An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Rating: Mature
Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: F/M
Fandom: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Relationship: Dina Yeager | Dina Fritz/Eren Kruger
Characters: Eren Kruger, Dina Yeager | Dina Fritz
Additional Tags: Pregnant Sex, Infidelity, Top Eren Kruger, Age Difference, Unsafe Sex, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Kruger isn't the most well-adjusted but he's not unsympathetic, also wanted to explore Dina's family history and whether or not it differs from the Reisses, Crack Treated Seriously, Rare Pairings
Summary: Grisha was so wrapped up in his plans he couldn't see what was in front of him.
a/n: Wrote this to try and get back into the headspace of a multichapter. I have a lot of strong feelings about Unwound Future and Claire :')
She's in flux. Golden particles slaking off her fingers like dust motes. Unlike the refraction of light though glass, it has weight. The pocketwatch is her only proof of identity.
The teacup remains where Dmitri left it for her. An errant thought, that if she were to grasp the handle, it would simply phase through. Fall and shatter to pieces. She hasn't the nerve to try.
Dmitri hasn't asked how or why she is here, only given her a room. He's greyer around the temples. Stress carved into his face, and grief. For her or his culpability, she isn't sure.
tags: established relationship, modern AU, clothed sex, roleplay, unprotected sex, oral sex (m & f receiving), vaginal sex, anal play + sex (f receiving), an improvised cock ring, dirty talk, sweet/hot
summary: Eren's latest secretary isn't the best influence. It's fortunate that he doesn't mind so much.
Can also be read on ao3!
~~~
In the year or so that Annie Leonhardt has worked for the Eldian firm, she's never seen her boss in-person. Freudenberg lives a few hours away and is disinterested in anything that doesn't revolve around number crunching. Their HR guy Arlert is conflict avoidant and probably just trying to avoid a lawsuit. So when junior manager Eren phones her one morning and asks to schedule an emergency meeting, she doesn't think twice.
The “office” is just a hotel room where they can conduct business outside of any prying eyes. Annie drives up fifteen minutes early and exits her vehicle. The heels aren't broken in yet and will blister if she has to walk around more than the short trip to the hotel room. The receptionist, a middle-aged woman, notices Annie's stiff gait and offers her a smile that's probably supposed to be sympathetic but just reminds Annie of Reiner's unpleasable mother. Scanning over the guestbook for his name, she asks for it before giving hers. "Looks like your husband checked you in a few minutes ago."
Annie nods, intrigued. Taking the elevator, she walks down the carpeted hallway and opens the door. It looks clean enough but the carpet is dark enough to conceal any obvious stains. One of the beds smells strongly of air freshener. A couple hotel towels are rolled up on the bed opposite. She opens the drawer. There’s a bottle of lube, a glass dildo and a cordless vibrator.
The door opens. Annie spins around, clapping a hand over the drawer half-expecting to see the cleaning lady.
“Leonhardt. You’re not usually so early.”
The lock clicks behind him. Her breath sticks in her throat, pulse fluttering. His eyes fall on her hand. The drawer.
“I was—going to ask about my report,” she says in a controlled voice. “I was told you were busy and to make an appointment.”
“That’s not where I keep your files.” His eyes follow her trembling hand, back to her face. Annie exhales. The smell of lavender is going to make her wet for weeks. By the time she looks up Eren has already backed her against the edge of the desk. It isn’t fear that grounds her in place, exactly. Somewhere between arousal and anticipation as they lock eyes. His grin is wolfish.
“Are you open to negotiate?”
“I suppose I could make an exception.” Eren reaches over and takes her hand off the desk, placing it on his chest. She grabs him by the tie, black. The gray dress pants are a little loose on his body as is the light red shirt. The leather belt looks like new. The clothes used to be Zeke’s, but Eren insisted that his brother is not in a hurry to get them. When she presses her face into his shoulder, the shirt still smells faintly of smoke. This bothers Eren, mostly, but to Annie it’s easier to slip into the role of desperate little office siren and frustrated boss who should really know better. They’ve been skirting around for weeks and all she’s here to do is take the edge off.
His hands skirt up her blouse, framing her throat briefly. “I’ll be honest. I’ve wanted to get you alone for months. All I could think about this morning was calling you in here, cancelling my plans and taking you out to dinner.” His voice deepens. “But I wouldn't. I told myself, she’s such a good girl. It wouldn’t be right.”
Leonhardt the intern is on birth control, but her boss only needs to know as much as she’s willing to leverage. She glances at the tent in his dress pants and says, “Define good.”
Eren chuckles. His hands brush her neck. Down her clavicle. He stops above her breasts. “Good girls get promoted if they’re willing to prove themselves.” He starts unbuttoning her blouse and gently pushing it down her shoulders. She’s in a sports bra. Her nipples have just healed from the new piercings. Three weeks isn’t forever, but it feels like the culmination of this afternoon is clicking into place. For now, Eren disregards the tent in his dress pants. He buries his face in the crook of her neck and inhales. Kisses her pulse point. The ridge of her collarbone. He pulls back to look into her eyes. Gestures to her chest. His character falters, eyes softening just a little. “Are you good to go?”
She nods. “Just don't let me get caught onto anything.”
He tugs the straps of the sports bra down, pushing it below her breasts. “I don’t keep anything sharp in that drawer.”
Annie chuckles. His expression changes. He circles his thumb against her newly-pierced nipple, watching it stiffen with a kind of reverence that makes her want to melt right into the desk and let him do whatever he wants. “You're supposed to be in character,” she chides.
Eren flicks his tongue against the areola. “Mr. Krueger can appreciate your tits as much as I do.” He pinches gently, eliciting a soft groan. “Oh, I’ve missed hearing that.” He nuzzles into her. “C’mere.”
Though Annie won’t admit it, she’s just as excited. When she posed a few kinks off the top of her head, she wasn’t sure how he’d react, but he just asked for a place time to meet up. He's kissing down her stomach, rubbing his cheek to her hip. Annie runs a hand over his hair. “In-character.”
Eren pulls his mouth off. He clears his throat. Chuckles and averts his eyes. “Sorry. One sec.” She grips the other side of the desk and watches him concentrate. His eyes sharpen, his voice colder, precise. “Keep your hands where I can see them.” The change in tone is enough to get her pulse fluttering. “I could tie you down. Do anything I want to you. Maybe I’ll just leave you here for the afternoon.”
“N-no. I’ll be good.” He doesn’t move, staring down at her. It clicks. “Sir.”
Eren swallows. He taps her on the waist and says, “Turn around and get on the desk.”
There’s not much on the desk to remove, or space for herself. The best she can do is kneel and place her hands against the wall. Still, Eren crouches down to help her out of her heels, hiking her pencil skirt over her waist and exposing her ass to the room. Annie shivers.
“This isn't really about the folder, is it?” His finger moves back and forth in a teasing circle along her underwear. She can’t speak in a less embarrassing octave, so she just bites her lip. Warmth comes off of him like a furnace. He’s got a way of making her feel delicate in spite of what he’s doing. “I bet this worked like a charm on the HR guy.”
“I'm not sure what you mean,” she says. “I've never—done this with any of them before.”
Eren huffs. “Are you sure?” His fingers graze the hem of her panties. “Seems like you know what to do.”
“You’re mistaken, sir.” Annie's doing everything she can to keep her voice monotone. Her face is burning. Between her state of arousal and all of this teasing, she's starting to doubt he'll even have to penetrate her. His hands caress in languorous strokes, waist to hips to her inner thighs. Her skin tingles. Annie adds, “I’m on the pill.”
Eren's rubbing slows. In her peripheral vision he’s poised in contemplation. He hooks his fingers into the elastic. “Yeah?”
Annie groans, “Don't rip that.” He gently tugs her panties aside. His thumbs trail down the wet seam of her cunt and brush against her anus. Annie bites back a curse.
“You’ve cleaned up nice,” he mutters. “Is it for Freudenberg?”
“N-no.”
He moves back to her slit and pushes two fingers inside. “Must be one of the temps.”
“No, sir.” She reaches over and strokes his warm wrist. “It was for you.”
His fingers crook. She’s biting her lip. Reaching back to brace herself as he gives her another finger. “All of this for me?” he rumbles.
“Yes, sir.”
Eren groans softly. He doesn’t break pace, curling his fingers like he’s pictured how do to this a hundred times in his head. She cants back until he’s right where he needs to be, but Eren pulls his hand out, leaving her aching and exposed. His breath fans against her thighs, then it’s his warm hands steadying her thighs.
“Stay like that,” he commands.
A raw inhale drags from somewhere in her chest as he buries his face in her cunt. She gradually leans into the wall, keeping her weight on her knees. His tongue swipes up from slit to tailbone, shameless. She moans and pushes back onto his mouth, wanting more of him.
His thumbs spread her cleft, making space for his wet tongue. Annie yelps. She reaches back and grabs at his short-cropped hair and just shakes, rutting against his firm hands. Her face is on fire. She clamps her thighs on his head and feels him groan. It’s not direct or fast enough to make her orgasm, but it’s hotter than she thought it would be. He kisses her buttock and then stands. He says, “I’ll be with you in a minute. Don’t get up.”
She hears the bathroom sink running. He spits. When he comes back he smells like mouthwash. He steps into place behind her, running his hands up her waist and breasts before fixing her stance, and she can’t help but tremble. The drawer opens. He shows her the dildo, then rucks up her pencil skirt so it’s out of the way of her pooling arousal. His lips press against her nape. She inhales as the dildo eases into her pussy.
“Hold it there for me,” is all he says. Annie clenches around it, but he has to hold it inside of her for a bit. He grabs the lube. The plastic lid cracks open. He rubs small, tacky circles below her tailbone before slipping down the cleft and pushing a finger inside her ass. Annie groans. “I've never fucked an intern on company time before,” he breathes. He adds another finger. It stings just a bit and she groans, chasing the stretch with her hips. He kisses her shoulder and slowly pumps his fingers. She clenches on him and the toy, pushing her ass back until he steadies her waist. “You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”
Annie bites her tongue. He starts to test a third finger. His free hand explores, toying with her nipple. When he cups her face she drags her teeth across the meat of his palm. His little inhale turns her on. She backs up against his hips. “I want you to finish inside me, sir.” Annie sucks in a breath as the dildo slides out, only to take the place of his fingers. It’s weirder than it is painful. He isn’t going fast, but he doesn’t need to. “Krueger,” she pants.
“I heard you.” He grabs the lip of the desk, leaning in until her back is pressed against his chest. She’s quivering before his lips touch the shell of her ear. “I’m going to join in shortly. Do you, uh, like this position, or do you want to change?”
Her knees are getting sore. “I could—sit on top of you.”
“Can you sit on the desk?” He cups her ass, keeping the dildo inside of her and helping her to her knees, tilting her over until she’s sitting back against the wall. Annie pulls her legs to her chest. She grabs her ankles in time to watch Eren free his cock from his boxers. “Good girl,” he says huskily, looking her up and down. “You want it fast or deep?”
“Both,” she whispers. “Both of those, shit.”
Eren cracks a smile. They both groan as he slides in without resistance. She can feel him pulsing with each ragged breath. Sandwiched between the desk and his hips, the dildo is still hilted inside her. Eren sighs, shifting his hips.
“I’m okay,” she pants. “Fuck me, sir.”
Eren sets a shallow, fast pace, deepening as she spurs him on with little gasps and shudders, until he's pounding into her. Taking the force of his thrusts rather than leading him. When she comes in a little spurt, Eren grunts in satisfaction, thrusting partway through her orgasm before he pulls out.
“Good news,” he rasps.
Annie glances down. “Shit. You’re still hard?”
“Your evaluation is looking good.” Eren kisses the bridge of her nose. “You know, most of our other interns don’t get this far.” He reaches over and grasps the base of the dildo. Her clit throbs. Annie reaches over to help herself out, but Eren simply gathers her wrists and pins them above her head. “Maybe this department is a better fit for you.”
Annie snorts. “You could’ve just said I was anal retentive.” It’s corny as hell but she’s thinking about the nightmare of an HR that must function in this porno-context. All the terrible puns to use for later.
Eren chuckles. “Damn, you’re sexy and clever. Are you trying to take my job?”
“Only if I get to fuck you over this desk, sir.”
Eren bites his lip. His cheeks dusted pink. A tell to file away and consider for later. He begins thrusting the dildo into her ass. There’s a little squelch each time it moves and it’s making her hornier than it should. He eases the condom off and gives his cockhead a firm squeeze, bends over and kisses her warm neck. Swell of her breasts. He licks her nipple and murmurs, “Now, I believe you mentioned something about cumming inside you.”
Annie inhales. “Fuck….”
Eren blows a raspberry into her sternum. She lets out a very undignified noise and glowers at him. “Yes, I intend to.” He says it casually, but his pupils are dilated, cock already half-hard in his grasp.
She hears the snap of the cap, watching as he slicks himself. “Be gentle with me, sir. You’re bigger than the last guy I was with.”
Eren strokes her waist. “Don’t worry. I’ll go easy on you.”
He works the dildo out of her with tacky fingers. His thumbs peel her ass apart before he tests his cock on her rim. She snakes a hand down to her throbbing clit.
“Good girl,” he praises. “You know what to do.” Her pulse quickens. She lowers her hips. The lube makes everything slippery, so he reaches down to feed his cock into her. Annie’s voice strains as her body starts opening against his heat. She rubs the base of her clit as she takes another inch. Past the head, it’s a little easier. He begins pulling out to the tip and pushing, each time a little deeper, until his coarse pubic hair brushes her thighs. Annie lets out a shaky breath. Eren stops, brow furrowed. “Am I hurting you?”
He’s thicker than the dildo, but she’s not going to humor him. “No.” He twitches a little. He pulls out, which is not a pleasant feeling. Gathering her knees up and hooking her ankles over his left shoulder. When he grabs his cock, letting the head press inside of her loosening hole, she can't help but moan. He penetrates her in slow, firm thrusts, bracing her thighs against his chest once he’s deep enough and stilling. Annie supposes he’s giving her a minute to adjust but it’s a lot less comfortable. “Fuck,” she rasps. “Can you move?”
“What?”
Annie sucks in a breath, despising the quaver in her voice. “Pull—pull out all the way and then push back in. Slow.”
Each time he pulls back, there’s a throb of pleasure. Building momentum until he’s easing into her completely with each shift of his hips. “Miss Leonhardt,” he rasps. “Jesus Christ, I knew you could do it. So fucking good.”
She’s surprised he has any sense of control left while he's stretching her open. That’s half the problem, really. He’s already gotten comfortable with her body. At the right angle, he can just hammer away until she can’t remember her own name. He’s taking this slow. Wearing her down. It’s a dirty trick, getting her to confess exactly what she wants him to do, but Annie would be lying if it also didn’t turn her on.
“Pretty thing like you,” he whispers, his voice low and roughened. “Knew you could take my cock.”
“Like a whore,” she intones.
Eren licks his lips. “Yeah. Y-you'd do anything for that promotion.” He plays with her nipple some more, rolling the little bar around. “I should keep you here all afternoon.” He begins to thrust steadily, though he isn’t going faster. “I wouldn't even have to let you finish, would I? Just send you home full of cum.”
Annie sucks in a breath like she's wounded. “Ooh, God.” She starts caressing her tits for her enjoyment as much as his. He’s speeding up. “Mr—s-sir. God damn it.”
Eren chuckles. “Wanna try that again?”
There’s a wet stain on his dress shirt and she can't decide whether she wants to laugh or melt into a horny little puddle. She holds his eyes until his flutter shut, a furrow in his brow. His grip tenses. Annie forgets she’s supposed to be playing a character and purrs, “Enjoying yourself?”
“Fuck, yeah. Taking this so good for me.” He’s losing rhythm. Biting his lip so hard he leaves teeth marks. Her cunt throbs. “You’re—perfect for my dick—aren’t you, baby?”
The next time he pushes into her, Annie clenches her muscles as hard as she can. Eren chokes on a moan and finishes after a few shallow thrusts. It takes a few seconds to click in his brain. Eren slumps against the desk, breathless and bewildered. Annie can’t help but grin. “Do I get to use the vibrator on you next?”
Eren takes a deep breath and smirks. “Don’t change the subject.” The tips of his ears are pink as are his cheeks. He pulls out of her and lets her legs down. “That, ah. Usually doesn’t happen.”
The condom slaps wetly into the trashbin. Her hand skates along his warm thigh until he brushes her away. He’s grabbing a towel and helping her to sit. ”It’s cool,” she mutters, filing his tell away for another discussion. “I guess I’m clear in the anal department.”
He laughs low in his throat. “Yeah, you—you're good for now.” She’s a little sore. “I’ll have to think of something for the next round.” He kisses her neck. “Sorry.”
“What did you want to do, sir?”
The drawer opens and he pulls out the vibrator. It’s a few inches shorter than his dick, slender, and she shivers. “Can you take this?”
Annie smiles. “Yes, sir.”
He turns on the vibrator and circles her mons before sliding down to her cunt. The buzzing is weird. But the pressure is definitely nice. She’s full of come and lubricant and it's making her hornier than it would’ve ten minutes ago. He thrusts a few times before he presses it flush against her front wall. The vibrator buzzes noisily against the base of her slit. She’s already tense and breathy. “Mr. Krueger, sir. I can take more.”
Eren chuckles. “I know you can.” The tip of the vibrator nudges up she whimpers at the sudden pressure. He reaches down to grab the base. Pulling it out to the tip and sinking back in. He thrusts a few more times, then pulls it out and teases against the base of her clit.
“Eren,” she hisses. “Oh my God.”
He pushes the vibrator into her again. She expects him to keep fucking her with it, but he doesn't. “Don’t let it fall out, Miss Leonhardt, or I’ll have to punish you.” Eren is on his knees before she’s finished quantifying all the possible implications. He coaxes her to spread her legs, nuzzling into her thigh before he starts concentrating on her clitoris. Gentle, softer licks that catch her off guard and ease her into orgasm. He pulls away.
“I'm gonna go wash up. I’ll be right with you.”
She hears the bathroom sink running. He comes back disheveled. Annie groans as he lifts her off the desk and against his chest. Her legs are trembling and he braces her after a moment.
“Are you up for one more round?”
Annie presses her face into his chest. “Yes, sir.” He’s stroking her neck, cupping the back of her head. His fingers toy with her hair tie which is starting to loosen. Annie undoes it before he can, letting her hair fall over her sweaty nape. Then gets a new idea. “I think I can help you with your problem.”
Eren stirs. “What problem?”
“Take your cock out.” She gently works the hair tie over the head of his penis and down his shaft. Eren’s breath wavers, his lashes fluttering. He grips the edge of the desk. “Is it too tight? I can take it off.”
Eren leans back, eyes fluttering. “N-no.”
She gives him a slow pump. It's staying in place. “I can bring a real cock ring next time.”
He laughs. “Yeah?”
“Mhm.” She cups his balls, thumb brushing against his perineum. “You just get a little excited sometimes.” Eren snorts. “I'm not mad,” she says. “It’s flattering, really.” She strokes over the base, watching him harden in her grasp. Eren sighs, thrusting into her loose grip. “I’ll need your measurements if you’re serious.”
He makes a soft noise. “We can—do that later.” He cups her face. “We're gonna do that later, okay?”
Annie eyes the chair. “Have a seat.”
She grabs him by the tie, pulling him forward and looming over him, forehead to forehead. Straddling his warm thigh, the smooth fabric chafes against oversensitive skin. Eren rests a hand on her waist, letting her grind against his thigh. It’s not as immediately overwhelming as being touched or fucked, but it’s keeping the momentum. He strokes her waist, cupping her breast and pinching. She picks up speed, not caring how desperate she looks anymore. His cock is pressing on her stomach.
“Krueger,” she purrs. “S-sir. Let me help you with that.”
Eren grabs her by the side of the neck. “Get on your knees.” He seems to enjoy getting head as much as she enjoys watching him lose composure. He doesn’t push her head down. Just keeps a firm grip on her shoulder until she’s drooling and breathless and a little teary-eyed. She pulls off before he can come. His thumb pressing into her wet jaw, smearing lipstick. He says, “Ride me.”
She shudders, bearing down on him without waiting to be asked. Planting her feet firmly against the floor, she can feel him pulsing with each ragged breath. Eren sighs, shifting his hips while she gets used to his size. His clothes are rumpled and stained. Annie starts leaning back, grabbing his thighs, until he’s pressing right where she likes.
He whimpers. Annie slows down in spite of herself, thinking in a panic about the hair tie and priapism. “Fuck, do you—are you okay?”
Eren looks up. He gives her ass a squeeze, looking up at her with a sheepish grin. “Y-yeah. M’gonna cum.”
Annie takes a deep breath and attempts to string together a coherent sentence. “Where’s the vibrator?”
Eren reaches for it. She flicks it on and guides it under the base of her clit. He leans forward, grabbing her ass as he thrusts up into her, which in turn pushes her into the vibrator.
“Oh!” she moans, “K-kuh—ah, shit.”
“Please,” he whispers, “call me Eren.”
Annie is trembling so badly she might fall over. She yanks him forward by the tie. “Are you fucking kidding me?” she hisses.
Eren presses his forehead to hers. He’s flushed and panting and grinning like a letch. “Nope.”
He gets a firm grip under her thighs and begins pounding into her sopping cunt. If the dildo was raunchy, this is absurd. Annie grabs the edge of the desk. All she can manage are hoarse little whines and squeaks. He’s gradually slowing down, forehead to her collarbone, panting with exertion. “Finish inside me, sir,” she groans. “Want to cum with you.” She grinds into him, getting hotter and wetter if it’s possible. At some point the vibrator slips, falling harmlessly against her stomach. Annie curses, fumbling with it. Eren slows down, both of them reaching down to steady the vibrator under her clit as she builds up to the biggest orgasm she's had all afternoon.
Her breath eludes her for a while. Lightheaded and trembling, she’s got tears in her eyes when she comes down. Eren is still regaining composure. The vibrator rests on the desk, buzzing noisily. He’s cupping her cheek. “Are you okay? I wasn’t too rough?”
It takes a few seconds to register what he’s asking. Annie slumps forward with a sob of an exhale. “Oh my God.” She presses her face into his warm palm. “Yes.”
He brushes her hair from her sweaty forehead, tilting her up into eye contact. Annie lets him kiss her in a moment of weakness. She feels him relax. Lips on her brow and cheek and the crown of her head. He smells like cigarettes and sweat and exertion. “Hey, can you get up for a sec? I need to—take this off.”
Her legs feel like jelly. She flops back on the hotel bed as he gently peels the hair tie off and throws it in the garbage. “It’s fine,” Annie mutters. “I can just. Buy some more.”
She’s achy and exhausted, but feeling pretty good all things considered. She figures Eren will get undressed and take a shower, but he flops next to her, making the mattress creak.
“Hey,” she mumbles.
“Hey.”
Her eyes fall shut. “You told the lady behind the desk I was your wife?”
“Yeah. She was weird about it. Kept tellling me I was too young to be married. I think she thought you and I were having an affair. Like I’m a thirty year old with a baby face and you’re half my age.”
“She was probably just hitting on you.”
He scoffs. “What? That’s ridiculous, she had a photo of her family on her desk.” Eren’s weight shifts on the bed and she opens her eyes. His simplicity is his strongest trait. She’s come to find it rather endearing. “We should do this again sometime.”
“What did you have in mind?”
“Maybe you could use the dildo next time. And the ring.”
“The ring goes over your penis, Jaeger.”
“You knew what I meant.” His ears are pink.
Her mouth turns up. “Yeah, I’d like that.”
~~~
a/n: Hotelling is, from what I can tell, essentially the practice of working remotely rather than coming into an office. You can read about it here if you wish.
And thank you to @enaven for the second pair of eyes & encouragement :)
Warnings: Bloody imagery, vomiting, SOUL violation of agency, generally sepulcral mood
Summary: You would never hurt Noelle.
Notes: I'm surprised at how quickly this is picking up, thanks to everyone who read the first installment! Here's chapter two :)
Sitting on the couch, your hands entwined. Blood coagulates between the interstice of fur and skin.
Two nights ago you sat with her on the porch and worked the thorn from her finger. You bandaged her and let her hold you, sitting in silence, the emptiness in your head and her shuddering breaths on your neck. Like soldiers from the same war, you clung to one another.
Noelle is brittle in your hands, a powerful weapon without the right wielder. She needs more than an empty vessel or childhood friend. She's too vulnerable to be left alone.
Your mind reels. Turning inward, the source of all of your woes intangible within your breast. You'd cast yourself over the banister if it would protect her, but the soul is stronger than your will alone.
If you didn't want this to happen, you would have made sure it wouldn't. You're complicit in this. No amount of vengeful anger will bring Noelle to her senses, or Dess from the abyss.
Hand grazes your sleeve and you flinch, instinctual. The tips of her fingers frosting over. Her nails like tiny picks leaving trails in their wake. She's careful not to break the skin. With every gesture of comfort she can only keep you at a distance.
Cupping your face, her muzzle turns up. Trembling at the seams. She's being brave for the both of you. It was never supposed to be like this.
Frame her muzzle in your trembling hands. A moment of clarity. Her brown eyes struggle to focus on your face. Sedated, forgetful. You'll have to remember the important stuff for her.
This is real, you tell her. As long as I'm here, nothing bad will happen to you.
She rubs her muzzle against your hand. "Kris."
The room is shrinking. She's leaning closer.
"I really don't want to be alone right now."
Tendrils of frost cling to your skin. Her lashes sparkle. Noelle hides in the curve of your shoulder. The tip of her nose gelid, tingles on your skin.
"Can we—stay here for a minute? I don't want mom to see me like this."
You hold her. The soul is dormant in your chest.
A tiny kiss presses into your neckline like the graze of a needlehead. Then another. Pinpricks in your throat.
The consequences of jarring her from this trance are tantamount to letting her slip further away from you. It's all the same. There's no exit.
"It's okay, Kris. I'll protect you. I know you don't believe me yet. But I'm stronger, like you said."
She's holding you down. Frigid air drawn into your lungs. You're breathing too fast. Everything is happening too fast.
She's kissing you. Her fist winds in your hair, a streak possessiveness born from overcompensation. But she squeaks the moment you grab her wrist, cowering.
The red flash in her eyes dissipates into brown. Confusion. A little hurt.
"K-Kris?"
Stand up and brush her aside. Your breath clouds the air.
A thick sheet of ice coats the handle and lock. In a blink you are relocated to the site of your transgression. Hers. There's no room for distinction.
Noelle, you try to say, but she presses her muzzle to your cheek.
"Please," she whispers. "Don't leave me alone."
You are pulled into her gravitation. She kisses your neck and cheeks and mouth. Your skin stings, burning, a precursor to frostbite. It's less than what you deserve.
"It's okay." She rubs her nose against your jaw. "E-everything will be okay." Taking your face in her hands, she tilts you toward her. "We have to keep ourselves safe."
Your heart hammers. She's on top of you. Squeeze your eyes shut. As if the frigid air in your lungs will dissipate into smoke. You just want the old life back. The old Noelle and Dess and Berdly and mom and dad and the festival a few days from—
Your hand moves, cupping her neck. She's jostled but barely registers as you push her back into the couch. Unprotesting and docile, Noelle's golden hair falls into her eyes. Her eyes hollow. Less like the childhood friend from your memories and more like a dead rat you found in the backyard when you were little. You gave it a viking funeral, but all you had were mom's candles and a box of matches, and the ground was too dry to dig, so you found a shoebox and covered it with dirt.
Mom didn't find it as sweet of a gesture as you did. Asriel told her it was his idea, but you doubt mom really believed him.
"Kris?"
The room regains its natural state of temperate. The vent groans and rumbles. Your teeth rattle in your skull. Hands shaking.
The door is perfectly normal.
"Sorry. Were we—?" Noelle's skirt hikes up over her thighs. She gasps and smooths it down. "I—we should, uh. Susie will be wondering, um."
Your throat tightens.
You request to use the washroom. Noelle is too flustered to think twice about your uneven tone.
You throw up your cocktail of juice in the toilet. Hunched over the bowl, a crimson puddle pollutes the water. You stare at it for a breath or two, then wipe your mouth and flush it down with trembling hands. Stumble upright. Avoid your reflection in the sink's mirror.
Turn on the tap. Water on porcelain. Gripping the basin tightly, but there's no trance this time. Just nausea.
Like a bad dream, you can almost convince yourself it didn't happen. On the corner of your sleeve, droplets of blood have already set into the fabric.
The soul has never shown you visions before. You've gotten away with locking it away in short bursts, acting without interference. You just never considered that the soul could do the same. From now on, you have to keep it as close to you as possible. Whatever happened upstairs, it's going to be a one time thing.
Characters/Relationship: Kris & Noelle, Kris & Red Soul
Summary: You would never hurt Noelle.
Notes: Spoilers for Chapter Four's Route B / Alternate Route. Just a ficlet for now, as I reel from what I've played through and gather my thoughts.
Warnings: the SOUL's general violation of Kris and Noelle's autonomy, psychological horror, coercion, trauma bonding, etc.
♥
You've never been in Noelle's room. The house is sprawling enough to sate your curiosity.
She keeps things neat like her mom. Noelle takes your hand, guiding you over to sit on the couch.
A vent above the wall groans as the heating system kicks in. It's chilly in here. Noelle seems not to notice as she talks. Mostly about what happened a couple nights ago. Partly about you.
You're doing your best to be a good listener, but she keeps scooting closer, telling you how grateful she is that you spoke to her after everything that happened in the other world. There's only so far you can scoot away before you hit the corner of the couch. Noelle advances. Her sweetness veiled in a more selfish, desperate impulse. Smelling blood in the water.
Her breath puffs against your neck. You avert your gaze. Your palms clammy, curled on your knees. Guilt constricts in your stomach.
What you said, that night, it was mostly for her sake. Putting her at ease is the least you can do now that Berdly shares a hospital room with her father. He's not dead, in the cinical sense. Just sleeping.
It's a pity, the grown ups say, no one is sure why or how to wake him up.
Noelle's hand wraps around your unresponsive wrist. Her fingers are warm. Of course they would be.
The bowels of the house groan and shudder and rumble, as though congested. You're just exhausted. Unguarded and helpless when the soul seeps through your corporeal body and into your arm. Permeating the very essence of the host unlike blood and sinew, physical flesh. A soul has no such limitations. Without it, the vessel is simply dead weight.
You catch the movement. Strangle it. It's inevitable. Like Dess and Berdley and Asgore leaving your mother another bouquet to rot in the trash.
Noelle senses a shift. Simpering, frail. She slides down the couch but there's only the wall waiting for her.
The soul pulls an item from your pocket. A small thorn. Specks of blood crumble into your palm.
If you wanted to stop this, you would have stuffed this soul down the vent and shut the lid. Not left it in an open giftbox. You'd have thrown the thorn into the lake.
The soul never fights against your outbursts. It bides its time. It knows the span of your will better than you, for it doesn't need rest or emotional support.
You'_re clasping her wrist. Noelle's eyes find yours, brown and shimmering. She opens her mouth but she's choking on the words.
There's nothing to be afraid of, your voice says. It will only hurt for a second. Then you will be stronger.
Hand closes around hers. Gentle pressure turns into a firm squeeze. The thorn pierces skin. Blood oozes between you, a covenant stronger than any delusion.
Noelle cries out. Squeeze her hand tightly. The fingers bend but do not break. Burying the splinter. She's just as culpable as you.
Her nails dig into your skin. Eventually, she will be forced to reconcile that it is better to go limp in your grasp than struggle. Your thumb skirts the back of her knuckles. It's a hollow gesture.
Your will suffocates. It begs for her to slap you across the face. To claw and bite and scream for Susie or anyone. There's no weapon to tear yourself asunder and stop this. To absolve her of your actions.
She's crying into your shoulder.
You watch as your hand reaches out to cup her face. The touch to her cheek becomes a steady grip. Prying her away from the false comfort of your shoulder. Her eyes glazed over.
A voice from your throat says, there, now. You are becoming stronger.
Her ears twitch. She's shivering as you tilt her head towards you. You've shattered her trust and moulded her into someone else. Unthinking and reliant. The perfect weapon.
It isn't you. It's not her fault.
Lies for your benefit. The soul understands what is necessary.
Additional Tags: Substitution, Angst, Triple Drabble, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Post-Shingeki no Kyojin Chapter 139: Toward the Tree on That Hill
Series: Part 1 of if i can't have love, i want power
Summary:
"You're late."
His mouth twists, like he's forgotten how to smile. "Miss Ackerman."
"Don't call me that."
"Mikasa?"
His inflection is wrong, but that's not why they're here. It's all pretense.
Fandom: Pokémon Crystal Ver. (and a very subtle nod to Lost Silver)
Genre: Friendship
Rating: PG
Summary: Silver and Kris hang out. That's it, that's the fic.
a/n: Despite these two being my roman empire in middle school I don't think I've ever posted a fic for them before.
It's also based in part off of a gifted piece of art, drawn by @l3ominor :)
They met by the old storefront in Mahogany Town, now a general store owned by the pokémart. The old guy didn't work there anymore. Drinks imported from Goldenrod, but no pokéballs. Apparently, the guy said, they'd been having trouble getting RageCandy bars as of late. He used to work with a guy who got them imported from Kanto but after the scare with Team Rocket last year, he'd been quiet.
The new owner hadn't bothered to renovate much. While Kris chatted with him about her trainer's license and challenging Blackthorn City's gym, Silver kept an eye out for the old trapdoor beneath the counter. It was too close to the counter to see but he doubted it had been removed entirely.
When Kris paid for the bottled water the man caught his eye and smiled like a politican caught looking for drugs in a shifty alley.
Silver just nodded.
"What was up with that guy?" Kris asked as they walked out.
"This store used to be a front for Team Rocket."
"Oh, I heard about that! It was on the radio."
DJ Mary wasn't going to tell her about Lance's dragonite slamming a grunt through the faux floorboards and how he'd been dumped by the Radio Tower in Goldenrod. Or the Champ-to-be wreaking havoc with a typhlosion against inexperienced grunts with ratatta and koffing. The security system was only as effective as its defenses.
His dad didn't believe in assigning the grunts pokémon that could handle a fight. The executives were the strongarms, and they still had guns and whips if negotiations didn't pan out.
"You seem to know a lot about Team Rocket," Kris hedged.
Silver idly palmed the pokéball, the paint chipped and peeling around the button. In the grimy, moldy basement, he'd stood there as Gold shouldered past him, paralyzed with the nauseating realization that he wasn't weak so much as inferior.
"There's not much to talk about. They were a bunch of weak guys. Useless without someone ordering them around."
"How can you say that? They've caused so much trouble!" Kris was just a kid. She didn't have to know every detail.
"So, a bunch of grown ups went around stealing pokémon and hurting people. They still got pushed around by a kid like you," Silver said.
Kris stared at him like she'd never considered it that way before. He scoffed and dug around in his pockets for a cigarette.
Kris's expression pinched. "Ew."
"Talking about them pisses me off."
"Why do you hang out with me, anyway?" Silver pretended not to hear. "You don't even like talking to me and you still won't train me."
Silver lit up. "You have seven badges."
"Don't you have any lower level pokémon?"
He scoffed. "Why would I?"
Kris sighed, like he was missing the point of something very simple. "You're supposed to train all kinds of pokémon. Not just six."
Silver took a drag. "These guys have been with me for a while. We get by all right."
Kris was quiet for a while, allowing Silver time to enjoy the cigarette. She'd stopped asking him for his number a while ago, but she'd still meet up happily just for the sake of it. She was a different kind of annoying than Gold but he'd gotten used to tolerating that kind of company. Being without it wasn't the same.
"What if I got all eight badges?"
Silver crushed the butt under his boot. "What if you did."
"Then I could take on the league, like your friend." She elbowed him in the side, rough, but not abrasive. "Maybe I'd be strong enough to take you on."
Silver scoffed. "Whatever. I'll be at Mt. Moon."
Kris beamed in a way he'd seen once before, in the mouth of the old caverns in Kanto. Gold's face was thinner than the fresh trainer from New Bark, his clothes tattered and faded, but he still clapped Silver on the back and invited him to hang out. Typhlosion and feralgatr play-fought out on the grassy clearing where clefairy would gather under a full moon, and the two of them talked strategies for the Battle Tower. That was months ago. Gold still hadn't called.
"Maybe you can introduce me to your friend?"
Silver turned around. "He's not my friend."
"Yeah, I know, you always say that. He sounds awesome."
"He's not going to date you."
Kris laughed. "You're silly."
She and Gold were some of the least flappable people he'd ever met. It was more of a mystery how they weren't related.
"Whatever," he muttered. "You're both from New Bark, right?"
Comprehension dawned on her face. "Yeah! I don't think he's lived there for a while, though." She squinted. "Hey, you never told me where you live."
Silver grunted. He didn't really feel like talking about it. "Doesn't matter."
"You know where I live."
"I thought your house was someone else's."
"Yeah," Kris said, "my mom's been worried ever since you dropped in uninvited. You could have just asked."
Silver smirked. "Wouldn't she get the wrong idea?"
Kris just stared at him. "You're weird."
"You're annoying."
"Ha, ha. Same time next week?"
"Whatever."
She grinned. "Great, I'll be able to beat you by then!"
Kris unfolded her bike from her pack, heading off towards the Lake of Rage.
Silver released his crobat and flew in no particular direction in mind, ending up in Ecruteak City. Morty had approached him about starting a Gym of his own, if he wasn't interested in attempting the Indigo League. Silver wasn't sure. But he hadn't said no either.
"All of this cohabitation won't be good for our reputations, you realize. Not unless we marry."
She chuckled. Definitely Arlert talking. "That's your proposal?"
"I meant to ask you earlier," he continued. "But, well." His ears went pink. "I figured it would be a distraction, unless the war was over."
She said, "There's a possibility you will outlive me."
"I know." His brow knitted. "But there's also a possibility that we'll be perfectly fine."
As a cadet and a Scout, Arlert was wasting his talents. Worth as much as cannon fodder on the front lines. Too smart for his own good, a counterpoint to Ackerman's distrust and Jaeger's shining intensity.
At nineteen he remained lithe, but he'd put on some muscle. His soft face would have been called beautiful in a woman, but he was no longer boyish and frail. Doe-eyed vulnerability sharpening into a quiet resolve.
Annie never let her eyes linger much, until they began living together as ambassadors. She would lie in bed, feigning sleep, and hear him pad about the room, for it was one of the few times she got to see him anymore. He'd stay up long hours working and fall asleep at his desk.
She'd gotten into the habit of taking his coat and hanging it up for him. One evening as she did so, she noted a small distension in one of the pockets that wasn't there before. Her fingers pulled out the tiny box. Annie's breath stuck in her throat. Without opening the box she placed it back and hung up his coat as usual.
A few evenings later, and Armin hadn't pressed the issue. Annie considered broaching it several times but elected not to. It was his secret to surprise her with.
Instead she checked up on him before retiring.
"How's it coming?"
A line of tension in his shoulders persisted, then slowly relaxed. "The same as usual."
"Take a break."
He hesitated. "I'd like to, but I really should get this done."
"You'll need glasses if you keep working by candlelight."
He turned, bewildered, and he said, "We've a meeting coming up with the Queen of Paradis and Müller is pressing for an conclusion."
Annie simpered. "Just for a moment."
She cradled his face. The old Shifter lines had yet to heal. He was always gentle, whenever he had cause to touch her. His breath hitched as she situated herself on his lap. She turned her face into his shoulder.
"You've been avoiding me."
Armin didn't move. Always so cautious. His hands on her shoulders, neutral.
"You shouldn't, Armin." His name still foreign to her. "I want to make you feel good, like you did for me before."
His breath hesitated. He looked her up and down and wet his lips. "Are you sure?"
She inhaled, crushed her lips to his. His hands followed her lead, skimming from hips to waist to shoulders, no direct contact. She stopped and unfastened his shirt and trousers. There would be time to explore, and learn what drove him crazy, but right now she just needed him close.
She had no idea what he enjoyed, only what he responded to. On the boat, when he took her to his bed, they had to be quiet. They'd done a lot of touching and licking, and she'd wept in his arms afterwards, allowed his arms to encircle her like an albatross.
It hadn't been about love, because she'd been as unsure then as when he first took her wrist. A need to feel protected while the world around her was trampled into desolation. Mathis was already dead. Her father too, for all she'd known.
In Eren's absence, she could afford to differentiate the man from the boy he had once been. His idealism tainted and ugly, and the simple monster he'd always been laid bare. Even if she didn't express this to Armin, he wouldn't let himself face it. He and Ackerman were grieving. There wasn't any time to, but they couldn't move past it any sooner than catch up to the enemy.
So she let herself be held, becoming the anchor to his own spiraling terror.
In the study, Armin called her name. Flushed, the first buttons of his shirt undone. He was looking at her closely. The chair creaked under their weight.
She cupped his jaw, grounding herself in the dilation of his pupils, blue into black. The tent in his underwear was obvious. She brushed her lips against his flushed cheeks and faded scar tissue. Every touch and kiss made him squirm into the chair's uncompromising edges.
Annie was wearing little but a nightslip. Armin, wide eyed and flushed, had nothing to say when she took his erection out. She spat into her palm and jerked him off, pressing her thumb into the weeping head. "Am I going too fast?"
He wet his lips. "No."
She positioned herself. Armin took a deep breath as she sat down. As she got comfortable in his lap she felt his hands settling on her ass. He kissed her neck.
"Are you OK?" he breathed. "You're trembling."
He was so polite, even when she'd cornered him, it almost made her laugh. She just nodded. Planting her feet to the floor, she began to move.
Each time she sank onto him, Armin rolled his hips. Grasping her ass, using the momentum to press against her rather than straight-on. He found a spot that made her gasp for air. She chased after it.
On the boat he hadn't called out a name, so she didn't either. When he was close, he pulled the same hissing breath through his teeth. His grip on her waist just shy of bruising. Annie grabbed his shoulders and stood up. His hand moving between their bodies before he spent in his fist.
"Be still," he muttered, and fished in his pockets for a hankerchief and wiped himself off. He looked at her.
She worried her lip. "I could go again."
Armin swallowed dryly. "Ah. I don't think that's going to be possible for a few minutes." His expression changed, not discouraged so much as calculating. He placed a hand on her waist. Gooseflesh erupted at the slightest contact. "I could take care of you while we wait."
Annie pressed her thighs together. "How?"
Armin's eyes darkened a bit. "Come here and I'll show you."
She sat on his lap and he gently coaxed her thighs open. His fingers reentered, crooking at the angle he'd found before, exploring, until she whispered, "Yes!"
Armin continued. In their proximity his lips moved to her breasts. The heel of his palm met the jumpy little pulse of her, incidental and then deliberate, firm strokes that made her eyes water.
Annie grabbed him by the side of the neck. Between the delicious friction in front and all of his kissing and rubbing she couldn't say much coherent for a while. Pushing herself over the edge, she didn't worry about how ungainly she must look or sound, because Armin was there to pull her back together.
His touch receded. Before she could recover, he raised his thigh to make up for the loss. Annie gasped, her body sensitive and eager. She began to grind against his leg, guiding herself back to that precipice as Armin stared.
"You're really wet. Is this better for you?"
She moaned, fisted his hair. Moving faster.
"I'm getting there," he admitted, kissing her jaw and stopping just under her ear. "I'd like to have you again if you're not too tired."
Annie laughed breathlessly. "Please do."
His eyes dark with intention. Taking her into his arms he braced his hands firmly under her ass. She bore her full weight against him. His idea must have been to lift her into his arms and set her against the wall or on the bed, but Armin gasped as the chair tipped with their combined weight and they tumbled to the floor with a conspicuous crash.
Despite the impact Annie couldn't help but snicker with him for a moment. Then she pulled him on top of her and they fucked, graceless and desperate like animals, until he pulled out and came over his hand, her stomach. He slumped back on his ass, breathing like he'd run the length of the street and back a few times. Annie felt the crawly fluid on her skin, collected it on her fingers. It was milky and insubstantial and didn't taste very good, but Armin passed a hand over his flushed face with a groan and that was worth it for her.
The room was stifiling, his clothes rumpled beyond salvage. Somehow it didn't seem to bother him.
Armin, offering her a hand up, said, "Did that help?"
She smiled and took his hand. How easily she could use his own momentum against him. Even at his most vulnerable, he chose to believe in her better nature. She said, "How long have you had that ring?"
He turned around like she'd just told him there was another Attack Titan. "What? When did you—?"
"You keep it in your pocket. I found it when you fell asleep at the desk."
Armin faltered, just a bit. He tucked himself back into his pants and said, "All of this cohabitation won't be good for our reputations, you realize. Not unless we marry."
She chuckled. Definitely Arlert talking. "That's your proposal?"
"I meant to ask you earlier," he continued. "But, well." His ears went pink. "I figured it would be a distraction, unless the war was over."
She said, "There's a possibility you will outlive me."
"I know." His brow knitted. "But there's also a possibility that we'll be perfectly fine." His eyes lingered on the lines of her stomach. "And if it's possible, then there's less to be afraid of."
"I guess I'll have to marry you," she intoned, ruffling his short-cropped hair. "Wouldn't want a scandal."
He chuckled but his eyes searched her face. She let her hand slide to the nape of his neck, soft and damp with sweat.
His eyes were wet. They had little time left for regrets. Annie didn't feel relieved, exactly. Just the same ambivalence as in the cradle of the ship's sleeping quarters. Her chest ached while Armin kissed her wrist. She turned her face into his shoulder, and his arms came around her.
One day she'd wake up next to him and be able to breathe a little easier. They had to start somewhere.
Summary: Eren begins a tumultuous relationship with an ex-kickboxer who is determined to remain impersonal.
Rating: M
Genre: Romance/Drama
a/n: The first chapter — and something of a pilot episode — for what will likely be my final AoT fic. I've never written a modern AU before but I'll do my best to keep everyone on-brand. :)
It starts the night Armin and Mikasa drag him away to a party. Eren agrees, but he's really only there for the free alcohol. He hangs back at the bonfire next to Connie who just wants someone to drink with. Eren listens, mostly. In the distance someone's blasting Deftones.
Connie grabs his arm. "Hey, look who it is!"
It's impossible not to notice. People on the fringes wave and she nods to them. Her attention turns toward Connie and she begins makes her way towards him.
Connie says, "I'm gonna go get a refill. You want one?"
Eren says, "Yeah."
Connie snorts and disappears.
Annie steps into place.
"Jaeger," she says. "It's been a while."
She's got a few more piercings along her left eyebrow, her nose slightly crooked like it's been snapped back into place a few times. She's wearing a pleated skirt and black tights, a simple white blouse that buttons up to her throat. An evolution on her old look, while he still sticks to jeans and a t-shirt.
He says, "I didn't expect you to be here."
"My cousin Reiner wanted to visit." She shrugs. "He and Bertholdt missed talking to you guys, I guess.
"Are they around?"
"They're probably getting drunk and getting into trouble. But I'll tell Reiner you said hi.
Her expression is difficult to read. Maybe that's as close to an answer as she's willing to broach, she's always been pretty quiet.
She asks if he'd like to catch up instead of waste a can of beer he obviously isn't going to drink. He tells her the legal drinking age in America is twenty one but it hasn't stopped him before, and she just smiles enigmatically. Then he says, "We could go back to my place."
"Won't you be missed?"
Eren shrugs. "I'm tagging along. They'll figure it out pretty quick."
Annie says, "All right. Did you drive?"
"Walked."
Annie says, "Cool."
They walk down the front yard and towards the sidewalk. Their surroundings give way to a suburban sprawl. It's summer. The alcohol is mostly out of his system by now but Eren's head is buzzing.
"Where do you live?" she asks.
He tells her he's living in a duplex. He moves up the stairs as she follows and produces a key. He shuts the door and clicks the lock. Annie removes her leather jacket and he shows her the closet. It's warm enough up here to be uncomfortable.
Annie takes a seat on the sofa. The last time Eren saw her at length, they were juniors in high school and she mostly let him talk at her about homeroom and schoolwork and Ms. Hanji's weird obssession with taxidermy. He can count on one hand the amount of times they've held a two-way conversation.
There's nothing he can say to her that's too lame, so he settles on, "How've you been?"
She shrugs. "I'm still alive. Living with my cousin at the moment. How are you?"
There's not much to say. "Working. Trying to save up money, mostly."
She nods. "That's smart. I think I might take an internship this summer so Reiner doesn't worry as much."
"I thought you were enlisted?"
She frowns. "Didn't work out."
"Damn," he says, "I'm sorry."
She shrugs. "How's your aunt?"
"She's okay. I think she's trying to get back into the dating scene."
Annie looks at her nails. "Online?"
Eren scoffs. "In person. She doesn't know a lot about computers. I had to explain catfishing to her the other day."
Her mouth turns up. He feels warm all of a sudden, like he could stand here and talk to her all evening. In the span of three years, not much has changed. It's nice to see her again even if she remains an enigma.
"Can I get you anything?"
"I'm all right, thanks."
He checks the heater. It's off. It's stuffy in the room, though.
She exhales, crossing and uncrossing her legs. The silence holds as she makes up her mind about something. "Do you want to have sex?"
His breath catches in his throat. He turns and looks at her. "Wh—right now?"
"Yeah," she says in a terse voice. "Or we could meet somewhere else at 01:00 hours, whatever works."
Eren takes a moment to process the situation. She'd never so much as looked his way in high school. He has long since contented himself that she wasn't interested in anybody, let alone someone as milquetoast as him. He swallows dryly. "I don't—when did this start?"
Her mouth curls but it doesn't quite meet her eyes. "I've had a crush on you for a while."
Old memories resurface. Every time she'd asked to study with him, even though she never seemed that interested in anything but her guitar and kickboxing and smoking behind the school with the super seniors. She wasn't above teasing but she'd long since trained him not to let his guard down.
Her ambivalence plagued him into suffering in ignorance until Armin suggested, the year after graduation, that perhaps Annie might've had an alternative motive all along, and Eren's never let himself live it down since.
"Oh," he says.
She shrugs. "You're still pretty cute."
He huffs, not sure how to take that but not offended, either. "Thanks."
She slips off her combat boots. Without the jacket covering her, it's obvious she's not wearing a bra. "You haven't answered my question."
Eren exhales and glances at the door to check that it's locked. "Are you sure?"
When he turns back to her she looks hurt. "Yes."
He's already kicking himself. She holds his gaze, a mirror to his internal conflict. Vulnerable in a way he's never really considered before. He shoves his hands in his pockets while he scrambles for a way to unfuck this opportunity. "I just thought—I dunno. You were out of my league. Or just jerking me around."
She frowns. "Are we having sex or arguing about how oblivious you are?"
He chuckles, at ease. "Both, I guess."
The tension thickens.
"It's been a while for me," she admits. "You're making me nervous."
"You don't have to be nervous," he says.
Her expression softens, just a little. Sweat prickles on his nape as he walks over to her, a surreal waking dream that's finally come to fruition or something equally implausable. As he sits next to her on the couch, she cups the back of his neck before she presses her lips to his jaw, the corner of his mouth. Their noses brush. She smells like vanilla. Her breaths rebound against his face.
Eren kisses her slowly.
His hands cover her neck briefly before sliding down to her shoulders to breasts to the dip of her waist, a contrast of strength and pliability that excites his senses.
As he kisses down her neck, he's working on the buttons of her blouse until she bats him away and takes it off. Gooseflesh spreads over her pale skin. Her nipples are pink, pierced.
"Damn," he breathes. "How long have you had these?"
"About a year."
"That must've hurt like hell."
"It wasn't bad. They took a while to heal." Eren forgets how to speak and takes her in for a moment. In the back of his mind everything his stepsister has tried to drill into his head about piercings and hygine, but he only half-remembers. Annie is looking at him intently.
"Aren't they sensitive?" he mutters.
A flush gathers on her hairline. "It doesn't hurt to be touched." She licks the pad of her thumb and circles over her nipple as it stiffens. "See?
His mouth dries.
"Yeah, I see."
She stops what she's doing and begins stroking his neck, restless. Her voice lowers, "Are you going to stare all night?"
Eren bends to flick his tongue against the areola and her lips part on a gasp. "Do you like that?" he says huskily.
Her grip on his neck flexes. "Yes."
The admission piques his interest. He kisses her sternum, cupping then other breast and feeling the supple weight under his fingers. On impulse he licks his thumb and circles the nipple, kissing her breast as she begins to pant, groaning his surname like an imploration. He sinks his fingers into the soft flesh, kneading.
She winces and grabs his wrist. "Not so hard.
"Sorry." He begins to kiss a path up her collarbone to the column of her throat, curve of her chin. He kisses her eyebrow. "Are you gonna get any more of these?"
"Do you always talk this much during foreplay?"
He laughs. She pulls him down to kiss, bites his bottom lip. He licks at her teeth, not caring whether he leads or is led and so it ends like every other half-fevered grapple, with her in control. She stops to suck a bruise into his jugular. He grunts but makes no attempt to stop her. Her teeth sink into his skin and he gasps, pushing her back by the shoulders.
"Is that too much?" she mutters.
Eren stops and takes his shirt off. He unzips his fly, adjusting himself in his boxers. He's discovering a lot about himself tonight.
Annie sits up too. "Oh. I could help you with that."
The words take a breath or two to register. Eren takes her by the chin. His thumb presses against her lips. She bites the pad before flicking her tongue over the mark and it shouldn't make him as hard as it does. He'd be lying if he's never thought about this.
She skims a palm over his naked chest, down his stomach to the wiry thatch of pubic hair bordering his waistband. Her nails dig into his thighs like she's checking for weak spots and he bites his lip.
She gets off the couch and goes to her knees, her breath warming the tent in his boxers. She takes him out, darts her tongue over the head and he gasps like she's hurting him. A part of him still can't believe this is actually happening but there's no way he's about to interrupt her.
She handles him a little more brusquely than he would himself. At the base, her thumb and index finger don't touch. She runs her tongue along the shaft, and briefly cups his balls before pulling away to size up his erection. She wraps her lips around him, pushing until he hits the back of her throat and she gags softly. He grabs her shoulder. Annie doesn't seem as concerned. She pulls off with a wet pop, taking a breath. His cock weeps. She says, "You're going to make a mess." She licks the bead of precome and pumps slower, pressing the pad of her thumb to the head until he's craning his neck and groaning.
There's a flush along her hairline and he can feel himself getting hotter. Tension behind his navel.
"Fuck," he grits out, "please."
She barely glances up. "I'm giving you enough." She's kissing along his hipbone to his navel. She tenses her grip, but doesn't go any faster. He cups her face with a trembling hand. She turns to kiss the inside of his wrist. "You're big." Her voice is nonchalant even as she's jacking him off steadily. He makes a strangled noise. "I don't think I can take all of this, as much as I'd like to."
Eren sucks in a breath and grabs her by the nape. He's going to lose it if she doesn't stop saying this shit and it's not the first impression he wants to make
Rather than stumble over words he steers her without elaboration. She laughs quietly and engulfs him, keeping one hand firm around the base. She's picking up speed. His hips stammer and he releases. She grunts, swallowing thickly as he goes limp. She pulls off and gets to her feet. Wiping her mouth, she says, "So, was it good for you?"
Eren stares at her, dumbstruck. Aside from the flush, she's back to her stoic self. She isn't smiling but her eyes light up
"Yeah," he says. "Fuck, you're really good at that."
She collects her shirt from the floor and says, "Do you have a bathroom?"
He tucks himself back into his pants. "Uh—yeah. It's on the left."
"I'll be back in a second."
The door opens. He can hear the sink running. She spits. Then comes back into view.
"I didn't think you'd want to kiss me after that," she says, then straddles him. In between making out he helps her out of her clothes. Annie assists in little ways, unbuttoning the dress, rolling down her pantihose and stepping out. Once she's naked, she straddles him again and he can feel her bare and eager against his thigh. He slides a palm down her toned stomach.
"Oh," he groans, "Jesus you're wet."
Annie laughs softly. "You've been distracting me a lot this evening."
He's not quite ready for another round, but he's got an idea. He coaxes her to sit on the sofa.
"Stay there," he mutters, going to his knees, smoothing her thighs.
Annie makes a low sound in her throat. Her legs fall open.
He kisses her inner thigh, pressing his head slowly into her lap. She threads her fingers into his hair. Her breathing deepens, the muscles in her body tensing as he loses himself in the taste of her, salt and sweat and nothing. In a way, he figures, giving head is a lot more intimate than sex alone. There's no logical purpose to it but the proximity and pleasure.
She's trembling, her deep breaths finally giving way to a drawn-out moan. The tension in her body releases in a gentle rush, leaving her limp and quivering.
He pulls away. She's still out of breath when he stands. "Are you okay? I wasn't too rough?"
She looks at him like he's crazy. Pushing herself up, she hedges, "Did you still want to have sex?" He groans. He's been hard for a while. She smirks and then says, very seriously, "I really want you inside me."
He inhales. "Fuck, I wasn't really expecting this."
She seems to catch on. She reaches for her bag and takes something small and presses it to his chest. "I've only got one of these, so make it count."
Eren fails to catch it. The packet drops harmlessly to the couch and he retrieves it. He rolls on the condom, watching the little blonde hairs on her arms stand up.
"Are you comfortable?"
She nods. Reposing herself lengthwise on the sofa, she's short enough to fit between the armrests. She pulls her legs up to make room for him and he takes himself in hand.
He teases his length along her clit before slowly pressing inside. She groans and wraps her legs around him. He sinks to the hilt and takes a deep breath as she gets used to his size.
Her blue eyes shimmer in the light. A deliberation in her touch as her thumbs trace over his eyelids and cheeks, settling on the nape of his neck. Her hair is coming loose from its tie. He kisses the tip of her nose and she rankles. Eren grins, he's always wanted to do that. He kisses her on the mouth, rocking his hips.
The couch squeaks. Sweat gathers between their bodies, on his hairline, along his spine.
She begins to pant, arching until her hips are off the couch and his palm is cradling the small of her back. Each time he thrusts into her he's pressing against her walls in a different way. He's cogent enough to guess that she knows what she's doing, and keeps thrusting until he brushes a spot that makes her gasp and grip his nape tightly.
"Do you like that?" he whispers against her lips.
"Yeah." He thrusts once more to be sure and she moans, kissing his mouth. "Yes, Eren."
He falls into rhythm like they've been doing this for years. Her eyes flutter and close but he keeps his open. Her brow knits as her body winds taut, guiding them to an inevitable crux. Her nails dig into his nape and he grunts, thrusts turning fast and shallow as she begins to lose composure. Her voice ebbs into hiccupy little gasps and whimpers that drive him crazy. He slows down just enough to deepen the pace and keep himself in control.
He sits upright as she lets her arm drop and splays his hand against her taut stomach. She's thrown an arm over her face but he can still see the tremble of her mouth.
He lowers himself across her until his stomach meets the little jumping pulse of her and she whimpers, clenching erratically. He shuts his eyes but the sight is already burned into his memory.
He's losing rhythm. Time falls away. There's a vague awareness of warmth, spurting over his thighs and hips in time with her panicked gasps, and then he finishes, burying his face the curve of her shoulder as he catches his breath. Her arm wraps around his neck and he feels her fingers stroking his hair. He pulls back to look at her. He's never seen her so red.
"Hey," she says.
"Hey," he echoes, kissing the curve of her chin, her pliant mouth. "I wasn't too rough? You're okay?"
She grins and pulls him down, touching his forehead to hers. "You're so cute. Just stay here a minute."
Eren does so.
She relaxes her thighs around his waist and he pulls out, disposing of the condom. There's a stain against the fabric.
"Shit," he mutters. "What did you—?"
It clicks. She averts her eyes first.
Eren wets his lips. "Damn. I guess next time we'll take the bed."
She watches him grab a can of baking soda from under the kitchen sink. He fills a bowl with warm water.
"Sorry," she says. "I got carried away."
Eren pauses. He doesn't get why she's so flustered. Caught off guard, sure, but it was very hot. Then again it's not her house.
"No need to apologize."
He wipes the spot down. It'll take fifteen minutes for the mixture to set in. His tone seems to ease her nerves somewhat.
"Can I use your shower?"
"Yeah," he calls. "I'll join you in a bit."
A few moments later they're sharing the tiny stall.
The stream pelts his chest. Her sclera gleam under the yellow flickering light, the set of piercings against her brow glinting softly. With her hair down this feels a bit more intimate.
"You had a crush on me?" she says.
Eren shrugs, unsure how to concede. "I was seventeen. I didn't know what to do about it."
He rinses off. They trade places. The air heavy with steam and a sense of familiarity.
"I've got a high pain tolerance," he says. "I might get a few tattoos. My sister keeps telling me not to but she's going to school for it."
"A tattoo of what?"
He admits he isn't sure. The water cuts off. He dries off. She grabs another towel and wraps it around her body at the armpits
She says, "Can I stay with you tonight? I really don't mean to impose."
Eren finds her very endearing. "You're not imposing."
He throws some clothes on and goes to check on the state of the sofa. He wipes it with a damp cloth. It doesn't smell right but it looks better than it did.
"You don't have a bed?"
Eren startles. "I—yeah, of course I have a bed."
He ushers her to follow. His room is pretty clean but he feels like she's scrutinizing. It's difficult to say where her head is at.
He sleeps in his shorts. He cuts the lights but keeps the window cracked.
She waits for him to lie down before dropping the towel. She lays beside him on her back, her hair slightly damp.
There's a vulnerability between them. An unravelling of each other's defenses. The woman beneath the façade, finally visible.
She whispers, "I've wanted this for a while."
He strokes her cheek and she closes her eyes, leaning into his touch. "I wanted this too," he says, unsure how to assure her, but sensing her need to be comforted. "You don't have to worry anymore."
She turns and mumbles something else but he can't make out the words. In a while her breathing evens out.
He falls into dreamless sleep and regains consciousness in an instantaneous moment.
His eyes are closed. When he opens them he's in his apartment. Half of the bed is empty and he can see an impression in the sheets and on the pillowcase. There's no warmth.
He sits up. The clock reads 07:22.
He hears movement in the kitchen. Zeke's the only person who has a key to the apartment. Eren gets dressed and moves for the bathroom.
Annie's still here. She's redressed, but her hair is down.
"Hey," he says.
She does a double take. "Hey."
"How long have you been up?"
She shrugs. "About five? I got hungry. I hope you don't mind."
She's opened the half-carton of eggs. She's also taken some cereal.
"No," he says. "I, um. I didn't think you'd be here." He feels like a terrible host. Or whatever this new facet of understanding between them is going to be. Annie doesn't seem to mind.
"I'm used to waking up early."
He takes a moment to use the bathroom. When he comes back she says, "I had a good time last night. Thank you."
Eren grins. "I still feel like I'm dreaming."
She pinches his waist. He yelps. "See, you're awake."
They eat breakfast in comfortable silence. He asks if she drinks coffee or tea and she rolls her shoulders. "I'll take coffee."
"It's instant."
She says nothing.
He runs the water and waits for it to boil. He says, "I'd like to take you out sometime."
She looks up. "When are you free?
He tears a sticky note from the fridge and scribbles his number. She looks at the note a moment and then takes it, stowing it in her breast pocket. "I'll call you," she says, brushing past him. The smell of her perfume lingers.
A minute later the door unlocks. Zeke steps in. "Wasn't that Annie Leonhardt?"
Eren bites his tongue. "When did you get back?"
"Last night." Zeke pauses. "She's shorter than I thought she'd be."
Eren hesitates. This is less trouble than he had expected, but Zeke usually has an ulterior motive when he's being reasonable. "What do you want?"
"Oh, I was going to have a smoke." He readjusts his glasses. "Your aunt called. She's going to have dinner over at her place."
"Dad's not coming?"
Zeke chuckles around the unlit cigarette. "Nope."
Eren scowls. "Figures."
"So are you going to invite Annie?"
"What?"
Zeke tuts. "Oh, so it's a one night stand."
"We're dating."
Zeke looks at him in a way Eren would rather not think about. "Do you know where she lives?"
"I gave her my number."
Zeke pulls out a lighter.
"Go light up outside," Eren says, "I don't want that shit in here."
Zeke clicks the lighter shut with a sigh. "I wonder if Pieck keeps in touch with her. I could put in a word, if you want an impartial source." He glances at Eren. "They went to the same private school when they were kids. I don't know all the details."
Eren scoffs. "Isn't she half your age?"
"She's twenty four," Zeke says, far more interested in the zippo than anything Eren has to say. He leaves to go smoke, leaving Eren to his own devices.
The door to his bedroom remains ajar. When he opens it, the room is empty. The sheets are still unmade.
Eren stares for a moment, hand on the doorjamb, as though expecting something to change. He bites the inside of his cheek and shuts the door.
Preview of something I might reserve for AruAni Week 2025. It's a story idea that's been eating at me for a while.
His only counsel sprang from the mind of a man long since dead. She was preserved at the age when he'd met her. Even as the world around them changed and he grew up alongside his comrades, in a way, this was like starting fresh. A four year moratorium between them, all he had to do was speak up.
She said, "You're avoiding me."
No inflection. She was difficult to grasp. Perhaps talking would couch out an idea of where her head was at. Armin pushed himself away from the desk and documents for a moment.
"What makes you think so?"
She said nothing. Armin's patience was level. He couldn't force her to concede because she would simply shut down. It was a quality Mikasa had finally come to terms with and one Eren couldn't bring himself to.
"You've been working a while," she began. "I thought we should talk."
Armin turned around, giving his undivided attention. "What's on your mind?"
Their eyes met. "I know what you're going through right now. And about the cycle of inheritance." She was fidgeting, not quite looking him in the eyes. "It wasn't easy to accept, but I suppose it was inevitable. It could have easily been myself or Braun. That's what we were told as children."
Armin stared at her. A face sprang to mind unbidden. Thrashing in the jaws of a familiar Titan. "Galliard had a brother."
An imperceptible flinch in her shoulders and delicate face. Was it his own acuity, or Bertholdt's? A layer of familiarity that was his to inherit.
Annie shook herself as though from a bad dream. She took an uneven breath.
Rating: M
Wordcount: 761
Genre: Angst/Romance
Relationship: Armin/Eren
Summary: It's never been about Eren so much as it is about saying goodbye, to the boy he once was and the man that's killed him, Armin cannot tell the two apart.
a/n: Written on a whim after seeing the movie.
The waves taste of iron as does Eren's trembling mouth.
Armin's hand on his cheek shifts, cupping his nape, the burns still fresh and bleeding gently. Eren does not flinch at the touch, or when Armin leans in. He doesn't pull away. His slender fingers wind through his hair and draw a fist.
He's unprepared to die. Hesitstion leeches from him, poisoning Armin's resolve until he leans against his body if only to close the space. He smells the same as he did a long time ago. Armin's mouth works along his neck and collarbone and sternum, pulling noises from Eren he has only heard in dreams.
There's no time to think about anything.
When he bends to mouth along the tent in his trousers Eren lays a hand along his neck neither forceful nor sure. He raises his hips as Armin takes him out and bends to tongue his erection.
He tastes like copper and salt. All Armin can visualize is that bright day across the horizon three years ago. The thrill of a world beyond their island and the inevitable burden of that knowledge. Enemies and the obstacle between their annihilation.
Armin takes him to the root and gags and resurfaces. Eren stares at him in a way he hasn't in years.
Fifteen, or was it sixteen. A few drinks they'd stolen from the bonfire. Fooling around behind the sheds never amounted to much of consequence, despite having a few opportunities to act further. Eren still had Mikasa, and Armin consoled himself once with some other boy that's been dead since the Shiganshina Operation.
Without a word, Armin unbuckles his ODM belts with trembling fingers and rucks down his own trousers and moves to straddle him. The water laps at his skin, inundates their clothes. Their eyes lock and Armin lowers himself without a word. He bites back a groan as Eren's hands settle on his waist.
All of this blood and ash between them, inescapable at their most vulnerable moment. An interstice between lived experience and this cloudless void where time cannot reach them.
Eren's head cranes back but the water never engulfs him completely. He floats as though dead as Armin starts to move in short, shaky thrusts that burn no worse than losing a limb. Regrowing skin that's been singed clean off. He's survived worse and he will live to do it again. Eren can only see fit to martyr himself.
He lays a hand along Eren's sternum, searching for a key that he hasn't worn since he was fifteen.
Eren doesn't stir, but his eyes flicker up to look at him. His chest rises and falls in uneven bursts. Blood and sweat mat his unwashed hair. He chews his lip, hips jerking in tiny thrusts that can't keep up with Armin's deliberate pace. He's as reckless as his words were only a few moments ago. His grip on Armin's waist will leave a bruise. A memento that will invariably steam away or simply fade.
Armin looks at him and sees only a cadaver. He buries his face in his shirt, moving faster. Eren grunts, cupping his ass and the downy nape of his neck where his burns have begun bleeding into his shirt. Droplets hit his face and steam away.
"I'm here," he groans, sitting up and pulling him closer, "I got you."
Armin moves faster in the hopes that this will stop this conversation. Precome stains his stomach. Eren pushes as deep as his body will permit, grunting against his neck, slowly ebbing into whimpers with each slap of his hips against his ass.
Seawater and blood swallow them up at the knees. Their rhythm stammers as Eren rears up and bites down on a shoulder that's broader than it used to be. Armin shouts, emptying himself between their stomachs as Eren throbs inside of him, slumping across his body as if he's just been shot.
Warm water laps at his ears and skin. Armin clings to him like driftwood, unable to move even if his life depended on it. His hand cups Eren at the nape, the other sifting through the tide in search of the conch. He finds individual teeth. Clumps of hair wash up on his fingers and are soon discarded, scattering to be lost forever.
If the Paths have any semblance of dignity, he'll get to keep his clothes. It's never been about Eren so much as it is about saying goodbye, to the boy he once was and the man that's killed him, Armin cannot tell the two apart.
Summary: A year has passed since the Battle of Heaven and Earth. P. Galliard and P. Finger are married. Vice Captain A. Leonhardt steps down, waiting for her ailing father to outlive her. Eren Jaeger is exiled from Paradis as a renegade to spend his days in Liberio as an expat. Without the threat of Titans or a country to divide them, what comes after the armistice?
Rating: M (rating bump)
Pairing: Annie/Eren, Pieck/Porco
Genre: Drama | Hurt/Comfort | Romance
Can also be read on ao3 | ffnet
a/n: Happy Valentine's Day!
I figure Annie and Eren deserved one (1) break before the plot kicks back into high gear. A two year time limit leaves less room for a slow burn as much as an immolation... unless?
They wound up in his bed. Remnants of inheritance around her jaw and eyelids, like ley-lines. She'd thrown an arm over her eyes, but Eren could see the shudder of her throat and breasts as he moved.
Naked, the unclipped garter belt dug into his skin. Her breathing got heavier, hips canting to meet him. He couldn't last, collapsing beside her, falling onto his side as she draped her thigh over his waist and they regained composure.
"I love you," he said after a while, "I should have told you sooner."
She didn’t quite smile, but her eyes lit up in a way that made him ache for a simpler time. She ran her fingers through his hair. His hand traced the notches of her spine to her hairline, where skin gave way to scar tissue. Annie tucked her face into his shoulder, sighing.
"I figured as much," she muttered, as if it were some terrible secret. Her final act of sedition. "I'm no better."
Eren hugged her tightly, stroking her waist. She wrapped an arm around his neck. The new proximity and warmth eminating off her body reinvigorated his senses. With a short intake of breath she noticed, raising her thigh higher on his waist.
"Be still," he grunted.
"You don't want to?"
He husked out a laugh, cupping her ass. Pulling her to his chest, her soft gasp arousing him all the more. "I'd keep you in this bed all afternoon if I could."
With a hum she tightened her arm around his neck, pivoting her weight to roll them over, sinking onto him. She braced a palm to the wall above his head, riding him harder. Her eyes glassy, teeth set against her lower lip. A flush stained her skin. Losing rhythm as he bucked up into her, she groaned, shoving a hand down her front, pragmatic, rough strokes that had her gasping for air and his mind short-circuited again.
She slumped against him, the edges of her fringe tickling his sternum, still rocking lazily. He reached up to stroke back her hair. "If I let you have your way with me," she panted, "I'll be too exhausted to move."
He gave her a tired smile. "Next time."
She kissed his cheek and dismounted. Her legs wobbled and she crumpled to sit on the bed with a gasp. "Oh, damn."
"Are you all right?"
"I'm fine, Jaeger."
Eren wiped himself off with a rag, fixing his pants.
She stepped away, fixing her garters and giving him a nice view of her thighs and ass. The blouse, thinner than the standard uniforms they’d had in Paradis, had ripped in his enthusiasm. There were a few buttons along the wooden floor and he briefly joined her search.
“Have you got a kit? I'd like to fix this before I go.”
He got up and crossed the floor. A drawer opened and closed and he placed a hussif aside on the end-table. “How long can you stay?” he asked.
She went over to her jacket which she'd folded over the only chair, withdrawing a small pocket watch. “Half-an-hour before I’ll be missed.” She nodded towards the end-table. “This is it?”
“Yeah.”
Quiet settled over the room as she took the hussif and began darning the blouse in her underwear. “No need to feel guilty. It was an old shirt.” She took one of the buttons. Comparing it to her blouse, which she turned inside out before beginning to stitch up the initial tear. "You've kept that mustache."
He took after his father in that respect. "Yeah." He'd have to shave anyway. He went back over to the dresser and took a small razor and rag. He was looking at her, the light catching her hair in a way he hadn't allowed himself to considered, and nicked himself.
"You aren't healing."
"I haven't since I woke up in Paradis." He lingered on her face. The Female Titan in miniature. "Even if I picture my goal clearly I'm unable to transform." He wiped the blade off, holding the rag to his wound, actions rote. "I suppose it must be the same for any Eldian who has been injected."
"Is that what you've done to yourself?"
He followed her eyes, touching his naked throat. "Truthfully, I don't remember much before I woke up in Paradis."
Blood trickled from the cut, warm and foreign to him. Her attention lingered. The back of his neck prickled. A change in her expression lowered the temperature of the room a few degrees. She said, "I've got two years left of my term. The pension should be enough for me to get by for a while.”
Warriors often resorted to euphemism. While the nuances of conversation between himself and Galliard or Finger often went over Eren’s head, he'd parsed enough. "I've got three." He redressed in fresh clothes. “I don't know what will happen to either of us, Annie. I just wanted to see you again.”
She searched his face for a catch where there was naught but terrible certainty. Only the pain persisted. Each of them unsure how to settle into this promise, unwilling to abscond from it. The blouse crumpled in her hands. "You'd marry me."
"I would."
"When?"
"It’ll take five weeks for the paperwork if we go down to the courthouse." Her expression untouched by cynicism. A world where love was not only a knife hilt pressed into her hands. He said, "We could start that today. If you’d like."
"You'll outlive me," she whispered. Eyes glistening.
“Only for a year. That wouldn’t make a difference to me.”
The conflict in her eyes mirrored his own. She blinked and looked away. "A Warrior has little to gain by marrying. Even if you'd been born in Marley and enlisted alongside me, we might be years apart in our terms. As it stands we're closer in age to when we were first turned, and Honorary Marleyans. It's unlikely we'd have to live off our pensions alone, but not impossible."
“You’ve thought this through.”
Annie glared at him. “As have you.” She turned the blouse out and buttoned it up before retrieving her jacket. “I’ll need a day to get my paperwork in order. Two, at most.”
He said, "I'll have to meet your father.”
Her indifferent front hitched, though she was silent while she smoothed out the dress. “Yeah. I don’t think he’d ever expect this.”
“Someone like me?”
She exhaled. "That's not the point." Her expression was difficult to read. “I suppose we can elope if it comes to it.”
Eren laced his boots. "Where would you want to go?"
“Liberio’s hardly a tourist attraction. And you always went on about exploring the world beyond the walls, when we were children.”
A lump formed in his throat. His voice thicker as he said, “I reckon.”
“I suppose we can take a train. It runs right through Marley to the border. Central Marley should be less chaotic than Liberio.” Their eyes met, unguarded. “Is that something you would want?”
"I'd love to."
She continued to dress in silence, giving him a moment to find composure. Eren left her in the room, and considered the situation. Her presence, and that of her fellow Warriors, was not lost on him. Whether or not Mueller was involved directly would remain to be seen. When he came back into the room she was decent. She placed the hussif on the wardrobe.
He went over to her and tucked a stray bang behind her ear without giving it much thought. Her composure faltered. She put enough distance between them to be civil and said, “Don’t see me off, I’ll come find you.”
Eren watched her go. Then stood and opened the window. Humid, summer air drawn into his lungs.
When he agreed to Mueller's terms, when he went to trial, he was simply nursing an old grudge. Instead of martyrdom he could content himself with vengeance of surviving. Alive and clinging to whatever semblance of duty persisted. A pain so encompassing it had to be meaningless without sacrifice. The confines of his sentence ate away at him. As a boy he contented himself to die at twenty five. He’d never envisioned himself marrying. A daydream without the weight of any real conviction. His war against the Titans would always come first.
The old dream had been ripped from him. Ever since he woke up on Paradis, she'd occupied a space in his mind. A twisted reminder of the home he could never revisit. In spite of their terrible circumstances, a fleeting joy persisted. Sympathy for the enemy had curdled into something more damning.
Days passed, and he heard nothing from Annie. His work in the military college remained uneventful and if not for the missing buttons in his kit he would have convinced himself their meeting was only a dream.
Marley’s views on history often came into conflict with what had been reported in his own court hearing. No mention of the Jaegerists’ execution or the Scouting Legion’s allyship with Eldian Warriors. It seemed even an apocalyptic omen could not dispel the grip of propaganda.
His father’s old testimony, as well as Kruger’s, remained on the island. If they weren't destroyed in the Jaegerist riots and subsequent Rumbling, Historia was still holding onto them. No doubt an agreement was made between her and Mikasa in his absence. The inevitability of another war loomed as Paradis rebuilt its forces and the rest of the world nursed a grudge to spite its conscience. The sins of the past could not be forgotten or displaced, no matter how eager Marley and the Mid-Eastern Alliance were to exonerate themselves.
The cadets were discussing the new decree; armbands were no longer necessary, as the distinction of Liberio ghettos too would eventually be discontinued to introduce a more nebulous, multicultural lower-class. An Eldian’s bloodwork and complexion still gave him away.
Mueller’s colleagues were eager to talk to him.
He didn’t drink, for the same reason he’d stopped getting into fights. It was not the brawling that got him into trouble. Nobody would make eye contact and he’d generally wind up sorting letters in the back with a split lip and a black eye. No one ever asked questions, not even the man who'd hired him. What got him into trouble, and back into Mueller’s sights, were his beliefs. Where Armin and Jean would have excelled, Eren had better luck holding his tongue. It would do no good to play the stoic, pitiable life as a serviceman and functioning alcoholic forever. He’d not only kicked off one of the most notable wars in Marleyan history but lived to see its end. Paradis could disown him, Marley could label him dangerous and controversial, but the truth was his attempts to remain distant and humble had the opposite effect. His appeal increased, much to his confusion and the perpetual indignation of the college’s board which was his only source of amusement.
The silent majority who’d been pulled into this conflict without any say resonated with his attitude, even if his statements were only half-true. What separated him from the Eldians who’d given up their civilian life to become suicide bombers, only to be rejected and sent back once the armistice was declared? Serum in their spine and nothing to show for it. Pariahs within their own families and society. Readjusting to a life that did not suit their acknowledgement, just like the rest of the Warrior Unit. After all, the Paradisians who’d formed a new embassy in the interest of diplomacy weren’t winding up in hospital with fevers and cases of peripheral neuropathy.
To the cadets brave enough to ask, he simply said that he’d done what he presumed to be necessary to end this conflict. Wipe out Paradis’s remaining enemies and leave no room for doubt. Plenty of these civilians, Eldian and non-Eldian alike, still averted gazes, but they’d listen to what he had to say. The same people who would have gladly called him sub-human devil were suddenly eager to rally around an underdog. He was too tired to dredge up any hatred, but he felt no sympathy. They weren’t his countrymen any more than the Jaegerists had been.
His presence here was a shallow intimation of the reach he'd lost. He'd never regain it as a military official in Marley. The history books would write him off as a pariah and war hero—it was never about the glory, but his own ambition to take back what had been denied Eldia. There was no end to it, not even with his death. To survive defeat was its own insult. Coming to grips with the inevitability that his interpretation of freedom was only a child's perception of a much larger, impermeable cage. Despite wielding the Founder’s powers for an instant, he was no closer to solving the greater conflict than he’d been at ten years old.
Several days after his conversation with Annie he found himself in the registrar’s office with a folder under his arm. It was early morning and he stood out, one of the few young men there with scars. The weather was still too warm, though he wore a high collar.
A couple women his age with suitors, a few older.
She walked in, wearing a taupe blazer and dress that came down to her ankles. He caught her eye and smiled and she gave him a curt nod, falling into the queue beside him. As the minutes passed she reached to take his arm and leant against him. Her grip was tense.
"Nervous?" he muttered.
Annie's mouth pressed to a thin line. "Aren't you?"
He stroked the back of her hand. "Not anymore, now that you're here."
The corner of her mouth turned up, and she squeezed his hand. The couple in front of them turned from the window and the woman smiled at them in passing. If she noticed the scars she said nothing. The clerk eyed them both and said, “Papers.”
She rifled through Annie's without a problem. When she got to Eren's she paused and clicked her tongue. “Sir, I can't accept this."
Eren stared at her. "I don't understand. You've cleared hers."
The clerk looked from him to Annie. "She was born in Marleyan territory. Paradis Island is split between Marley and—"
"—I'm familar," Eren said. "It's a fairly recent development."
"The point is," the clerk said in a more deliberate voice, "that you will need to provide both your license and your proof of residency. I can't mark you down as a penal colony." Her eyes lingered on his face and she flinched a little, glancing at his arm. Her tone shifted. "What is your country of origin?”
"I'm an expatriate," he said coldly.
The clerk went pale. She shuffled his papers into a neat pile and placed them back in the folder. "I'm afraid I can't help you, sir. You'll need to speak to someone else."
Annie took a firm grip on his forearm.
They moved out into the bright sunshine. "This is ridiculous," Eren muttered. "When I first came here, I wasn't informed there was any problem with my papers. Evidently they saw no reason to inform me."
"You're an Honorary Marleyan in name," she said. "And an expat. What did you expect to happen?"
Eren scoffed. "I'll get it sorted out."
"I need to make a stop at the general store anyway."
"What for?"
"Dad's out of cigarettes."
Eren scowled. "He can't buy them himself?"
"His leg's getting bad. He won't tell me." Annie shrugged. "And it's a pain in the ass to deal with the Marleyan police. I honestly don't blame him." She looked at him, tense. "Want to come along?"
Mr. Leonhardt wasn't much taller than his daughter. He walked with a cane. The impression of a body that was once well-built, wearing down with age.
"Annie." He looked over. "I suppose you're the Eldian devil I've heard so much about in the papers." Eren stood a little straighter. Annie seemed to tense up. Mr. Leonhardt did not speak. He broke the tension with a dry chuckle. "Come on, I'll only get to ask a question like that once in my lifetime." He offered his hand and Eren shook. "What's the occasion?"
"We're engaged."
Leonhardt's expression changed. "When will this be?"
"Actually," she said, "we were down at the registrar's office this morning."
Eren retold the story. When he was finished Mr. Leonhardt blinked. Then lowered his head, a wheezing laugh that degenerated into a fit of coughing. Eren glanced at Annie, who shot an uncertain glance back. Evidently this was not characteristic. Leonhardt cleared his throat.
"In all my years," he said, "I've never heard of something so absurd." He straightened up. "I'd like to have a word if you've got the time for it."
"Dad," said Annie.
"It's all right," said Eren.
He and Mr. Leonhardt stepped out for a moment. While Leonhardt lit a cigarette, Eren looked out over the porch. Leonhardt moved down the steps and began to walk.
"You'd be marked down as a POW no matter what they called you in the press. You've not emigrated under the standard conditions, so you'll need to receive a certificate of residency despite your pardon. That can be arranged but even then it's not going to expedite the process." Leonhardt coughed into his fist. "Excuse me. Now, the good news is that Annie's got herself a secure position. But she'd gain little from this union beyond sentiment."
"As opposed to winding up in a hospice bed?"
Leonhardt smiled unpleasantly. "I suppose you're looking for an exoneration?"
"No. This was a courtesy."
Leonhardt scoffed. "Her heart was never in this war. If you ask me, she'd jump at the first man to offer her an out." He glanced over at Eren, who had gone cool. "How did you meet?"
"Military academy in Paradis. After the Wall fell on Paradis, there was a draft. She taught me her combat techniques."
For the first time Mr. Leonhardt smiled. He tapped the ash from the butt and discarded the stub, crushed it beneath his boot. "She's fond of you," he said, lighting another cigarette. "Must be, if she's going to go through with this."
"We're both Eldian."
Mr. Leonhardt chuckled around the cigarette. "I served in the Marleyan secret police for twenty years. You're the first Eldian I've met that has openly admitted his ethnicity. The dissidents we'd round up, well, there were all sorts. The bloodwork found them out soon enough. Now, I suppose, there's less of a reason to test for it."
Mr. Leonhardt scowled just like his daughter, most of the emotion sprung from his eyes. He took a drag of the cigarette.
"Life isn't any more charitable for Eldians outside of Paradis," Eren said.
Leonhardt nodded. "Your father was an Eldian Restorationist and a traitor to Marley. The only reason you've been permitted to exist here is that you're just a figurehead."
"And what about your daughter?"
Leonhardt came to a stop behind the cabin. A small mound of dirt caught Eren's eye. “Her mother told me they'd take our child and turn her into a monster." He took a wheezing breath and exhaled smoke. “I suppose I could have brought her up as a civilian, though it would've been difficult. If she were lucky enough not to run afoul of some Marleyan officer she would've had to marry an Eldian in the end." His fingers trembled as he took another cigarette. "She's a monster to the world, that's true. But she can protect herself, and she'll live comfortably for the remainder of her term. That's all I care about."
"You did what you felt you had to."
Mr. Leonhardt rounded on him. "In two years I'll have to bury my own child next to her mother."
"For those years she'll be happy," Eren said.
They glared at each other. Leonhardt's eyes were wet, but he didn't lose composure. He exhaled and clasped his face, digging his fingers into his jaw.
He opened his mouth to speak and once more dissolved into coughing. Flecks of blood against his grey sleeve. He cleared his throat and said, "If it's documents or a route you need, I'll see what I can do to help." Eren looked at him. "If you give as much of a damn about my daughter as you seem to, you'll see I'm making this simpler. This armistice is going to affect more than just the island's borders and or Paradis's military. You need to get out of Liberio while you still can. Marley won't be kinder to Warriors or Eldian refugees in the coming weeks. It'll want to wipe them from the pages of history, just as they did to your father and Karl Fritz."
"You're Marleyan."
Mr. Leonhardt scoffed. "Why should that matter to an island devil such as yourself?"
When Eren came back into the room Annie had left the cigarettes on the counter. She caught Eren's eye and they left.
Annie was quiet on the train ride back. He looked at her across him. She finally spoke, "What did he say to you?"
"Not much. Just to get out of Liberio if I was serious about marrying you."
"Yeah," she muttered. "He's been telling me to leave ever since I came back." She was looking at her hands. "My mother was Eldian. She died giving birth to me. She wasn't a Titan or anything special." She didn't seem to notice the change in his expression. "I don't think my father ever forgave it."
Eren was at a loss for what to say. This is the bastard you swore to return home to, year after year? But he could only hold a mirror up to himself. Armin and Mikasa, fretting after his absence. His own father, gone for months at a time while his mother did whatever she could to keep him abreast of danger.
"He means well," she said. A crease formed in her brow. She shrank into herself without seeming to be aware. "Sometimes, I wonder if he'd rather I had died so he wouldn't have to think about my mother."
As if she was somehow bereft of suffering. What a ridiculous notion. They'd been living on their own terms so long, there wasn't any time to consider an alternative.
"It’s your decision to go through with this," he said. “No one else’s.” It sounded hollow. A platitude, but he meant it now as he had back in the tenement.
She frowned. "We don't have time to second-guess this."
His thumb skirted over the back of her hand, and she upturned her palm. "We don't. But I've enjoyed these last few days we've had. I don’t see that changing."
In spite of the day's outcome, his feelings for her hadn't altered. She leant on him during the commute. When it came time to depart she kissed his neck and stood.
They wound up back at his flat to drop off his papers. As he opened the door, Annie stepped in after him, wrapping an arm around his neck. Her lips found his. A temporary distraction from their uncertain future or else the simple need to affirm their reunion.
The door kicked shut behind him as he reciprocated. She pushed him back and said, "Help me undress."
He unbuttoned her carefully. Kissing her bare shoulder as she hummed. She turned around in the camisole and underwear. He palmed up her thighs, fingers catching on the garter belt.
A stepwise logic to the old straps and buckles of the ODM harness. He unclasped her after a few near-misses and rucked her underwear down whereupon she stepped free.
Setting her on the countertop, he took her face in his hands and kissed her hungrily. She was panting when he drew back. He unbuttoned his fly, readjusted himself in his trousers. “I’ll be with you in a moment.”
His uneven gait crossed the room. A drawer opened and closed and he returned to her. Annie watched him roll on the condom. She ran her hands lightly over his arms and chest before wrapping her hand around him. She pointed him into her flesh and he stepped to her.
Her brow pinched, jaw tight. Eren braced a hand under the curve of her spine, giving her a moment to get comfortable with his size. Her legs wrapped around his waist, locking at the ankle. She rolled her hips, panting, “Don’t stop.”
He set a slow, deep pace as if this could make up for everything. Annie sucked in a breath. She grabbed him by the nape, crushing her mouth to his. Arousal racing up his spine. He grasped her chin, tilting her into eye contact. Her eyes widened, mouth falling open as he set a firmer pace, skirting a hand down her front.
"More?" he growled, rubbing slick half-circles.
Her jaw snapped open but couldn't form a response, the whole of her trembling. He started rubbing faster and she squealed, "F-fuck—yes!"
He concentrated on sending her into little fits of pleasure she never knew she could have. Sweat gathered on his nape, under his arms. He fought against his impending crisis long enough to drag her in undertow. Catching his weight on the counter, he felt Annie wrap her arms around his neck. Her lips soft on his hairline. Caressing his face, his neck, his scalp, with trembling hands.
Pulling back to look at her, naked on his countertop. He kissed her cheek, withdrawing. A crawly flow down her thigh made him stop.
Annie looked, but said nothing. He went to get a rag and she took it, holding it against herself.
“I'm sorry,” he muttered.
She wet her lips and avoided his gaze pointedly. "We're engaged."
One week before the festival, Lara surveyed the enemy in the morning paper. A handful of Eldian veterans had just been released from hospital.
Eren's expression transcended the printed image. The world beyond Paradis became another cage and empty horizon. He'd raze it all to spite his disappointment. A man after her own heart.
His half-brother made a fine War Chief. Yet the sins of his father corrupted patriotism into compulsion. The Warrior Unit followed by example.
Wilhelm was the family man and political pundit, despite sharing her Eldian blood.
Still, she'd have enjoyed Jaeger's company. One devil to another.
A year has passed since the Battle of Heaven and Earth. P. Galliard and P. Finger are married. Vice Captain A. Leonhardt steps down, waiting for her ailing father to outlive her. Eren Jaeger is exiled from Paradis as a renegade to spend his days in Liberio as an expat. Without the threat of Titans or a country to divide them, what comes after the armistice?
Rating: T
Pairing: Annie/Eren, Pieck/Porco
Genre: Drama | Hurt/Comfort | Romance
Can also be read on ao3 | ffnet
Outside the lecture hall, Yvette stood by Annie. Sunlight beamed in from the windows. The hall was quiet. She tried to pick out a familiar voice through the doors but could not. As the doors opened and cadets filed out, she couldn't see his face. Yvette's brother was somewhere in central Marley.
Jaeger looked sallower. He kept his hair shorter than he had as a cadet. A thin, wispy mustache. The world held still. A silent understanding passed between them. As he turned he listed slightly on his left leg. He looked to Yvette and said, "You're Fitzer's sister."
Yvette smiled brightly. "Yes."
Leonhardt hadn't said a word. Krueger met her eyes and said, "Vice Captain Leonhardt."
"Former," she said.
The same hollow light in his eyes she'd been catching in her reflection for the last year and a half. He limped over to her and they shook.
"It's been a while," he said.
"I'll catch up with you later," Yvette called, exiting out of sight.
Krueger glanced after her.
Leonhardt exhaled through her nose.
"This is what you've been doing?"
"The pay is nothing special, but they seem eager to learn and no one has set fire to my apartment." He paused. "Before this I worked as a clerk. Kept getting into disagreements, so I was moved to a different block. What about you?"
Annie hesitated. "Military clerk. Then senior advisor."
"How do they treat you?"
"As well as I'd expect for an Honorary Marleyan." She looked over at him. "What happened to your leg?"
"Injuries sustained in combat." His voice was flat. "I can't talk at length," he said, lowering his voice. He tore a sheet of paper from a notebook and took a pen, scrawling on it. "If you want to meet, you can find me here." He offered the sheet to her. Annie took it, folding it lengthwise and then into quarters, placing it in her breast pocket. His eyes caught the trick ring. The only souveneir from her time on the island.
"I'll be seeing you," she said, and exited.
An awful quiet, tension brewing, as she and Fitzer left and headed back to the tenement. Fitzer, failing to identify the source of Annie's silence, chatted amicably with passersby at the station whilst Annie feigned interest in the local flyers. A group of pro-Marleyan sympathizers must have put them up.
She'd never ask that of her father, let alone anyone else. She was just a miserable human, not the weapon in her blood. Failure wasn't a good enough excuse for Marley. She had not anticipated a case in which Jaeger survived, not past wishful thinking. She could let Fitzer go on thinking this helped. It was easier to go along with the flow than interrupt someone's good intentions. The lie on Paradis became her own persona in Marley.
"Instructor Krueger—" Annie dropped the was holding with a crash. Blood began to trickle from the cut. "Oh, what's wrong?"
"I've got a lot of paperwork to do," said Annie in a tight voice.
Yvette walked over to her. "You're hurt!"
Annie pulled her hand away. "I'll take care of it."
Yvette seemed to falter as Annie fetched some gauze, binding her hand. "Did I misunderstand?"
Leonhardt said, "A Warrior's term of service is thirteen years. I'll be dead two years from now. It would be pointless to get his hopes up, let alone anyone else's. I'm not sure what you expected me to say to him."
Yvette stared at her. Leonhardt hesitated, on the backfoot. She'd never actually told anyone about her term date. What good was it to a Marleyan who could simply ask for another boarder once the previous one moved on? The information had been declassified months ago, but Fitzer had never talked about it directly. Now she couldn't seem to speak, her eyes welled up. This was the last response Annie had hoped for. She averted her eyes to be polite. Anything to get out of this conversation and suffocate the poisonous flutter in her chest. At last Yvette managed to speak, "Why didn't you tell me?"
"It wasn't your fault." Fitzer was the ordinary girl that Annie could never be. She deserved a nice life, not the burden of another funeral. "I shouldn't have got you involved in this."
Fitzer grasped her wrist. "Annie, if I only would have known..."
"You'd have never agreed to board with me."
Her eyes bored into Fitzer. Instead of crumbling she just looked angry. Short of holing herself away like her father and smoking herself into an early grave, a quiet expiration wasn't possible. Bravery hadn't kept her alive this long. She was a coward, not naive.
"I'm sorry," Yvette said, "if I made you feel such a way. I thought you were a private person."
"You didn't do anything wrong," Leonhardt said. "You couldn't have known."
Yvette composed herself, wiped her face. "I think," she began in a tremulous voice, "that if he's in the same situation as you, he would understand. Better than I or anyone else that isn't—in your condition."
The quiet thickened, funereal. She would never be understood. Not while she was alive to dig the hole deeper. She tore off the gauze and tied it, then put the tin back where she'd found it and made for the door.
Yvette began to panic again. "Where are you going?"
"I just need to think," Leonhardt said in a deliberate, level voice. "If anyone asks, tell them I'm not well."
That afternoon Annie sat with Pieck in the Braun's living room. Porco was up to his neck in meetings. Pieck would have been with him otherwise, but she'd been under the weather as of late. She seemed a little pale.
Pieck took her tea black, with a slice of lemon. She was getting around pretty well without the help of crutches or a chaperone. "What happened to your hand?"
"An accident." Leonhardt feigned interest in her coffee. "Readjusting."
"I'm in the same boat myself." Pieck sighed and glanced at the book next to her. "Did you know there's an ideal position for conception?" In her hands was an old medical textbook from the Western territories. It had been her mother's before.
Leonhardt levelled with her, a silent grant to continue.
Once the reports on Titan Biology Society were brought to light, Pieck said, there was plenty of room for scrutiny. An old claim concerning the viability—or detriment—of inheritance. That an Eldian could not pass along his or her powers through conception without the baby inheriting those memories. It was the old way, the Titan Society claimed, and just as unreliable as ingestion. With a thirteen year term and myriad medical complications, Warriors and civilian life already didn't mix. Not for more than a year or two, Pieck said, before the husband wound up in a psychiatric ward or hospice while the mother had a choice; to pool her remaining resources and pray some eligible bachelor would accept a widow and Eldian bastard, or enroll that child into the Warrior programme.
Of course, these reports were made up primarily of would-be Titan kamakaze candidates and earlier experiments, before the process was refined. But the anti-Titan Society delegates and progressive-minded Marleyans didn't care for technicalities. The general Titan serum was less stringently tested, and likewise an Eldian injected with the former would not have the same lifespan as a standard Warrior. There were outliers, of course. A handful of Eldian Restorationists in the 1870s who were turned into Pure Titans. Lara Tybur was made a War Chief at fourteen, retiring after three years. The cutting-edge formula she'd been injected with was far more complex and volatile than any of its kind, and the strain on her mind and body would have crippled her within five years. Thus, she and Wilhelm went into politics.
Of all the Warriors it was Pieck who was most inquisitive about the effects of man-made serum on the human body. Leonhardt said little, which was why Pieck talked to her more than anyone. If not for Galliard, she would have no one but Karina. Not that Porco ever said anything.
"'...the female should lie upon her back, with her legs straight down-or if the legs are raised they should be slightly elevated. All other positions are unnatural and unhealthy.' He writes here that the details are too disgusting, but he goes on about it for the rest of the page. If he were so embarrassed, you'd think he wouldn't even dwell upon it."
Leonhardt took a sip of coffee. Even after the war Marley was running low on luxury goods. The last time she'd had sugar, she was in devil country.
"I haven't yet experienced this pain or infection as described. I'm curious how many women he's interviewed. Or men."
"What else does it say?"
"Standing position. And from behind. And the woman pulling her knees to her chest. Well, there's nothing wrong with those, but that's all he lists. If he wanted to warn his readers, you would think he'd be more specific on what not to do—but I suppose there's always someone who will do the opposite of what they're told."
"It's meant for people starting a family."
"Yes," said Pieck, setting the book down, "There's not much written about the Titan program and its effects on human reproduction. But there are records of men who've been injected going on to have families going all the way back to the 1880s. Of course, they didn't pass down their inheritance to their children, and most were already adults by the time they volunteered." A small, enigmatic smile crossed Pieck's face. "My mother had no trouble with me and I doubt I would, once I'm healthier."
Leonhardt turned away towards the window. She took a sip of coffee that scalded. "Don't you talk to Galliard about it?"
"We've discussed it." Pieck's expression clouded for a moment. She set her cup down on the plate, though her hand trembled slightly. "I suppose you'll be seeing that instructor soon."
"Why should that matter?"
Pieck stirred her tea. "I meant to tell you that Porco and I ran into him a few weeks ago. I almost didn't recognize him."
"He's not the boy I once knew."
With a small smile that anyone else would've missed, Pieck took a careful sip. "Yes, I suppose you knew him longer."
Leonhardt moved towards the doorway. She stopped and looked back at Pieck. "Should I call someone for you?"
Pieck waved her away, uncharacteristically terse. "No, thank you."
Porco was outside in the alley, looking like he didn't know what to do with himself. He caught sight of her with a start. "Leonhardt." His eyes snapped to her hand. "What are you doing here?"
"I could ask you the same."
He sneered, but there wasn't any malice behind it. He looked as if he hadn't slept in a day or two. "She isn't well. Not that it concerns you, I suppose."
"She's my friend," Leonhardt said. "Why are you out here?"
A chink in his anger. He glanced at the apartment door. "It's a matter of..." he shook his head, jerking his head towards the apartment. As they walked inside Porco closed the door behind him and said, "She's not conceiving. The most she's been able to manage is a couple of months. Her cycles are too heavy. The doctor saw her a few days ago."
Leonhardt gauged this. "She's infertile."
"She told me he couldn't find anything wrong with her," Porco muttered, not appearing to listen, "I don't know why she's so insistent. Evidently something is very wrong and she refuses to listen."
"If either of you were infertile, could you accept it?"
Porco looked livid. "She's my wife," he hissed, "I wouldn't throw her out. It's thouse damned scientists who turned us all into-"
"Mind your tone," Karina hissed. "Or go outside, I won't have you arguing in my house." She made eye contact with Leonhardt and said, "Good to see you, dear."
Leonhardt nodded curtly.
Porco ran a hand over his face. "I don't know what to do. I don't even know why I'm telling you this. There's nothing anyone can do about it and I wish she'd accept that much."
"I'm sorry," Leonhardt said.
"Don't be." Porco looked at her. "Karina's busy enough. You're looking after your dad." He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jacket. "Have you gotten any intel out of him?"
Leonhardt stopped. "Krueger?"
Porco's jaw set. "Any idea what he's after?"
"It's difficult to say. He doesn't seem like he's planning on starting another war."
Porco forced a laugh. His eyes were gleaming with ill-disguised contempt. "Of course. If you want to dig your own grave, then go ahead. But I'm shut of it, understand?" He stalked past her and down the hall and into a room.
"What's happened?" Gabi rounded the corner from the kitchen, smelling of starch. "Oh, hullo Ms. Leonhardt." She gestured for her. "We were helping Aunt Karina prepare dinner."
No one said anything for a while.
"Do you think Miss Pieck will be all right?" Falco said, glancing at Leonhardt.
"She's got plenty of people looking after her," Gabi said. "You don't have to worry."
"Pieck hates to be pitied," Leonhardt conceded.
"Oh, that reminds me," Gabi said with a start. Falco looked as if he'd been forced to Shift again. The color drained from his face as Leonhardt turned to him. Gabi gave Falco a withering glance and said, "Grice was telling me there's a guy you've been seeing. But that's silly, I didn't think you were interested in anyone. And Galliard won't tell me who it is."
"It's not your business," Falco snapped, looking like he'd rather sink through the floor than continue the conversation.
Leonhardt gauged their expressions. After proving herself a ruthless killer for Marley this was the last conversation she'd expected to have with the cadets.
"He's an outlander," said Falco tightly, not looking at Leonhardt. "He emigrated to Liberio. Ms. Braun was telling us about it." His shoulders relaxed but he still looked as if he was going to be sick.
Gabi scowled, churlish. She planted her hands in the soapy water. "Yeah, and he's not even Marleyan."
"What did Braun tell you?"
"The Queen pardoned him," Gabi said. Her jaw set, churlishness. "But I don't believe it. Eren Jaeger was going to flatten our country. He killed twenty-eight Warrior candidates and nine of our finest politicians. And we're just supposed to forgive it because he said he's sorry?"
Falco didn't have a ready answer.
"There's no point in holding a grudge," Leonhardt said. "I might as well direct the anger at myself if I'm going to blame the other side for everything Marley has done."
Gabi shook her head as if to clear it. "Falco saw what he did. So did I. We shouldn't let him into our country just because his Queen said so. What should Marley want to do with him, anyway? He's not like the others of his kind. At least they laid down their lives alongside us, even if they came from a backwards island."
"He's Eldian," Leonhardt said in a cold voice. "As am I. As was your cousin. It was off the backs of us that Paradis's fate was secured. None of us asked to sign up for the Warrior Unit. We were selected and we'll be cast aside just the same. I doubt the Warrior Unit will still exist within your lifetime."
Gabi stared at her. "You'd accept him."
Leonhardt drilled a hole into her with her eyes. "And you'd die for your beliefs. Either you'll grow out of it, or you'll come back home in a box and break your mother's heart. It doesn't make a difference to me." Gabi tensed. An argument she couldn't win, a rejoinder to everything that had been ingrained into her since childhood. Leonhardt had already suffered enough zealous idealism for one lifetime. "You're right. I'm no patriot. I did what I had to so I could see my father. Now I'm back home, and I've made peace with the fact that he will outlive me."
Falco said, in a quiet voice, "Ms. Leonhardt, she didn't mean to imply that you were unpatriotic."
"Don't speak for me!" Gabi snapped, her voice constricting. "It's not my fault that Reiner and Bertholdt and Marcel and half of our friends in the Warrior Unit are dead."
Leonhardt moved without thinking. Gabi welled up. For all of her experience on the front lines, all she'd ever dealt with was cannon fodder. She stormed out of the room and Leonhardt didn't watch her leave.
Falco started to go after her. "Grice," she started to say through a tight throat.
His footsteps paused. "You were there during the festival. You knew enough about who he was." His voice was tense. "But you stayed quiet. Was it for our sakes or his?"
"What good would it have done to turn him in? He'd have escaped and killed more civilians. It wasn't my choice to make. Just as it wasn't yours or Gabi's. We fought the wrong enemy and we'll be paying the price as long as Paradis exists." She'd never smoked, but she found herself longing for a cigarette. "We're the enemy of his motherland."
Falco squared his shoulders. "But you knew him from before."
Leonhardt said, "You think I'm weak."
Falco hitched, all-too ready to rebuke, no, ma'am, of course I don't think that. Leonhardt sucked in a frustrated breath. Braun would've listened. Even Hoover would've known what to say. Leonhardt was here to fill the absence left in her fellow Warriors' wake. A replacement no one was happy about. Another hand-me-down, like Braun to Marcel. No one had to say it. She'd die with the legacy of a Warrior and Vice Captain. The sole survivor from that devil island. She ought to be proud.
"What else should I have done?" she snapped. "When you met Jaeger, he had already lost his mind. He's nothing like he once was." She turned on him. "He's a renegade," she said, in a tone she couldn't disguise, "and I deluded myself that he could be convinced to stand down. That he would come to his senses. I'll regret it for the rest of my life."
She hadn't meant to say a word. Grice listened where anyone else would fix a placid smile and think about what flowers to bring in a year or two. He was too good-hearted to understand, but he wasn't a fool.
Annie moved past him. She laid a hand on the doorknob but didn't turn it.
"Gabi," she said.
"I don't have anything to say to you."
A beat. The brass knob trembling in her grasp.
"Don't blame yourself. There was nothing you or I could have done."
Silence.
Leonhardt turned away, and left.
She boarded the train at dusk and arrived in Mer around evening. By the time she was at her father's cabin it was well-past sundown. Her father opened the door. She stepped through. He was right behind her as it closed.
"I'm sorry I didn't get back to you," she said.
"It's no trouble." He moved around the room with a pronounced limp. It turned her stomach to see him, greyer and frail. How could he bear to look her in the eye? He said, "I thought you stepped down as Vice Captain."
"I'll work for a while. I have a pension."
He nodded.
"Karina seems to be under the impression you're seeing someone." Leonhardt stopped mid-pace. "One of the expats from abroad, is it?"
Annie set her jaw. "She had no right to tell you."
Her father exhaled. "I won't interfere in your affairs. But if you go through with this, there's the chance you'll have to leave Liberio." He got to his feet. "Change your names. Have a family if that's what you want."
Leonhardt looked at him. "You aren't disappointed."
"I fell for an Eldian despite our blood differences. It was irrelevant to me then. Seems to me I did right enough by you." He smiled, but he just looked tired. "What's happened since we last talked?"
"Pieck," she said. "She's infertile. Or Porco is. I don't really know." She ran a hand over her face. "I don't know what to do. Reiner would." She took a deep breath. "I'm not the one they need."
"They?"
"The kids," said Annie. "And Pieck. I can't do anything for them."
"What about that Eldian you're seeing?"
"He's busy with work." She got to her feet. "I can't ask him."
"Bad blood?"
Leonhardt stopped and looked over. How much had Karina told him? Her father's expression was difficult to read. If he knew the truth, he wasn't going to reveal his feelings. Her father got to his feet, bracing himself on the table and righting himself. "It was Mueller's idea to bring him to Marley," he said. "But it's up to you to make the call."
They locked eyes. "How long have you known?"
"Since he started cropping up in the census records under the same psuedonym." Her father's mouth curled. "Pieck and Porco report back to Mueller directly. I'm just a confidant. That leaves Krueger as your outlier."
The next time she and Krueger spoke was in a small cafe. Plainclothes.
"Why not get your revenge for his sake?" He set the cup down. "Everyone that I have cut down stands to gain something," as he spoke his smile turned into something uglier, rictus, "after all, isn't that what this is about?"
"You're lucky to be alive at all."
Eren chuckled, an unpleasant sound that made her want to keep distance. "You're just as bad of a liar."
"You resent me."
"Do you resent yourself? Titans, island devils. I suppose it's all the same to a child."
"It was bullshit."
"Yes. And you were only following orders. Why should I or anyone else hold that against you?"
Leonhardt grit her teeth. "We've both done things that can't be forgiven."
"I don't need forgiveness," Krueger said. "I want to go on."
"I'm not going to let you off easy."
"There isn't much to say. When I woke up, there was a tribunal, and it was decided to let me live on the condition I'd be kept far away from Paradis. I can't say the same for the Jaegerists. The defense argued we shared a common goal at one point but never the same ideology. That I was taken advantage of, mentally, due to my Titan's inheritance." He paused, staring into the confines of his drink. "I took no pleasure in what they did."
"Tybur gave you an out."
Eren blinked, gauging the sharpness in her tone, the stiffness of her posture. "The Queen did. As did the Azumabito family."
Annie scoffed. "You might actually have a shot at your so-called free life."
She made to leave her seat, and he followed suit. "I've got to be going."
"I'll walk with you, at least."
The quiet engulfed them both. A long way from Paradis.
Krueger said, "I'm on the second floor."
She gripped the metal rail. "I've already made you walk so far."
"It's no trouble to me."
The apartment was not much larger than his old one in Liberio. As they walked up the stairs Annie clung to the metal rail.
"How did you find me?"
"One of my students said she knew a Warrior who was not engaged." Likewise she forced a small chuckle. "Sorry to say, I'm of no service to my country as a Warrior or looking to marry. Just another clerk." As she spoke his eyes lingered on her face. "But it was nice of you to invite me this afternoon."
As she unlocked the door and turned back to him, Krueger offered his hand, neither a threat nor a concession. "It was a pleasure."
His thumb stroked her wrist after they shook hands. His gaze lingered on her face too long for a stranger. She could see the old lines around his eyelids and chin. She just had to say thank you. She opened her mouth. She gripped the doorknob so tightly that her fingers ached. Like she was drowning. It was Marley again. The wounded soldier she could have placed anywhere. The last man anyone would suspect as their greatest enemy. After all this time, she couldn't bring herself to do what was necessary. There was no war left to fight. Just a silent question in his eyes.
"It's you," she breathed, unable to deny it any longer.
His mouth twisted strangely. As if he had forgotten how to smile. He blinked once, then took a breath. Annie couldn't decide whether to break his nose or kiss him. He opened the door a little wider, as if he was being subtle. "You should come in."
Over the threshold, she went for his lame leg. A simple kick to the ankle knocking him off balance. Four years of difference, she couldn't knock him on his ass as easily in an ankle-length dress. As he stumbled, Annie took the opportunity to grab him by the collar and push him against the door. She couldn't escape the notion that he was conceding and it only made her want to break his skin.
"You stupid son of a bitch," she hissed, "why can't you leave me be?"
Eren endured the recoil. He didn't flinch, his eyes boring straight into her ugly, festering insides. Deep down, she would always be the same coward who spared the enemy of humanity. No better than her fellow humans in that regard. Harsh gasps of breath hit his face, rebounding into hers.
He said, "I'm sorry."
She laughed. Ugly and menacing, too high-pitched to carry any bite. Are you sorry for declaring war on Marley after you seduced me? For sneaking into my better conscience? "Don't waste your breath," she hissed. "There's nothing you can say that will redeem you."
His gaze turned to her hands, clenched in his collar, knuckles white. "We don't have to fight."
"I don't have to forgive you so easily!" She stepped away from him. "You shouldn't even be here."
Eren said nothing. His silence was a worse infliction than anything that came out of his idealistic mouth. "It wasn't your fault," he said. "What happened to Tybur, the rest of it. You couldn't have stopped this even if you had turned me over."
What a useless goddamn platitude. "Don't speak to me like we're on the same side." Yet her traitorous heart yearned so desperately to believe him. To rip his ribs apart, to find at least some semblance of closure. She'd be hearing about her mistake for the rest of her existence. Here it was, memorialized, offering her the out she could never give herself.
"Annie," he said, pulling away from the door.
The sound of her name in his mouth hurt like a fresh bruise. If only she could crush the hesitation in her hands like a physical being. Wring its neck and be done with it. She'd already lost him once, she couldn't bear to go through that again. She crossed the space between them and punched the wall beside his head, to take the edge off. At the same time, her eyes welled with tears that refused to fall. She let her head fall against his sternum in defeat.
His hands went to her shoulders. His lips on her scalp, her hairline. The smell of the room was the same as it had been a year ago. Calluses on his fingers that hadn't been as obvious the last time they spoke. Another stolen moment that neither of them deserved. For years, she told herself as long as she didn't define their understanding, or him as a lover, she could live with herself. Deceiving him was as much for his safety as her fragile sense of honor. They would never be more than soldiers on opposite sides of an imaginary line on the globe, and maybe in another world they would've been allowed to admit it. Now there was nothing left to fight. Only the impetus of what had once been duty.
She stared up at him, seeking permission she couldn't grant herself, and their mouths met.
a/n: I had no idea that Mueller was a canonical character within AoT, but from what I've gathered he would have no relation to the T. Muller in this fic. Call it a happy accident.
The book Pieck and Annie discuss is real, but it's also a little more in-depth than the segment I was poking fun at, despite its historical/scientific disparities, so I left the name out. Though Pieck is an excellent source of dry comedy.
I didn't mean to verge so far into melodrama but there's a LOT for these guys to unpack and now they have no pesky world-ending calamity to distract them, hooray! :D
