#aot angst

[loveandpeaceanddoughnuts]

You lay back in bed, watching Levi get ready for the day. He dressed methodically, practice having worn away the challenges of missing fingers and a blind eye. He glanced into the mirror, smoothing his bangs into place, but suddenly stopped.

His hands dropped and he gripped the edge of the counter, knuckles flaring white. You sat up quickly, worried that he was having a flashback- a rarer but still present remnant of the war.

"Levi?" He couldn't hear you. You quickly slid out of bed and moved beside him, edging into his peripheral vision. You raised your voice, careful not to startle him. "Levi, I'm here."

At your voice, his rigid posture fell. He broke his gaze away from the mirror. To your surprise, a sheen of tears glistened in his eyes.

"What's wrong?"

He made a low, dismissive sound, hating the way he'd let emotions spring up and choke him so suddenly. But the shock of it hadn't given him time to process, to shove anything back down where it belonged.

He gestured roughly at his hair. You leaned in, squinting- and noticed a feathery patch of gray threading through his dark locks at the root. You couldn't help smiling. Was that all?

"You're getting older, Captain. There's no shame in that." You ran your fingers through his hair, gently scratching his scalp. "I think you'll make quite the silver fox."

His lips twitched, but he didn't take the compliment. "Tch. It's not that." He caught your hand in his and roughly ran his thumb over your knuckles, staring down at your hands as if they were easier to bear than your face.

"I've never… she didn't…” His throat worked as he swallowed, searching for the words. You waited patiently. "I'm older than my mother," he said at last.

Oh. There was nothing to say, then. That was why it had startled him, his own body renewing grief. You gave him space to think, to keep talking if he wanted, keeping your hand in his like a tether.

“I don’t remember her face, have I told you that?” His face sharpened into something pained, guilty. “But I remember her hair was dark. I imagined the night sky was like that, as a kid.” He shook his head. “It wasn’t at all.”

Levi’s hands trembled. You gently maneuvered him back to the bed. He tipped backward and lay there, frowning at the ceiling. Frustration and grief blended in his voice. “I didn’t expect to get old.”

You curled against his chest. His heart beat against your cheek, soothing the ache in your own. “None of us did, huh? But here we are.”

“Here we are,” he echoed. Another silence fell. When Levi spoke again you almost missed the words- the two of you pinned under the weight of them.

“She would’ve liked you. I know it.”

“Levi,” you started, throat tight, but he shook his head.

“She would’ve loved you.”

~more postwar!Levi in my aot masterlist~

~more tragic Kuchel: here, here~

[schtrambotik]

Levi's road to confessing was arduous (to him) and full of longing

contains: angsty fluff. canon universe, reader joined the survey corps a little before Levi became Captain. mentions of canon typical events and minor character death. mostly focused on Levi's view of things. Miche and Erwin are rooting for the two of you, and they gossip about your relationship in their minuscule free time. slow burn ish. no smut.

wc: 6.2k

To Levi, meeting you felt like further proof that the world wanted to consistently push him to the edge of insanity, even if at a smaller scale than every unfortunate event of his past. It was the first time he felt completely weakened by something so harmless, idiotic infatuation. 

He realized very early on, during your first week as a new member of the Corps, that he had an unparalleled interest in you. It appalled him.

For the first couple of months he refused to admit to himself that what he felt when you were around meant anything beyond idle curiosity.

He chalked up his harsh treatment of you during training to simply proving you were a good soldier; instead of what it actually was, a weak attempt to make you give up, because he felt someone like you shouldn’t have to deal with the horrors of the world.

He convinced himself the headaches he would get when you were called on for patrols or expeditions were just a result of his lack of sleep. And that the constant thoughts of you swirling in his mind every damn night would dissipate the longer you were around. He was very wrong about that.

He made it a point to not interact with you outside of training, missions, or briefings. Nonetheless, that didn’t mean he didn’t feed into his curiosity. As subtly as he could. 

He watched you a lot. Enough to know that you were always late for breakfast, trained yourself to the bones even on your off days, volunteered to help around with anything you could, and were particularly good at mending clothes. He knew you liked eating with Hange almost every night, and it was the part of your day he enjoyed the most. On each of those nights he followed the two of you into the mess hall, sitting far enough that Hange wouldn’t get the idea of asking him to join, but still giving himself the appropriate distance to observe you. To commit to memory every little detail he could, how you ate, how you sat, what you talked about, if your nose also scrunched up at the disgusting taste of the tea everyone but him was subjected to; any information he could gather before the sound of your laugh warmed his chest enough to make him leave.

Truthfully, he could have kept that stalker-ish routine going for ages, and he fully intended to; being able to keep his distance while still getting the smallest doses of you seemed like an ideal arrangement in his mind.

It wasn’t until one damning night that he decided this restrictive mindset had to change. He saw you walking with another recruit, late, and alone. He couldn’t properly hear whatever wildly amusing conversation you were having from where he stood; regardless of that, he could still clearly make out the faint sound of your laugh accompanying it. 

The small scene was enough to break him from his ridiculous self-imposed prison. Levi didn’t want to allow himself to indulge in his desires for you. He didn’t feel he deserved to be with you in any capacity further than working alongside each other. Despite that, the idea that someone else could come in and take from him the possibility of a chance with you was much more mortifying than his own insecurities and concerns.

From that alone, he made the decision to allow himself a sliver of your time. And so, the very next day you were graced with your first private conversation with the captain, if you could even call it that.

He approached you after you were done with training, standing against a wooden beam trying to steady your breathing, hair messy, and sweat coating your forehead. 

“Your stance was horrible today.” The abruptness of his presence and his comment caught you off guard.

“What?” You looked at him with a puzzled look, processing whether he was actually addressing you or not.

“During training. You were terrible.” He explained, his tone maintaining its harshness despite your confusion.

“Oh. Yeah, I guess so, I’m out of my element today.” You explained plainly, a half-smile tugging on your lips both at the bluntness, and the fact this was probably the first time he came up to you alone.

“And yesterday as well.” 

“Right.”

“You’re not sleeping well.” More of a statement than a question, the dark circles you've been sporting this week probably gave it away.

“I've been having a hard time with it, yes.”

He gave you a firm nod, pursing his lips together in thought. 

“I’ll come find you tonight, I have a tea for that.” He turned around the moment he finished without a second look, not giving you an actual chance to accept or refuse.

Since then, the two of you started a small routine. He’d look for you after dinner and guide you on a brief walk to the top floor of the main building. A teapot and two cups already placed on the window ledge in the back of the room, with a singular candle lit close by; he hoped that the minimal amount of light would make his intense gaze less noticeable. 

It was supposed to last only for however long you were struggling to sleep but continued far past those days. Most times he wouldn’t talk, only listened; he’d let you rattle on about the day if you pleased, indulging you by participating in idle gossip.

“I can reprimand them for that. I trust you’re aware.” He’d slip in when you shared a little too much about the escapades of some recruits, forgetting for a moment he had recently become your superior. 

“Well, this is all alleged. Maybe I didn’t hear it right. This tea is great by the way; is it a different kind?" A blush creeping up your cheeks while you attempted to change the subject, looking at him with a sheepish smile that begged him to forget your prior information.

It took a few weeks, but he started contributing with topics of his own little by little. An opinion, a small anecdote, a complaint. Slowly chipping away at the facade of mystery and harshness that used to be all you got from him before. A part of Levi worried that the more you learnt about him, the less interested you’ll be, but the enjoyment he got from your small interactions vastly outweighed that concern.

A year into meeting you, Levi had grown accustomed to having you near him, even if for brief moments. He enjoyed your company and physically couldn't continue hiding it from you. He still kept enough distance to make his ever-growing feelings unknown to everyone else, and didn’t properly confess anything to you, but his advances grew slightly bolder. 

Your nightly routine changed a lot from how it originally started. Moving from ten minutes of sipping tea in a semipublic space to secluded meetings in the dead of night. Going as far as sneaking you in his private quarters when he came back from travels you were not part of. 

Being away from you became the key that pushed your connection forward. Every time he came back, he wanted to have you around for the night, and he needed the certainty that you wouldn’t be interrupted; the reassurance of it enabled him to make these encounters last for hours.

He sat in a wooden chair next to his desk, beckoning you closer with a simple command. “Show me what happened.”

“You can’t see the bruise with my uniform on.” You argued with a stifled laugh; you had complained to him about a minor injury you sustained recently, something insignificant that happened while he was gone.

“Then change.”

You stared at him bewildered.

“Do I have to do it for you?” His stern tone didn’t falter; it would’ve seemed like an order more than playful teasing, if it wasn’t for how relaxed he looked.

“You returned as tactful as ever, I see.” You laughed, amused at his actions. You made your way to the bedroom, missing the smirk on his face.

You returned to the room in a thin nightgown that made Levi tense at the sight, hands tucking into fists on his lap before relaxing again. His hand sprawled on the back of your right thigh without question once you stood in front of him, pulling it closer to properly view the wide bruise on the outer side of it; purplish hues going from your mid-thigh to the bottom of your glute. 

“This is nothing to you?” It came out softer than he intended. Thinking of you being hurt when he wasn’t around, no matter how little, lowered his guard. 

“It looks worse than it is.”

His hand carefully grazed the bruise, hiking up the edge of your gown in the process. You shivered at the touch. Goosebumps covered your skin, and it did not go unnoticed by him. “Does it hurt?”

“No. I think this helps.” You humored, not bothering to hide your enjoyment of his treatment. 

“I’m sure it does, brat.” He smiled, small, but enough for you to notice. His hand still caressing your leg despite his response.

It took Levi five years to make his feelings for you properly known. But it’s not like you, or others, hadn’t suspected them before that. Despite keeping the matter private, much like most things about him, sometimes he struggled to adequately hide that he had a soft spot for you.

He never outright said he cared about you, never properly held you, but all the things he did do, they proved to be more intimate and sweeter than any regular courting could ever be.

For your first birthday after joining the Corps he went out of his way to gift you a treat from a bakery in your home district. It became a tradition that he fulfilled every year since; he’d go as far as getting it for you in advance if an expedition took place around the date, just in case one of you didn't make it back after.

In your second year, after an expedition where two members of your graduating class were tragically lost, he sneaked you into his quarters every night for a week—Both Erwin and Hange knew but they didn’t say word of it—he’d lay you down next to him, let you cry out your grieve for as long as you needed to, and patiently waited until you grew tired enough to sleep to get some shut-eye of his own.

“I’ll never get used to it, will I?” Your voice was barely above a whisper. 

“No.” While your eyes were glued to the ceiling, Levi’s gaze was fixed on you. His expression was unreadable as usual, but he was completely tormented, wishing he could take this hurt away from you.

“Am I being weak?”

“You’re being human.”

“That’s a yes.” You smiled, attempting to joke, yet the humor in your voice didn’t reach your eyes. Tears fell down in a stream, and Levi had to try his hardest not to reach out and wipe them off your cheeks. “I just—” Your voice broke. To him, the sound evoked a feeling adjacent to being stabbed. “I feel I should be stronger than this. I shouldn’t be surprised over what I signed up for.”

“You’re not surprised; you’re hurt.” Levi chastised, shifting his position to look at you properly. “You did your job, you don’t have to be strong now. Now stop this nonsense of acting like it's shameful to grieve. At least don't do it with me.” 

You didn’t say anything—instead looking back at the ceiling while your hand found his arm, curling up to his side when the tears started burning your eyes once again.

He didn’t try to hold you, but he didn’t pull away. Even after you fell asleep. 

In your third year, when Erwin told him he’d be pulling you out of his team to make you a squad leader, he became sick almost immediately. The notion that you would no longer be under his supervision, that even if you went on the same expeditions as he did, he’d have to wait until the very end before he could know if you were still alive. It circled his head all morning and gave him a headache so outstanding he had to dismiss himself from training that afternoon. 

“What do you think?” Erwin ended the silence that persisted since he broke the news. 

Levi stared absentmindedly. “I think she’ll be a fantastic leader.”

“Is that it?”

“Are you asking for my permission?”

“No, I simply respect you enough to ask for your opinion.” 

“Unless you’re willing to put my preferences above what’s best for humanity, don't ask for my opinion on what you should do with her.”

“Because your preference would be to retire her immediately?” Erwin prodded, with no real expectation for Levi to speak up. It wasn’t the first time he brought you up, and it wouldn’t be the last if Levi kept refusing to trust him with this information. “You don’t have to answer that. I understand you want to avoid telling me what I already know.”

Following your change in rank, the order of retreating met Levi with a wave of asphyxiating dread rather than relief, one that didn’t dissipate until he was able to spot you on your horse, still breathing and in one piece. These concerns were never brought up to you or anyone else for that matter—despite Erwin being aware and willing to speak with him about it if he could just be honest—even if his fear of losing you and not being able to do anything about it grew stronger with every expedition, he kept his worries regarding your well-being private. You always returned; he had no reason to discuss anything he felt. If you were alive and well, he’d be able to mask his love for you for a while longer.

It wasn’t until your fifth year as a member of the Survey Corps when his ‘while longer’ ended. When he had to come to terms with his fears, and his feelings.

He kept his composure as best as he could while going through the list of those dead and missing with Erwin, watching other scouts load bodies into carriages, though he’s sure it did not go unnoticed how tightly he was gripping his gear while he waited for every name to be read. Even then, after all bodies were loaded, the trek to the walls started, and confirmation that you were not one of those lost received; his heartbeat did not return to a healthy rhythm. He needed to see you.

This was the most stressed he ever felt trying to find you after an expedition. Deep down, he could feel something about today was different, as if you not being okay was something he could physically feel. And it didn’t help the fact that it took him so long to spot you; carriages and horses already on the move to safety without him being able to catch a single glimpse of you. 

Every second that passed he could feel his body tense further, cold sweat reaching his palms, a knot tight in his throat that only got tighter the moment he saw you. That sickening feeling of dread he thought he had grown used to crashed down on him and threatened to finish him right then and there. He spotted you being carried by Miche when he made it past the wall. Your body limp in his hold, your inability to even keep your head up made Levi assume the worst and had him rush in your direction before he even realized it.

He got off the horse calm and collected, as if his heart wasn’t threatening to rip itself out of his chest. His relief upon seeing you were still breathing was immediate, yet short-lived as he paid more attention to your injuries. Your left thigh and arm were bandaged. There was blood all over you, dripping from your nose, your mouth, and the seams of the binds on your wounded limbs; you must’ve been hurt close before the order to retreat was given.

It made him sick and brought a vile sting to his eyes, a sensation he had long forgotten.

“She’s okay.” Miche assured him, smiling lightly at how Levi was frowning at you as though telepathically reprimanding you for getting to this state. “Nothing’s broken, but she’s weak. She couldn’t keep riding.”

Levi nodded firmly, not trusting himself to speak right away. He reached under your body, taking you in his arms with little protest from the other man. “I’ll take her. I don’t want her in a carriage.”

“She’d be laying down.” Miche pointed out yet still took a step back once Levi had a solid hold on you, not really wanting to interfere. 

“She’d be alone.” 

Miche nodded, holding back his reaction at what the captain was displaying, and promptly retreating to his horse; more than ready to get back and tell Erwin about this little interaction. 

You were conscious enough to hear the conversation, although far too drained to register the worry behind Levi’s tone let alone comment on it. You had half a mind to realize he carried you back to his horse, helping you on it before getting behind you. He took a hold of the handle and took off in a slow ride, while his left arm went around your waist, keeping you tucked back against him.

One of your hands went to his forearm, giving it a small squeeze to show your acknowledgement before relaxing again.

“Are you okay?” He questioned quietly. Not that anyone would be able to hear him past the sound of hooves against the ground and the many murmurs of civilians watching them pass by. 

You turned your head enough to look at him out of the corner of your eye. The concern written all over his face almost made you forget the waves of pain crashing through you. You nodded, small, before letting the back of your head rest on his shoulder; the tiny action having wasted the remainder of your energy.

“Liar.” He murmured against your hair, the touch of his lips against your scalp so fleeting you could only assume you imagined it. 

That night Levi had been more consumed in his own thoughts than he would have appreciated. You were out most of the ride back to the base; the only thing keeping you upright was his firm hold on you that didn’t falter once. He spent that time wondering what happened, how did you injure yourself, did somebody help you, did you have to drag yourself all the way to your horse and pretend you didn’t feel so bad until it was inevitable?

He imagined every single heartbreaking scenario his brain could come up with, images of you crying out while you bled in the woods flashed through his mind, torturing himself with the idea that maybe you had been near him, maybe you even called out for him and he didn’t hear it, trying to find ways to blame himself for your poor state.

He woke you gently once you made it to the base, helping you off the horse and onto your feet, guiding you to wrap an arm over his shoulder to steady yourself when you were unable to suppress your limping. Everything was a blur for you, every step you took forgotten when the next one happened.

You could remember briefly smiling at Hange when she approached the two of you, catching some of their conversation, and Levi whisking you away before you could manage a goodbye.

“You really busted yourself out there.” You chuckled at her comment and winced immediately after, a stabbing pain reaching your ribs, the mixed noise making her laugh. “You’re okay?”

You nodded, not getting the time to answer before Levi interjected. “She is.” He stated, adjusting his grasp on your hip when you clutched your side.

“Right… I’ll get one of the scouts to take her to the infirmary. Erwin wants to talk to us.” 

“No.” Levi spoke up before Hange could even attempt turning on her heel. “I will take care of it, and I’ll go to his office after. Tell him I’ll only be a moment.” He kept walking without another word, not giving her any time to make a comment on his behavior.

He took you to his quarters, helping you out of your stained cloak and muddied boots before starting to undo the soaked bandages on your limbs. He seemed unaffected by the sight he was met with, the gashes and lacerations covered in dried blood were nothing he hadn’t seen before; but the fact that they were on your body, it brought a shake to his hands he was completely unfamiliar with and he thanked the heavens you were too busy scrunching your eyes together at the stinging feel of him cleaning the open wounds to notice it.

You don’t know if you talked, if he asked you anything, you don’t think so. The only thing you committed to memory was the feel of hardened hands touching you in the softest ways imaginable, guiding you to his bed when he was done and easing you into laying down. He caressed your face before he moved away; the way he looked at you a mixture of longing and thinly veiled restraint.

He left almost as soon as he laid you down, knowing that if you said anything, if you made even the slightest sound, he’d discard his meeting altogether to lay next to you. 

Levi came back less than an hour after with a thick bag under his arm, having raided your room before coming to gather anything you might need. He was being exceedingly obvious today; he knew more than well his friends no longer needed a heartfelt confession to know exactly why he had been so special to you in the past five years with how he's behaved, but for once he couldn’t care less about that matter. 

He found you just as he had left you, now asleep with your mouth slightly agape. Your messy hair tussled all around was the only indication that you moved while he was gone. He pulled a chair next to the bed, not wanting to risk waking you up; ready to patiently wait until he could get you out of your filthy, blood-stained uniform. Your change of clothes and a clean set of sheets awaiting next to him already.

He doesn’t know how long you were asleep for, but it continued through enough hours for him to follow suit at some point.

He vaulted out of the chair when you woke up with a loud cry; the sound was completely gut-wrenching. 

“What happened? What’s wrong?!” He grabbed you by the shoulders with a desperate pull, his eyes searching for yours. The sting of tears threatening to break free he felt earlier returned with a vengeance when you coughed up blood, tears streaming down your face. 

“Talk to me, angel. Please.” He begged, hands reaching for your face, wiping your tears. You didn’t speak, didn’t explain what was ailing you, instead your cries became louder, deafening. 

Levi could feel his heartbeat hammering in his chest, and before he could do anything, more blood came out of your mouth, then your nose, then from your wounds, white bandages drowned in the crimson red liquid. He couldn’t find the words; he didn’t even know what to do. He frantically moved around the room, searching for anything to wipe the blood with, to apply pressure and stop this someway.

Before he knew it, his own eyes were welled up with tears as he desperately tried to stop you from bleeding out, the sound of your crying overwhelming him completely. 

“You’re going to be okay. You’re okay.” He repeated like a mantra, the room spinning around him when he looked at the pool of blood under you. He wiped his tears with his forearm. His heartbeat grew louder, and the sound of it seemed to echo through the room.

You wouldn’t stop crying, and God, you wouldn’t stop bleeding, it was futile to try. Your hands went to his shoulders, bringing him closer to you while you sobbed hysterically. 

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what to do.” He wrapped his arms around you tightly, crying onto your hair, hopelessly clinging to you. “I can’t do anything. Please forgive me, angel. Please.” He wept, his grip tightening the quieter your cries became; your energy depleted the longer you kept bleeding. 

“Don’t leave me.” It became uncontrollable; he felt completely out of himself, the sound of his thunderous heartbeat, the feel of your blood on his hands, the pain in his chest crushing him further and further. “Please don’t leave me.”

“Levi?... Levi.” He woke up with a jolt to see you standing above him, mind completely fogged by the images his brain came up with. His eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness of the room, looking around the now empty bed then back to your fragile frame. 

The glow of the moon coming from the window was the only source of light, but it was enough to see you properly; not in tears, and not bleeding out. Instead, you were looking at him with a puzzled expression, an arm cradling your midsection as you tried your best to stand upright.

“Are you okay? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“I’m—” He closed his mouth before continuing, rubbing his eyes before he looked at you again, a slight wet feeling coating his fingertips—was he crying?—it was just a dream. “Don’t worry. Is something wrong?” 

“I wanted to get out of all this blood. But I could barely make it a few steps past the bed.”

He hummed, burying his face in his hands for a moment, trying to regain his composure. “I’ll help you.” His eyes found you again, narrowed. Going over every inch of your body to make sure nothing was out of the ordinary, to prove to himself that you wouldn’t randomly start bleeding out in front of him. He debated telling you about his dream, telling you about how worried he was earlier and how the stress of his concerns was swallowing him whole right now, but that would mean delving into a conversation he’s unsure he’d be good at. Maybe he’ll need to practice it.

He walked you to the bathroom, arm stretched out for you to hold onto through every step. “You look terrible.” He murmured, helping you stand in front of the small tub. 

“Aren’t you sweet.” You laughed dryly, slowly loosening your grip on his forearm to let him stand back.

You and Levi stared at each other willfully, both waiting for the other to take the next step. 

“Can you do it alone?” He asked while reaching for the top button of your shirt, undoing it slowly, waiting for you to form a response, groggy and restless voice adding something new to his usual stoic tone. 

You wanted to object, tell him he didn’t need to continue. But you were sure you’d end up falling face first on the floor at some point if he wasn’t holding onto you. “Maybe I could.”

“Sure.” He muttered, gaze focused on where his hands started to undo the rest of your shirt, a deep frown covering his features at the side of fresh red bruises covering your left side. 

He carefully undid the bandages on your arm to slowly slide off the shirt. You didn’t care to watch his movements; you couldn’t look away from his face, how concentrated he was, how troubled he seemed over your wounds. It made you smile, both that and the pink tint of his cheeks when he exposed you further. 

If you knew him less, you would’ve asked him to kiss you right then and there, but by now you knew well his only answer to that would be questioning if you were concussed.

Levi kept himself from speaking. Too focused on the crushing weight in his heart over the sight of your bruised and battered frame, a weight that grew more draining the more of your clothes he got rid off. 

His mind also trotted over the idea of kissing you. He thought about it every single day, but now more than ever he wished he had done so before. That way he could pepper every single inch of your body with small soothing kisses now and it wouldn’t be strange, there wouldn’t be a possibility of you freaking out, because by now you would’ve been used to his affections. 

If only he had been braver about it before. 

He desperately wished to hold you tenderly in his arms, to caress your skin and kiss you senselessly, trusting that every bit of his devotion would help you forget about the pain you must be feeling.

“What happened?” He helped you stand above the drain, squeezing your hand before letting you stand on your own. He soaked a cloth before he started carefully scrubbing your arms, trying his best to not pressure the slash on your left arm into bleeding again.

“It was my stupidity. One of my scouts was kicked off his horse, and a titan was going to grab him, and I— It was impulsive. I threw myself at them and I didn’t realize another titan was coming. It was a big mess and I wasn’t thinking clearly.” You yawned between your sentences, watching him with tired eyes, following his hands whenever he bent to dampen the cloth and settling back on his face when he returned; his eyebrows furrowed at your anecdote. “I couldn’t tell you exactly what happened, I just know I flew through more trees than I would like, and when I finally got my cables to stick to something I was hanging two inches from the floor and looked like this.”

Levi stayed silent for a moment, trying to picture the situation, as if that helped him in any way. “How did you get on your horse?” 

“Miche found me. I would have only been able to drag myself until I found someone. It’s hard to lift this leg.” His grip on your waist tightened at the notion, his eyes now meeting yours to avoid staring at where he scrubbed on your chest, ever-present frown adorning his features.

Levi saw the images of your explanation vividly in his mind; he could clearly see you dragging yourself out of the woods in fear that you wouldn’t make it, as if it actually happened, as if he had been present. It was completely nauseating. “I’m sorry.” His hands stopped, both settled firmly on your hips, indifferent to his proximity and your bare skin.

“For what?”

“I could’ve been there.” 

One of your hands reached his bicep, tentatively caressing him. “Don’t do that.”

He pursed his lips together; he knew it was ridiculous to upset himself over something he had no control over, and yet he couldn’t stop. He stayed silent, instead opting to watch you get closer, your hands rubbing up and down his arms to ease him. The delicate body he’s grown to yearn for standing less than an inch away from him, laid bare for his eyes only.

“I’m supposed to be taking care of you.” He murmured, tense muscles taut under your touch as it rose up to his shoulders then back down to the front of his chest. 

“I know, but you seem to be more troubled than I am. I may need help getting up, but you’re looking at me like I’m dying.”

“I just don’t know what to do with myself.” Levi let himself get closer, his hands hesitantly moving to your back. “Seeing you like this.”

“I’ve been hurt before.” Your tone was confused, and he hated that it urged him to continue.

“Not like this. Not when I’m not around.”

“I thought you didn’t care if I was not by your side.”

“I lied.”

You couldn’t help the weak laugh that left your lips, looking away from him as you tried to retrieve your composure. 

“Are my worries amusing to you?” His gaze narrowed, not in his usual scowl—in dismay.

You shook your head, a hand coming up to caress his face, looking at him with nothing but utter reverence. “I’m more than appreciative of your worries. But I do find it humorous that I have to come back like this for you to say these things.” 

The time seemed to stand still between you. Patient, as always, you waited; letting him find the words he’s been struggling to muster. He hated how difficult this was; to expose feelings he has been certain of for years. “Sit, we need to wash your hair.”

You sighed, hands dropping from him with a small nod. He helped you sit in the middle of the tub, kneeling down on the floor next to you, holding onto a small water pitcher with trembling hands. 

You closed your eyes at the feeling of water slowly dripping onto your scalp, finally relishing in a soothing feeling. “Don’t look at me when I say this." His voice was low, unusually unsteady, despite being completely certain of his words. "I’m terrified of losing you.”

Your lips pursed together, trying your best to keep yourself from turning your head; wanting to indulge him if it meant being able to hear what he had to confess. “Why?” You asked quietly, eyes stuck to the water falling from your shoulders, bloody and muddy dark streaks slowly disappearing, becoming clearer the more his fingers helped brush water through the thick locks of hair.

Silence lingered for a moment. The only sound being the slow rush of water, and Levi’s deep breaths. He could do this, if there’s someone he could say anything to, it was you. So why did his chest ache this much?

“I’ve belonged to you from the moment I met you.” Levi’s voice came out ragged, broken. His hands softly brushed through your hair, moving back the strands that fell on your face. He cleared his throat, trying to regain some semblance of control. “And I don’t know what will be of me if the only reason I hold any hope for the future is no longer with me.”

You couldn’t help meeting his gaze, lips parting and closing with suppressed praises. To hear something that gentle, romantic, out of the very lips you’ve wished had graced yours long before today; it could’ve been enough to push you through every day of your life from now on. 

The way you were looking at him was his undoing, a softness he did not deserve, and that he could only ever receive from you. He watched you uneasy, his throat running dry, unsure of what he was even waiting for. “Please say something.”

Words evaded you completely, too stuck on repeating that sweet confession over and over again in your head. Instead of coming up with some clever poetry of your equal feelings, you did the one thing you knew no amount of prodding would make him do. 

Your hands slowly reached for him, cupping his face to bring him closer to you. And you waited, for a moment; not wanting to miss how he relaxed, how he gave in. Only then did your lips meet his with a tenderness that made Levi’s stomach flutter. 

One of his hands went to the back of your neck, long fingers twisting into your hair, keeping your lips flush against his while he inched closer to you. His free hand gripped the back edge of the tub, his body looming above yours, completely trapping you under him. 

The kiss was searing and all consuming. As if you were trying to pour into him every unsaid word; as if Levi was trying to make up for every single moment he wished your lips had been on his. It grew desperate within seconds, teeth clashing and noses bumping while both of you tried to absorb each other’s oxygen.

It’s only when you tried to wrap your arms around his neck to drag him down did you break away, wincing at the sting from a gash on your bicep.

Levi immediately tensed when you stopped. “I’m sorry.” His voice was breathless, a small whisper followed by him pulling back, softened gaze raking over you to make sure he didn’t hurt you. 

“It’s my fault, I should’ve waited until we were laying down.” You quipped, instinctively reaching out for his arm to keep him somewhat close. 

He laughed, openly, warm. “That might’ve ended worse.”

A comfortable silence fell in the room after your chuckles died down. Both of you staring at each other with the sweetness of two madly in love idiots. All flushed lips, red cheeks, and stupid smiles.

—

“And then what happened?” Erwin asked while flipping through pages of planning, the words he had written already mixing together from how long he had been staring at them, and how late it already was.

Miche stood by the window, looking out to the empty grounds below them. “I told him she’d be lying down in the carriage, probably more comfortable.”

“Mhm.”

“And he argued she’d be alone, very solemnly.”

“He did not.” Erwin dropped the papers, turning on his chair to meet Miche’s gaze, the other man already snickering to himself.

“He did, and then he just took her away. And I’m completely certain he kissed her hair when they got on the horse.” Miche whispered the last part, as if he was sharing the most confidential work information he could ever manage to get his hands on.

“In front of everyone?” Erwin stared at him dumbfounded, imagining the scene he described before letting out a quiet laugh.

“If they remain nothing but friends after tonight I fear we might have to send Hange in.”

[y44washere4somereason]

Lord I’m five hundred miles from my home.

[tsukimirecs]

104th cadet corps // fic recommendations

note: remember to read the tags! + i do not own any of these works

jean kirstein

the roommate

dutch courage

babymaker

washing machine heart

bottled up

i stayed there, dust collecting

santa daddy

cake

wish, wish, wish

armin arlert

for one night

maneater

nine years

secret love affair

ripe fruit.

bright morning

reminder: thank reiner later

definition of a good boy

ocean eyes

mikasa ackerman

idol

bruises

arm wrestling

nocturne

stalker

dust, moon, and silver

the unbearable weight of staying

eren yeager

the way you are

bittersweet

say a little prayer

ocean's breath

midnight snacks

sweet dreams

emotional baggage

all over again

peppermint flavored kisses

connie springer

honey oat latte

promise

the unwritten law of college parties

free

anything but sex

[krys4h]

𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐞,

౨ৎ                    𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐫.

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬◞﹒୧. The love of his life betrayed him. Now Eren is alone. Alone with the burden of paying for his father's debt with assassination contracts. Alone with the burden of getting revenge on his rivals who killed Armin. Everything is so painful now he is alone, and he hates you so much for that. You ruined everything, every dream he had with you, every ‘I love you’ he said to you. Now he has to hurt you to feel better. Your tears and the pain in your eyes don’t faze him, he knows what you are. A manipulative traitor. He is too hurt to remember the genuine love you both had, too angry to even wonder if that's really what happened. Because did you really betray him? In any case, you have Jean if he never forgives you. Even though he would never be Eren.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬◞﹒୧ 9.6k words, dark content, heavy angst with no comfort, tragedy, black!fem!reader, thick!reader, bimbo!reader, love/hate relationships, fully!tattooed!eren, crimes, strip-tease, murders, hitman!eren, revenge, heavy backstory, heavy sexual trauma, depression, traumatic mutism, rough sex, violence, impact play, sex toys, fingering, vaginal penetration, public sex, backshots, no aftercare.

𝐤𝐫𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐥'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬◞﹒୧ .  extremely scared to post this……

“You’re pissing me off,” Eren muttered.

You kept giggling like your joke was the funniest thing ever, even though Eren's expression was sinister. He moved his tongue against the inside of his cheek to calm himself, but when you repeated your stupid thing, he wrapped his hand around your neck and shoved you violently against the mattress.

He glared at your playful eyes. “I said you’re pissing me off.”

“Then why do I feel your erection, dumbass ?”

“You’re just prettier when you laugh but I’m serious right now.”

“Mhmm, just fuck me to punish me then?”

He rolled his eyes but glanced at the time on your alarm clock on the bedside table.

You always did that when he had to go to work. And not the legal kind of work. Eren was a hitman and a literal criminal outside of killing people for money. He couldn't disappoint his boss for too long before being killed or, at best, tortured.

“I was here all day and you preferred to talk to me about astrology,” he sighed.

“No astrology slander in my house!”

“It’s my house, I pay the bills, you’re just here for decoration.”

You spat on his face. Deadass. Eren blinked for a few moments, trying to understand if the saliva on his cheek was a hallucination or if you really wanted him to strangle you to death.

“You want to play that game?” he asked, his voice as sinister as his expression.

You shivered, fighting the urge not to smile out of excitement. “I…”

“I’m going to play with you, don’t worry.”

He released your throat and moved away. You whined, disappointed, but swallowed hard as he went to get the object whose name was not to be spoken.

“Eren… I was joking…”

“What?” he chuckled. “You don’t think the game is funny anymore?” He leaned down to kiss the exposed parts of your stomach through your crop top, his hands slipping under your denim mini-skirt. Your legs trembled, and he lifted his head to smirk at your scared expression. He waited for the safe word, to know if you were really against it, but it never came.

“Fucking performative,” he scoffed.

He roughly pulled off your panties, and his fingers caressed your core, preparing you for the long hours of overstimulation the sex toy would provide.

“Eren, I can’t do that shit, I’m stripping tonight, I can’t be aroused during work.”

You tried to stop rolling your hips to take more of his fingers inside, but it was impossible.

“I forgot I was ‘Captain Save a Hoe’ because my girlfriend is a fucking stripper,” he grumbled.

It wasn’t that simple. He knew it was a coping mechanism for you, and he never judged you for it. You were both very troubled people. BDSM had always been the best way to externalize your traumas. So your need to regain control of your body by making money from its objectification wasn’t a problem.

The problem with stripping was that not all clients were respectful. He fought his urges to lock you up in your apartment when you came home with a new experience of unwanted touching.

“Watch your tone when you talk about me I’m gonna spit on you again.”

“Yeah?” His fingers plunged into you while his thumb rubbed circles on your clit. “I’m so excited to see that. You want me to be mean?”

You clenched your thighs around his wrist, moaning. “Shut your damn mouth.”

The stimulation of his hand didn’t last long because he put the sex toy in place, at a low intensity for the moment. He had the remote control to increase when he's at work to lead your clit to burnout.

“Rennieeeeeee!” You threw yourself at him when he got up from the bed and hugged him from behind. “Just have sex with me, stop doing that. You work too much and now you do weird stuff like this. They are exploiting you.”

“Complaining about laws for an illegal job,” he laughed and pushed you away to put on a black t-shirt.

You already missed seeing the tattoo about your own astrology sign on his lower abdomen. Eren loved to talk shit about your love for spiritual stuff, but he always respected it secretly. His whole body was just tattoos about you, your favorite things he always mocked in real life. When you were almost hurt about his mean tone, you just have to undress him to remember he is a loverboy spirit in a jerk body.

At this point, he should just accept he was a simp. The cute blue penguin keychain he has on his jeans that matched your pink one was a sign he should accept this very quickly. He didn’t fool you when he said he was a feminist and won’t do that immature stuff as a grown ass man. He had it on him the next day, and was unfazed by Connie’s reaction at his job. He was the best hitman in his organization, people needed to leave him alone and let him wear matching stuff with his woman, especially Connie who burst out of laughing every time he saw the penguin.

“You know you’re kinda cringe with that,” you mocked when he put on his sneakers.

He glanced at you, and then at the bed with many plushies of anime male characters he was forced to sleep with, and decided he wouldn’t fall for the ragebait of the queen of cringe herself.

After some whining from you, you accompanied him to the front door.

He pushed the braids that were in front of your shoulders to let them in your back, the sound of the beads at the end clashing together made him smile. He wasn't stupid, you always wore the hairstyle he found you the most beautiful with when his birthday was near. And that asshole was specific. Boho braids that stopped around the shoulders with beads. Even your braider knew it was Eren's birthday when you asked for that hairstyle.

He leaned to kiss your forehead. “Send me a video when you will cry because it's too much, I love seeing that,” he said softly, but his soft tone didn't hide his sadistic tendencies to force you to wear sex toys.

“I won't cry for your lame ass punishment.”

“You love lying, baby.”

He kissed you but pushed you away when you wanted to add your tongue. You made an indignant expression and cursed him out as he chuckled, leaving the apartment.

The pleasant late afternoon air caressed his skin as he touched his pocket outside the building. His eyes softened as he realized you'd bought him another pack of Malboro cigarettes without him telling you he was out and had slipped it into his jeans. He was an asshole, so that information didn't make him feel any guilt about his punishment. Your brave ass spat on him. You deserved it.

He sat in his car, driving unconsciously with one hand on the wheel and the other outside the window because you'd told him one day he looked sexy like that.

He parked near the organization disguised as a home cleaning company. Connie was smoking, sitting on the sidewalk across the street, and Eren took a breath to endure his umpteenth joke about his keychain.

“You wear that penguin for her here when she wears nothing at all at her job,” Connie snickered as they did their usual handshake.

“And I have hair and you don't, guess life is unfair ?”

“Man, fuck you.”

Some people walked near them, so Eren spoke in their secret language for their organization.

“What type of household chores should we do?”

“Tidy up mainly the office, there’s no big mess at the moment.”

Eren let out a groan. He hated doing the administration and logistics of drug and weapons dealing. It's sad to say but he was more comfortable killing people.

“You're the only one who applied for every job here, I don't know why you don't focus on one task.”

Eren tensed. Connie was just a good friend but he knew nothing about his father's debt he had to pay he didn't have time. The only friend who was so close to Eren, to the point that man followed him in his crimes, was Armin. But he had been murdered by his organization's enemies. Now, he avoided creating deep bonds there.

The organization was located in a remote corner of the city, its monotonous buildings bearing an old, cheesy commercial slogan for a home cleaning company. Once you entered, every floor seemed legitimate; there were even closets stocked with cleaning supplies. All criminal documents were hidden away in drawers secured with unbreakable locks.

Eren sat at his desk and began the tedious task of verifying that drug suppliers had been properly contacted with favorable prices. Then he had to contact all the associated dealers in the city to find out if they had been threatened recently, given the tensions that had arisen since Armin's murder.

He spent hours doing administrative work, ignoring his criminal colleagues who came to greet him. He was well-liked by the lower ranks and disliked by the higher ranks, who realized how much better Eren was than them and could be replaced quickly.

Joke on them, Eren had been ordered to take on more important missions, he refused and was tortured, but he kept his word. He wasn't there for loyalty, he was there for money.

It was only towards the end of his shift that he received a hidden call. He let out a heavy breath, already knowing it was his enemies. He always answered the call though, it was funny for him. They were only able to kill one man in a rivalry of 10 years when his boss killed 13 of their men. A very, very precious lost, but they were only an angry dog ​​that barks a lot and never bites.

“I fucked your girl,” one of them said on the phone first, Eren rolled his eyes. They always said that to any man in the organization who had a wife or girlfriend.

“Yeah, me too, every night. What do you want?”

“No, I really did. Look at that.”

The unknown number sends him a video. Eren frowned, thinking they wanted to install a virus on his professional phone, but clicked anyway since the phone was protected.

That's surely what the dinosaurs felt when the meteorite crossed the planet's atmosphere. The end of the world. That's the image he had in mind when he recognized the butterfly jewelry on the navel piercing of the woman in the video who was being fucked.

The angle of the video changed and he let out a painful noise when he also recognized the tattoo on her hip. The cute doodle tattoo they created when they were 15 and had it on both of their bodies. Showed on a video where multiple men fucked you.

He genuinely couldn't watch the dick comes in and out of her because the creamy arousal on it made him sick to his stomach.

He left the building without respecting his working hours, throwing the keychain in the trash before. This fuckass organization didn't even respect laws, who cares. 

He drove to your strip club in the deep darkness with his hands gripping the steering wheel far too tightly.

He should have reacted rationally. Thought. Considered whether you were capable of doing that. Found a logical explanation for why the love of his life would have done that.

But Eren was incapable of it.

Maybe his fear of being too much because of his mental issues was real. He felt things too deeply, too intensely. His impulsivity. His rage. His job as a hitman that makes him forget empathy. His morbid attachment to you. His passion and determination. Everything about him screamed borderline personality disorder. He knew that, he just refused to see a therapist. 

Was he really too much for you ?

He shook his head, he couldn't believe the hollow ache in his heart.

There was no way. There was no way the girl he knew since 10 years, was in love since he was 14 years old, engaged since he was 18 had cheated on him. With several men. He wanted to throw up when remembering the many hands on your thighs in the video.

But everything made sense. Since a few weeks, you asked for rougher sex, he had to learn knife play now for you. Everytime he wanted to be gentle, you asked him to go harder.

You felt guilty, and didn't think you deserved his gentle side.

He parked in the strip club's parking lot and lied to your manager about one of your closed ones dying, telling them you had to end your shift early when he went inside.

He couldn't hear the music while waiting for you, couldn't even look at the dancers around the poles. Everything was blurry and clear at the same time. His body was seething with the urge to blow up the entire planet, and he was bleeding so much he was surprised he wasn't crying with all the hurt you'd just caused him.

When you came in with hurried steps and a surprised voice about the supposed death, Eren just ignored you and left the strip club.

“You're that shocked about the death, who—”

“When you told me the sexual abuse made you obsessed with being objectified for money, was that a lie too?” He slammed your head violently against the hood of his car, ignoring your surprised and painful moan. “Because it seems to me, you are just a fucking traitor.”

“E-Eren, what the fuck? What are you talking about—”

“You know,” Eren cut in, his voice so cold that you trembled, “I really believed you when you told me sometimes rape victims aren't perfect victims. It made a lot of sense. But you aren't ashamed of yourself for faking a trauma just to cheat on me? Rape victims are a joke to you?”

Your whole body freezes. The most violent sentences he ever said to you and the most hurtful he could say to the helpless child you were when your mom's friend abused you.

You knew what he was talking about.

It was so dumb, so stupid, so ridiculous, but you thought what happened was a nightmare. When two weeks after it Eren still didn't know anything, you were reassured.

Deep down, you knew it was real. They told you they were gonna kill him if you talked.

“E-Eren, I—”

“I really loved you, you know that?” There was so much pain and resentment in his voice, he sounded like he was dying, breaking down in front of you. Tears prickled in your eyes, but your voice wouldn't come out to defend yourself.

You had a feeling of déjà vu.

Not just a feeling. This was the second time it had happened.

Your mother had the same voice. But tinged with a lot of misogyny. Because who in their right mind would believe a 35-year-old man saying a 13-year-old child seduced him?

Your mom, apparently, thats why she abandoned you in foster care. To cope, you thought it was good that she abandoned you so that you could meet the love of your life, even if he hated your guts now.

The trauma of her never believed your victim status was a ghost that never really left your body and mind.

And now, the ghost was as pained as you at the situation with Eren.

They could kill him if you told the truth. He could not believe you if you told the truth. Both of these options were death sentence for you, so you accepted the painful one of being seen as a cheater.

“I'm sorry, Eren,” you only could say as the tears fell on your face and accepted your fate.

“You're not sorry at all,” he chuckled darkly. “Your tears don't fool me.”

The sound of a belt being unfastened sent shivers down your spine, and you glanced around the parking lot, which was deserted except for a few unoccupied cars. Your fellow strippers were finishing at the same time as you, in three hours, so there shouldn't be too much trouble. Besides, it was the employee parking lot, behind the club.

“Eren, I—”

“Shut your damn mouth. I'm going to give you real sex since you want it that badly you searched for it from my own enemies.”

Eren's body trembled with rage. He needed to channel the destructive suffering he felt into something—sex, always sex. Because otherwise, he'd kill you in this parking lot.

For betraying him. Betraying your relationship. Betraying the ring on your finger. Betraying his initials tattooed on your finger. Betraying your name tattooed on his ribs.

You were his whole world, why did you even do that ?

Eren couldn't know. You were so scared. It was you enduring his rage or him getting killed. 

When he lowered the shorts part of your pink Juicy Couture set, your cheeks heat up at the disgusting damp thong you had on because of the sex toy.

“Always with these bimbo clothes. You should just stick to the whore clothing style, I wouldn't have confused you with the love of my life.” 

He tore down the underwear. He raised your head roughly, pulling your braids back and shoving the arousal-filled thong into your mouth, your muffled shocked sounds ignored.

“Just taste, baby. How does it taste ? The games we had ? The sexual routines ? Our hard limits ? Tell me how does it taste after you let these motherfucker be inside you.”

He nudged with his dick the feverish warmth between your legs, the disgust on his tongue making him pasty in the mouth and want to stop everything. He hated doing things like this. He wanted to make love to you, brutally, maybe, but lovingly. Not this weird hate fuck.

“I’m not your mom’s friend. I’m just mad,” he mumbled, embarrassed to even care about you. He spanked you, making the pillowy flesh of your ass bounce. “Don’t forget this.”

The brutal way he slid in, your wet folds welcoming him like a warm home, made you jolt. Your own taste on your tongue accentuated Eren's dominance. You couldn't see him, bent over the hood of his car, but his presence was everywhere. In the way he gripped your braids to harshly to make you see the starry sky, your mouth agape. In the way his dick just kept hitting and hitting the best spot, at the best pace, like he always did.

You wish you could see the anger in his eyes. The madness, the one he had when he came back at home after a paid murder. You always knew your boyfriend was mentally ill, but at this moment, his disturbed mind made you hot all over.

The loud noise of his pelvis hitting your fat ass echoed in the parking lot. You looked regularly towards the staff door to check that no one was going to see this humiliating spectacle.

But you loved that shit. You didn't want him to stop talking with you, kick you out, or block you. You wanted him to continue hating you while loving you so much that it was only when your sweaty bodies rubbed together that there was a moment of understanding.

Maybe one day he would forgive you.

A way of having a happy ending without revealing the tragedy you suffered at the hands of these men. A way of having the man of your dreams alive.

He will give you all his hatred and you will welcome it in a hug, cherishing it. Because at least, it will mean his heart still beats. And if it does, you won over these evil men.

“I need more,” I whimpered, spitting out your thong, begging him to even ruin you if he wanted.

“I think you forgot who’s taking the lead now,” he rasped, his pace picking up as he smashed your head against the car hood again.

The pain made you sobbing, part of your face swelling from the contact. But he angled his hips in such an exquisite way, your eyes closed just to savor how he killed this.

You wished things could be different as you sobbed against the hood.

It’s like you were doomed. You never had any chance in life.

If all you deserved was Eren’s violence, then you were going to take it.

At least he’s alive when he hurts you.

  ────────

You had locked yourself in the shower for hours because you couldn't hold back your tears. After coming home, Eren had destroyed all your favorite plates, the ones he'd given you for a birthday, torn down all the couple photos on your bedroom walls, and smashed the mirror by the bed that you'd specifically used for mirror sex. You had to watch him do all of that, unable to ease his pain by telling him it wasn't consensual when it happened.

Your brown skin hid the faint bruises they left when they held you down. They deliberately didn't hurt you too badly so the abuse would go unnoticed. A gun was pressed against your temple when they filmed it from an angle that showed telltale signs of you. They were so clever.

You spent so many years falling asleep on his chest, and he was the one who put on your satin bonnet. He was the one who made your breakfast when you got back from your shift. He was the one who ran your bath. He was the one who went to get your new makeup products once you'd finished using the old ones. He knew the shades of blush, foundation, and concealer by heart. 

What will your life be like now that he hates you?

You got out of the shower wrapping a towel around your body, thinking Eren was sleeping. But as soon as you came out of the shower, you encountered his murderous gauze, freezing you on the spot.

“Why didn’t you wear the waist beads I bought you during it? A way of respecting me when you let them penetrate MY woman?”

“Eren, I…”

“Answer, I don’t give a shit about you anymore.”

“I didn’t want to feel your presence during it, I forgot it there,” you whispered, your tearful eyes looking at the floor. Being raped with your boyfriend’s gift around your body was too heartbreaking.

“So loving of you. I’m gonna make your life such a nightmare. You’re gonna regret betraying me forever, love.”

You didn’t know until now we could use the ‘love’ pet name with so much hatred in a voice.

“Do you…” You struggled to speak. “Do you still want me to live with you?”

“I already told you why you can’t live alone.”

You hid your relief, your shoulders relaxing. “But you hate me now, why do you care if your enemies kill me?”

Eren tensed, looking away. “Mind your damn business.” He sat on the sofa. “You're going to sleep here. I threw away your useless anime stuffed animals.”

You took a deep inhale. “Okay.”

“Did you give them information?” Eren asked as  you sat on the couch.

“Why would I do that?”

His gaze hardened. “Why would you let them be inside you?”

I stared at the floor. You hated how he genuinely believed you let them do that, but you can't tell him. Eren will absolutely want to destroy them and they will know you talked and kill them or even both of you. Eren always told you how much they weren't very skilled, but they were. They just killed Armin, a very smart element in the organization and now they are stressing out the other one who is important.

“I wasn’t very… satisfied with you lately.”

Eren chuckled, a sad chuckle, a broken chuckle. You knew he wanted to cry. You want too, again.

He just left you in the living room and slammed the door.

You fell asleep on the couch, heart heavy.

────────

Eren looked at you sleeping, wondering how the fuck that shit could have happened. 

Was it during a sleep over with your stripper friends?

How could you do this to him?

You were getting married. He was supposed to take your last name.

You understood each other on so many levels. So many people were uncomfortable with foster kids. People didn't want to deal with your pain. Nobody had the same trauma as you. A boy abandoned by his father and used for his father's debts. A girl, a victim of sexual abuse by a family friend and abandoned by her mother. You only had the two of you to feel less alone, more seen and more heard.

So why did you do this?

The video played in his brain, constantly, all night.

Now that you were asleep, his rage left, replaced by just sorrow and pain.

He loved so badly, what did you mean you weren't satisfied anymore?

He nuzzled his head against your soft stomach, inhaling the mixture of scents between your cocoa butter oil and the Sol de Janeiro body cream he always bought you. They touched your stomach. They must have even cummed on it; his own belly twisted at the thought.

He clenched his fists, fighting the disgust inside him.

He cried a bit, but he wasn't sad. Maybe he tried to connect with you with his tears on your skin; maybe physiologically you would understand how much you had hurt him. Maybe you still didn't care.

He wiped away his tears and left the apartment. He was so tired, but he had to return to the organization at dawn. He had to alert everyone that his enemies were planning something nasty. Even if you were a cheater, he knew damn well they had found you and not the other way around.

────────

You were woken up by a torrent of water on your face, making you feel like you were choking.

“I wasn’t that mean yesterday, but I came to my senses,” Eren scoffed. “I really realized that shit. You let several men sleep with you? While you're engaged? You deserve hell.” 

You coughed but froze when you saw he was shirtless, clearly fresh from the shower, wearing only sweatpants and with damp hair. It wasn't the fact that he was shirtless that made your eyes widen in pain. It wasn't missing his abs rubbing against your thick body, his hard planes against your softer curves, that you missed.

You missed his tattoos about you. He had covered them. All of them. Your name under his ribcage had been replaced with something else.

“Eren…” 

He stiffened at your trembling voice. He hated hurting the woman he loved so dearly, but you didn't care about him. Or that's what he thought.

“What? Surprised? I don't want your name on me anymore.”

Was this really how you were going to end up?

When he's finished paying off the debt his father forced him to bear by disappearing, is this what you'll have left? You, with all your tattoos about him, hoping he'll forgive you one day, and him with all his tattoos about you forgotten under a new ink?

Maybe death would have been a better choice.

“You're going to stop stripping.”

“Eren—”

“You weren't protected during it, I saw their dicks,” he spat with disgust. “I don't know what you're doing with your clients during private dances.”

“I took a pill, Eren.”

“I hope so, I would have killed that baby.”

You shivered, a bit horrified at how mean Eren can be when angry.

“Anyway, it's not about pregnancy. Sexually transmitted diseases are a thing, if you didn't know. You disgust me anyway. Find another job. I don’t buy your coping mechanism bullshit anymore.”

Your body was vibrating with him screaming they raped you so he would stop ruining the good things in your life but you couldn't because that scream might kill him as a result.

“Can I ask Jean if I can work with him?” you asked, apprehension in your voice.

He glared at you.

“So you fucked him too?”

“Eren, you know damn well I'm only friends with people from my club. Jean left it, but kept my number. He works in another bar now.”

“I also thought I knew you loved me.”

“I do, Eren. A lot. So much.”

He burst out of laughing and you looked away, drying your wet braids.

“You're really funny,” he muttered before leaving the living room.

Getting tattooed for hours just to let go of the urgency of not having you on his skin anymore was painful, but such a relief. Ony, his tattoo artist was so talented.

But he loved you so much, it felt so strange to not see your big ass name on his sides when he looked in the bathroom mirror. You were all his life but he was just a chapter for you.

He still hadn't slept yet. When he woke up, his hand was grabbing your breast and you rubbed your ass against his morning erection on purpose, but now you cheated on him because you weren't satisfied anymore. Life was so weird.

He loved you deeply so of course he winced when he remembered what he said about your trauma with your mom's friend.

He didn't truly believe you lied. He was here when you cried during sex when you were still a teen. But he was just confused.

It didn't make any sense, and he was too hurt to even seek answers from you.

He put on a t-shirt and he flinched when you came in the bedroom to get dressed.

“Who you’re gonna fuck now?” he asked, disdain barely hidden in his voice.

“Jean.”

It's like you stopped trying to deny what he thought of you. You had already made your choice, now you had to play the game.

He let out a heavy breath.

“Have fun, since hurting me is your new kink. Must be the weird graduation of the dominance you wanted since a few weeks ago.”

You almost lost control of your resolve to tell him you need rougher sex to numb yourself from the trauma but you kept your mouth shut and tried to act bored. Even though it was still raining in your heart.

────────

“Wow, I would never thought you and Eren would be over,” Jean said, drinking his cocktail.

The Emerald, the bar where Jean worked now, used its name perfectly. Luxury green was everywhere with chairs, tables and plants. Drinking in this bar was like drinking in a comforting lush jungle.

“Yeah, time changes relationships,” you lied.

Jean looked at you nervously, not knowing if it was the right time to tell you that he had a crush on you.

“So you…”

“How can someone who cheated be forgiven?”

He widened his eyes. “He cheated?”

“Jean, please answer the question.”

“I would never forgive cheating.”

You stiffened. “Even it’s the love of your life?”

“The love of my life wouldn’t cheat on me.”

You fell silent, your eyes watering but managed to leave your slight tears unnoticed.

────────

Eren was so tired. Tired of you. Tired of his life. It's been 48 hours and he's still awake because he had to work.

As he was stalking a new target, parked in front of a restaurant, he tried not to fall asleep even though his eyes kept closing on their own.

He needed money. He never refused assassination contracts.

But as he drove behind the target's car after he finished his dinner and headed home, other cars were behind him.

“Fuck, I'm so dumb,” he grumbled. He got in his fucking car and forgot to take the ones with tinted windows from his job.

Of course, a mafia boss would want to eliminate a novice who was stalking him and realized he was being sent by someone.

He drove like a maniac and accelerated to escape the cars chasing him, his need for sleep forgotten. His life was at stake. This mafia boss was Russian, the assassination contract was from his Italian rival, they didn't know the streets of the city very well. Unlike Eren, who had grown up here.

In the deserted streets, the men behind him tried to shoot him, damaging the car. Eren let out a groan, grabbing a handbag you'd left on the passenger seat floor and putting all your personal information in it. They'll maybe find him. But he can still protect your life.

He used the car's full speed to get ahead before jumping out and running between alleyways he knew they couldn't come by car. He looked ridiculous with your Miu Miu bag in his hand, which cost him almost three thousand dollars. But it was your engagement gift; he would do anything to please you and buy everything on your wishlist. When he arrived at the apartment after half an hour of intense sprinting, he collapsed on the sofa to sleep, covered in sweat.

────────

The soft sound of the television finally woke him, and he frowned at the sight of a plate of kuru fasulye with rice on the table. He glanced at you, watching yet another Cheetah Girls movie, and it made him roll his eyes.

“You need to get off these movies.” 

Your heart swelled at his calm tone; maybe you were lucky today. You opened your mouth to say happy birthday, but fell silent at his outburst.

“Who told you to cook my favorite Turkish dish? You think I’m that stupid to forgive you for that?” 

He pushed the plate away, and it crashed to the floor with a loud clatter, the food spilling out. An uncomfortable lump formed in your throat. You wanted to tell him that you'd followed the true recipe of his culture and had soaked the beans for hours in cold water, just the way it should be, while he slept, but he'd think you were trying to manipulate him.

You had enough self-respect not to just bend down and clean up the mess he'd made. You ignored him and watched the TV again, focusing on the movie.

But Eren grabbed a handful of your braids and pulled them so you fell onto his chest. You let out a groan of relief at the thought of him being close to you after hours of hatred. And he was sweaty. It was disgusting, but you nuzzled his chest.

Eren's jaw tightened, but he said nothing, inhaling your scent. His shoulders relaxed when he recognized the cocoa butter oil scent and that one popular body cream.

"You didn't fuck Jean. You still smell like yourself."

"Maybe I just sucked his dick."

“Oh my god, I’m going to kill you.” He pulled on your braids even harder, glaring at you, but you chuckled nervously at the absurdity of the situation. You kept lying and he believed your nonsense, but he thought you lied on the only real true thing: your love for him.

He was still too groggy, so he rubbed his eyes. He looked so cute like this, you leaned down to kiss his cheeks. He narrowed his eyes but stayed silent, as if he needed that kiss after all.

“Don’t open the door to anybody if I’m not here and don’t leave home without a gun.”

“Why?”

“You made me act like a moron at work with all this exhaustion,” he treated the subject in a trivial manner before looking at you better. “Do you remember how to use a gun?”

“Of course, you taught this when we were still teenagers.”

“When you still acted like you loved me.”

Your lips parted, you paused. Silence. You stared at each other, you trying not to cry because you loved him more than anything, he trying not to kill you for what he thought you'd done.

You were thinking about your engagement.

Marriage was an obligation for some. An act of love. Or a religious reason.

For you and Eren, getting married was your chance to connect with others. To be more than just foster kids. To finally be normal, to have people ask you normal questions. No more pity, embarrassment, or discomfort. You were a married couple who had gone through so much trauma together, and people would find it beautiful. Nobody would think you were broken.

But what about now?

“About…”

“Shut up, go clean up.”

“I’m not going to clean up the mess of a grown ass white man.”

Eren's eyes shot daggers but he got the message, and you chuckled again seeing him cleaning up his own mess. You wanted to cry so badly, everything hurts, but you were laughing. Maybe you will end up with dementia at this point.

  ──────── 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫,

Eren acted like like a fucking lunatic.

One hour, he will be teasing you, the next one you would cry because he has his gun against your temple, forcing you to show him your text messages. 

He struggled with so many stuff that stressed him out. The debt. Armin’s death. Your “cheating”.

So today, when he came home from work, dark circles under his eyes, you thought it was normal. He had always been tired of his job as a hitman, and you always took care of him when you could.

But he collapsed in the entryway of your apartment.

Worried, you wrapped your arms around him, and he let out a pained groan.

“Eren?”

“Leave me alone,” he muttered, his voice weak.

Your hands went to his back to help him up. His back was damp; you thought it was sweat. But when he rested his head on your shoulder and leaned on you to walk to the sofa, you realized with horror that you had blood on your hands.

Once he was seated, you took off his clothes and tried not to get goosebumps at the sight of his muscular thighs, abs, and how blessed nature had him.

When you saw the deep, bloody wounds on his back, you shivered.

"Did they ask you to change ranks again?"

"No," he whispered, his voice so frail it twisted your stomach, "I'm just being punished for the target I missed a few weeks ago."

"Why does your boss torture you all the time when you're one of his best men?" You started disinfecting his wounds.

“He’s not my boss. He’s the higher-ups. They’re jealous because they want to keep their positions,” he breathed.

“But you don’t want their positions!” 

He chuckled but groaned at the pain it caused since he’d also been hit in the ribs.

“That’s why they’re idiots.” 

You quickly forgot the context of your current relationship and began to tend to his wounds as best you could, gently. You gave him painkillers and herbal tea to help him relax. Then, you took his face in your hands to see if he had a scratch.

“Don’t be fooled by my state, I still hate you.”

The venom in his voice made you stiffen and your eyes sadden. He pushed you away.

“You didn’t have those sad eyes when they were pounding into you.”

I had, actually, I even sobbed, you thought.

“Are you feeling better?”

“It’s not like you’ll give a damn.”

“Eren…”

“Call me Yeager. My name is too intimate for a whore.”

It was like receiving spit on your face. You glared at him, but for what? He thought you had group sex behind his back. You were the one at fault.

“O-Okay.” You swallowed hard, you no longer had dignity. “Then… Yeager… Do you need some help with showering?”

“No, fuck off.”

He tried to get up but always fell so you helped him while he snarled insults at you.

You were undressing him and preparing his bath, but you realized he was staring at you with a particular intensity as he sat in the tub.

“Um…”

“Why don’t you kill me?”

“What?”

“Why. You. Don’t. Kill. Me. That’s what you wanted to do, right? Make me feel so exhausted from the grief of our relationship, distracted at my job because of the hurt, and still getting close to me like a poison because of my love. You wanted to kill me. You’re having fun watching me being tortured. Why didn’t you just shoot me in the head? It would be faster.” 

Your hands trembled as you soaped his neck, avoiding his gaze.

“I guess I want you to feel pain longer…”

“You know… You’re weird. The situation is so weird. Something doesn’t add up.” 

Your brain worked quickly to find something to stop him from discovering the truth and being killed.

“I was just tired of you. You promised me you would take care of me and our life is a nightmare. It was fine when we were minors. But your job as a hitman ruined everything. You just ruin everything with your mental health and your family debt problems. I want more in life.”

You immediately regretted this way of doing things with the sight of his eyes which gave a glimpse of the soul bruised by your words.

“I meant…”

“You’re right. I never had been the best man for you.”

“Eren, I didn’t—”

“Shut up.”

He stared at the bathtub floor without saying anything.

What you said made a lot of sense.

He knew that.

He just ruins, ruins, and ruins.

Kills, kills and kills. 

He wasn't a good person. But he thought you liked him that way.

Maybe your romance was all a lie.

  ──────── 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫,

Eren tucked the stray curl of hair into your satin bonnet, pushing it back with his gun, his other hand holding his blunt. He held his breath so as not to make a sound and wake you when you stirred on the bed.

He'd always loved watching you sleep before. It was funny seeing your angelic face drooling on the pillow, a far cry from the needy expression you had when you asked him to slap you in bed.

But right now, watching you sleep made him want to kill you and then himself.

How could such a beautiful woman be such a traitor? A girl so caring, who did everything for him, with him. It didn't make any sense. He was so close to the truth. Too hurt to see it.

He stared at your forehead for long seconds and squeezed the trigger against it, wondering how he would react if you were dead. He hated you, but he'd rather you were alive somewhere on this planet. Alive with Jean, maybe. His jaw tightened as he pictured the brown-haired man with you.

He placed the gun on the mattress. His hand slipped under your t-shirt to caress your soft stomach. Was Jean going to be the father of your children now?

His whole body was churning; he wanted to reject this fate.

For the past few days, Eren hadn't recognized himself.

He kept replaying what you'd said in the bathtub. That he was destroying everything, ruining your life with his mental and family problems. That you wanted more.

He was having trouble eating and sleeping these days. The fog in his head was taking over.

"Eren?" Your hands in his hair pulled him out of his inner darkness. He hadn't noticed he'd lain down on top of you, his head on your chest.

"Why are you crying?" 

He touched his wet cheeks, confused.

“Nothing,” he grumbled, sniffling. “Acting like you don’t know why.”

You looked away, biting the inside of your cheek. “It’s not my problem.”

He let out a quiet laugh—a sad, hoarse one.

“Nothing is your problem. You only care about shaking ass at the club. Aren’t you ashamed?” He snapped, his voice raising. “You could have left way before than betraying me like that.”

You wished you could make the tears in the corners of his eyes disappear.

“You fuck good.”

His eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched even more. “That’s all? That’s the only thing you like about me?”

Tell him he mattered. Tell him his mental battles weren’t such a burden.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and brought his head close to yours.

“Yes. Now do something.”

“You don’t deserve it,” he spat, venom in his voice.

That’s what you wanted. His hatred. His anger. Something that proves he’s alive. You could keep the secret of what happened your whole life if it was to keep him safe.

Even if his hands between your thighs were rougher than usual when he fingered you, despite what he said. Even if it was your turn to cry when he fucked you, his hand on his bedframe, a full view of the tattoos on his chest covering the ones about you. Even if there was more pain in his gaze than lust when he finished.

Eren hurriedly got out of bed, pulling on sweatpants. Eren needed to stop sleeping with you when his emotions were uncomfortable. He needed to detach himself from his ex. It was over between you. You didn’t love him. You were going to become the mother of Jean’s children. He was nothing to you. His hands trembled as he smoked on the balcony, barely able to hold his blunt.

He had your mouth forming an O in his mind as he gazed at the city lit by illuminated skyscrapers and streetlights. Your little whimpers. Your hands caressing his sculpted abs. Your pleas to go faster, harder, more intense. As if it wasn't already heartbreaking enough that he had to be so sexually rough with you to satisfy you.

Was that why you cheated on him? Always needing more. He's never enough and always too much for you.

He glared at you as you slept.

He resented you so much.

  ──────── 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫,

“You look terrible, man,” Connie observed, his feet up on his desk, smoking a joint as he surveyed a gaunt Eren with deep-set dark circles under his eyes.

“Focus on your work. We have to avenge Armin, and you know my own reasons for wanting to kill them all.”

“You don’t look very ready to hear what I’m about to say.”

Eren slammed his fist on the desk. “Just spill the beans on what you found, damn it.”

He had asked Connie to hack into their enemies’ security cameras several weeks ago to prepare an attack plan behind his boss’s back.

“Eren, I don’t think you want to see that, I’m serious.” 

He shoved Connie’s chair aside with a “tsk” and opened the surveillance video folder. With the mouse cursor, he watched the fast-forward footage of the men entering and leaving the organization. “You’re playing with me, Con. That’s boring as hell.”

“Go back two and a half months. Don’t scream. What we’re doing is against protocol.”

He did as Connie asked. He frowned as a woman was helped out of a car trunk by several men. The hot knot in his stomach grew and grew as the cogs in his brain assembled the pieces of the puzzle. 

The woman had a bag over her head and was struggling, but it was easy to recognize you. You were wearing a House of CB dress Eren had bought you. A long, floral bustier dress. One he hadn’t seen since you came back from your night out with your stripper friends, and you were avoiding his gaze with the oversized men’s clothes on you.

You had asked for rough sex that day. No matter how much you cried, you had asked him to be even rougher. He thought it was your way of dealing with your sexual trauma.

He was right; he didn't know at that time that you had a new one. 

His whole body burned, his trembling fingers clicking on the internal cameras, but Connie turned off his computer by unplugging it.

“I know you don't want to be friends with me since Armin died, but I like you. Don't beat yourself up watching this. It was very long and painful to watch.” 

The hotness rose in his throat, and he vomited his breakfast onto Connie's desk. He winced but understood his reaction.

“Why didn't she tell me?” he murmured, lost and horrified.

“Why would she? You're going to try to kill them all, and they'll kill you. We underestimate them a lot; that's how they killed Armin.”

“Who cares?” Eren sneered, incredulous. “They hurt my baby.”

 “You’re not going to make her suffer from your death on top of everything else? She must have been so scared for you all this time.”

While Eren put you through hell.

He kicked the desk, cursing.

──────── 

He nuzzled your neck affectionately; your scent no longer made him nauseous. It was what you had been a victim of that made him feel sick now.

He couldn't talk to you right now; he would break down and show you he knew. He preferred to cuddle you while you slept and plot his revenge.

He wasn't sure he would come back alive. But he had to, for his girl. He wouldn't be able to look at himself in the mirror if he didn't do something to bring you justice.

"You're gonna be okay if I die, right?" he whispered against your skin. He lowered his head to listen to your heart—the most important sound in his universe.

You're gonna be okay if he dies getting revenge on you, you have Jean.

Even though he's already dead to the thought of you with someone else.

    ──────── 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫,

“Give her this if I don’t come back,” Eren said to Connie in the car, handing him an envelope. “Give it to her personally. She’s not stupid enough to come to my funeral and get caught or even open the door.”

“A love confession?”

“A will of love.”

“You don’t really have to do this, Eren. You can leave the organization and have your happy ending with her.”

“Happy ending? I have a fucking debt to pay, Connie. They’re already threatening me enough because I’m not paying it back fast enough, according to them. I’ll be in a life of crime for a long time. And even then, the men who abused my girl can’t be alive. I’m going to try to kill at least one of them to rest in peace.”

Connie chuckled nervously.

“You don’t understand that’s exactly what they’re waiting for, Eren. You’re the best member of the organization. Losing you is good for them. They’ve chosen low-ranking members to carry out their massacre.” 

“And they made me hate and hurt the love of my life for weeks. They all deserve to die, I don’t care about their ranks.”

“Your girl can’t say I didn’t try to save you.” Connie watched Eren walk away toward the place where he had ambushed the enemies. Eren seemed calm, smoking a cigarette, his hand in the pockets of his baggy jeans. Connie knew he was going to kill at least two of them, we were talking about Eren. But just him against the six men who abused you? Connie gripped the steering wheel of his car, already mourning a man he wished he could call a friend.

  ──────── 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫,

It had been several days since Eren wasn't home.

You weren't stressed. Eren sometimes had to travel long distances for his assassination contracts.

You broke a glass by rubbing it too hard. You bumped your head on a cupboard door while cleaning it. Your toe stubbed on the bed while sweeping. Distracted but not stressed. Eren sometimes had to travel long distances for his assassination contracts.

You glanced at the door at least once every three minutes. Then you looked at the kitchen clock, counting the hours. Four days and eight hours since he'd come home from work.

You weren't stressed. Eren sometimes had to—

The doorbell rang, but your body remained tense because Eren never used that option to announce his arrival.

With incredible calm, you grabbed the gun Eren had bought you. A hitman wouldn't get involved with an incompetent woman.

"Who's there?" you asked loudly, pressing your ear against the door.

"A friend of Eren's. He... died. I have some things to return. Sorry, it took me a while to find his address." 

Several seconds passed in heavy silence. Connie finally knocked, but you were already back to your housework.

Eren is dead.

You scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed. You didn't know if it was your own arm you were scrubbing.

Connie kept knocking, as if he had something important to give you.

But you were far away.

In a world where the sun had gone out.

  ──────── 𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞,

“Thank you for the kind words about my work. But don’t put me on a pedestal, I’m nobody.”

You reread the sentence in your email and sighed. It sounded insecure, when you wanted to be humble.

You’d been freelancing as a graphic designer with your boyfriend, Jean, for several months. He came from art school, so he had the expertise your creativity lacked.

It was the perfect job because you didn’t have to speak.

You lost your voice that day.

Your hands would tremble when you thought about him.

You were okay. You saw a therapist, you had your antidepressants, you’d stopped BDSM and learned to enjoy gentle sex with Jean after your rapes. Because life still has things to offer, even if he’s not there. That’s what you tried to believe.

“Isaree wants to go to the mall for candy,” Jean said softly, his hand on your shoulder. “We could go to the park first.”

You tensed at the touch, wishing it were someone else’s. Even your baby girl, you wanted her to be someone else’s. That’s why she was called ‘freedom.’

You said ‘no’ in sign language and plunged back into the social media story template you were creating.

“Isaree would like to spend more time with you, love.”

You paused, your hands sweating. Was it so bad not to be passionate about life, your boyfriend, and your child?

You were okay. You had a job, no insomnia, ate healthily, had shed tears of joy when Isaree was born, and you did her homework with her. An average mom. If we ignore your muteness. If we ignore the blank expression you have every day. If we forget your feeling of drowning in the depths of an endless ocean. With no way out, and with the hope of seeing him again at the end.

—

“Does Eren like the park?” Isaree asked, playing in the grass. Jean tensed at the sound of his name, but he knew that Eren was the only way your daughter could connect with you. Isaree had understood early on that something had happened to her mother. She had gone through your things and found photos of a mysterious dark-haired man with green eyes. It was the only thing you ever paid attention to.

You fed her, took care of her, took her to school, and hugged her when she cried. But Isaree kept watching the mother-daughter pairs around her, wondering what she was doing wrong to lack the sparks they shared. You signed to her that he preferred the sea, and Isaree's eyes lit up with excitement.

"Wow, he's so cool. Why is he always sleeping? I'd love to meet him." 

She had Jean's eyes, bright and enthusiastic. You didn't want to break her childlike heart, so you allowed your lie.

"He's in another country right now, but you'll be able to see him someday," You signed.

She twirled in the grass, already thinking about writing down the information about the sea in her diary. Isaree wrote about everything she cared for, because Eren was one of them in her eyes. Not a friend or a father, a secret thing where death and life create an in-between. 

Jean was painting a portrait of his daughter and you on the grass. With colors, colors that reminded you that life was beautiful, even if you weren't quite sure anymore if it was worth it.

─

As your lineage continues to reproduce, Eren has disappeared from everybody’s memory, and nobody knew who should have been the father of your children, decades after your and your daughter's death. 

  ──────── 𝐮𝐧𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧'𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫,

“Dear brat,

If you're reading this letter, it means I've failed.

I'm sorry I can't control my emotions. I feel like it's genetic. Be careful with your future children; maybe they'll have the will to fight from birth.

I hope they'll have the will to fight for you.

You deserve for everyone to fight for you.

I hope you know how hard I fought for you. My death will be proof of that.

I'm sorry our story ended like this.

I should have reacted differently. I knew you. You wouldn't have done that to me. I shouldn't have been so horrible and angry. I said things I didn't mean.

I'm sorry my fears were stronger than me. You don't know what it's like to have a baddie and not be mentally healthy for her.

Let Jean take care of you.

Never talk about me to your children, please.

I'm the worst.

I know I will die, abandon you, that I will no longer be there to protect you.

But I’m still doing it because we are still engaged. For life.

Jean can make you babies, but your soul will always have my name on it. Just like mind has yours.

Never talk about me, and please see a therapist for what happened, baby.

Take care and be happy for me, okay? 

So that I can rest in peace, while that horseface is lucky as hell.

(I took your pink keychain to be buried with it just in case, don’t panic if you can’t find it).”

──────── ✃- - - - - - - - - - - you liked it ? please support fics you liked with a reblog or a comment ! writers never know how we impact you if you don't say anything <3 ── .✦

[leviackermanstoes]

I WILL DO KINKTOBER THIS YEARI WILL DO KINKTOBER THIS YEARI WILL DO KINKTOBER THIS YEARI WILL DO KINKTOBER THIS YEARI WILL DO KINKTOBER THIS YEARI WILL DO KINKTOBER THIS YEARI WILL DO KINKTOBER THIS YEARI WILL DO KINKTOBER THIS YEARI WILL DO KINKTOBER THIS YEARI WILL DO KINKTOBER THIS YEARI WILL DO KINKTOBER THIS YEARI WILL DO KINKTOBER THIS YEARI WILL DO KINKTOBER THIS YEAR

[rirahwritesit09]

𝓤𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻 𝓗𝓲𝓼 𝓖𝓪𝔃𝓮

Jealous!Levi x Reader—One Shot

✧༺❀༻✧༺❀༻✧✧༺❀༻✧༺❀༻✧ ✧༺❀༻

💚Thank you, @meldl18, for the request. I fear I have written another monster fic here lol…hope you enjoy💚

Description: After weeks of tension and unresolved feelings, a confrontation with Levi pushes everything to the surface—especially after your night out with Jean.

WC: ~8k

Tags: Jealous!Levi Ackerman x reader, slow burn, enemies to lovers, jealousy, tension, emotional angst, dominance, canon typical violence, Jean Kirstein mentioned, (Oh shit!), SMUT ofc, and some fluff stuff towards the end (As fluffy as Levi can afford to be, anyways!)

MDNI!

✧༺❀༻✧༺❀༻✧ ✧༺❀༻✧༺❀༻✧ ✧༺❀༻✧

You don’t know when it started. The hostility, that is.

Or why it seemed to settle so naturally between the two of you, like it had been inevitable. It was as if he was destined to hate you even before he met you.

Captain Levi Ackerman, that is.

Maybe it wasn’t as personal as it felt. Levi didn’t take to anyone easily.

Still… it had been three years.

Three years since you joined the Scouts. You weren’t some wide-eyed recruit anymore, you were deadly. Not to mention appreciated by those around you. Captain Erwin had taken a liking to your tenacity, and even Mikasa liked to chat while you repaired gear.

So it didn’t make sense.

The way he looked at you like you were something beneath his boot.

Captain Levi, that is.

Levi was harsh with everyone; that much was true. But you weren’t blind, you definitely saw it. He had to care to a certain degree. It was evident by the way his eyes tracked his squad during missions, and the way he was always counting heads.

He did care.

Just not about you.

But with you, there was no restraint, and no quiet understanding. Just cold unrelenting scrutiny. And that made your blood burn. Because you knew what you were worth. You were strong enough to stand beside the best of them. Mikasa included.

You didn’t ever break formation out of panic.

You did it because you refused to stand there and watch someone die when you could do something about it.

And every time, he made you pay for it. He would call you reckless, airheads or a dipshit.

Once, he’d even snatched you by the front of your cloak, yanking you close, his voice raised in anger in front of everyone.

For “endangering the squad.”

For being selfish.

Selfish.

The thought of anyone calling you selfish still made your head hurt.

You’d snapped back at him sometimes with your chin held high, refusing to be spoken to like you were dirt when you were only doing your job. It was your life to throw away, not his. And still, he looked you dead in the eye and told you that you weren’t saving people for their sake, but your own.

So here you stood during morning muster, shoulder to shoulder between Connie and Jean, boots planted firmly in the dirt despite the tension that rooted tight in your chest cavity. Levi stood at the front, going over assignments.

It would be a dull day with no missions lined up.

Levi moved down the line, inspecting everyone with a meticulous gaze.

Then he stopped. Right in front of you.

Of course.

You felt it before you looked up at him, his scrutiny, which was heavy and suffocating. Your stomach jumped, but you forced yourself to stay completely still. His eyes dragged from your head to your boots.

“Next time,” he said flatly, “try starching your uniform.”

He paused, eyeballing you from head to toe.

“It looks like shit.”

It shouldn’t have bothered you, but of course it did. Because as much as you hated to admit it, you wanted his approval.

“Yes, sir.”

You kept your gaze forward, refusing to give him the satisfaction. Still, you felt his gaze linger a second too long before he moved on. When he was out of earshot, you exhaled, glancing at Jean.

“I swear,” you muttered, “he catches one whiff of my ass and comes crawling out of nowhere.”

Jean snorted and Connie barely held it together.

“I’m serious,” you pressed. “He’s always looking for something...”

“Maybe he likes you,” Connie said.

You shot him a look. “Yeah. I can just feel the affection.”

When they broke formation, Jean fell into step beside you, close as usual. You didn’t mind. He was easy to talk to, and you didn’t have to brace yourself around him.

“So,” Jean started casually, “we’ve got liberty tonight.”

You glanced at him with a half smile. "Yeah?"

“Thought maybe I could take you out again. For another drink, play some cards, take a walk...whatever you like.”

You smiled despite yourself.

You felt at ease around Jean. The two of you had been casually flirting and seeing each other for a few weeks. He was insanely attractive, and had a way with words that you couldn’t help but be drawn to, so naturally you smiled at his offer.

“Yeah… I’d like that.”

Then there came that feeling. Like something was pressing into your back, and creeping up your neck. You didn’t even have to guess.

Levi was standing still, across the way, watching. Nothing about his gaze was casual or passive. His burning gaze was fixed on you and Jean, slowly smoldering.

And then he moved, straight toward you.

“Oh, great,” you muttered. “Don’t react,” you warned Jean, who was visibly confused. Levi was on top of the two of you before you could elaborate.

“Jean.” he shot, his tone flat and controlled. “I have you going out on a supply run.”

Jean straightened immediately. “Yes, sir.” His eyes met yours, saying a silent goodbye.

"Then go." Levi spat.

And just like that, Jean turned and was gone. Leaving you alone with him. You turned your attention to the ledger, pretending to read. But he was still there, standing far too close.

You glanced up…

What a mistake.

He was just looking at you, as if he didn't know what to make of you. You began to squirm under his gaze, heat rushed through you unmerited, but sadly not unwanted. At least not to your body.

What the fuck…

You began to internally panic, not knowing the right thing to say, the right thing to do. Why did he have to have this affect on you?

“It’s… cold out here,” you muttered.

“Then you should dress like it.” he lowered his gaze to your chest, where you noticed a button had fallen loose, and your chest was slightly exposed

His eyes dragged over you slowly, making you feel bare even thought you were fully clothed.

Your throat tightened.

Don’t react.

Don’t…

His gaze lifted and met yours, making your chest tighten in all the wrong ways. He stepped back, just like it never happened.

“Get your assignment and move.” He said, deadpan.

“Yes, sir.”

The armory smelled like oil and worn leather. You sat cross-legged on the bench, ODM gear spread out in pieces in front of you. Your fingers worked methodically, tightening bolts only for them to slip out of place again.

You sighed.

“I’ve always hated putting these things back together,” you muttered.

Across from you, Mikasa adjusted her gear.

“Mm.”

For a while, neither of you spoke.

“…Levi cornered me earlier.”

“Mmm. Shocker.”

You frowned slightly. “He was… weird.”

That slightly piked her attention.

“Weird how?” She puzzled.

“He wasn’t griping. Not even really bitching.” You hesitated. “Just… looking at me...like in my eyes, and stuff…and lingering around.”

Click.

“…He obviously likes you.”

You blinked, eyebrows touching your hairline. “What?”

“He watches you. Like all the time.”

“That’s because he thinks I’m a liability.”

“He doesn’t watch liabilities like that.” A pause. “He lets them die of their own stupidity.”

You opened your mouth then closed it.

“…Well,” you muttered, wiping your blade harder than necessary, “even if he did—hypothetically—that doesn’t mean anything.”

Mikasa tilted her head.

“…You like him too.”

You froze.

“I do not.”

“You do.”

“I don’t! he’s just…” you gestured vaguely, “objectively attractive, and nonchalant, and strong—”

Mikasa raised an eyebrow.

“…and brave,” you finished weaker.

Silence fell over the room for a moment.

“And those are all qualities you’re attracted to.”

You groaned. “Oh my God.”

“But Jean is different,” you said quickly.

Mikasa waited.

“He’s… soft. Kind. He actually talks to me like I’m a person.”

Mikasa nodded once.

“That’s nice.”

A pause.

“But that’s not what you want.”

You stared at her blankly before going back to your work, but internally you cursed yourself, because you feared she could be right.

You were alone while getting ready in the barracks that night. Most people had someone to go home to—family, partners. Those who didn’t, like Mikasa, Eren, and Armin, had already gone ahead to the tavern.

You hesitated.

You wanted to be excited. Jean was using one of his few liberty nights to spend it with you—even though he had family he could’ve seen.

But Levi kept creeping into your thoughts...those stormy gray eyes...

You tossed your shirt onto the bed, arms crossing tightly.

“I’m not going,” you muttered.

It wasn’t fair.

One look from him—and suddenly everything you’d been building with Jean felt… shaky. It wasn’t fair to Jean either. You didn’t want to let him down.

But the heart wants what it wants.

He’d understand that.

“…Like hell,” you muttered, grabbing your blouse again. You undid the top two buttons, adjusted it slightly, and headed for the door.

The tavern was loud.

Laughter spilled over itself, glasses clinked, chairs scraped—heat and noise wrapped themselves around you like a blanket, dulling everything else.

And for once—

you let yourself relax.

Jean sat beside you, shoulder brushing yours as he laughed with Connie and Armin. His sleeves were rolled, hair slightly messier than usual, drink loose in his hand.

He looked… good.

After a while, he led you to a quieter corner. A small round table sat tucked near the wall. Instead of sitting across from you, he pulled out the chair beside his—and you took it. Now you were angled toward each other, knees interlocked underneath the table. Close enough to feel his warmth.

It made it harder to think.

You held your cards low in your lap. Jean mirrored you, leaning back, one arm draped over his chair, the other holding his cards near his thigh.

“Trying to peek?” he murmured.

You scoffed, tilting your cards closer. “Please. Your hand can't be that interesting.”

“Mm,” he hummed, glancing sideways.

Heat crept up your neck—but you only shifted slightly, making your knee rub the inside of his thigh as if it were unintentional.

“Funny,” he replied, leaning in just a little closer, voice lower, “I was thinking the same thing.”

You shuffled your cards.

“You’re losing.”

“I’m winning.”

“You keep saying that.”

“And I’ve been right.”

You reached across him to steal a card—his hand caught your wrist mid-motion.

You froze, then looked up. He was already watching you.

“…You always cheat?” he asked.

“Only when I’m losing.”

“That’s most of the time.”

“Wow,” you breathed, mock offended. “You’re bold tonight.”

“Maybe I’ve had enough to drink that I just don't care."

Your pulse picked up. You pulled your hand back slowly, but his fingers lingered a second too long before letting go.

The noise around you faded.

“…Hey,” he said softly.

You turned toward him.

“Yeah?”

His gaze dropped briefly to your lips, then lifted again.

“You know I—” He stopped, exhaling. “I’ve been meaning to—”

“You don’t have to say it,” you murmured.

He studied you.

“Yeah?”

You nodded. That was all it took.

He leaned in—slow enough to stop him if you wanted. You didn’t. His lips met yours, soft at first—testing. Then you kissed him back. Your head spun as you sank into it.

Maybe it was the alcohol—

but he was a good kisser.

The kiss broke slightly as you both shifted, turning heads to kiss one another more deeply—And your heart jumped into your throat.

Because over Jean’s shoulder...you saw him.

Levi.

He was watching, unmoving. His gaze locked on yours. Not angry--no something worse.

Searing.

Why the hell is he even here…?

He should’ve been with the officers—not here with enlisted soldiers. He lifted his drink slowly, eyes never leaving you, then set it down harder than necessary. His jaw tightened.

He almost looked amused. Like he wanted to laugh.

Your stomach twisted.

Jean pulled back, noticing the shift.

“Something wrong? Are you okay?”

“Yes,” you said quickly. “I just… maybe we should go outside. I’d rather be alone with you.”

Jean lit up instantly.

“Yeah—of course.”

He stood, taking your hand, leaving the cards behind. You walked wide around the tables—avoiding Levi entirely. Jean didn’t notice anything wrong, eager to lead you outside.

But you couldn't shake Levi's stare as you let Jean lead you out the door. His gaze was set on your back the whole way out.

As Jean walked you back to the barracks that night you felt defeated. He left you at the steps, giving you a small smile before turning and disappearing into the night. You stepped inside letting out a frustrated breath, then—

“FUCK!” you hissed, dragging a hand down your face.

You stood leaning against the door still, unwillingly remembering what had just taken place: The night air. The tree at your back. Jean’s mouth on yours—warm, and insistent—his hands had been needy, touching all over your body. The way you’d melted into it, let yourself get pulled under.

And still—

You hadn’t been there. Perhaps physically, yes, but in your mind...

Levi had lived inside of your thoughts. You imagined that Jean was him.

His voice. His presence. The way he groped you.

Levi's gaze had followed you both outside, clinging to you, threading through every touch until you couldn’t tell who you were feeling anymore.

You remembered pulling away, your breath uneven, and your thoughts all tangled up. And the look on Jean’s face when you told him you couldn’t do it. That you didn’t trust what you were feeling. That it wasn’t fair to him.

He’d taken it better than he should have.

That almost made it worse for you.

"Ugh! WHAT the FUCK am I doing?!" You shouted, believing you were alone.

“Making it harder than it needs to be.”

Mikasa’s voice cut cleanly through the room. You jumped slightly, turning toward her. She was sitting on her bunk, book resting in her lap, eyes already on you like she’d been watching the whole time.

“When did you get here? Care to announce yourself, I mean GOD?” you groaned.

“I've been here a while,” she said, turning a page in her novel. "Technically, you're the intruder here."

Of course she had.

You dropped onto your bunk with a frustrated exhale, staring at the ceiling.

“Well...I messed that up. Like...bad.”

Mikasa turned a page.

“Mhm.”

Silence.

Then—

“…So,” she added casually, not even looking at you, “you stopped because of Levi.”

You turned your head sharply. “I did not—”

She finally glanced up, completely unimpressed.

“You did.”

“I didn’t.”

“You were thinking about him while kissing Jean, weren't you?”

Your mouth opened—

Closed.

“…I hate you. Stay out of my head.”

“Mm...Right. I'll do that.”

A beat passed between you.

Then, with the faintest hint of dry humor:

“I told you so...”

You groaned, dragging your blanket over your face.

“Oh my GOD do you ever shut up?.”

Mikasa laughed, her eyes lingering on you.

"Sometimes I wonder the same thing about you." She snarked playfully. "In all seriousness, just take some time for yourself. You're obviously all tied up."

"Right." you shot back.

But she was right. You needed space. No Jean, no Levi, just room to breathe.

The next week—after you started taking a little space from Jean—was made worse by the fact that Levi had somehow grown even more impossible. He assigned Jean every unwanted job. And wherever Jean ended up, you were placed on the complete opposite side of the world.

You couldn’t even be upset about the distance—you needed it.

But you knew exactly why Levi was doing it--you were convinced:

It was because he wanted to punish you for being happy.

And yet—

Everywhere you were, he was near. Close enough to feel his presence, which made your heart race. Watching him train, his muscles rippling, leaning over maps and plans with Erwin, those sexy arms with his sleeves rolled up... But he was never close enough to acknowledge you.

It drove you insane.

Did I just ruin something good with Jean for a man who won’t even acknowledge my existence?

You refused to say it out loud—to admit it—even to yourself. But it was impossible to ignore the attraction to him. To stop the thoughts of you, paired with him. To imagine him fucking you in the captain's quarters with his tongue deep in your mouth, catching every single moan.

Ugh...What's wrong with me?!

Besides… how were you even supposed to know if he was interested when he acted like he couldn’t stand you?

The tension between you grew thicker by the day. He became more critical. More overbearing. He’d approach without warning, pointing out flaws that didn’t exist—adjusting your gear like you were a cadet fresh out of training. His fingers were quick and efficient… lingering just long enough to make you tingle, dragging over the skin above your neckline as he walked around you, tightening straps, his breath brushing softly over your shoulder...

Followed by some sharp, unnecessary correction. You always considered yourself a reasonable person, but by the time the squad's weekly sparring session had arrived, you were ready to snap.

You were paired with Sasha.

One by one, you had put down every opponent before her, but Sasha made you work for it. The two of you tangled, struggled—limbs locking, slipping, and striking—until finally, with a desperate burst of effort, you slammed her into the dirt.

Silence.

You stood over her, chest heaving, sweat dripping, and blood running from your busted nose, dripping down onto her uniform. Your hands braced against your knees. You’d been out there since early afternoon. Now the sun was beginning to set. You were exhausted. You offered her a hand, which she took, and you pulled her to her feet.

“Again.”

Levi’s voice cut through the field. A collective groan rippled through the group.

“Or you can all run,” he added flatly. The groan died instantly, and everyone began to fall back into formation, ready to pair with a new partner.

Heat prickled across your scalp, but not from exertion.

From sheer anger.

Fuck that.

“Then I guess that’s what we’re doing,” you shot back, straightening despite the way your body screamed in protest. Your hands planted firmly on your hips. “Because I’m not sparring again. Enough is enough.”

Silence pierced through the air like an arrow. Levi stopped dead in his tracks and turned slowly, his head tilted slightly, as if he couldn't believe it.

“Excuse you?” His voice was low and deadly.

You stepped forward, unrelenting.

“Excuse yourself. But before you do, how many miles do you want from me, Captain?” You gestured sharply toward the field. "We’ve been out here for hours—with no rest, and no food. I am beyond done with this shit.”

Connie choked on his water.

Armin shifted uncomfortably.

Reiner muttered something under his breath.

No one else moved. Levi’s eyes narrowed.

Then he moved. Fast—closing the distance. One second, he was across the field, and the next, he was right in front of you. Close enough that his breath stirred the loose strands of hair clinging to your face. You straightened instinctively, chest puffing—unwilling to back down.

Even as your pulse spiked.

He smelled clean.

Like tea and expensive soap.

It was distracting.

“I don’t care who you take down,” he said quietly. “If you don’t know the technique, then you’re dead weight to me.”

You scoffed.

“You're so right. I’m sure the titans are going to be real impressed by my vertical suplex.”

Your voice was sharp, your glare unwavering. You were dangerously close to putting him on his back just to prove a point. Your palms sweated as you prepared to make your move. Your heel shifted upward. A hand landed on your shoulder just as you were about to lunge, holding you firmly.

Jean stepped in.

“That’s enough, y/n. Captain, please. She's just dysregulated...tired.”

His other hand settled around your upper arm, grounding, steady. Ensuring he could pull you back if need be. You didn’t move.

Levi’s gaze flicked to him.

Then back to you.

A quiet, humorless scoff left him.

“Tch.”

His eyes dragged over you—slow, deliberate.

Judging you.

“Of course,” he muttered. “Running to her rescue.”

Jean’s jaw tightened, and he lowered his gaze.

Levi leaned in just slightly—Not enough for anyone else to notice, but enough that you felt it in your chest.

“He can't save you from me,” he said under his breath.

Your stomach dropped. Your blood was boiling hot again.

“Look at you,” he added, straightening. “Covered in sweat, acting like you’ve done something impressive.” His lip curled faintly.

“You’re filthy.”

Your body reacted before your brain could catch up.

Heat.

Sharp and sudden, it traveled directly to your core. It was an electric feeling.

You hated it. But your body loved it.

Really? He calls you filthy, and it does this to you?

You clenched your jaw at him, trying to hide the arousal in your eyes.

“Get cleaned up,” he said, voice dropping just for you. “Then come to my office.”

A moment passed. You wanted to hit him.

Kiss him.

Fuck his stupid brains out.

“I’ll deal with you there.”

He turned away like it was nothing.

“The rest of you are dismissed. Bunk inspection. 0500,” he yelled.

The formation broke quickly, murmurs spreading like wildfire.

You caught pieces—

“…she really said that to him…” “…we’re all screwed…” “…he’s gonna kill her…”

Eren stepped into your space almost immediately. “What were you thinking?” he snapped. “You can’t talk to him like that! You really think that's gonna fly?”

You shot him a look.

“That’s rich. Coming from you.”

He opened his mouth— then closed it, giving you an annoyed look before turning towards the barracks. You didn’t care. You were coming undone.

You were tired of the constant pressure. And with how infuriatingly he affected you. You hated how much you wanted him—and he hated you. That much was obvious. So why couldn’t you stop thinking about him? Why did every glance feel like something more? Why did you want him to fuck you through the wall?

You cut the thought off.

Hard.

No, no, no.

You weren’t doing that. Not here. Tensions were too high, you needed a cold shower to gather your composure and thoughts.

You’d cleaned up as best you could. The cold shower hadn't helped cool your irritated skin—or your troubled mind. The busted nose was still giving you issues, so you kept a handkerchief tucked in your pocket just in case it gushed again. Your mind raced about what to say to Levi.

He’s going to rip me apart for this.

The walk to his office felt longer than it should have. Your half-laced boots echoed against the stone, each step a reminder of just how sore you were. Your muscles were aching, shin splints throbbing, and your body was worn down to the bone.

Good.

You thought.

Let him see exactly what he’s done.

The halls were quiet at this hour; most had already turned in. Lantern light flickered along the walls, shadows stretching ahead of you.

You tried—once—to gather your thoughts. An apology or an explanation, but nothing stuck. Every time your mind circled back, it landed on the same thing—

his voice his proximity the way he looked at you

And the anger came rushing back.

Good.

You’d rather feel that than the other feelings that kept coming to the surface.

You stopped in front of his door.

For a second, you hesitated, your hand hovered.

knock. knock.

You straightened slightly, jaw crunched into a firm line, already bracing yourself for impact.

Levi

The knock came right on time.

Of course it did.

He hadn’t been looking at the clock—but he didn’t need to. Levi sat behind his desk, one hand resting loosely against the surface, the other wrapped around a cup of tea that had long since gone cold.

He hadn't noticed or cared. His eyes flicked once toward the door, then back down.

"Tch..."

He should’ve handled it out there. Shut you down in front of everyone, and ended it. But no, you just had to push. He’d let it go too far. It needed to be addressed one-on-one.

An image flashed uninvited—

You, earlier. sweat-soaked, and breathing hard, defiant looking up at him like that…

He cut the thought off immediately.

Irrelevant.

He set the cup down with a quiet click, shaking his head. He walked around the desk, propping himself up on the corner, and grabbed a sheet of paper, pretending to be observing the writing scrawled there.

“Enter.”

He kept his voice flat and controlled, not allowing any emotion underneath it. The door creaked open and you slipped in.,

For half a second, he didn’t look up, deliberately. He let you stand there, and let the silence set in steadily. He was in control here.

Not you.

Then, his gaze lifted and froze involuntarily. Because you didn’t look like you usually did. You weren't carefully composed, sharp, or even halfway prepared to defend yourself against him.

You looked—

tired.

But...disarming.

Your hair was still slightly damp and loosely combed, your shirt was thrown on without much care, and your collar was open more than enough to be noticeable. The fabric was thin and hung more softly on your frame than your uniform ever did; it looked loose and unstructured.

And underneath—

You wore nothing.

No support, and no effort to hide it. Just you.

Your posture was held together by will alone. You smelled clean. It was a faint, subtle scent—he recognized it now, a light hint of lavender. It wasn't too heavy; he could just hardly smell it as your presence filled the room, making him curious. He wished he hadn’t, because it immediately went to his groin. He wanted more of it.

He quickly composed himself.

"You’re late.”

You weren’t. But he didn’t care.

“No, I’m not.”

God he wanted to fix that mouth of yours.

“Shut the door” he demanded coolly.

You did as he said. He didn’t offer you anything. He just looked at you with a cold expression while assessing you.

“You’ve been getting careless,” he said, sitting on the edge of the desk, with his hands crossed.

Your brows pulled. “Careless?”

“You're defiant,” he corrected. “You think because you can hold your own, you get to ignore orders.”

“I didn’t ignore anything,” you shot back at him. “I defended myself, I pushed back for once because you are constantly on me, no matter how hard I try, or how well I do," you shot back, throwing your hands up at your sides.

He couldn't miss the way your breasts moved under that loose-fitted, thin shirt...He sharpened his resolve.

“You don’t push back.” He said plainly, leaning off of the edge of the desk and stepping a bit closer. “You follow orders. That’s it.”

Your jaw tensed until you felt like your teeth would crack. “Not when they don’t make a lick of sense.”

Tch.

“There it is.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “Have you even stopped to consider that titans are not our only enemies?”

That hit you; he could see it in the way that your eyebrows knitted together. There was hesitation as you swallowed hard.

“Doesn’t matter,” you said, steadier than you felt. “Not if I’m too beat down to train properly.”

Excuses, excuses.

He knew how strong you were--he needed you to be stronger. On his level. He needed you to be able to protect yourself when he couldn't be there.

And he knew for a fact 'Jean boy' couldn't keep you safe.

“Or maybe,” he said, quieter now, “you've just been too distracted lately.”

Your eyes sharpened. “By what?" You laughed at him. "If there's something you want to say, don't be coy. Just spit it out, Captain."

He didn’t answer right away, because he didn't know how to go about it. He didn't know how to pry without seeming as if he cared too much.

“You and Kirstein putting on your little show in front of everyone.”

Your expression shifted, just barely.

“You made a spectacle,” he continued. “Both of you did.”

“That’s not what that was—He was just trying to stop me from escalating the situation because you—"

“It looked like it,” he interrupted flatly. “And it’s enough to make the rest of the squad think they can fall out of line whenever they feel like it.” Silence hung in the air as he eyed you, studying your expression. You swallowed hard, and your breathing was faster.

“And whatever you think it is that you have with him… It’s going to cost you in the end. I've seen it many times. He can't keep you safe out there—he's just a distraction.”

Your eyes flashed with anger.

“You don’t have the faintest clue what you’re talking about.”

“No?”

“No,” you snapped, not even caring to explain that you had distanced yourself from Jean romantically. “I get it. You fucking hate me, Levi. You think me obnoxious and reckless, and now you're insinuating I'm a careless whore, so you know what? Just—kick me from the squad and get it over with.”

Silence fell between you.

He didn’t even know what to say.

You looked as if you would burst into tears; your watery eyes were swimming with defeat and shame.

His heart dropped at the sight of it.

He could admit he hadn’t been the warmest—hell, he never was with anyone—but he couldn’t figure out where he’d gone so wrong that you thought he felt all of that toward you…

When, in reality, he’d only ever wanted to be closer to you.

All the times he placed you near him on missions. The way he adjusted your gear without asking. He wouldn’t admit it—he had too much pride for that—but he hadn’t done any of it without reason. And he sure as hell didn’t want you walking around with the wrong idea about where you stood with him.

“Exactly." You quipped. "Nothing to say."

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” you said, your voice choking; he could tell you were on the verge of tears. “Give you something to brag about—how you finally put me in my place, kicked me back to the cadets, or had me disbarred.”

You scoffed softly, already turning away.

“I’ll save you the trouble. I’m done.” You took a breath, hoping it would stifle the tears. “I’ll transfer. Find another section—or go to the MPs. I’ll talk to Erwin in the morning.”

You swallowed hard, forcing the words out.

“I won’t be a burden to you anymore.”

Your voice cracked anyway. You turned before he could see the pain in your expression, moving for the door.

He let you take one step.

Two...

Then his hand shot out, gripping your arm firmly. Stopping you cold in your tracks.

“You’re not going anywhere.” His voice lowered. “Stop talking like that.”

You turned sharply, trying to pull free—but he didn't let you. Instead, he pulled you in closely. So close that your forearms rested on his chest, you were gazing up at him with those big, y/e/c eyes. They were swimming with tears, as if you were going to burst at the seams at any moment. Your breath hitched in your throat as you fought to hold back the raw emotion, the sadness, and the desire that were mixing and bubbling up all at once.

He had never wanted you more than right now—right in this moment.

He wanted to fuck you until you cried for completely different reasons.

His grip tightened just enough to hold you there against him; his voice was low and measured, but no longer clean. He was cracking, but he didn't even care anymore. Stubbornness be damned. And the opinions of the other people on his squad. And certainly Jean.

“He’s not the man for you—he can't protect you like..."

The words fell just short. His pride was still trying to stand in the way of his feelings for you.

Fuck, she's killing me...

His jaw tightened up, and he breathed heavily out of his nose, his grip still tight around your wrist. He brought up his other hand now, holding the opposite wrist gently. There was so much tension that he was afraid he would explode. Your eyebrows furrowed, as if you were thrown off, but you weren't pulling away. A sign that you wanted him to keep going.

“Like what?” you breathed, barely above a whisper.

His eyes locked onto yours; something in them had shifted now. They were calm and doleful, as if you were anticipating him. Hanging on his every word like a prayer.

He just had to say it.

To let go.

“He can't protect you like I will.”

The room went still. That was it. That was the line. Now there was no taking it back. Your lips parted— and that was enough of a sign for him. He closed what little distance was left between you, and kissed you.

Y/n

He kissed you.

What in the fuck...

Your mind raced. This couldn't actually be happening. His lips were soft. He smelled like Jasmine tea. Like clean linen. Just like you had imagined he would.

You were curious. How could you possibly help yourself? You moved your mouth against his, in rhythm with him. He brushed his tongue against your lips, begging to deepen the kiss.

Finally.

You were getting to taste him—to taste his tongue as it coiled with yours, exploring you deeper. He tasted so sweet, like honey. You were aching for more. His hands moved from your wrists to your waist, holding you there for a moment before turning you towards the desk. He lifted you up effortlessly as if you weighed nothing, momentarily breaking the kiss while he sat you down on the desktop.

"He can't make you feel the way I will..."

"Yeah?" you sighed, lips crashing back into his as his hands felt up the hem of your shirt, reaching underneath and caressing firmly, making sure to stop over your soft nipples and pinch slightly--teasing you.

You exhaled sharply through your teeth, the intense sensation shot straight to your womanhood, wetness began quickly pooling there. He lifted the shirt over your head entirely, taking in your bare breasts. His tongue traveled down your neck, sending shivers all over your spine and goosebumps rising over your whole body. He smirked at how easily your body reacted to him.

He moved his mouth over one of your nipples while his hand moved to the other—massaging and toying lightly with his slender, expert fingers. At the same time, his lips worked softly, pulling you into his mouth and swirling his tongue around the soft bud, which was already tightening under his touch. Soft whimpers left your lips shamelessly. Levi's pants were stretching tightly around his waist as your moans brought him closer to his full length.

"He can't make you moan like this either..."

He continued the assault with his tongue, sliding his hand lower, tracing down your defined stomach all the way to your center, where you wanted him to caress most of all. His hand slid shamelessly into your loose-fitted pants; you hadn't bothered to completely button them. His fingers hooked into your panties, sliding them gently from out of his way.

He softly fingered your pussy, his digits sliding in and out slowly with ease. You couldn't help it now—you moaned loudly, helpless against his brutal assault as he quickened his pace, using his middle and ring fingers, curling them upwards inside of you, hooking into that most sensitive spot, drawing loud noises from deep inside of your throat.

"He definitely can't make you this wet...can he?” He paused slightly, his voice dropping low, dripping with malice, only for a split second—

“Has he…?”

You didn't answer—partially because you couldn't find a break in the pleasure long enough to breathe—your eyes were screwed shut, and your head thrown back, fighting not to get too turned on too quickly.

Too late…

You also didn’t answer partly because you didn't know what Jean was capable of. You hadn't had the chance to tell Levi that Jean had never done anything more than kiss or grope you.

"Answer me," he demanded, pushing his fingers deeper and circling them inside of you, bringing you back to reality—here with him, his fingers stuffed deep inside of your pussy, causing you to shudder.

You moaned helplessly.

"N--no.." you offered. “He never touched me…”

You were shocked at his forwardness, it was amusing to you. “Why, are you jealous?” You teased.

He pulled away from you slightly to look at your face—his eyes were dark.

“Jealous…” he repeated, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

“Do I need to be jealous…?”

His hand slipped away from between your thighs, slowly—only to bring his fingers up to your mouth.

You barely had time to breathe before he pressed them past your lips. You didn’t hesitate. Your tongue curled around them instinctively, tasting yourself, your eyes fluttering as you sucked them clean—soft, and needy. His gaze darkened at the sight. He exhaled quietly through his nose, something almost amused flickering beneath the surface of his gaze.

“…when I can do that to you?”

He didn’t give you the chance to answer—his hand coming up to tilt your chin as he took your mouth again, slowly consuming you. Your arousal still lingered on your lips as he swirled his tongue, mixing with his own unique, sweet taste…It was dizzying and intoxicating. He suddenly pulled back, leaving you yearning, and looked at you.

His gaze dragged over your body slowly, deliberately, like he was saving the moment in his memory for later use. It made your stomach tighten. You watched him in return, your pulse hammering as he pushed his pants down his hips, never breaking eye contact. The outline beneath the fabric alone made your heart beat faster.

You weren’t inexperienced—but it had been years.

Then he finished stripping. Your eyes widened before you could stop them.

…Fuck.

He was bigger than you expected. A lot bigger.

Your breath shook, chest rising a little too fast as you stared. Of course he noticed, he seemed to notice everything about you.

Levi’s mouth tilted—just slightly into a small smile.

“Tch,” he muttered, acting unimpressed by your reaction on the surface… but his eyes gave him away, they were brimming with satisfaction and pride. A faint smirk tugged at his mouth.

“Scared of it?”

His voice dropped, quieter now as he closed the distance between you.

“…Relax.” He paused for a moment, nestling between your thighs as your knuckles gripped the desk, you shifted your weight, knocking a pen that rolled onto the floor as you made room for him between your thighs.

“I won’t break you.” He brushed your lip carefully, ever so gently—as if he wanted to comfort you.

His length brushed along the inside of your thighs as he kissed you one last time. When he pulled back, his gaze dipped, his hand wrapping around himself, giving a few slow strokes before guiding himself into place.

Then his eyes lifted to yours, locked in.

He dragged the tip along your slick folds—slowly teasing—up and down your heat, watching the way your breath caught sharply, the way your body reacted to every movement. He was testing you. He was enjoying how easily he could unravel you. He didn’t look away, not for a second.

“Levi…” you gasped, grabbing his strong arm, as he guided the tip past your entrance. “It’s been a long time…”

His eyes didn’t waver.

“Believe me…I can tell” A long breath left him as your body clenched around him instinctively, his forehead dropped briefly against yours.

He brushed your bottom lip softly with his thumb.

“Breathe.” He whispered.

You took a deep breath inward...

Then—slowly—he pushed inside of your aching core.

You gasped, your hand flying up to grip his shoulder, fingers tightening as your head tipped back. A shudder ran through you at the almost unbearable stretch, your breath shifted hard, and your head lulled back as he filled that space inch by inch.

His lips found your neck, hot and sloppy—unlike the Levi you knew previously who was very precise and neat—a low groan rumbled against your skin as he pressed deeper inside of you until there was nowhere left to go.

The feeling hit all at once, so intense and raw.

“…fuck,” you whimpered, barely holding onto the word as you screwed your eyes shut.

“That’s excessive…” you laughed breathily, like his size personally offended you.

Levi pulled back just enough to look at you, one hand sliding firm around your lower back, dragging you flush against him again—holding you there, making sure you felt every inch of him, every second of it.

“Your body says otherwise… you’re not exactly pushing me away, are you?"

Heat rushed to your face—he was right. Your body betrayed you, your pussy was tightening around him without mercy. That sharp, pulsing ache settled deep as he touched your cervix.

You moaned deeply.

“I guess that means you like it?” he murmured, voice low and too calm for what he was doing to you.

“You have no idea…” you breathed.

He didn’t say anything further, dragging out slowly and pushing lazily back into your cunt, savoring every pulse and movement of your tight walls clenching around him.

He moved slowly at first, allowing you to adjust to his impossible size. Each motion was calculated, like he was testing how much you could take before you broke. You felt every shift, and every pull, your grip tightened on him as your body reacted without permission.

A soft sound slipped from your lips when he pulled back.

Another when he pressed forward again.

Then he found a rhythm.

Which was relentless.

The desk trembled beneath you with the force of it, his breathing growing heavier. His gaze locked onto yours, sharply, holding you there so you didn’t have the option to look away.

And when his hands shifted—spreading your legs wider, and pulling you closer, you thought you would fall completely back onto the desk.

He was most intentional, as if he had already decided exactly how this would go down. You chuckled as he fucked you senseless. His hand quickly shot up in response, gripping your chin.

“Something amusing here?” He grunted, his voice a deep warning. He wouldn’t be taken lightly.

“Already had this all figured out, didn’t you?” you murmured, eyes flicking up to his. “Been planning it? Exactly how and where you were going to fuck me?"

His next movement was swift as he hauled you across the room and dropped you onto the love seat tucked in the corner. You fell back, instinctively drawing your knees together, arms crossing over your chest—but that smirk was still there as you looked up at him. He towered over you, one hand braced on either side, caging you in; his presence was consuming and overwhelming in the best way.

“You’re exactly right,” he said quietly.

His voice was calm.

“And the next thing I had planned…” he continued, leaning in slightly, eyes dark, “is to make you cum right here.”

Your breath faltered.

"Uncover yourself.” he commanded in a low voice, planting a small kiss on your bent knee. “Don’t hide from me.”

He paused as his hands slid to your knees.

“Open your legs..." He said sharply, pushing them apart with unhurried pressure, "And don’t close them again until I’m finished.”

His gaze locked onto yours.

“Understood?”

There was no room to argue, so you simply swallowed hard and nodded.

"Good...Just like that."

He settled between your legs, weight pressing you back into the cushions, his presence heavy. He entered you again and immediately started fucking you wildly. You moaned—long and languid as he hit the right spot with every single thrust.

He slid one hand between you, finding your clit as he drove you into the cushions. Your legs hung helplessly at his hips as his fingers moved in slow circles. You could feel yourself getting close to a sensation no one had pulled from you in years. Something you had only ever given yourself for so long.

And now here you were.

Letting him force it out of you.

“Levi… I—I think I’m about to—” your words came out broken, your voice pitching higher with each violent thrust. You could barely keep up with the feeling building inside you as he kept that same relentless pace.

“Fuck…that’s it,” he breathed, voice rougher now, his control slipping away from him as your pussy clenched and pulsed around him. “Just like that… I can feel it.” he muttered under his breath. His grip tightened slightly, holding you there while he pounded mercilessly into you.

You reached the height of your release, as if he controlled your body— commanding it to do exactly as he willed it to. You quivered around him, nails digging into the small of his back as you rode out waves of pleasure. Each stroke started back up the orgasm all over again. The only thing you wanted him to do was fuck you as hard as he possibly could—

You must have said so out loud because his thrusts became intolerable, he rutted inside of you violently as he cussed and groaned under his breath.

Then the heat faded, leaving you with a raw, satisfied feeling. You zoned out as your high ebbed away—you floated away in your mind, eyes clamped shut tightly.

He said something you didn’t catch, until he grabbed you by the hips and flipped you over onto your belly, jolting you back to reality again. He dragged your hips up towards his pelvis, bringing you to your knees, and pushing your head downward roughly into the cushion.

“Do what I say when I say it…” he warned. “We’re not finished just because you are.” He bit, gathering your hair into one hand before driving back inside of you.

You yelped.

Your aching core was so sensitive you didn’t know how much more you could possibly stand to take. You babbled and whimpered as he used you—taking every single thrust deeply. His name left your lips over and over, as if it were the only thing left that you could possibly remember how to say.

“That’s right…not Jean, not anyone else. Just me…Now keep saying it…”

His hips began to stutter, his breathing was turning uneven. He was losing that perfect control he always carried.

He was so close.

“Levi… It’s all yours…” your voice broke, tears threatening to spill as everything overwhelmed you at once. He gripped your hair at the nape of your neck, pulling you up—firm but not rough this time—guiding you onto your palms, and pressing you firmly into that position. Your body trembled, and your back arched deeply, completely spent. Any rational thought left was slipping through your fingers. Emotion was taking over. And maybe that was why it came out so easily.

“I’ve thought about you every day… for months…” you panted.

You felt him shift closer, his breath hot against your ear.

“That right…?” he murmured low and dangerous, but quieter than before.

“Yes!” you cried, tears spilling freely now. “I’ve always felt this way about you… There’s no one else for me… It’s only you.”

Your words broke apart as you spoke them, emotion finally spilling over as your body followed right behind, once again letting go around him. The tears fell freely, soaking into the couch beneath you as he drove into you unforgiving, like he was trying to force something out of himself just as much as he was forcing it out of you.

“…Don’t say things like that unless you mean them,” he muttered, voice rougher than before, control slipping. “… I’m not letting you take it back.”

“I never want to take it back…I only want you…fuck—please!”

Your voice, spent and needy, sent him over the edge. You could feel him pulsing inside of you as he filled you completely with cum in hot bursts. He wrapped his arm around your chest, holding you to him as he came inside, planting soft kisses on your shoulders and panting softly into your neck.

He slowly eased out, watching his seed drip from your swollen pussy—something that belonged only to him now. Your legs were shaking, and your hair was falling along your back and shoulders.

You slumped onto your side, body still trembling, as he pulled away and stood. He moved quickly, scanning the room before grabbing something to clean you with.

“Uhh… this’ll have to do for now.” He handed you a small towelette. “Clean up. Then get dressed.”

You frowned immediately, your brows knitting together.

“Oh… alright then…” you trailed off, your heart sinking as you instinctively covered yourself, suddenly aware of how exposed you were.

Maybe that was all this had been.

A plan,

Then a moment.

And now, he would be done with you.

“Tch… don’t look so upset.” His voice cut directly through your thoughts. “You don’t plan on walking to my bedroom like that, do you?”

You blinked, the tension in your chest eased up just slightly.

“Oh… okay…” You let out a small breath, something like a quiet, relieved laugh slipping out. He clicked his tongue softly, like your reaction annoyed him more than anything else. "For a second I thought—"

"I’m not that kind of man,” he said flatly, cutting you off before you could finish. “Don’t start making assumptions.”

His gaze flicked over you briefly, taking in your naked body, as if he was satisfied with his hard work.

“I’m not going anywhere…so get used to it." He said, pulling on his clothes. "You’re sleeping in my bed tonight.”

You caught traces of a faint smile on his lips as he finished dressing, and though you knew he’d never admit it, you could tell he was smugly happy that he got his way.

Your heart fluttered joyfully again as you dressed and took Levi’s hand, leaving the office and following him to his room, where you were hopefully in for a much gentler round two.

[ibuprofein]

Yo No Olvido

yo no olvido, por mí madre, yo no olvido! in other words; i don’t forget, on my mama, i don’t forget! you and connie love each other but it feels like he can’t help himself when it comes to cheating…and you? you’re not mad about returning the favor.

cw: angst, slight nsfw mentioned, dominican!connie, dominican!reader, mentions of cheating, spanish translation, toxic relationship, slight! jean x reader

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

the kitchen smells of garlic and oil as the pan fried chicken sizzles and the vent hums above you. you stand at the stove with a spatula in one hand as the other rests on the counter while you try to focus on something normal but normal has been gone for a while.

you hear the door open behind you but you don’t turn around because you already know it’s him. connie tosses his keys on the counter as he walks in slowly like he was testing the energy in the room before he even spoke.

“you ain’t answer my calls earlier.”

you shrug while keeping your eyes on the sizzling pan. “i was busy.”

“busy doing what?” he asks with an attitude as his face scrunches up.

you almost smile at that…thinking about how busy you were with his best friend, jean. how jean had you folded like a pretzel while he was inches deep in your belly, making you scream out his name in the emptiness of connie’s home.

you flip the chicken over, letting his piece sit longer than necessary. “same thing you be doing, i guess.”

those words made him pause and you could feel his stare burning into your back. “…what’s that supposed to mean?”

you finally turned towards him while leaning against the counter, arms crossed. “what you think it means?”

his jaw tightens as he stares you up and down in your tight pajama set that hugged your every curve so well. the same pajama set that he bought you just to rip it off you that same night.

“don’t do that.”

“do what?” you ask calmly while slightly tilting your head and watching his wandering eyes. silently grinning on the inside because you already see the bulge forming in his sweats from just looking at you.

“act like you don’t got something to say.”

you laugh under your breath as you turn your body and turn the stove off while moving the pan to a different burner. “boy, i been had something to say. you just wasn’t listening.”

“man, here you go,” he mutters while running a tattooed hand down his face. “you always tryna start something.”

“always?” you repeat with a lifted brow. “how am i always starting something, constance?”

the pan popped with oil behind you as you turn to face him again and neither of you move. “you been out all night, not answering your phone, location off–” you cut yourself off while shaking your head. “but i’m the problem, right?”

he exhales sharply as he adjusts the front of his sweats, getting harder as you’re progressively getting angrier in his face. “i told you about my phone– ”

“stop saying that!” you snap louder now. “that weak ass excuse? ¡para! (stop)”

connie looks at you as silence drops heavy between you two. he looks like he is trying to remember when you got like this. “when you start talking to me like that?”

“when you gave me a reason to,” you say while rolling your eyes as you glance at his slightly twitching bulge.

he blinks twice before asking tensely. “who you talking to?”

you scoff as you grab plates from the top shelf already knowing the real question he was trying to ask. “why?”

“answer the question.”

“why you care?” you shoot back.

his jaw tightens as you watch his fist slightly clench from the corner of your eye. “don’t play with me.”

and that’s when you let it slip, just a little. “ay, connie… yo no olvido (i don’t forget)” you say as you set down two plates, slightly confusing him.

he stared at you as his disbelief twisted into irritation. “man, what you talking about?”

you roll your eyes as you grab the pan and start fixing both plates while brushing past him in the process. “you really wanna do this? you been out here doing you, moving however you want, thinking i’m just gonna sit in the house and wait for you?”

“i never said that—”

“you didn’t have to,” you cut him off as you slam the now empty pan onto the stove. “you showed me!”

the tension snapped as he stepped closer while pacing once before turning to you. “so what, you doing you now? that’s what you saying?”

you held his gaze as you grabbed the rest of the food you cooked. “i’m saying i’m not stupid, estúpido (stupid).”

he let out a bitter laugh as you brush past him to the plates again. “¿¡qué loca estás!? (how crazy are you?)”

“obviously not enough” you say as you finish plating both plates and sliding his toward him. “eat your food. this is the game you wanted to play, right?”

“no te hagas el payaso (dont play like a clown).”

and for the first time in all of this– connie didn’t have anything to say.

it wasn’t always this toxic and that’s the part nobody ever really understands when they look at you two now.

they hear the way you and connie talk to each other; the tension, the smart backhanded comments, and the attitude behind every word. both of your friends thought it was always like this but it wasn’t.

connie used to look at you like he couldn’t believe you were his, like every time you walked into the room, he had to pause for a second just to take you in.

“¿qué? (what?)” you’d ask while raising a brow at him and smirking.

he’d just shake his head while pushing himself off the wall to come closer and grab your face while pressing quick kisses everywhere. “nada (nothing), ma… you just mad pretty.”

and he’d say it so casually like it wasn’t something that could make your chest feel so warm.

everything with him moved fast but it never felt rushed. one night turned into two then two turned into you basically living at his place without either of you saying it out loud. your bonnet would be left on his nightstand with your body wash sitting in his shower. your clothes mixed into his like they belonged there.

and connie? he loved it just like he loved spoiling you.

one day, he dragged you to the mall just to “walk around,” but you should’ve known better when you barely made it past the first store before he was already grabbing things off racks and holding them up to you with a look of approval.

“try this on.”

“connie, i don’t need all that–”

“man, go try it on,” he would cut you off while nudging you toward the fitting room. “damn, you argue too much.”

and by the time you left the store, you had bags in both hands and he still looked like he could’ve bought more.

“say thank you,” he teased while pulling you under his shoulder as you walked both walked around the mall, looking for the next store.

you rolled your eyes but you smiled anyway. “thank you.”

“say it right.”

you sighed as you played along. “gracias, papí.” (thank you, baby.)

that made him grin as he leaned down to give you a kiss on your forehead.

“yeah, that’s more like it.”

that was connie back then though…always giving and always doing the most without you even asking. if you said you were hungry, he was already grabbing his keys. if you looked at something a second too long, it was yours. he liked taking care of you and liked knowing you didn’t have to worry when you were with him.

like that one night, you were laid up on his chest as your fingers traced over his tattoos while his hand moved through your hair. the tv on but neither of you were paying attention.

“stay here,” he muttered while pausing his caressing and resting his hand on top of your head.

you tilted your head to look up at him, confused. “i am spending the night?”

he shook his head slightly while tightening his arm around you. “nah, like… forever. move in with me.”

you went quiet for a second while searching his face. “you serious?”

“yeah,” he said without hesitation. “i got you. tú estás conmigo ahora (you’re with me now).”

something about the way he said it made it feel final and so certain.

so you did.

you moved in, just like that.

and for a while, everything was perfect.

it didn’t hit you all at once because if it did, maybe you would’ve reacted differently. maybe you would’ve said something, argued, or made a scene. anything but sit there and let it settle in your chest the way it did.

but it came in pieces.

at first, it was just connie being out more. nothing too crazy and nothing you could really point at and say yeah, that’s it right there. he’d still kiss you before he left, still tell you he’d be back later, and still moved around you like everything was the same.

“where you at?” you asked one night while laying across the bed, half paying attention to the tv.

“with the guys,” he said quickly. “imma be back.”

you glanced at the time on your phone and it was already late.

“how late, connie?”

“damn,” he laughed a little but it sounded forced, “why you pressing me? i said imma be back.”

you went quiet after that as you stared at the ceiling. “aight, it’s whatever.”

he hung up like nothing and he didn’t come home until almost four in the morning. you were still awake, even though you pretended not to be. just laying there, facing the wall, and listening to him come in like you weren’t waiting.

his keys hit the counter as his shoes dragged slightly across the floor and that small pause when he realized you weren’t knocked out.

“you still up?” he asked as he began to undress to just his boxers.

you shrugged a little as you couldn’t force yourself to turn and look at him. “couldn’t sleep.”

he climbed into bed behind you anyway, arm sliding around your waist like it always did, and pulling you back into him like he hadn’t just been gone all night.

you didn’t say anything but you noticed the he didn’t smell like “outside”. not like smoke, not like the expensive cologne his homeboys wear, not like anything you could remember.

just… different.

after that, it kept happening. late nights turned into a habit, calls got shorter, texts took longer, and then his location started acting funny.

you weren’t even big on checking it like that. he was the one who made it a joke at first, talking about “you can track me if you miss me.” but now every time you looked?

location not found.

at first you brushed it off because it could be his phone acting up but then it kept happening. even when he was supposedly on a “snack run” for you, his location would randomly turn off.

“why your location off?” you would ask him one afternoon while sitting across from him as he scrolled through his phone and ate a bowl of cereal.

“it ain’t off,” he said while not even looking up from the bowl he was eating from.

“it literally says not found.”

he sucked his teeth as he dropped his spoon in his bowl. “my phone be tripping sometimes, you know that.”

you held his stare for a second– just watching him and searching to see if his face gave away any hints that he was lying even if you already knew.

“…yeah, okay.”

and that was it.

you didn’t push him or question him anymore, you just started paying attention.

the way he took his phone everywhere now, even to the bathroom. the way he flipped it over when he set it down. the way he’d laugh at his phone and not show you like he used to when he was doomscrolling.

it was the little things that were small enough to ignore if you wanted to but you didn’t.

and the crazy part was, he was still treating you the same. still buying you things, still touching you like he couldn’t get enough, still calling you ma like nothing changed.

that’s what made it worse.

because if he was doing something… he was doing it while still loving you the same way.

and that didn’t make sense.

so you stopped asking where he was going and stopped waiting up. if he came home late, you were already turned over, half asleep or pretending to be. if he didn’t answer, you didn’t double call. if his location disappeared, you didn’t ask him about it.

you just… adjusted and that’s when you started noticing other things too.

like jean.

it wasn’t new, not really. you’d caught him looking at you before like quick glances that lingered a little too long or his eyes dragging over you when connie wasn’t paying attention. you never said anything about it because… it didn’t matter.

at least, it didn’t then.

you would’ve went for eren or onyankopon but they were solid with connie and you could feel it. they respected connie too much and kept their distance in a way that made things clear but jean wasn’t like that.

the first time he slid up on your story with heart eyes, you almost laughed.

it was just a picture of you— sitting in front of connie’s mirror in his room as you wear his t-shirt and nothing else. your hair flipped to one side and skin glossy from your nightly routine. it was nothing crazy but jean couldn’t help but to be entranced by your natural beauty.

you stared at the message for a second then locked your phone. you didn’t respond– not right away at least but later that night, when connie said he was “out” again… you opened your phone and looked at the message.

that’s how it started between you and jean, not out of spite nor even out of anger but realizing it was game for game. if connie was moving a certain way, you weren’t about to sit there looking stupid.

you weren’t loud about what you had with jean and you didn’t switch up on connie completely. you still laid in his bed, still let him pull you close, and still played your part like everything was normal.

but mentally?

you weren’t in the same place anymore.

a/n: i’m so turning this into series. likeee i want to do a lil more reader x jean. maybe connie x reader x jeanie smuttt? omggg give next chapter suggestions!