reason for her to recognize your digits, but you were too absorbed in that smug, triumphant feeling welling up inside of you. 

As if she sensed your self-satisfied and low-key arrogant thoughts her expression darkened, and from that moment forward you two were in a constant state of rivalry. 

The two of you battled mercilessly for the top stops at each turn, constantly exchanging jabs and nit-picking at each other, but even with the tenseness and constant feud between the two of you neither ever considered moving spots. 

You can hardly stand her but you can't stand the thought of sitting without her even more, strangely enough, and it's the exact same for Mikasa - more or less. 

This perpetual fight to be the best both made you better but also so much worse, but today this heated academic fight is brought to a screeching halt. 

The big end of semester project you'd all been studying for finally came around, and, horribly enough, it's a partner project. 

When the professor announced that this would be a dual-person project you internally groaned since you figured you'd be left to do all the work, but when he explained how partners would be decided, your blood turned to ice. 

"You'll be in groups of two, and, as far as partners go, you'll be working with the people next to you in ranking. In the past I did it based on seating arraignments but it's come to my attention that there are many cases of hard-working students being lumped in with someone less inclined to do their best, so to remedy this you'll be working with someone on par with your motivation and skills." After he finishes explaining he clasps his hands behind his back and goes on to talk about the content of the project some more. 

All you can hear in the moment, however, is the loud, obnoxious roaring in your ears.

You were screwed from the start no matter what approach he took because you both sit with her and are next to her in rank. 

Very slowly you turn your head to the side to look at her, wanting to gauge her expression, only to find that she's already looking at you. 

Her dark-gaze pierces through your soul and thoroughly frightens you, something you try not to show on your face. 

And then she smiles and all the air from your lungs vanishes. 

She turns her gaze back to the front but you're completely frozen, unsure what to make of what just happened. 

Why did she smile at you like that? Is this some sort of technique she just drew up to psych you out? Or maybe she's just happy that she doesn't have a lazy partner? 

You're at a complete loss. 

When class finally comes to a close and the professor releases you all 30-minutes early to get a head-start you stay seated, still stunned by the events that transpired not 10-minutes ago. 

Next to you, you hear your name and when you turn you see Mikasa still there and looking at you. 

"When do you want to work on the project?" She asks, gaze unwavering as she puts her notebook in her bag. 

Oh, right, good question. 

"U-Um, I don't have classes Friday or Saturday... A-And I'm also free at night most days e-except Tuesday." You internally curse yourself for sounding so unsure, but there's no way for you to remedy the weakness. 

She nods her head and rests her bag on her lap, still staring as she thinks your answer over. "Hm. 2 weeks is plenty of time but I don't see why we should wait. Are you going to be free tomorrow night?" 

Today is Wednesday, so yes. 

You nod your head and shift in your seat anxiously, all the fire once raging inside of you dying out. 

"Okay. My dorm at 6. We can go to the library any time after we get started." 

Before you reply you clear your throat to strengthen your voice so this time when you reply you don't sound like a frightened animal, "Yeah, sure..."

The black-haired girl takes out a piece of paper and a pen and scribbles something down onto it, handing it to you with two fingers once she's done, "My phone number. Text me when you've got a moment and I'll tell you which dorm I'm in." 

She's so straight-forward, yet another thing to admire about her. 

"I saw that your grade on this last test was better." She comments after a moment, rising from her seat as a small smile that you interpret as taunting takes over her lips, "Surprising." 

You don't know what to say to that, so you say anything at all, you just watch her leave with a new fiery conviction burning in your eyes and frustration hardening your heart. 

You're going to make her eat those words.

In your bitterness, however, you completely overlook the fact that she cared to notice and remember that at all. 

---

You spent the rest of the day yesterday thinking about a plethora of things, the majority of them including: the project, your grades, Mikasa, and how you're going to survive these next 2 weeks. 

Partners with someone you think hates you? Terrible. Working with someone you're equally jealous of but also secretly admire? The worst. Spending time with someone you view as a rival while also finding them slightly attractive? Horrifying. 

Not to say you're attracted to her, how could you be when she clearly hates you so much? That'd be crazy, completely insane. You've definitely never thought about how she's actually really cute when she focuses and alluring when she glares at you after checking the ranks only to find that you beat her for once. 

Definitely not.

Eventually you came to the conclusion that you need to take control over and direct the project. You have a pretty good idea of what you want to do and you don't plan on taking no for an answer

She may have caught you by surprise yesterday but you won't be so easily beaten down today. 

Probably. 

You're actually pretty tired and really hungry right now so you may not be able to think properly, but that doesn't mean you won't try. 

At 5:30 you realize you're going to be late if you don't head her way immediately, so you head towards the dorm number she gave you via text. 

At 5:45 you're outside her door, earlier than you thought you'd be, but before you can even knock on the door or come back later at a better time the door is swinging open. 

There she stands in a white t-shirt and jeans, looking equally parts comfortable and nice which makes you feel momentarily irritated because she looks good even when putting minimal effort into it. 

"Hey." You greet smoothly, shouldering your bag and looking at her nonchalantly. 

"You can come in." She steps to the side and leaves room for you to come in, and you take the invitation easily. 

As soon as you're in you look around, wanting to get a feel of her and her living space; you can tell a lot about someone based on how they live, but all you can see is a pristine, normal room - you were half expecting a bat-cave or room plunged in darkness, but instead it's immaculate and cute. 

Her desk is nice with a little plant, laptop, and various other studying materials and her bed looks comfortable with a big fluffy blanket neatly folded on top with three heaping pillows. 

There's a picture-frame with her and two young boys, two boys that you don't recognize, one blond and one brunette. They all look happy, Mikasa even has a real smile on her face in the photo. 

You turn your attention back to her after briefly scanning the room and see that she's settled on the chair at her desk and is going through her notebook. 

You aren't quite sure what to do, now, so you awkwardly take your bag off and put it on the floor, bending over to take your book out as well. 

"I have some ideas for what we should do for the project." You say after taking out your book, standing up straight to look over at her again. 

Mikasa raises a single-eyebrow like she wasn't expecting something, though you're not sure what, and you realize immediately that she's going to push back. 

"So do I." 

"M-Mhmm, good. Well..." You go on to tell her what you think the two of you should do and she listens quietly until you're done. 

Once you finish speaking you look at her expectantly, wanting her to just accept your ideas and roll with it, but that really isn't in her nature.

The black-haired woman purses her lips and crosses his arms over her chest, leaning back in her chair as she disputes some things, "Those aren't bad ideas. But I think we should use a different format to avoid boring the professor." 

Okay you were planning on sticking by your plans no matter what but she actually raises a good point; you don't want him to take off points because it isn't engaging. 

"Yeah, that's fair." 

She offers a different medium, one that you actually quite like, and you concede, then she goes on to criticize a few other things, "I also think we need to focus on something else, that topic is too simple." 

"Simple?" You repeat, feeling sparks of agitation rising up inside of you, "If we try to do something too broad then we'll never complete the project." 

When you push back she feels the urge to do the same, so she lays it on you, "But if we try to do something too easy then we won't get full marks. This isn't a test you can just half-ass, we need to be thorough." 

Your eye twitches and lips quiver as you bite back a harsh response, calmly firing back, "Yes we do need to be thorough, but we can't do that if you over-estimate yourself and try to show off with something non-specific." 

It's her turn to feel annoyed, her lips pressing together into a thin line. "If we don't stand out then we might as well not turn anything in at all." 

"We don't need to stand out we need a good grade." 

"He didn't specify how he's going to grade, though. Given the competitive nature of the class we must assume the grades will be based on who he thinks did the best." 

"Yes but he usually tells us when that's the case. He doesn't just leave it out like that." 

"But he could be assuming that we already know, so we need to do as much as we can!"

"If we do too much then we'll never finish it! We need to focus on one topic, not a whole bunch!" 

She plants her hands on her hips, steps forward in tandem with you, and stares you down unwaveringly, not replying this time. That doesn't mean you won the argument by any means, however, just that she's either thinking out a response or refraining from acting emotionally. 

The two of you are standing so close that you're practically breathing the same air, chests nearly touching and faces inches apart, but neither of you backs down. 

You don't say anything either and just continue to glare back, feeling frustrated but not upset necessarily - also, you find that something about the air and the way she looks is highly alluring to you. 

Those thoughts drop from your mind when you realize that's a horrible line of thinking for the current atmosphere, so instead you focus on how this is such a ridiculous thing to be fighting about, and that there's more important stuff to focus on than your petty competition. 

"Okay, how about we do something in the middle? Something a little broader than my idea but not as in-specific as yours?" 

She seems taken aback when you give in and try to find a half-way point, but she can't deny that it's a good solution. She doesn't agree or disagree right away, taking some time to make you squirm, before finally conceding, "That's fair." 

You nod your head, relieved that she agreed, and finally realize that the closeness is too much for you. 

With one more glace up at her proximate face you step down and take a seat on the ground, crossing your legs over one another as you pull out your laptop to make a document. 

You hear her do the same, settling down on the carpeted floor besides you, but don't bother to check since you've put your focus on something else entirely.

The pair get straight to work after that and start with an outline, a draft of the pre-draft if you will. 

Mikasa and yourself work for 2 hours straight gathering information, discussing, and outlining, and it's at this 2 hour mark that you decide to lean back and let your brain rest for a minute. 

The moment you put down you computer and lean back her eyes shoot up from her screen and towards you, raising a single inquisitive eyebrow. 

"What are you doing?" She asks, fingers going still on the keyboard. 

You stretch your arms up above your head and fight off an oncoming yawn, pulling until your back and elbows pop loudly, and you refrain from replying until after you're done. 

A relieved groan puffs past your lips once you lower your arms back to the ground and you finally look back at her, deeply confused when you see her eyes flicker up and the barest hints of a flush on her face. 

Is she really angry enough that you're taking a break that she's getting red in the face? Jeez.

"I'm just taking a quick break, I feel like my spine is gonna snap if I sit like this any longer." 

Mikasa nods her head slowly and glances back down at her computer, mumbling after a moment, "I shouldn't be surprised." 

The fuck is that supposed to mean. 

An irritated, quivering smile raises to your lips and your right eye twitches, and before you can even stop yourself your pettiness makes you act; you reach down a grab the small crumpled sticky note next to your leg and throw it at her, nailing her right in the forehead with it. 

The little orange ball of paper strikes her square in the forehead and bounces off, landing on the ground in front of her after hitting it's mark. 

She stares at the weapon blankly for a few seconds before looking back up at you again, gaze set hard with a dangerous glint in her eyes. 

"Are you sure you want to play that game with me?" She asks in a low tone - a low tone that shoots shivers down your spine and makes you warm in the face. 

You shrug your shoulders and pretend like you've no idea what she's talking about, avoiding looking at the paper with all your might. "W-What game? I didn't do anything." 

"Is that so?" The challenge is clear and you begin to wonder if you should just admit to it and move on. 

Nah. 

Lightning fast Mikasa reaches down and swipes the offending paper ball and catapults it back at you, hitting you in the nose with ease. 

Before it can touch the ground you snatch it out of the air and throw it back at her again, not bothering to aim this time, and sit up on your knees so you can dodge easier incase she tries again. 

Instead of throwing the small paper ball this time Mikasa instead reaches to the side and grabs her jacket and throws the whole thing over you. 

You certainly weren't expecting that. 

It collides with your face and falls uselessly to your lap, so you fist both hands in the fabric and ball it up so you can toss it back. 

Before you can even pull your hand back to put force behind your throw, however, two iron-grips shackle themselves around your wrists and yank both offending limbs forward. 

It's like a scene from some cheesy movie, her hands on your wrists, her face close to yours with your chests pressing together. Her right hand pulls yours up and to the left while the others rest right next to her shoulder, the position forcing you right into her. 

Your brain is short-circuiting, reacting like a circuit board that had been splashed with water; it's so fucking fried and your mouth is suddenly very dry, and you're embarrassed to realize that your heart is pounding so hard in your chest that she can probably feel it. 

Her usually hard gaze is much softer as she looks at your baffled face though her grip is still firm, and she refrains from moving as well. 

It's like someone just poured liquid nitrogen over you, leaving you both completely frozen in place, and you're not quite sure how to proceed forward without shattering. 

So you opt to be a smart-mouth and hope for the best. "I didn't take you for a sore loser, Mik-" 

Her name is cut short on your lips when she moves suddenly, swiftly, pulling the higher of your two hands back and using the momentum of the movement to roll around and shove you into the ground. 

Your back and arms slam down into the carpet with her weight and hands pinning you in place, successfully leaving you at a loss for words once more. 

Her short hair hangs next to her face as she leans over you, palms pressing into the inside of your wrists and fingers caging them into the ground, and you can't help but admit that she's really pretty. 

Wait, no, not pretty! You shouldn't be finding her pretty right now, not when she's about to kill you or something. 

"How can I be a sore loser if I didn't lose?" She frames it like a question but it's really more of a statement, one that your once fight-driven mind can no longer refute. 

Honestly how do you respond to... any of this? Your feelings, the position, the way she's looking at you, her words - how do you make sense of any of it? 

Maybe she's just trying to get you to freak out? In that case you need to continue on with your taunting to show her you're not phased even if the heat in your face says otherwise. 

"Well I don't know what else to-" 

"Quiet." 

You shut up immediately. 

Slowly she releases your left wrist from her right hand and brings said hand up to your face, tracing the back of her fingers along your cheek delicately, "Why are you always trying to get under my skin?" 

What? 

You trying to get under her skin? That's insane!

"Always messing around, competing, teasing me. I don't get it." She clarifies, flipping her hand to graze her fingertips along your jaw, "I tried to talk and joke around but you never responded normally to any of it. I thought we were having fun with the rankings but you still never wanted to talk to me, you'd just stare and say things to get on my nerves." 

What? 

What?

You're so goddamn confused right now, at a complete loss for words. 

How do you reply to that? Both her words and her actions are affecting you, so much so that you can't even think straight, much less reply adequately. 

"W-What do you mean you tried to 'talk and joke around'? When..." 

Is that what all those things were? Jokes? She was trying to... to be your friend? To get closer to you? 

"I thought you wanted to play with the ranks and I got a little competitive and then I noticed how you'd always look at me so I thought maybe you liked me, and then today with the stretches and the teasing. Why do you want to get under my skin so bad? Was I right?" 

Well she wasn't wrong, but not exactly 100% correct either. 

What a conundrum. 

Mikasa leans down closer and slides her hand up to brush some of your hair out of your face, releasing your other wrist to plant her hand flat on the ground next to your head. 

"Oh, am I allowed to speak now?" You flinch internally at the slight taunt lining your words, so confused with yourself and her. 

It's true you did want her attention, to get under her skin, but why? Up until this point you just thought it was because you wanted to be better than her but that just sounds so... incorrect, now. 

All she does is raise a single and fine black eyebrow and nod shallowly. 

"I... I don't know." You admit shamefully, staring up at her face with a confused frown pulling at your lips, "I... I do like you, a lot, but I," you try your best to explain why you've said nothing but each word feels inadequate. The only thing you can do is try to be honest, you guess. "um... I actually thought that you didn't like me." 

Her eyes narrow as if she doesn't entirely believe what you're saying, so you continue with your confession. 

"That time you talked about w-when I asked for advice, I thought you were mocking me... that you thought I was dumb. S-So I just wanted to beat you and I guess... I assumed you didn't like me, and I wanted to be someone that you could like without feeling embarrassed by me..." Saying it aloud makes you feel weird since you've only ever acknowledged these feelings internally, but now here you are spilling your guts to the very person who's been getting to you.

"I never thought you were dumb- I," she trails off and looks down at the ground next to your face, clenching her teeth as if she finally realized her mistake, "I thought I was being friendly all this time..." 

You feel as if a tremendous weight has just been lifted from your chest and that you're just now seeing the world clearly, the wool once pulled over your eyes finally disappearing so you can see her fully. 

Now it's all starting to make sense, actually. Her smile, the lack of actual malice in her words, how she'd always walk with you out of class and paid such close attention to you. 

"I-I'm sorry." She says after a while, the guilt showing clear as day on her face, "I never meant to make you feel stupid... I just, I'm no good at making friends and when you tried to be mine I thought I'd try to be approachable," she takes a breath then punctuates her words, "it appears I failed horribly." 

Her hand drops from your face and she sits up with her knees still pressed into your hips, not getting off of you but not completely on you now either. 

"Yeah, it was pretty bad." You hum, feeling her tense above you, then continue, "But now that I know you never meant it that way... I actually do think it's pretty funny."

She actually wanted to be around you and not just to beat you in the class ranks, something that you've been using as an excuse to ignore the deep rooted admiration you felt towards her. 

You sit up on your elbows and watch her face carefully as you reinforce your confession, "I do like you, but... I also really wanted to beat you..." 

"Well you did quite a few times," Mikasa looks back down at you again, "I'm sorry." 

You don't reply to her apology and instead just observe her for a moment. It's almost as if you're seeing her in an entirely new light now, because suddenly she looks so much more beautiful than you wanted to admit before. 

"Why... er, well, more like, were you t-touching me like that because you l-like me too?" You ask finally, internally cringing at how immature you sound; what are you, a middle schooler? 

Her eyes widen a fraction, seemingly remembering the position she's in, but she doesn't scramble to get off like you half-assumed she would. Instead, Mikasa smiles and leans back down again, planting her hands flat on either side of your head as she resumes her hovering position. 

"What do you think?" She asks in a soft voice, squeezing your hips with her strong thighs from where she straddles you. 

Once again her face is so close, only this time the two of you aren't in the middle of an argument. 

You feel a fleeting urge to lower yourself back down onto your back but you fight it off and stay stone-still.

"Y-You do?" You guess.

As soon as those nervous words leave you Mikasa leans down and presses her lips firmly against yours, successfully answering your question and leaving you at almost a complete loss. 

Almost. 

You reach up with your dominant hand and tangle your itching fingers into her dark-hair, scratching and scraping your nails gently against her scalp. 

The ministrations on her head draw a low noise of pleasure from her lips, one that sets your nerves alight and shoots eager sparks of electricity straight to your heart. 

She kisses you more fervently, not wishing to be outdone by such simple actions, something that amuses you in the back of your mind considering the obvious competitiveness of the actions. 

You move back lower, her hands descend upon you, and your lips work against each other frantically almost as if all the tension from months of constant rivalry is finally being released.

And you find that all you can really think at the moment is: after all those misguided hurt feelings and constant conflict, after trying so hard to beat her, here you are kissing the competition and absolutely loving it. 

Chapter Text

Eventually Reiner, once again, returns to his normal self during the hour long walk back, though he does have your odd behavior constantly on his mind during the quiet spells that stretch between you two. 

You've never acted this way towards him before; never gotten so close or done something so bold as literally sitting in his lap, which is why it troubles him so much. 

Surely you aren't doing it on purpose with the intention of bothering him, that's just not you (as far as he knows), so then what could it be? 

Maybe you're just comfortable around him? It would be a fast change but not an unwelcome one. Or perhaps you don't think there's anything strange about it at all. Maybe you're just like this naturally and he just never noticed? This theory dampens his hope a little, so he doesn't stick with it. 

It could be any number of things really, so he'll just have to figure it out tonight, he supposes. 

The pair share easy and normal conversation on the way back, but you're very quickly starting to lose your energy. 

"I hope we're close." You comment out of the blue after silence stretches out between you two, looking back at him with expectant eyes incase he has a time assessment. "My feet are starting to hurt." 

He just nods and smiles at you suavely, saying in an even voice, "Eager to sleep together, are we?" 

Fuck, you can't even stop the heat from rising in your face so you turn away quickly and grumble back, "It's not even dark out yet, we need to think about eating..." 

The sun has only just begun to sink in the sky, nearing the horizon more and more with each passing minute which prompts the two of you to quicken the pace so you're not caught out here when it's dark out. 

Just as the sun touches the horizon-line do you arrive at the home tree, and once you do you immediately drop the fish and start to gather dry leaves and logs. 

"Okay, we've gotta cook these quickly. We can eat up in the tree?" 

Reiner offers no complaints, nodding, and helps you get the fire started.

In record time the tall scout has a steady fire burning in a little circle of stones he laid out, orange and yellow tendrils of heat licking upwards, flickering and popping because of the dry leaves. 

While he skins the fish, you haven't the stomach to do that, you set up a little contraption to hang and roll the fish over the fire so you can get more done at once, something that leaves your blond companion very impressed. 

"You built this that fast?" He asks in awe, unable to sound cool due to his genuine amazement. "You're full of impressive surprises!" 

His praise lifts your heart even higher than the moon, happiness sparkling in your eyes and an excited smile since you got such high praise for something as silly as this. 

The way you look at him when he compliments you makes him turn away, face already getting hot because you just look so damn cute. It takes all his will-power not to squish your cheeks or pat you on the head, only resisting the urge because he doesn't want to freak you out or make you uncomfortable. 

The fish go over the fire and the two of you spend the next while pacing around nearby, waiting for the fish to cook and watching the sizzling fish skins which will be lovely snacks for tomorrow. 

Eventually when you're tired of pacing you stop and stand next to the tree your climbed earlier, crossing your arms over your chest as you watch the flames dance towards the sky. 

It's a really good fire, you must admit, given the size and consistency of the flames - Reiner's very handy. 

He's a lot of things actually; things that you're noticing now more than ever since you found out that he has actual feelings towards you.

Who would've guessed? Everyone but you, actually, but you don't know that either. 

You can't help but to notice all the great things about him now that you're here sort of alone with your thoughts again, including how heartfelt he is when expressing genuine admiration. His approval alone was enough to make your night, and you think it has something to do with both your feelings for him but also the way he spoke when he commended you. 

Damn it, you can feel your face getting hot again just thinking about him.

Reiner's voice breaks through the silence and startles you somewhat, but you don't react outwardly.

"What are you thinking about over there?" 

Brief silence follows his question while you process his words, and coming after that sentence is your unfiltered honesty.

"You." You reply without thinking. 

Shit, well, time to commit. 

"Me?" He repeats in surprise, his eyes widening a fraction. "W-What do you mean?" 

"I dunno." 

Way to kill a conversation. 

And cue another stretch of quiet. 

The fire pops and cracks and the fish cook, meanwhile you two are just looking at each other. 

Everything moves on around you even though it feels like time has slowed, both of you confused for your own reasons. 

It seems you're taking advantage of catching him off guard again.

You step closer, stand up on your toes and lean in as close as you can, asking in a challenging voice, "Why, what are you thinking about? Hm?" 

He takes a step back and watches you like one would a wild animal they stumbled across, his face hot because of the close proximity and brain short-circuiting.

"W-What am I thinking about?" He repeats slowly. 

His answer would also be 'you' but for some reason he can't get his mouth to move; hell he can barely get his mind to move. 

When he doesn't respond you take another step forward, a movement that he mirrors, with your unwavering stare piercing right into his very soul. 

Damn it, why can't he speak? Why can he only retreat and feel genuinely physically intimidated even though you're barely half his size? 

Tree bark digs into his back when his next retreating step pushes him close to the trunk - the trunk of a tree he didn't notice before. 

It's a funny sight: such a big guy being hounded and forced to back up by someone so much smaller by comparison.

It makes you feel kind of powerful, but aside from that you're actually genuinely curious about what was on his mind; if he was looking at you then that means he was thinking about you as well, right? 

From your place right in front of him you're forced to look up at him while he has to angle his head  own to see you, but the obvious height difference doesn't dissuade you, just encourages you to move forward. 

You lean forward and press both of your hands against the trunk of the tree on either side of him, using it to hold you up as you lean in as close as you can, and taunt him in a sweet voice. 

"Come on Reiner, tell me. What were you thinking about?" 

He gulps audibly and tries desperately to get a hold of the situation, looking down at your face, off to the side, at your arms caging him in, and then back at your face again.

How is it that a pipsqueak is pinning him to a tree without actually touching him? Why is he letting you physically intimidate him when he could probably pick you up and throw you with one arm?

Because he likes you, of course. 

But then this begs the question, what should he do? 

He can't throw you but that doesn't mean he can't pick you up and shake you around a little - but that might make you angry. He could try and turn it around on you but he has no idea how he can do that given that he can't think straight. 

Maybe he should ask if you like him or something? You're acting like you do, but it's still strange because you never-

Oh...

The embarrassment slowly drains from his face as a look of realization seems to cross over his face, and he blurts out suddenly, "I see what you're doing, now." 

You stiffen a bit and glance off to the side nervously when he declares that he finally sees the truth, but you opt not to say anything and incriminate yourself incase he actually doesn't see. 

Of course even though you have the good sense not to jump the gun and start admitting everything doesn't mean you're calm, quite the opposite in fact. 

If he actually does understand what's happening here then you're going to 100% lose your leverage and he may just come at you 10x's stronger than before (you've definitely given him a lot of new material), but if not then what does he realize? What does he think is going on? 

"Ugh... who told you?" Reiner reaches up and rubs his forehead, "Was is Eren?" 

Okay for a second there you thought he was talking about the confession thing, but Eren had nothing to do with it so that can't be it, right? 

"Told me what?" You inquire slowly, uncertainly, settling back to your normal height as you drop your arms back to your sides. 

The genuine uncertainty in your voice makes him pause and question his conclusion, but what else could explain your odd behavior? Maybe you're just an excellent actor... 

He decides that even if he's wrong he can always fall back onto his plan.

"Enough playing coy, there's no other explanation than that you know." He doesn't sound angry despite the words that could very easily come across as agitated, if anything he just seems amused and sounds like he's challenging you. 

"W-Well I may know what you're talking about, but I don't wanna say anything incase you're referring to something else..." 

His amber eyes remain focused on you for a few moments, seemingly contemplating what he's going to say next, before he finally speaks, "I'm talking about my plan to ask you out tonight." 

Okay so he actually does know that you know, great. 

You decide to go the Bertholdt route and deny it, crossing your arms over your chest as a very guilty smile takes over your anxious face, "W-Whaat? That's crazy! No I, um, the thing I know is... um..." Damn it, is this how it was for the tall, spindly boy? Now you're starting to feel bad for him.

The juxtaposition between how you just were and how you are now is baffling and horribly hilarious, but given the how the conversation is going Reiner decides to pocket that information for later. 

He groans and pinches the bridge of his nose like he's got a headache, red very clearly dousing his cheeks again, "Shit, I knew it. Which one of them told you? Eren? Bertholdt? Connie?" 

After he throws out those first three names many more follow, each one leaving your head spinning as they all jumble um in your brain.

You get more and more anxious each time he names someone, not having realized that you're the only idiot who didn't know about this. 

"I'm not gonna tell you who told me because, um, no one did. I figured it out completely by myself." Your declaration is bold and you sound sure, but the deadpan look he gives you tells you he doesn't believe it even slightly.

And why would he, given all the people he just named that could've outed him to you. 

"It was Bertholdt wasn't it?" 

Fuck. 

"B-B-Bertholdt? No! No way! He definitely did not tell me that you were going to ask me out, no. He didn't tell me anything; not about the plan or your feelings or that you get nervous or that you don't mean to come across weird or-"  

"He's the only person I told about half of the things you just mentioned." He crosses his arms along his chest and shifts his stance into a wider position, legs staggered as he leans over you slightly. 

Damn it. 

You choose to shut up before you throw Bertholdt under the bus anymore than you already have, looking at Reiner with a quivering smile and very anxious, shifting eyes. 

Neither of you say anything for a few moments, just staring at one another before he breaks the silence, sounding unsure. "Well... what were you going to say?" 

"Say? A-About what?" Your mind is running a mile a minute so you don't even come to the simplest of conclusions.

He just stares, because obviously he's talking about whether you'd reject him or not. 

"O-Oh, right," you pause to breathe a nervous sigh, "yeah, well I wasn't gonna say no-" 

His expression lifts and a smile settles on his lips, his crossed arms dropping to his sides, "Really?" 

"Yeah- I mean no! Well I mean no I wasn't gonna say no, not no not really-" You stop yourself before you can descend into rambling, realizing that you're talking yourself into looking like an idiot, "S-Sorry... I'm not good at these kind of things..." 

"No, no! Don't say sorry!" He rushes out, dropping his heavy hands onto your shoulders. "I'm not either." 

You glance at his large hands engulfing your shoulders then up at him with uncertain eyes, nodding and twiddling your thumbs. 

"Though... given how you'd been acting, though, I'd call you a liar." He suddenly says, his words making your heart sink. 

When your face drops and a sad frown tugs at your lips he immediately amends his statement, adding hurriedly, "With the way you, er, sat on me earlier and this just now, I'd say you're a lot better than you give yourself credit for."

Oh, that's what he means. Yeah fair. 

"I didn't know what I was doing, really, I was kind of just doing things as they popped up in my head..."

"But why were you doing them?" He urges, dropping his left hand from your shoulder down to your upper arm. 

Eye-contact becomes very difficult after he asks you that because your face explodes with hot embarrassment, so you advert your gaze and look down at your boots planted firmly in the grass. 

"W-Well... I guess," you reach up and scratch your cheek to give your hands something to do, "y-you always s-say things and do things to get a reaction out of me s-so I thought that... I would try to do the same thing?" 

It sounds ridiculous now even though you were very successful, probably because you're having to confess it to the very person you were using it against. 

You can't see it but his eyes are wide and face still red, a proper look of bewilderment painting his features. 

Maybe he should've figured that his behavior would come back to bite him in the ass eventually, but he's not really sure if it was a bad bite or a nice one. On the one hand he wonders if he ever made you feel uncomfortable, but on the other he's excited that you actually like him. 

"So... do you want to go out with me, then?" He figures that he can address the shared behavior later, wanting instead to get straight to the meat of the situation. 

Oh, right, that. 

"Well what happens if I say yes?" You ask, looking back up at him again.

The words themselves sound suggestive but your tone is more unsure because you actually don't know how to proceed from there. 

Are you supposed to kiss him or something, or do you just carry on as you were? What if you're too awkward and he realizes you're actually a huge loser that he shouldn't waste his time on? 

It seems that's something Reiner didn't consider either because he just looks at you sheepishly.  

"I didn't... think about what happens after." He admits, loosening his grip on your shoulders.

"Oh, well," you sniff and glance away briefly then suggest, "I guess we just wait until we're sick of each other, right?" 

Silence promptly followed by said blond losing it. 

Before Reiner can stop himself he hoots out a burst of laughter, fingers squeezing into your clothed flesh as his shoulders shake with each deep chuckle as if you'd just said something terribly hilarious. 

When you realize he's laughing you're immediately attacked with confusion; is he laughing at you or with you? 

You were kind of trying to be funny but you thought your joke would fall short - but he might just be making fun of you. 

Whether he's laughing at you or not you find that you can't stop the contagious bubbles of laughter from rising within you as well, a pleased smile working its way onto your face. 

His heavy hands drop from your shoulder and upper arm so her can plant one hand on his hip and press the other into his forehead, finally realizing the ridiculousness of everything that just occurred. 

You were flirting with him because you knew he liked you because Bertholdt told you he did, and not 5 minutes ago you were pinning him against a tree despite being much smaller and he was genuinely intimidated; and now? You're agreeing to date him. The whole thing is silly. 

Reiner opens his mouth to speak but before he can explain his sudden hilarity the sharp smell of cooked fish wafts towards the pair of emotional scouts with a small gust of wind, causing you both to look over to the still burning fire and cooked fish. 

"Oh, I forgot about that." 

Chapter Text

You hold the pile of clothes in your arms while Connie holds both backpacks, wearing one and holding the other much like you hold the clothes. 

How you ended up just holding the clothes while he hauls around the backpacks is because you guilted him. 

He said he'd take the clothes and his backpack and you said that you'd take the clothes and he'd take both backpacks. He, of course, protested at first but then you mentioned how messed up what he did earlier was and ended up holding both. 

The small house comes into view after 6 to 8 minutes of walking and once it does you quicken your pace to get out of the dark thicket. 

Even with Connie right next to you, you're still immensely paranoid and uncomfortable walking around with little more than the half-moon to guide you, which prompts your rushing. 

As soon as you're at the door you yank it open and usher him inside, glancing around behind him before slamming the door shut. 

"Okay, we're good. Let's get a fire going and hang up the clothes to dry them faster." You mumble after shoving an old chair under the handle to act as a lock. "Want me to make the fire?" 

"Sure. I'll get our food ready." He confirms, dropping both bags heavily onto the newly cleaned floor. 

You set out to making the fire right away, stacking the easy burn kindling items on the bottom, the twigs in the middle, and, finally, the larger logs on top. 

You're one of the best fire starters if you do say so yourself, because once you've got it going it goes on strong, taking on to the logs with ease due to your structure. 

After it's going, effectively illuminating the room and heating your slightly chilled hands, you drag over one of the other old-ass rotting chairs and hang the shirts and pants on and around it in front of the fire, hoping to speed up the drying process. 

By the time you've finished all of that Connie has set a side a fair amount of food for the both of you, leaving enough for tomorrow morning so that you'll have energy to scavenge, and hopefully hunt, some more throughout the day. 

When you see the greenery, nuts, and fruit laid out on the little cloth for you, your stomach promptly growls to remind you of how hungry you are; so you go to your portion without hesitation and start to stuff your face with the bitter leafy-greens and tart berries. The walnuts are just that - walnuts. Regular, normal, and gentle on your poor tastebuds. 

Once you've devoured every bit of lettuce and drop of berry juice you fold your cloth neatly and place it next to the left over food. 

You're not full but you're definitely not hungry anymore either, a nice satisfied balance. 

Connie, on the other hand, eyes the leftovers with desire hidden in his eyes, clearly still hungry but not wanting to hoard the food to himself. He remains quiet despite still feeling the edges of hunger gnawing away at him, hoping that some rest will make it go away. 

You don't let it slide, however, when you notice it. 

"Are you still hungry?" You ask, tilting your head to the side to get a better glimpse of his face which is turned in the opposite direction. 

He turns his amber gaze to you and feels his face get hot, embarrassed that you noticed so easily. Even though he knows that you know, he still tries to deny it. 

"No... I'm just, um, trying to figure out where I'm going to put the rest of it." 

A short but loud 'HA' leaves you as you laugh at his declaration, clearly not believing in his bullshit. 

"Now that's a fucking lie," you taunt, waving your hand dismissively, "if you're still hungry then eat some more. There was plenty out there so we can get more." 

"Well yeah but-" 

"No buts, just eat it." 

The look in your eyes tells him that you're offering no more room for argument, so he very reluctantly pulls the cloth holding the remaining food over and picks at it a little more. 

It doesn't take a genius to see that he feels guilty and is still holding himself back, so you try to soothe his worries a little by reassuring him: "If we're going to keep this up and remain 100% then we need to keep ourselves well-fed and hydrated, so eat until you're not hungry and if we don't have any left then we'll get more tomorrow." 

His eyes drift over to you again with a large lettuce leaf half in his mouth, a few berries held in his right hand while he munches on the soft green vegetable. 

A fond smile climbs onto your face when his full cheeks and rounded lips come into view, a few amused giggles jingling in the one room home. 

Slowly Connie starts to chew again, drawing the long leaf into his mouth more and more until he can swallow it, and after he does he eyes you skeptically and asks, "What's so funny?" 

"N-Nothing-" You laugh again, "You just look ridiculous." 

"Ridiculous? That's not ridiculous." He scoffs and raises the berries in his hand up to his mouth, "I'll show you ridiculous." 

And he definitely does. 

He shifts one of the berries between his thumb and forefinger, tilting his head back at the same time, and flicks it up into the air. He catches the flying fruit with his mouth, looks back at you again, and then sticks out his tongue with the still intact, round blueberry sitting on the tip of it. 

You snicker again, because it is, indeed, more ridiculous. 

"Let me guess, you and Sasha practiced catching food in your mouths together?" 

Connie nods his head in confirmation and does it again with another berry, catching the small sphere with ease. Honestly it's a whole ass skill. 

"Yeah okay hotshot I get it. Finish eating so we can get ready for bed." 

At your mention of 'getting ready for bed' he suddenly feels a little nervous again, because, well, you two are going to be sleeping together in your underwear. How could he not be nervous? 

You manage to keep your own anxiety under wraps and to push it far into the back of your mind, telling yourself that it's just sleeping and that you'll be fully clothed tomorrow once your shirts and pants dry out. 

Even with your cool-headedness you still have to look away from him, not wanting to lose the nerve you've worked up, so you hop up to your feet and turn away from him, striding towards the bed in a few large steps. 

Might as well do something while you wait for him to finish, right? 

You grab your bedroll from the ground next to the bed and lay it at the foot of the bed, figuring that since his is acting as a sheet between you and the old, musty bed then yours can provide shelter from the cool air. 

After you've set it down you take a seat at the side of the bed and raise one of your legs to pull your calf-high boots off, relishing in the freedom of your poor pinched toes. 

Not to say that the boots are ill-fitting, but wearing them for hours on end while walking and hiking with no pants to separate your skin from the rough inside isn't exactly the most enjoyable thing. 

The skin of your once covered skin is chafed and a little irritated, but it's nothing that some time won't fix. 

You lay your shoes on the foot of the bed on the floor and shrug your jacket off to put it on top of your boots. 

Sleeping in that jacket would be a nightmare with all the straps and buckles inside, so you'll take the embarrassment over the indentations and restless sleep. 

While you get yourself ready to sleep Connie eats until he doesn't feel that emptiness anymore, then rewraps the remaining food and places it high up incase there are mice or rats lurking about. 

He turns towards you while you're in the middle of take your jacket off, unable to look away before getting another eyeful. 

Of course you're still wearing your underwear but let's be real, that doesn't cover much. 

Connie adverts his gaze and approaches with slow, hesitant steps, wanting to lay down but also not wanting to come across as creepy. 

You don't pay his wandering form any mind and instead flop down on the bed, feeling your consciousness waver the moment your head touches the pillow; god you're exhausted. All that walking, the play fight, the snake, the cleaning, gathering the food, and that scare at the end has really taken it out of you. 

"Ugh, I'm so tired." You sigh, rolling over so you're closer to the left edge of the bed. "I just want to lay here and never get up." 

A small smile tugs at the short-haired man's lips at your exasperated tone, feeling a little less shy when your natural speech cuts through the awkward tension he was creating. 

Right, that's all this is. Two people sharing a bed half-naked because they're on a mission; two very good friends hanging out. 

Or something. 

With light feet he closes the rest of the distance between himself and the bed and takes a seat on the edge much like you did, leaning over to remove his boots and his socks. 

"Why are you taking your socks off?" You sit up and look down at his now bare-feet, nose scrunched up distastefully. 

"Because I'm not some psychotic weirdo who sleeps with socks on, of course." He shoots back easily, crumpling up the grey fabric and shoving them into his boots. "Also they feel strange."

Wow, okay, rude. 

You scooch forward on your knees and drape your arms over his shoulders and lean into his back, looking down at his boots with that same sour expression on your face. 

"That's not very nice, Connie." 

"It's the truth." He tries to ignore the way your chest presses into his bare back and the comforting heat emanating from your skin to no avail, though he does manage to keep the stutter from his voice this time around. "Not my fault you're a weirdo." 

Slowly you shift your left arm from hanging over his left shoulder to sitting on his right like you're hugging him from behind, but this hold isn't intended to be tender. 

You decide to give him one more chance to be nice before you kill him. 

"Come on now, I'm sure you don't mean that." 

"Stop wearing socks to bed and I won't." 

Well, you tried to save his life, oh well. 

You tighten your arm around his neck and throw all your weight backwards, wrapping your legs around his waist to hold him completely still and throw him further off balance. 

You've got a death-grip on him with your legs and a choke-hold on his neck, he definitely isn't getting out of this one. To avoid his head smacking you in the chin you turn your head quickly to the side, basking in the surprised yelp and frantic squirming he initiates the moment you've got him; you have one of his arms trapped by your crushing thighs while the other lays limp from shock at his side, but you're not too worried about his one free arm. 

The short-haired scout stutters out some incoherent words and throws his free hand back to grab at your arm or face, looking for purchase on anything, but you stop that with ease by hooking your arm under his and pinning it to you. 

You might be on the bottom but he's completely caught in your trap. 

"Take it back." You hiss close to his ear, squeezing your legs tighter when he starts kicking his feet around. 

"No!" He gasps, jerking his upper-body forward in hopes of being able to sit up. 

Unfortunately the new weight attached to his back is too much, because he barely gets you an inch off the bed. 

You repeat louder this time, "Take it back!" 

"N-Never!" He bends the arm pinned by your legs and forces his fingers between the skin of your leg and his stomach, trying to pull it away so he can gain some wiggle room; another useless attempt. "I w-won't take it back!" 

Damn him, so persistent. 

You use your elbow beneath his chin to pull his head further back, careful to avoid actually choking him, and grab his ear with the same hand, tugging on the lobe sharply, "Take. It. Back!" 

"You're a weirdo!" He reinforces, scrambling for any of the hand-to-hand combat training information he's received over the last 6 year. 

A lightbulb finally lights in his head when the laws of physics return to him. 

Connie raises both legs straight up, utilizing the strong muscles in his core, and slams them back down hard.

The action makes his upper-half with you attached bounce up high; both the springiness of the bed and the momentum from his powerful throw shove you both up pretty far, and as soon as he feels the momentum disappear he rocks back sharply. 

When you go back down the hard planes of his body squish you and make you lose your hold on him, dazed and shocked both due to the power of the move and the surprise at his quick thinking. 

This slow-poke rarely reacts in a timely manner when he fights you, yet here he is suddenly dealing trump cards like it's nothing.

You surpass Connie in skill but he far beats you when it comes to swiftness. 

As soon as he feels your once oppressive legs release their tight hold and your arms loosen he slams his elbow into the softness below and wrenches himself out of your grip, sitting up from between your legs where he broke their inviolable seal and throwing his elbow back so he can turn in the same move; of course when he turns like that he can't hold himself up at the same time, so he falls forward and catches himself with his hands on either side of your head. 

It's a strange position given that his feet are planted on the floor and he's basically standing but he doesn't dare try to make himself more comfortable when you're glaring daggers at him like that. 

Your reaction time may have been reduced due to his sneaky moves but that doesn't mean you're incapable of reacting, so you raise your right leg and hook it around him, throwing your arm around his neck and using the force of the move to roll you both to the left. 

Another success on your part, for you manage to roll him onto his back and plant yourself on his stomach with your knees pressing into him and your hands holding his shoulders down. 

"I'm a weirdo and you lose." You taunt back, leaning your weight forward as you hover over him, "Here I am winning, as per usual." 

He can feel his eye twitch at your arrogance and the quivering smile he has holds no true amusement, just pure, unadulterated competitiveness. 

Now he just wants to beat you so that there can be no debate on the winner and loser; so that instead he can rub his victory in your face and remind you that just because you might be better at thinking quickly he can still defeat you. 

Because your current center of gravity is so small due to the close-ish proximity of your arms and legs and the way you hold down his shoulders instead of his arms, Connie is able to flip the position back to it's previous state. 

He slaps his right hand down on the skin just above your knee, digging his fingers into the soft flesh, and shoves his other hand into your side to send you rolling back, tucking his left leg up close so that he can roll with you. 

And just like that you're back to where you once were. 

You stare up at him with comically wide eyes, not having expected him to retaliate so quickly once again, and are very quickly losing your cool.

This isn't how it's supposed to go! You're supposed to beat him and earn bragging rights until the end of time about how you managed to win in a half-naked fight against him, not the other way around.

His hips are slotted between your legs still, hand clutching above your knee still while he slides his other hand up from your side to your arm to push it down into the mattress. 

"Oh you fucking suck!" You whine, using your free hand to push down on his shoulder so you can slide out from beneath him, planting your feet flat on the mattress and loosening your leg hold so you can push yourself quickly back. 

You don't get very far with this move because his time to react remains consistent; the moment he feels the bed dip beneath the force of your feet he shoves the hand on your leg down and brings his legs up onto the bed so he can fit them on either side of yours and render you unmovable. 

Damn, his physical speed really makes up for his slightly slower wit. 

Fortunately for Connie he didn't make the mistake of focusing his weight in a small area, he disperses it through four points of contact. 

Very quickly you realize that you're losing every advantage you once held, only having the mobility of the one full arm and your hand on the other, so you resort to a last ditch effort of squirming and pushing at his face with your free hand. 

The short-haired man snatches your shoving hand and slams it down next to your face, breathing a little heavily but not any weaker or deterred in the slightest. 

Now you're having to accept that you've lost, left with no where to go and nothing to do other than accept defeat and pout. 

Until a wicked, cheat-y idea pops up in your scrambling brain. 

"I've got you! You can't deny, I do!" He squeezes his hands around your elbow and wrist for emphasis, "Now who sucks?" 

Okay he totally deserves what's coming to him. 

You force your twitching eye to go still, evening out your intense, frustrated expression, and look up at him with a small petulant frown. 

It takes all your will-power to keep a straight face as you carefully calculate what you're going to say next, and the silence doesn't go by unnoticed by the victorious scout. 

His once triumphant grin fades a bit and his happily wide eyes return to their normal size, an expression of confusion taking to his features. 

"Why aren't you saying anything? I won!" He leans down a bit more, bending his elbows so he can get close, "Hello?" 

Very desperately does he want that confirmation, that disappointed admittance that he bested you. 

Only he doesn't realize you haven't quite run out of cards just yet; you've still got a little something up your sleeve. 

"You know, Connie, if you wanted to top me all you had to do was ask." You finally say, laying your head back fully while staring directly into his amber eyes. 

This is a performance, yes, but you have to admit that you are very attracted to him right now. 

His eyes practically bug out of his head with how wide they open, but even better than that is the way his cheeks explode with a dark pink. "W-What?" 

His expression is instant but his hold doesn't lighten up, so you have to say something else before he realizes what you're trying to do. 

"I said, if you wanted to slam me down on a bed like this then you should've just asked," pause for dramatic effect, "you didn't need some elaborate scheme to get me all over you." 

How you manage to not get flustered or freak the fuck out as those filthy words leave your lips, you aren't sure. Hell you didn't even plan out the follow-up, it really is just facts that you won't admit to yourself are facts. 

"T-Top you? S-S-Slam you down? " He just keeps repeating the phrases that stick out to him, his hold slowly going lax as his brain implodes. "All o-over me??"

Even with your fool proof plan in motion you can't help but become distracted in his flustered face, silently wondering what's going through his mind. 

When he doesn't say anything else and just stares you start to squirm and push yourself back, raising your pinned wrist since there's no force behind his hold anymore, but the moment you move it's as if his brain has snapped back into focus. 

Before you can lift your hand more than a couple inches he slams it back down onto the bed and looks at you sharply, sliding his other hand down to your other wrist at the same time. 

He seems more embarrassed due to his knee-jerk reaction, but there's also an underlying level of realization painting his countenance this time around. 

The mischievousness melts from your face and you groan, having really thought that your plan would work. 

"Y-You're just messing with me!" He exclaims, leaning all of his upper-body into the hold on your wrists, "I should've known it was just a distraction." 

Well that was a fast recovery, now what? Maybe you should just let it go? Admit defeat and move on like a mature adult would and try to get 'em next time? A bad outcome for you but better than dragging the moment out. 

"Am I messing with you?" You ask aloud, tilting your head to the side, "You think I'm lying?" 

Why did you say that?

You were totally ready to just let it go but your mind acted basically on its own, speaking words before you brain could make you think better of it. 

His once certain, hard-set expression wavers and he looks at a loss again; uncertain if that's a challenge or if you really are just messing with his head in hopes of pulling the wool over his eyes. 

"W-Well you have to be, right? Because if it's the truth then that means..." He can't quite bring himself to say it, fearing a rejection or being mocked. 

"What does it mean?" If you can't win physically then you're going to win through other means (you're a bit of a sore loser). 

"It m-means that... you," the poor man's face is seconds away from bursting into flames at this point and his restricting grip is all but gone, "t-that you... are attracted to me?" He's not sure how else to phrase it, every possible combination of words seeming inadequate. 

You hum and nod your head in understanding, putting on a real show of thinking it over, then smile cheekily, "Well, there's only one way for you to find out if I'm a liar or not." 

Oh god, all of this is really fucking with his head. 

From the alluring smile to all that exposed skin he just really isn't sure what to focus on physically, and now here you are claiming to be attracted to him? Daring him to - to do what? Kiss you? Does he have the guts to do that? You wouldn't be suggesting it if you weren't interested, he's sure, and, well, you're laying there and not trying to beat him anymore so is it safe to say that you really mean it? 

A million and one thoughts are flying through his scrambling brain at the moment, each time he thinks he's found a solution to this problem another issue works it's way back to the front of his mind. 

All his frantic searching for something to say or do only lasts 5 seconds, but it's 5 seconds too long for your impatient self. 

You slide your hand down and grab his, interlinking your fingers and moving no further to show that this isn't another ploy. 

This one simple action pumps Connie up with a little confidence, now 110% certain that you're sincere.

He takes this newfound courage to heart and just lets go, releasing your other wrist to press against your cheek as he slowly lowers himself down and presses his mouth hesitantly against yours.

The very moment you feel his hand on your face and his lips on yours you raise your newly freed appendage and wrap it around the back of his neck in an attempt to pull him closer, wanting to show him that you're perfectly okay with this and hoping to inspire a little more passion from his timid self. 

You squeeze his hand, the one holding yours, and run your other from the back of his neck up into his short hair. 

There isn't much to grab so you settle for lightly scraping your nails along his scalp, savoring the soft hum of appreciation that vibrates through his throat. 

It sure would be nice to hear some more of those sounds. 

Those warm lips of his work more ardently against your own when you pull him closer, now having a completely different reason to press his knees deep into the bed on both sides of your hips. 

Each second that passes has the brown-haired scout pressing into you more and more, your intertwined hands pressing hard into the softness below as his upper-body gravitates downwards. 

Now he's painfully aware of how hot your soft flesh is against his bare skin; of how little the two of you are wearing the more the heat rises in the room. 

And, for some reason, he doesn't quite care anymore. Now he just enjoys it; he enjoys letting go, touching you with twitching fingers and drowning in you. 

An undeniable heat travels from his rapidly beating heart down to his stomach and so on, and he finds that he's losing himself in the moment. 

You, too, are quickly forgetting all semblance of your exhaustion from before, thinking only of him. Of the way he makes you feel, the way he's always made you feel, but especially in this crucial moment. 

The responsible thing would be to stop it here and leave it for the night but you just tell the diligent part of your brain to fuck off - this is the perfect time for romance and affection and no insecurity is going to tell you otherwise right now. 

Eventually the two separate due to a need for some fresh air, the hastily stolen breaths from between pecks not enough to fill your lungs. 

Soft breaths fan out across Connies face, the small puff of air hitting his nose and dispersing, but he doesn't open his eyes right away to look like he wants. Instead he drops his head down, forehead pressed lightly against yours, and just breathes. 

He's afraid that opening his eyes will ruin the moment, break the spell cast between the two of you, and while he's not entirely sure where this is going to lead he finds that he wants to follow it to the end. 

You, on the other hand, look up at him right away, eager to see his face; to see if he looks as messed up as you feel inside. 

Spoiler alert: he does. 

Another pant leaves you right as you ask, "You tired already?" Both meant to test the waters and also to tease him a touch. 

Connie reacts like you thought he would: his eyes open and he glares at you insincerely, but what you weren't quite expecting is the way he slides his hand back up to touch your cheek lightly. 

"In your dreams. I always last longer than you," he pauses for his own dramatic effect this time, "at everything." 

It's true, he's a speed master with stamina that rivals even Mikasa, but it's funnier to taunt him a little. 

Besides that, you take his words as a challenge. 

"You wanna bet?" 

Instead of replying he just kisses you again, removing his hand from yours to rest his forearm against the bed to hold him up better, wanting nothing more than to feel every bit of you. 

You, of course, reciprocate without hesitation.