Headcannons. - All in collaboration with the wonderful @perfectly-m1saligned , based off of her TikTok video
Contains: (In order) Reiner, Bertholdt, Jean, Marco, Armin, Eren, Mikasa, Porco, Pieck, Colt, Niccolò, Levi, Erwin, Hange.
All characters are over 18.
✩ Reiner Braun
One thing about Reiner is that he adores the outdoors. Whether your date is a simple walk through the snow – the quality time is what really matters to him. Though, at your suggestion of attending the Christmas market in Marley; he could simply not deny. The day was spent wandering, weaving between people and different stalls, always stopping whenever you wanted to look at something.
He’d hand you his gloves and buy you warm drinks and various snacks, ensuring at every chance he got that you were warm and safe. All and all, he ended up with a cold – claiming it was worth it as you were kept warm and happy with what you’d brought.
✩ Bertholdt Hoover
Bertholdt had made it abundantly clear from the moment you’d met him that he hated the cold, and while you’d respected his wishes in staying inside around the colder months; it’d gotten to a point where you’d taken it upon yourself to book the two of you in for an ice skating date.
The rink had – luckily – been relatively quiet when you’d gone, Bert slipping as soon as he made it on, causing you to laugh a tremendous amount at his expense, almost slipping yourself in the process. However, he did eventually get the hang of it (Five slips and a bruised back later.) It was safe to say he ended up cheering you on from the sidelines, leaning against the railing – skates by his side as he watched you slowly but surely lap the ice.
The evening ended with lots of hugs, fresh coffee and cinnamon buns in your local cafe. A sulky man with a bruised ass and a happy partner. What more could he possibly ask for?
✩ Jean Kirstein
The coming of winter meant Jean’s love language of gift-giving was increased by tenfold, though, this year he’d gone all out. A two day trip to the most stunning Ski resort. A gorgeous cabin with a view over the mountains, skiing in the mornings and fancy restaurants for dinner where he looked at you like you were his everything.
The trip was filled with constant laughter and love. Though, the highlight was surely Jean sliding down on his skis and attempting – and succeeding – to drag you with him, a wide, boisterous grin on his face at the unimpressed look you gave him as you landed at the end. (All was compensated for with kisses and lots of hugs, a night spent by the fireplace.)
✩ Marco Bodt
Marco has always loved the snow, the sound of it crunching under his feet and the freshness of the earth that came with it. And so, when it snowed in Jinae he practically jumped for joy – begging to go out for a walk. The two of you walked down to the fields by your flat and you were immediately instructed to go and gather sticks and pebbles.
You gathered estranged twigs and holly for hair, coming back to two lumps of snow, stacked on top of each other in a sort of tower. Marco helped you bring the snowman to life, placing holly on as you ran off – sneaking up behind him with a snowball, delivered straight to his face as he turned at just the wrong time.
You’d cleaned off his face with your scarf – apologising profusely as he pouted, feigning upset at your actions.
✩ Armin Arlert
Loves to stay inside, the two of you make a pillow fort with blankets and teddies to stay huddled together. He’d created a snack platter with fruits and sweeties, creating a massive bowl of popcorn as you searched for a movie. It took some convincing – though after peppering your face in smooches, you finally agreed – a Star Wars marathon.
You only actually made it through the first two films due to the fact that after each one you spent at least an hour nerding out about it, speculating and theorizing every detail and easter egg you’d seen. All snacks were demolished and the two of you ended up falling asleep halfway through the third film.
✩ Eren Jeager
Calling it a date was a bit of a stretch. More like a competitive snowball fight in which you’d been captured for the last hour. Though, much to Eren’s dismay, you were winning. When one too many snowballs finally met his body he lunged. Chasing you through the snow and tackling you, strategically twisting so he would take the brunt of the fall.
Groaned every time you brought up your win, gets fussy when you refuse a round two purely because you know you’ll be pelted and he can’t accept losing. Warm baths together as soon as you arrive back at the house, thoroughly soothing the cold ache within your bones.
✩ Mikasa Ackerman
Dating Mikasa had taught you many things about her, and one of those was that she absolutely loved to be busy. She presented you with two tickets to an amusement park that goes Christmas themed during the winter seasons. Absolutely adores walking around with you and will be obsessively checking wait times for lines.
Agreed to wearing (Subtly) matching elf jumpers with you, both being green, though they had different ribbons used for decoration. Expresses the joy she had throughout spending the day together, though claims her favourite part was buying candied apples from a stall you’d found tucked away.
✩ Porco Galliard
Adores being outside when it’s snowing, insisting you lay down in the snow with him to make snow angels. Hot coffees were brought beforehand to warm up. You both enjoyed a beautiful walk through the woods, everything glistening in the snow. You’d managed to get a photo of him drawing a heart in the snow.
Tackles you (lovingly) to the ground when you make fun of his softness – trying to keep his manliness. Laughs as the two of you sit in the snow for a while, gossiping while trying not to freeze your asses off. Both of you ended up getting sick, but the joy of the moment had managed to override the less than fortunate outcome.
✩ Pieck Finger
Found the most adorable Christmas themed workshop to attend together. There was a range of activities to choose from but you both settled on a pottery and wine experience. The two of you spent the afternoon cackling away while your artistic skills failed to translate onto the poor mug you had chosen.
Pieck ended up having a glass of wine too many, and the Christmas tree on her mug ended up with a peenar on top instead of star. It still looked pretty. When you took it home you placed it on the shelf next to the cringey couples photoshoot she had insisted you took a few years ago. Both smiles on your faces were reflective of the true joy within your soul.
✩ Colt Grice
Woke you up to the sound of him shouting “Baby, oh my God it’s snowing! Hell yeah!” then essentially getting zoomies and running around in your local field for 15 minutes straight, jumping around like it’s nobody's business. After said 15 minutes are up he waddles over, nose red and cheeks flushed as you wrap his scarf back around his neck, mumbling;
“I hate the snow. I’m cold, please take me home.” While having the look of a neglected puppy on his face. You took him home and the two of you decided to try out the mulled wine kit you’d been gifted by Bertholdt and his Girlfriend when they came back from their recent trip. Long story short, both of you got absolutely smashed and woke up sat by the backdoor in wet clothes, leant against each other. Worth it.
✩ Niccolò
Loves a foodie date. The two of you went down to the local farmers market and picked up several ingredients to make a soup. It was cold, but he ensured you were properly wrapped up before you went out. He tied your apron and the two of you got to work, making croutons to go on the side. The house was warm and smelled fresh, homely.
Dinner was eaten on the couch under blankets while you watched the next episode of your favourite show together, washing up and having a night of comfort.
✩ Levi Ackerman
Told you as soon as he saw the snow outside that he didn’t want to leave the house. Instead he helped you to bake and decorate some cute cookies. You did most of the baking, he hovered around and stopped you from making too much mess. Levi did, in fact, ask you to help clear up. You complained and so he pulled up a chair and told you to keep an eye on the cookies and so they wouldn’t burn.
Was done cleaning by the time that the cookies were done. Helped you make the frosting while they were cooling down. Didn’t mind when you almost fell over laughing after smearing frosting on your face, instead he wiped it off his cheek with his thumb and attempted to dot it onto your nose.
✩ Erwin Smith
Erwin had already planned several dates at the beginning of December, scheduling around seeing family and friends. At the beginning of the month he had planned to go and see an outdoor art exhibition, looking at stunning glass garden works. One thing he hadn’t planned ahead for was the weather. So when he saw the (thinnest) layer of snow on the ground he came up to you and insisted you to wear what felt like a million layers of clothes.
You complained that you were sweating despite the low temperature, however, at the end of the day you did end up saying he was correct. Feeding right into his ego which made him light up almost as bright as your Christmas tree.
✩ Hange Zoe
You honestly hadn’t heard from them in about a week, though, that was relatively normal for such a “mastermind.” Though, when they missed the date you had planned you showed up at their apartment, ready to wage war. Instead, you were met with an unshowered and very excited partner, holding up a small glass box.
They dragged you into the house, the place looking a mess, but when they placed the box into your hand all was forgiven. A tiny, gorgeous snowflake lay rest, labeled “To my love.” etched on the front of the glass in messy cursive. It was so unique, and so unbelievably Hange.
a/n: If you've stuck around this long, from the bottom of my heart, thank you. <3 And if you just found this for the first time, also thank you. <3
♪ first day of my life by bright eyes
♪ dog days are over by florence and the machine
➷➷➷➷➷
The atmosphere shifts. Gravity is different. You’re not tethered to the Earth; you’re tethered to Marco.
You wish you could lie there in the afterglow with him for hours, but you have no choice but to clean up, get dressed, and head to dinner with your secret. People can probably guess—Ymir for sure knows and keeps trying to catch your eye—but only you, Marco, and the dull ache in your hips truly know what happened between you. Under the table, he holds your hand in his lap.
You can’t stop looking at him. Every time you catch his eye, you smile, and he blushes. You linger close to him when you can, brushing his hand or bumping his knee with your own every chance you get. His palms find your shoulder or lower back when he talks to you.
You never stop thinking about what he looked like naked, what he sounded like when you moved against him, what he felt like inside you. Every time Marco comes near, you remember with a pleasant shiver, and you wonder if anyone can read it on your face. You might not look the any different, but mentally, you feel like you’re wearing a sign that says We Fucked.
Nevertheless, life goes on as normal even though everything has changed.
Two days later, you’re daydreaming about kissing across Marco’s collarbone to his shoulder when Hitch starts oversharing before bed.
“Ladies, I have something to report.” She stands up on the footboard of her bunk, one leg wrapped around the bedpost as an anchor. “Zeke Jaeger ain’t shit.”
“I could have told you that for free,” Ymir says. Even Mikasa snorts.
Hitch sticks out her tongue. “Rude. What I’m trying to say is that I gave it my best shot, but I’m done with him. Even after we hooked up, he couldn’t stop talking about all his other ‘options.’ Like he was trying to neg me or something.”
“What the hell? He can’t just do that to you.” Historia puffs up with anger. When something really pisses her off, she looks like a feisty little pomeranian, and even you have to admit it’s kind of cute. Ymir puts a steadying hand to the back of her neck.
Hitch scoffs. “I’m over it. Supposedly, he still talks to Pieck. AND he thinks he has a shot with Levi? He’s out of his mind.”
Your jaw drops. “He told you all that?” Hitch is prone to hyperbole, but this is Zeke you’re talking about, after all.
Hitch crosses her arms. “Right after going down on me, yes.”
“...Was it good oral, at least?” You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t wondered, especially with that well-groomed beard of his.
Hitch grins. “Oh, incredible. It’s just the man attached to the mouth I can’t stand.”
Mikasa claps her hands over her ears. “Ew.”
“Girl, he’s practically your brother-in-law. You’re gonna have to get used to his nasty ass,” crows Ymir.
Mikasa’s brow creases. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Historia slides onto Mikasa’s bunk. “Babe, I’m gonna hold your hand when I say this. Everyone knows about the canoe. And the porch swing.”
“The porch swing?” you and Hitch gasp in sync. Mikasa glares.
“Well, now everybody knows,” Historia replies.
“Eren is…” Mikasa admits, her voice low. “Really important to me.”
Hitch plops down on her other side. “We know, honey. And if you wanna bone him, then bone!”
Mikasa looks down in her lap, processes, and then, impossibly, starts to laugh. You’ve seen it before, but it’s rare, like a shooting star or a shiny Pokemon.
Ymir recoils. “Who are you and what the hell have you done with Mikasa? Hisu, get away from her.” Historia shushes her.
Once Mikasa catches her breath, she says, “Ok, I’m sorry. But I feel like I have to say it now. I’ve been stealing condoms from some of you for weeks, and I don’t think you ever noticed.”
Ymir puts a finger on her nose. “Not it.”
Historia bursts out laughing, and so do you. Of course you haven’t noticed. You haven’t touched yours.
Hitch scoffs but laughs too. “Honestly, I was this close to accusing Reiner. I thought we were going to walk into the lodge one day and find strips of them hanging from the ceiling.”
You dig through your suitcase and find the box of condoms you packed—opened but carefully resealed—and hand the whole thing to Mikasa. “What’s mine is yours.”
Her eyes narrow on you. “Don’t you…want…?”
“Her boo thang bought his own schlong socks,” Ymir hoots.
Nobody has brought it up, but you know they’ve all been wondering. Your little secret, while precious, is also burning a hole in your subconscious. Since everyone else is sharing, you decide you might as well confirm their suspicions.
You tilt your head toward Ymir. “Yeah, but we borrowed your lube.”
Ymir gags dramatically, which only makes Historia giggle harder.
Hitch scrambles to you on her knees, hands pressed together like a prayer in front of her. “Ok, you just say when,” she demands, then starts spreading her hands apart, inch by inch. You just stare back.
“Jesus, did that thing rip you in half?” she teases, her hands well over a foot apart. You grab Mikasa’s pillow and whack Hitch with it. Mikasa snickers.
“Everyone’s pairing up, babe,” Historia teases, flicking one of Ymir’s stubby pigtails. “Who’s your next victim going to be?”
“Meeeeeeeeee,” Hitch whines. “It’s embarrassing how hard I’ve been striking out.”
“Well, if Zeke is off the table…” Ymir muses, stroking her chin like she has an evil goatee. “I don’t know. Does Kenny have a girlfriend?”
Hitch looks at Mikasa, who shrugs. Then Hitch shakes her head. “I want a daddy, not a grandpa. At least not yet.”
You decide to say the quiet part out loud. “What about Miche?”
Hitch’s mouth flaps open and closed a few times. “Huh. I mean, yeah. Why didn’t I think of that?”
“Maybe because he obviously has a big crush on you, but you were too busy looking for a challenge,” you counter.
“Damn. Read someone else like a book, why don’t you?” Hitch scoffs before tossing you a sly wink. Oh, Miche is going to owe you big time for this.
“If you’re trying to play matchmaker, Ymir, I think Jean could use some help,” says Mikasa.
“Stinky men don’t deserve my magic touch,” Ymir says.
“Jean isn’t stinky,” you correct. He might be a bit of a grouch, but to his credit, he always smells good.
Ymir turns up her nose. “They all stink.”
Historia crawls into her girlfriend’s lap, bullying her way into a kiss. “Good thing you have me, then.”
–
On Friday morning, Annie’s unmistakable SUV (a white Volvo that is, frankly, much too big for someone her size to be driving) rolls into the parking lot outside the mess hall. You have to assume she planned it this way—arriving just as everyone is leaving breakfast—down to the minute if she could.
You feel the whoosh of air as Bertholdt runs past you to greet her. A few veteran campers spot her and follow along to say hi, but Bert’s long legs get him there first. He scoops Annie up in his arms and swings her around, his face buried in her shoulder. He might even be crying. Annie’s expression doesn’t change, but you can tell by the way she clings to his neck that she missed him just as much.
However, you notice she didn’t arrive alone when an unfamiliar blonde emerges from the passenger’s seat.
“Armin!” Eren rushes up to hug him, only a little less affectionately than Bert and Annie. Mikasa stops short beside you, but calls his name and waves.
An even bigger surprise tumbles out of the back seat. The door slides open, and Sasha and Connie, two of Jean’s friends you’ve met at school, practically crawl over each other to get out. They stampede Jean, who is not at all prepared, and tackle him to the grass.
“Who set up the carpool?” you wonder aloud. You’re pretty sure most of these people have never met each other.
“I did,” says Mikasa with a shrug. “I talked to Bertholdt, we connected Armin and Annie, and I asked if they could pick up the other two on the way.”
You bump her shoulder with your own. She must have known Jean needed a pick-me-up. “That was really nice of you.”
She shrugs again. “It seemed like the right thing to do.”
While Jean gets up and brushes the dirt off his shorts, Connie and Sasha are already talking his ear off. Marco strolls up, and maybe in an attempt to belay them, Jean introduces his friends. Though the other two barely stop talking, they pull Marco into a group hug, thrilled to have another person to yap with.
“Well, isn’t this a nice little family reunion!” Hange’s voice rings out from a screeching megaphone. Some people even cover their ears, but Hange continues, unphased.
“Guests, please check in with Director Nile inside. Everybody else, get a move on to your first activity! Let’s go! Chop, chop! Woah!”
The megaphone screeches again as Levi appears, links his arm through Hange’s, and drags them across the parking lot. Hange laughs the whole way.
–
To your surprise, the woodshop is closed for the day. Instead, Miche has organized a game of sand volleyball on the old court off to the side of the football field. Though he’s one of the only people tall enough to spike over the net, Miche lets his head dangle over the back of a camp chair, dark sunglasses perched on his nose. A cloth bandage wrapped around his middle holds a large bag of ice to his lower back.
You plop down on the grass beside him. “Don’t tell me you gave your old man back a spasm hauling all that sand up here to refill the court.”
“No,” Miche scoffs. “This was a preexisting injury. Therefore, the reason I had to set all this up.”
“Oh my god, like how teachers show a movie when they’re hungover.”
Miche snorts. “Exactly like that. Kenny was pissed he had to shovel it all out, though.”
You don’t skip a beat. “So what happened?”
“Huh?”
You tap your shoe against the ground a few times, thinking. “I seem to remember your back being fine yesterday.”
“How would you know?”
“I saw you practically dangling off the back of the golf cart when Moblit peeled out after snack.”
Miche rolls his head to the side, lifting his sunglasses and narrowing his eyes at you. “What are you saying?”
You shrug, feigning complete disinterest. “Nothing! Just wondering what you were doing last night. After bedtime.”
Miche says nothing. He just stares. His face doesn’t even twitch.
So you needle a little more. Keeping your voice low, you drawl, “Or should I say, who you were doing?”
That’s when his face scrunches up at you. “She told you?”
You shake your head. “No, I told her.”
“Told her what?”
“That you’re in love with her.”
Miche sits up straight so quickly, then grimaces and grips his lower back. He falls back in his chair. “Please tell me you did not use those exact words with Hitch. She’s already way out of my league, and I hope she continues not to notice.”
“I didn’t. But you’re welcome, by the way.”
He can’t hide his smile. “Thanks.”
“Now, for the matter of my fee.”
“Fee!?”
“For my services. I want the keys to the van. We’re going to the bar in town tomorrow night since Annie and everyone are here.”
Miche sighs. “Did you ask Erwin?” he asks in a tone that sounds a lot like ‘did you ask your mother?’
“Bert did, and Erwin said we could as long as there are still going to be chaperones here. There’s Nifa, Nana, and Nile, plus some kitchen staff and probably Kenny and Levi, at the very least.”
Miche purses his lips, pretending to think deeply. “And just how do you think it’ll reflect on the camp when people notice our van parked outside Bar Maria?” Now he’s just pushing your buttons.
“Miche, you grew up like 30 minutes from here. You know nobody cares. Plus, Marcel promised that they don’t card. We’re not gonna get in trouble.”
“You can’t promise that. I bet Mikasa could start a barfight if she really wanted to.”
“Miche, please.” As long as nobody starts a fight with Eren, you’re pretty sure she can keep her hands to herself, but you don’t say that part out loud.
“Someone has to DD.”
“Annie and Bert both volunteered. Annie said she wants to stay sober enough to see if Erwin gets wasted.”
Miche pauses. “Erwin’s going with you?”
“Oh, did I not mention that part? Is someone jealous?” As a last resort, you can always rely on Miche’s overwhelming FOMO.
“Fine, I’ll get you the keys at dinner. Is Hitch going?”
You shrug. “Maybe. Guess you’ll have to wait and see.”
With that squared away, you kick off your shoes and head to the sand pit to play a few sets with your campers. Over your shoulder, you tell Miche, “You’re welcome to come too if you can walk straight by then, grandpa.”
“I’m not old, I am twenty-nine!”
—
Marco and Jean agree to chaperone a hike with Hange during free time, but you opt to stay behind and catch up on all the reading you haven’t been doing so far this summer. Sprawled out on a blanket, you choose a sunny spot high on the hill, overlooking the lake, and make some decent progress on your paperback to the sounds of children running and screaming. Somehow, it’s paradise.
You’re sufficiently sticky and sweaty by the time you start to pack up, and your water bottle is empty, so you swing by the mess hall first to refill your bottle with the good water. The showerhouse water is fine to shower in, but it tastes like old pennies.
At the water fountain, you find Connie, Sasha, and a large rubber tote full of water balloons. So many questions, but you ask if you can take a turn filling your cup.
“These are for later,” Sasha is practically bursting to tell you while you wait.
“I see,” you agree conspiratorially. “And just who is going to be the target of this prank?”
Both of them break into cheshire cat grins. “Meet us at the top of the hill after dinner if you don’t want it to be you,” Connie grins.
“Jean told you about the tradition, I imagine?” You screw the lid back onto your water bottle.
“Indeed, and we were kind enough to volunteer to get everything ready, so he better be grateful,” says Sasha.
“This baby can fit so much water in it,” Connie remarks. He slaps a balloon on the top of the pile and it breaks, flooding the inside of the tote.
“Stop! We need as many as we can get!” Sasha scolds.
You promise to help them lead the strike later, then head out to drop your stuff at the cabin and clean up a little in the sink since you don’t feel like taking a full shower. (Ymir calls it a “whore bath,” Hitch calls it “pits and tits.”)
With ten minutes left before dinner, Marco stops you outside the lodge. He reaches for your hand clumsily. “Hey.”
“Hey yourself. Wanna head to dinner?” You give his palm a squeeze. He twitches at the pressure.
“Um.” His eyes dart around the room, checking the doorway behind him. “I thought, uh. Since we have a few minutes…” His voice drops to a murmur. “Do you know anywhere we could go?”
You’re about to ask if he means on a walk when Marco draws in close. He presses your clasped hands between you, and you understand. It’s a good thing he’s wearing stiff denim, because he’s rock hard.
“Marco!” You scold playfully, stepping closer to ensure nobody sees anything. You want to cup his bulge so badly, but you know you can’t. Not here, where little eyes can wander.
“I’m sorry!” He pleads. “I tried taking care of myself in the shower and it barely helped.” He drops his chin, putting his lips right up to your ear. “I need it so bad. Please.”
It’s sexy and pitiful and sends a flash of heat directly between your thighs. He’s wrecked. You’ve ruined him. Instantly, you want him just as badly.
The cabin is too risky; people will be stopping by before dinner. The chapel is too far away, and you don’t have time for the shower. You briefly consider the closed woodshop, but that feels like an Eren and Mikasa situation waiting to happen. Plus, the kids are all over the showerhouse and the mess hall, so bathrooms won’t work either.
In your most desperate moment, inspiration strikes.
“Come on, quick.”
Marco shuffles behind you around the far side of the lodge, toward the basketball courts. There, you take the staircase that leads up to the attic storage room. You pray it’s not locked. Your karma must be good because the door swings open easily, and you drag Marco inside.
You’ve been told that years ago, the storage room used to function as just another cabin, but they stopped using it after someone broke their ankle on the stairs in the dark. Now, the vaulted ceiling and its slanted skylight rise over stacks of extra bunks and mattresses, odd furniture, and boxes full of who-knows-what.
You latch the door behind you and throw your arms around Marco’s neck for a kiss. Much like that night at the edge of the woods, he envelops you in his arms, meeting your lips with need. Unlike any time before, however, he grunts in his throat, and without breaking the kiss, lifts you from under your ass, your legs hooked around his waist.
Marco carries you to an old table pushed up against the wall, sets you down, and slots himself between your legs. He reaches down, fingertips sliding under the hem of your shorts and teasing at your panty line.
“I’m sorry,” Marco pleads. “I can stop if you want me to, just say so. But oh my god. I can’t stop thinking about how bad I want you.”
You gasp. “I didn’t know you had such a filthy mouth. Who are you?”
“Fuck,” he chuckles, then steps closer, grinding himself against your pelvis. “Look what you’ve done to me. I feel crazy.”
“And to think, not a week ago, you were just an innocent little angel.”
“Good pussy will do that to you, I guess.”
“I love it when you talk dirty,” you sigh.
Then Marco drops to his knees, eye level with your cunt.
“Can I?”
“Please.”
Before you really process what he’s doing, you curl your legs around Marco’s neck. He nudges the thin fabric of your shorts to the side then groans deeply as his mouth lands over your core. His tongue presses against you, wet and hot over your panties, and you see stars.
It crosses your mind that you’re probably kind of sweaty, but if Marco notices, he doesn’t seem to mind. He hooks your underwear to the side, humming through his nose before laying a sloppy kiss to your center before dragging his tongue over you again and again and again. By the time he comes up for air, he’s literally panting.
You throw your head back with a soft moan while Marco fumbles with a condom he pulls from his pocket. With his jeans hanging open and his erection pulled out over the waistband of his boxers, Marco rubs tight, fast circles over your clit with one spit-slick finger.
“I’m sorry there’s not more time to get you wetter. Is this gonna be ok? I can just try—“
A delighted hum drags from your throat. “No, no, it’ll be ok. I want you like this.”
“Fuck.”
Marco doesn’t waste another second. Thankfully, you’re pretty well soaked with spit, and despite the fact that he’s standing over you, Marco isn’t half bad at angling his hips and teasing his tip inside. He’s patient—bless his heart, he’s so patient—as you slowly spread open for him. He’s not as deep this time, but even the shallow pumps he gives you fill you nice and snug.
Marco looks down, mesmerized by the way he disappears inside you. You’re busy trying to keep your eyes from rolling out of your head.
“Not gonna last,” he warns you.
“Yeah?” you moan. “Give it to me, then.”
You wrench your eyes open, watching Marco’s adam’s apple bob and his pupils dilate as he races desperately toward his peak. He hits it hard, one side of his mouth curling up high enough to show his gums when he groans through it. The throbbing in your core tips you over the edge, everything going tight before a sharp twitch rattles your spine.
Marco braces both hands on the table, bent over you while he catches his breath. “Thank you,” he says. “Oh my god, thank you.”
Every cell of your body feels like it’s vibrating, the comedown from the quickie hitting you like a shot of adrenaline or Red Bull. “Believe me, I’m the lucky one.”
Carefully, holding the condom in place, Marco slides out. You let your legs dangle off the edge of the table, resting, while Marco manages to locate a roll of toilet paper with his dick still in one hand. It’s better than nothing, at least enough to wipe yourself dry and wrap up the condom until Marco can get to a trash can.
“I just…” Marco says, stopping by the door. “Is this real? Am I dreaming?”
Honestly, you remember the feeling, back when you first started having sex. Every time felt special, and memorable, and unreal. You can understand where his head is at, processing the thrill of knowing he can do it all again soon. It feels illegal in the best way.
So before heading out the door, you give his chin a little squeeze and steal one more kiss. “It sure is, big guy.” Marco shivers.
You’re only about five minutes late for dinner. Marco hangs back and appears a minute or two after. As much as you try not to be obvious, you don’t even make it to the table with your tray of spaghetti before the illusion shatters.
“You’re walking funny,” Hitch teases.
Your cheeks burn, but you can’t help but smile. “Shut up,” you reply, playfully shoving her arm before fetching one last cup of coffee for the day. You’re going to need the caffeine boost for what comes after dinner.
As dinnertime ends, Hange stands up on the ledge of the fireplace at the far end of the room, microphone in hand. They start explaining the rules to a game of their own concoction, some kind of mix between a science quiz and charades. You stick around for a while, just spectating. Falco does an incredible impression of a bald eagle while Gabi pretends to be a poacher, illegally hunting him for sport. Udo and Zofia pair up to create some kind of interpretive dance representing dinosaurs becoming fossil fuel beneath the earth.
What matters is Hange agreed to help kill time before the campfire and draw the campers’ attention away from the doors. As the game progresses, you and your fellow counselors quietly leave the mess hall in small groups.
Outside, the sky is fading into dusk, streaked with red and orange and on the horizon, dark blue and purple. You could just make out the dark silhouettes of those who left before you at the top of the hill. Hand in hand with Marco, you climb up to meet them.
Connie and Sasha wait at the top of the hill with two totes full of water balloons. Jean stretches out on the grass behind them. “Wake me up when it’s time,” he said, folding his arms over his eyes.
“Are we not going to strategize?” Connie asked, dumbfounded.
“As long as we spread out down the length of the field, it’s fine. They’re not gonna know it’s coming,” Jean explains as Reiner and Mikasa appear carrying more buckets of balloons.
“We’ll take the end zone,” you offer. Marco grabs a bucket, and Hitch tags along with you.
Ymir and Historia are the last to crest the hill when it’s almost too dark to see. Historia waves a flashlight over her head—the signal that Hange’s activity is ending and it’s almost time for the ambush.
“How good is your aim?” Marco asks quietly. He’s crouched down behind the bucket while you and Hitch flank him on either side.
“I’d give myself a 6 out of 10.” You scoop a balloon out of the bucket in each hand.
“Maybe you can make up for it with power and speed.”
“Actually, you can usually get a better splash if you hit the ground instead of the kid.”
“A likely story,” Marco nudges you.
“You two are so cute it’s disgusting, now SHUSH,” whispers Hitch. You and Marco exchange a cheesy smile. You can’t see it, but you can feel his blush in your very bones.
You hear the campers leaving the mess hall before you can see them. Any veteran camper knows this night is coming, but they have no idea when. A few of them must suspect, however, as they start their climb at the far side of the hill, at the other end zone where Reiner, Bert, Ymir, and Historia are locked and loaded. The rest think they’re hiking up to the same old smores roast as always. Those sweet, summer children.
Someone in one of the middle groups takes the first shot, so to speak. Your money is on Sasha because the aim is dead on, and you know she’s been trained in target archery and trapshooting since childhood. The balloon explodes directly in front of the closest group of campers, who squeal and scream when they get splashed by the impact.
Then all hell breaks loose.
The “vets” start giggling and running, knowing they have to make it to the top before all the balloons are gone if they want to pay any of you back for the prank. The stragglers start to catch on as water balloons come flying at them from multiple angles. Is a water balloon fight on a steep incline at sunset the safest activity? No, not at all. But it's been a camp tradition since the late 80s, and Hange—a former camper in their own right—refuses to let the legacy die. “What’s the use of having a nurse on staff if you don’t let things run a little wild once in a while?” you’ve heard them say on multiple occasions.
Kids laugh and scream and run every which way, some thinking they can avoid getting wet but most making themselves willing targets. Meanwhile, you do your best to launch balloons far and accurately enough to appease them.
As the fastest campers start to reach the top of the hill, the tide begins to turn. Gabi is far and ahead the first to get her hand in a bucket and grab a balloon, and despite the fact that she’s not a counselor, nails Sasha square in the stomach. Connie squeezes a balloon over Gabi’s head in retaliation, and she just giggles harder.
SNAP!
A balloon hits you between the shoulder blades; the kids never think to aim for the ground. You screech, surprised, and spin around to find Zofia waiting behind you on the football field. Clearly, she hunted you down specifically to drench, which is one of the highest honors your campers can bestow. They always attack their favorites first. So you lob a balloon back her way, making her jump when it splashes at her ankles. Before you know it, her little hand is digging in your bucket for more ammo.
It’s chaos. It’s beautiful. Bertholdt is once again being mobbed, slowly slumping to the ground under the weight of children hanging off his limbs and Falco on his back while Gabi orders them all around.
You step away from the bucket, content to let the kids have the rest of the fun until the balloons run out. You’re just distracted enough by the absolute circus around you not to notice that Marco has disappeared. When you do notice, it’s too late; he’s already squeezing two balloons over your head, soaking your hair while he does his best evil cackle. Unintentionally, you laugh just as maniacally because you have one more balloon in-hand, and you know just what to do with it.
You lean in to Marco, lifting up on your tiptoes to get your face as close to his as possible. You give him your flirtiest look, let him feel your breath through parted lips against his own mouth. And then you strike, slamming the balloon in your dominant hand against his shoulder. You take some of the spray to the face, but it’s worth it to hear Marco laughing, to watch the water drip off his nose while his bangs are stuck, flattened, to his forehead.
You don’t think you could ever get tired of seeing him smile.
—
The town of Marley has a post office, a bar, and a single stoplight. Halfway between camp and the Walmart, it’s one of those sleepy little places where nothing much happens but everybody knows everybody.
Your three car caravan passes under the green light and park all in a row outside the bar. The Galliards are waiting outside, Pock leaning against a vintage Coke machine and Marcel looking at his phone, nonetheless ready to lead your oversized group inside.
The door creaks open, and even though you’ve never been to this dive before, you feel like you recognize it. It’s an amalgamation of every small town watering hole you’ve seen: vinyl wood grain paneling tacked with beer signs and sports posters, sticky linoleum floor, a pool table flanked by lit-up arcade cabinets and gambling machines, and a light film of smoke that makes everything look just a little blurred around the edges.
A few older guys are already parked at the bar, but only one or two of the tables are occupied.
The bartender looks up and you file in the door, eyebrow raised. He looks tough, weathered for his age, but tan and with close cropped hair. He wears dog tags around his neck.
Marcel takes the lead. “Hey Theo, we brought some friends!”
Theo shrugs, his voice gruff when he says, “As long as they’re drinking.”
He knows the Galliards are underage, clearly. And he’d rather serve you and make more tips than deal with a bunch of kids who are just here to order shirley temples and loiter. That’s just fine by you.
Connie and Sasha head directly to the TouchTunes and start scrolling for songs. Eren claims the rounded corner booth and Mikasa, Armin, Bert, and Annie fill it in. Erwin claims a pool table and Levi follows, perching himself at a high top against the nearest wall. Miche and Hitch are already nowhere to be seen (only god knows). Everyone else heads for the bar.
You have to go to the restroom first thing, but you tell Marco what he can order for you at the bar. You find Ymir double fisting vodka crans when you return.
The Galliards turn away from the bar with matching draft beers, and Ymir wrinkles her nose. “Twins freak me out.”
“They’re not twins. They’re just brothers.”
She squints at them. “Close enough.” Then she moves to intercept them.
You can’t tell what she says to them, but she nods her head toward the booths that line the far wall, where most of your friends are sitting. Porco rolls his eyes and pushes past her, while Marcel raises a quizzical brow before following after him.
The brothers slide into a booth with Reiner and Jean. Marcel takes the outside seat next to Jean, grinning as he taps his heavy pint glass against Jean’s rum and Coke. Marcel is so obviously flirting when he stretches his arm across the booth behind Jean’s back, who is blushing bright red.
“Really?” you ask Ymir.
She elbows you toward a booth where Historia is sitting. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Doesn’t Cupid ever take a night off?”
Historia follows your gaze, then breaks into a smile. “Aww babe, it’s nice of you to help Jean out.”
Marcel subtly brushes Jean’s shoulder with his fingertips, and while it could just be the alcohol talking, the gesture is sweet.
Ymir scowls. “It’s not a favor. It’s a punishment. For both of them. They deserve each other.”
“You really are cruel, sometimes,” you laugh.
“Who is Ymir torturing now?” Marco asks, finally dropping in beside you with your drinks.
Before you can answer, Connie and Sasha appear.
“We want to know your intentions,” Sasha demands, putting both her hands on the end of the table.
“Are you gonna marry our little boy?” asks Connie over her shoulder.
“You met Marco yesterday,” you remind them. Marco laughs nervously, sinking down into his seat.
“And I would kill everyone in this room and then myself if anything happened to him,” Connie vows.
“Even me?” Sasha pouts.
“You don’t count as everyone. You’re the one that’s left behind to care for him.”
“Yippie! Ok, I’m ordering potato skins.”
Connie invites himself to sit down. “Are you two related, by the way?” He gestures between Ymir and Marco. You get the feeling he might have forgotten her name.
“No,” Marco replies.
“Yes,” Ymir says.
Connie chooses to hear Ymir. “Thought so. You have the same face,” he says, crossing his arms proudly.
Marco opens his mouth, but Ymir reaches in front of you to swat him. “He was my dad’s secret lovechild. He’s shy about it.” She says it so smoothly, even you wouldn’t know it was a bold-faced lie.
You glance at Historia, who fondly rolls her eyes. “Let her have this,” she mouths to you. Marco shrugs. He knows better than to ruin her fun. Plus, Connie is a harmless victim.
So you let Ymir spin a tale about her father who “disappeared for years at a time” but actually went to prison for murder and some DNA test results that led her to find out she had a secret brother all along. Sasha returns with only half a basket of potato skins and snaps at Connie when he absently tries to take one while listening to Ymir’s story with amazement.
After your first round of drinks is gone, Marco leans down, his voice low in your ear. “You wanna go for a walk?”
You turn your head to peck his cheek. “Is that a proposition?”
Marco laughs and rubs the back of his neck. “Not like that. There’s something I want to talk to you about though, if that’s ok.”
“Hate to interrupt, but we’ll be back,” you announce.
Ymir whistles. “I hope the bathroom stalls are clean enough to get dirty in.”
Historia takes her by the cheeks, pinching them together in one hand so her lips go pouty before stealing a kiss. “Leave the lovebirds alone and pay attention to me,” she teases.
“But how can I when Hitch is literally in Miche’s lap over by the pool table!”
“Who?” asks Sasha.
“Where?” asks Connie.
You glance over to confirm that Ymir is correct, and not only do you catch Hitch dragging a finger down Miche’s chest, but Erwin is also leaning over Levi, arms engulfing him, showing him how to shoot pool while Hange and Moblit rerack the pool balls. You wonder if maybe their lives and love triangles are as messy as the rest of yours sometimes, and it brings you a strange comfort.
Marco holds the door for you, his other hand falling to your lower back as you step outside. It’s quiet but alive outside: the evening crickets are chirping and the streetlights crackle slightly above you as you walk down the deserted sidewalk.
“So,” you prompt. You have no real reason to suspect that Marco is about to break your heart or something dramatic like that, but it’s not impossible. Your stomach flips, considering that he may have asked for privacy in order to let you down easy. And if that’s not it, then you have just as much to be anxious about. You want to get it out there.
“So,” Marco echoes. “First of all, to be absolutely crystal clear, in case I haven’t said it in the right words yet, I really like you. In a romantic way.”
You exhale. “Thank goodness. Because I feel the same about you. You know, romantically.”
Marco hums appreciatively. “Ok, good. And second of all, if I’m about to ruin a good thing or put too much pressure on it, please be honest with me. I won’t be upset.”
You want to stop in your tracks, spin and hug Marco, crush your cheek to his chest and tell him he’s not ruining anything, but you don’t. You want to give him the space to say what he needs to say. “I’ll be honest. I promise.”
After a pause, Marco starts again. “So.” He reaches for your hand. He’s nervous, and you can’t help but find it cute.
“I just wanted to say that I hope this thing between us isn’t just for the summer. I’ll understand if that’s what you want, and I’m not asking to be your boyfriend or anything right away. But I realized that I’m not sure where you’re at, so I wanted to tell you what it’s like for me.”
He clears his throat. “And it’s not just about the sex. Though that has been a definite plus,” he chuckles a little. “You’ve been so patient with me. I would like to keep getting to know you better. Even when we go back to classes in the fall. And frankly, I would like to keep having sex with you in any position you’ll have me.”
You can tell Marco is trying to hide the smirk on his face, that he knows this is serious and he means it, even if discussing your blossoming sex life in no uncertain terms is a little funny. And it’s possible you’ve never admired him more.
“Marco,” you confess, “I would take you to meet my mother right this literal second if it were possible.”
Marco laughs. “Now that’s high praise.”
You swing your hip against his. “But yes. I would like to continue to date you. Indefinitely.”
“Indefinitely,” he repeats warmly. “Ok, I’m good with that.”
He pulls you gently to a stop at the street corner. Marco wraps you in his arms, and you nuzzle into his worn red hoodie, the one you’ve borrowed and would like to continue to steal every time you get the chance. He presses his lips affectionately to your hair, then your forehead, then your mouth.
If he’s not your boyfriend, he’s more than halfway there. You don’t want to rush this either.
Instead, you want to be right here in this moment, on the cracked sidewalk of a nowhere town in the mountains, and in indefinite unknown moments ahead, safe and happy in his embrace.
Trigger warnings: Mentions of sickness, pregnancy complications
Eren
- You get home from work at four and decide to sit for a half hour before making dinner
- You decide to make Eren his favourite since he warned you that this project he was going to be working on would be long
- You’ve made him this meal dozens of times before so you’re absolutely shocked when you feel instantly nauseous upon smelling the ingredients
- “God, what the hell? Is this all rotten?”
- You check the packages and see that none are even close to the best before date
- You still feel sick so you go to grab something to drink, but the movement sends you over the edge and you end up having to throw up in the sink
- “Shit… What’s going on?”
- You wipe your mouth with a paper towel
- You start to wrack your brain for anything that might’ve made you sick
- When you remember your night with Eren the last time you went on a date
- “Oh, no… Please no…”
- He comes home one night after a long day at work
- When I say long, I mean it
- He usually gets home around 5, but today he’s home at 7
- So he’s assuming that you made dinner and are waiting for him at the table
- Not that he expects you to cook for him
- He’s just assuming because of the time and the fact that you weren’t picking up his calls
- So imagine his confusion when he sees an empty table and a completely clean kitchen
- He checks outside and sees that your car is there
- “(Y/N)?”
- You don’t respond, so he calls out again
- When you still don’t respond, he gets increasingly worried
- So he runs upstairs to your bedroom and he still doesn’t see you
- But when he turns to go check out other rooms, he sees you on the floor of the master bathroom with your knees tucked up into your chest
- “(Y/N)?” He asks softly
- He heads straight into the bathroom and kneels down beside you
- “Sweetie, I was so worried. Why weren’t you answering me?”
- You look up at him and that’s when he sees that you’ve been crying
- “What’s wrong? Did someone say something to you? I’ll kick their asses, just say the word”
- “I-I’m sorry…”
- “Hey, don’t apologize. Just tell me what’s wrong.”
- You point to the counter silently
- He stands up and turns around to see five different pregnancy tests
- All of them are positive
- “Wait… You’re pregnant?”
- That phrase causes you to start crying again
- “I’m sorry!”
- He immediately kneels back down in front of you
- “Hey, it’s ok. Why are you apologizing?”
- “Because we’re not ready for a baby, and we never even talked about if we wanted kids or not.”
- He gently takes your hand and kisses your knuckles
- “I’m with you all the way, ok? No matter if you choose to keep the baby or not. If you want this, then we’ll get you everything you need to keep you both safe. If you don’t, then we’ll schedule an appointment in the morning.”
- You wipe your tears from your cheeks
- “I… I always did want to be a mom.”
- You can see his eyes light up at your decision
- “Really? You want to keep it?”
- You nod and start smiling
- He pulls you into a hug
- “We’re gonna be parents! You’re going to be amazing, I know it.”
Armin
- You started to prepare for your period since your app told you it was about to start
- But then it didn’t
- Two days later and it still didn’t start
- Now you’re getting nervous
- So you quickly go into incognito mode on your phone and search up reviews about different pregnancy tests
- Once you’re satisfied with two different brands, you wait for him to go off to a meeting before heading out and grabbing the tests
- You grab two of each just in case either gives a false result
- But each come back positive
- Now you’re terrified
- And when you’re terrified, you don’t tell anyone because you want to ignore the reality
- But your subconscious exposes you
- And the fact that Armin is so damn observant
- “Yeah, grandpa. We’ll definitely be there.” He says into his phone. “Yes, (Y/N) will make the stuffing you all love so much. Ok. Bye, grandpa.”
- He hangs up his phone and heads to the living room where you’re sitting
- You’re wrapped up in a blanket, something you only do when you’re upset or not feeling good
- “We’re gonna be going to my grandpa’s for thanksgiving this year.” Armin tells you. “Everyone can’t wait for your famous stuffing.”
- “I’m not going.” You tell him
- “Why not?” He asks. “Did something happen last time?”
- You shake your head and pull the blanket tighter around you
- Armin walks around the couch and sits beside you
- “Is everything alright? You can tell me, you know.“
- “Everything is fine.” You assure him, despite knowing that he doesn’t believe you
- “Ok, and now the truth.” He says. “I know you better than that, angel. Your smiles have been empty for days, you’ve been binging your comfort show, and you’ve only eaten things like nuggets and mac and cheese.”
- Armin stands up and walks away
- You didn’t think he’d react like this
- You weren’t expecting him to jump for joy
- But you thought he’d hug you and tell you everything would be alright
- That he’d hold your hand through the whole thing
- You hear him running back down the stairs and know that he’s got a bag packed
- You can practically hear him say-
- “Will you marry me?”
- What?
- Your eyes fly open and you see him kneeling in front of you
- He’s got tears in his beautiful blue eyes
- “What?” You asks aloud
- “I’ve been wanting to ask you for months now. Grandpa gave me my grandmother’s ring when I told him. I wanted to ask you at the beach where we met but… this felt perfect. We’re gonna have a family and I want you to know that I’ll be with you throughout this, and forever. Please, (Y/N). My beautiful (Y/N). Marry me.”
- You start crying again but with tears of joy
- “Yes!”
- He laughs and takes your hand from the blanket
- He kisses your knuckles as he places the ring on your finger
- He then cups your face and starts kissing it absolutely everywhere, causing you to start laughing
- “I love you so much!” He says
- “We’re probably gonna put your grandpa in the hospital, you know?” You say.
- “I’ll have the ambulance on speed dial.” He says
- He then leans down to your stomach
- “Hi there, baby. I know it’s still too early for you to hear me, but I don’t care. I’ll read you all kinds of stories, and I’ll sing to you. I’m going to get all the parenting books I can so you grow up in the best house possible. I’ll protect you always. No matter what.”
- He then looks back up at you. “You’re not lifting a finger for the next few months, ok? I’ll take leave off of work. I’ll even get a bell so you don’t have to yell.”
- “Are you gonna wear a maid’s outfit?” You ask, totally joking
- “If you want me to.”
Jean
- You stare at the test sitting on the bathroom counter
- You start to cry
- You live in a two bedroom apartment and just graduated college
- There’s no way you’re prepared for a kid
- But you know you want to keep it
- Your mind instantly goes to Jean
- There’s no way he’s gonna want to have a kid yet
- He’s so handsome and you’re about to look like the title character in Moby Dick
- You pick up your phone and write out a text
- Jean’s hanging out with his friends at the bar when his phone goes off
- He sees your name on the screen and smiles as he clicks on the notification
- But then his face falls when be reads your message
- “We need to talk”
- No emojis
- No “I love you”
- No “Don’t worry, but…”
- Luckily he’s only had a few sips of his drink so he’s perfectly fine to drive
- “Hey, man. Are you ok?” Marco asks
- “Yeah, you look like you’re about to shit yourself.” Connie says
- “(Y/N) said we need to have a talk.”
- Both of his friends suck in a breath
- “Good luck, man.” Marco says
- “Maybe buy some flowers on the way home just in case.” Connie suggests
- Jean nods and stands up. “Start planning my funeral.”
- “We’ll miss you, buddy.” Connie says as Jean walks back to his car
- Connie was right though, he’s shitting himself
- He keeps running through the day
- Did he say something wrong?
- Did he forget to do his chores?
- Was he supposed to go straight home?
- He’s practicing the apology he’s going to give you based off the different things he could’ve done to make you mad
- He knows from previous relationships that the line ‘We need to talk’ is only said when he’s fucked up
- He doesn’t know how true that statement actually is
- He’s practically shaking as he arrives at your shared apartment
- He’s practically praying that you don’t leave him
- He sees you sitting at the dining room table waiting for him
- “Hey, honey.” He says softly, like he’s walking through a minefield, as he takes his shoes off and walks over to you
- “Have a seat, please.” You instruct
- Jean does as he’s told
- This is it
- You’re about to break up with him
- “I don’t know how to say this…” You say
- He can already feel tears welling up in his eyes
- Maybe if he grovels now and proclaims his undying love, you’ll give him another chance
- He loves you so much, he can’t-
- “I’m pregnant.”
- His mind stills
- Everything goes silent as his mouth opens a bit
- “I know we’re not ready for a kid.” You say. “So I’m offering you an out. You can go pack your bags if you want, I understand. A kid is a big responsibility and we’re both just starting out in our careers”
- “You’re… We’re going to have a kid?” He says
- You honestly get taken aback by his voice
- It’s so soft you swear he spoke like if he said it any louder, that you’d shatter
- He gets out of his chair and kneels down beside you, grasping your hands
- “I’m not leaving, (Y/N). I’ll never leave you or our kid- A kid! Oh, what do you think it’s gonna be? You know what? I don’t care. As long as both of you are healthy. I’m gonna take care of you better than ever before ok? Do you want anything right now? Ice cream? Pizza? Wine- Wait, no you can’t have that. Grape juice that I’ll put into a fancy bottle?”
- You laugh at his sweetness
- You kiss him sweetly and feel tears run down his cheeks
- “I love you.” You say
- “I love you more.” He responds
Marco
- A few days ago you realized how sluggish you’ve been feeling
- So just to be safe and to rule out the big possibility, you bought a test from the local drug store
- And when it came out positive, you felt a flurry of emotions
- You were excited because that means you get to start a family with Marco
- You’re scared because you’ve heard of everything that can happen during pregnancy
- You’re sick just thinking of how much pain you’re going to be in
- So in this state of jumbled feelings, you sort of shut down
- You don’t express your feelings at all, barely eat and barely talk
- Marco’s noticed all of that
- You barely even touched dinner last night
- And you didn’t even the pancakes he made you this morning for breakfast
- He figures your mad at him about something so he offers to do the grocery shopping by himself so you can rest
- Now that the food is out of the way, he makes his way over to the gift section of the store and grabs a box of your favourite snack
- He then heads over to the toys and picks up a stuffed bear he thinks you’ll like
- And then finally over to the flowers to buy you a beautiful bouquet of your favourite flowers wrapped in your favourite colour
- “Darling, I’m home!” He calls out as he opens the door
- He sees you still sitting in the kitchen so he walks over with the gifts in hand
- “I bought you something.” He gives them to you and then sits down. “I don’t know what I did but I’m sorry. Can you tell me so I know not to do it again?”
- “I’m not mad at you, Marco.” You say and then look over to him
- “Oh. Then why didn’t you eat dinner or breakfast?” He asks. “Are you feeling sick?”
- “No. Well, yes, but that’s not why I didn’t eat. I guess I’m just a little stressed.”
- “Is it something I can help with?” He asks
- “Marco… I’m pregnant.”
- He blinks a few times
- Are you being serious?
- “Is this something we’re happy about?”
- “I think so.” You answer. “I just wasn’t expecting it.”
- Marco smiles happily and kisses you sweetly
- “We can turn the second spare into the nursery!”
- He starts rambling about all the things he’s excited to start doing
Levi
- You’ve been feeling a lot more tired than usual
- Seeing as you work with kids all day, this is extremely annoying
- You sigh as you lean against the bathroom counter while getting ready for work
- “Maybe it’s that time in my cycle?” You wonder
- You open your phone and pull up your period tracking app to see what phase in your cycle you’re at
- But instead, it tells you that your period is four days late
- You’ve never had an irregular period before so this fills your gut with unease
- You’ve always been careful so there was no need to keep any pregnancy tests on hand
- You quickly check the time and see that you can go to the drug store that’s around the corner and make it home before you would have to leave
- So you throw on a pair of shoes and book it outside, clutching your bag nervously as you walk down the street
- You grab three different brands just to be safe, not caring which brands or how expensive
- You also pick up a water for you to chug on the way home
- You’re glad that Levi has already left for work so that’s a bit of pressure off your shoulders
- But it’s waiting for the timer to go off that causes you to pace back and forth in front of the counter
- You jump when the alarm finally blares
- You take a breath before looking at them. The first has a plus sign, the second says positive, and the third says pregnant: 2-3 weeks
- “Shit…”
- Levi comes home from work at his usual time and immediately smells cleaning products
- You have the same love for cleanliness that he does
- It stems from your job as a kindergarten teacher since you see sick children almost as much as if you were doctor
- He figures that there was a cold or flu outbreak at the school so you’re doing your annual fall deep clean
- He removes his shoes at the door and places down his bag then goes to find you
- He wants to help you clean so the both of you can relax for the night
- He finds you at the kitchen counter scrubbing like your life depended on it
- He opens his mouth to greet you when he notices how red and raw your hands look
- “How long have you been cleaning for?”
- “Don’t know.” You answer simply, setting off alarm bells in Levi’s head
- He walks up to you and grabs your hands
- He knows that for your hands to look like this, you would’ve had to be cleaning for a lot longer than if you started right when you got home
- “What’s wrong?”
- You don’t look at him
- “Levi, please. Let me go.”
- “Not until you tell me what’s wrong. You’re practically hurting yourself at this point.”
- “I… I’m pregnant.”
- Levi stiffens a bit
- You two were careful, you’re always careful
- But you’ve talked about kids
- He knows you want them
- You both have good, stable jobs so it’s not about money
- “Why aren’t you happy? I thought you wanted kids.”
- “I do but…” You trail off. “I know how much mess and sickness bothers you. Kids get sick all the time.”
- He lets your hand go so he can gently move your head to look at him
- “Hey. It’s ok. Getting messy and sick are just normal kid things.”
- “But I’m gonna get sick, too!” You remind him. “I’m gonna throw up all the time, and I’ll blow up like a balloon, and I’ll-“
- “Do you think I care about that?” He asks genuinely. “I’ll take care of you when all that happens. If you have some stupid craving in the middle of the night, I’ll go get it for you. I’ll make sure you both are safe and healthy, even if I have to get dirty in the process.”
- You smile, feeling your anxiety wash away
- “Now, let’s go put some cream on these hands, ok?”
Reiner
- You’ve been feeling a little under the weather lately which is unusual for you
- You’ve always had an amazing immune system
- So you start freaking out, trying to figure out why you feel nauseous around the smell of apples
- Maybe you’ve developed an allergy
- So you set up an appointment with your doctor to see if she can figure it out
- When she asks if there’s any chance you could be pregnant, you practically run out of the office
- Once you’ve calmed down, you realize that she could be right and you should know
- So you buy the best (and most expensive) test the drug store has to offer
- You can’t help but bounce your leg and rub your hands as you wait the agonizing few minutes
- And then you see the word ‘Positive’ pop up on the little screen
- Reiner’s at work when he gets a call from you
- Because he’s with his boss, he figures he’ll call you back right after he’s done
- But then you immediately call back
- “Reiner, is everything ok?” His boss asks him
- “Um… I’m not sure. Can I quickly take this?”
- His boss nods so Reiner stands up and turns away as he answers
- “Hey, ba-“
- “R-Reiner.” You interrupt him
- He can hear you sobbing so he goes on high alert mode
- “Baby, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”
- “I-I’m scared.”
- “Ok, where are you?”
- He’s already headed out of his boss’ office and back to his own to grab his keys
- “Home.”
- “I’m coming, ok? I’ll be there as soon as I possibly can.”
- “O-Ok.” You say and then hang up
- He speed walks to his boss’ office, who looks concerned when he sees Reiner
- “I need to go. Not sure what’s going on.”
- “Yeah, go.” His boss says. “Don’t worry about clocking out, I’ll do that for you.”
- He nods and speed walks out of the building then books it to his car
- “Road safety laws, prepared to be ignored!”
- It takes about half an hour to get from his work back to the apartment
- He makes it in 15
- And that’s only because he hit two red lights that he couldn’t blow through
- He damn near drops his keys as he quickly puts them into the lock and opens the door
- “(Y/N)?”
- He sees you on the couch with your head in your hands
- You look up at him with red puffy eyes
- “Hey, what’s wrong?” He says and walks up to you
- You start crying again so he sits down and lets you cry into his suit
- He shushes you softly as he runs his hand through your hair
- After a few minutes, you finally calm down enough to tell him your news
- “I’m pregnant.”
- He looks at you with starry eyes. “Really?”
- You nod and wipe your eyes. “I’m scared, Reiner. You know that my family has a history of complications during pregnancy and labour. What if all that happens to me?”
- “Ok, first question. Do you want this baby?” He asks you
- “What? Of course I do.”
- “Then prepared to be absolutely pampered, complications or not.” He says. “And if there are complications like the rest of your family, I’ll take a leave of absence and take care of you. I’ll carry you to the bathroom if you’re even a little bit nervous about tripping or something.”
- “Really?” You ask, starting to feel a bit less nervous
- “Of course! And if we have to, we’ll book a hotel near the hospital. Either because it’s safer or for your own peace of mind.”
You might know me as nonamerosie on Wattpad, AO3 & TikTok ♡ I’m completely new here, but I’m excited to have somewhere to share everything that exists beyond the chapters.
Currently writing:
🌘 Unarmoured | Reiner Braun x Reader
Slow burn college au about grief, first love, found family, and figuring out how to love again when you never really stopped loving the first person.
🕯️ Echoes of Silence | Marco Bodt x Reader
Slow burn college au about trauma, healing, finding your way back to yourself, and letting someone see you when you’ve spent so long trying not to be seen.
.𖥔 ݁ ˖☾𖤓☽.𖥔 ݁ ˖
I wanted somewhere besides TikTok where I could share all the things that don’t quite fit inside the chapters, so that’s mostly what you’ll find here ♡ Little thoughts, character stuff, playlists, inspo, sneak peeks, aesthetic posts, and probably way too much gooning over Reiner.
Also, please don’t be shy about messaging me!! You can talk to me about my fics, AOT, writing, theories, random thoughts, or literally anything. I’m new here and would genuinely love to meet people and have some people to yap with ♡
Ugh I love the idea of being fought over. Inspired by @xxwinterknightxx comment on my last post
Marco is your gay best friend. Yes he is gay... he does like guys and has only ever dated a guy, Armin, and it lasted a year before an amicable breakup to focus on their separate career paths post college
But Marco is bisexual... he likes girls too. He figured that out the day he realized you always came to mind when Armin would kiss him. Marco thought it was internalized homophobia, maybe it was how comfortable he is with you, how he shares everything of note with you
But he's realized, horribly enough, by talking to Jean about his crush on you that Marco has always loved you
Marco listens to Jean say you have the best smile and Marco wonders if Jean's noticed which side of your lip you bite before laughing, how you position your hands to cover your mouth, which parts of your face crease depending on how funny a joke was
There's this urge Marco has to almost quiz Jean. Like he has to prove he could like you like Marco loves you
Jean just thinks his best friend is protective of you, since Marco and you go back even further than Jean and Marco
Also idk yet why they haven't met. We'll figure it out later. Maybe you went to a different college or smth
But Marco is so in love with you and knows you're convinced he only likes men. Marco even tries to act manly but only gets teases for it. Both you and Jean ask if he has a crush on a guy who's into cars when he changes his own flat
You even make jokes about Marco getting with Jean. Little do you know they both want you!
Marco is a rough competitor too. He is attentive in a way Jean cannot beat because he's THAT observant. Marco also gives the best advice in the world cause of it. Jean is observant too, but he can get in his own way. He's worried about not being enough and hasn't learned to stand fully in himself. Marco is not only concerned by the light you see him in, but he knows he's fighting against your idea of him for so long. Jean is still fidgeting and Marco knows he's running out of chances to change this big thing you have already in your head.
Marco knows Jean is the only man who could come close to as good as what you deserve. Marco even thinks Jean is better for you than he could even be. He has some insecurities too...
Marco is an Angelica type and Jean is an Eliza (if Eren were here he'd be Eliza and Jean would be Angelica). Hope the Hamilton reference is understood lol
But Marco, despite wanting you more than even his dream job, wouldn't take you from Jean if you two fell in love. He wouldn't do what Eren did to Jean, snatching the girl he loves away
But if Jean ever caught on, knew Marco loves you like a lover and not a friend, he'd never be able to ask you out and strip Marco of someone so compatible with him
But also... could add the angst of Jean stepping down and you getting with Marco to realize you two aren't meant to be lovers
Could instead or even also add the angst of you and Jean hooking up as maybe coworkers and that's how reader realizes Marco is what connects the three of them, making him being pushed out extra painful
But anyway. Solution is reader having two perfect boyfriends if I want this to have a happy ending...
part two of how the members of the survey corp and marley warriors would train with you
masterlist
warnings: gender-neutral reader, marco lives! au, marcel lives! au, suggestive in some areas.
included characters: eren yeager, armin arlert, jean kirstein, marco bodt, connie springer, bertolt hoover, and porco galliard.
length: 3.6k || read on ao3 || join my taglist
part one || part two [you're here!]
request: [anon] Would you be willing to do another part of "how the members of the survey corp and marley warriors would train with you" but with gn!reader winning this time. Maybe it's luck, maybe they cheated (tickles ? Unfair move?), or one time vicrory only ? If you're up for it of course ! Loved it :>
a/n: i loved writing a part two of this for you, nonnie! i hope it's everything you wanted :) if you guys have any other requests for hcs, please send them my way! i find the guys easier to write, so i just did them! and if i didn't include one, it's probably bc the reader already won in p1 or i couldn't think of a scenario for them. if you want me to write for the ones i left out just lemme know :) sorry it took almost a year for me to get to this lmao.
— Eren Yeager
As much as Eren likes to show off and impress you, he still takes training seriously. If he doesn’t take it seriously, how will he get strong enough to achieve his goals? He has gotten rather good at the basics of it, but he still has a lot to polish and work on, just like you, so it makes you two a good pairing. Eren has the wooden prop knife this round, and he’s winning so far. Every time you lunged at him, he’d dodge out of the way, leaving you out of breath and frustrated. You’re all for winning fair and square, but in this instance, you’re not afraid to play dirty to get what you’re after.
“Hey, Eren!” you call out to him, a conniving look spreading across your face.
He raises an eyebrow at you with suspicion. “What is it?” He stalks you, circling you slowly, watching your every move.
You circle him as well, walking sideways, legs crossing each other. “I heard about your most recent spat with Jean the other day.” Eren doesn’t respond, so you continue with your little scheme. “Connie told me Jean decked you right in the face, giving you a black eye.” You watch as Eren touches his black and blue cheekbone with his free hand. “‘Parently you lost,” you snark.
“I did not lose to that horse face!” Eren yells at you, gritting his teeth. “Mikasa pulled me off of him before I could defend myself! You know she always does that!”
You smirk at him. He had fallen into your trap, hook, line, and sinker. “Oh yeah? That’s not how Connie told it. He told me—well, told everyone, really—that you laid there and let him win.” You know your boyfriend well, saying the exact things guaranteed to make him snap. “Maybe Jean is better than you at sparring, too.”
That’s the straw that broke the camel’s back. Eren charges at you with all his strength, yelling as he does, giving you precisely what you want. Sidestepping him and sticking out your foot, Eren unceremoniously trips and faceplants in the dirt with a groan. Smugly, you crouch down to pluck the knife from Eren’s grasp. “I win, Ren.”
“Fuck you,” he groans, still facefirst in the dirt.
You sit crisscross beside him, your expression a mix of a smile and a smirk. “Maybe later.”
Eren looks up at you out of the corner of his eye. “I hate you.”
“You love me,” you tease, giggling.
“You’re so fucking annoying.” Eren’s voice has no malice behind it as he sits up., rubbing the dirt and blood off his face. A rock must’ve scraped him when he fell. You’ll never admit it, but he looks hot with blood trickling down his forehead.
You kiss his dirtied cheek with a soft giggle. “You wouldn’t have it any other way.”
A faint dusting of blush reddened Eren’s already ruddy face. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Regardless, he returns the gesture, kissing the tip of your nose.
— Armin Arlert
The more often you ask Armin to train with you, the more comfortable he gets. He’s less worried about hurting you, as you’ve proved to him that you’re more than capable of holding your own. It’s not that he views you as weak; he just views your safety as his top priority. He pulls his punches but comes at you in full force without you having to insist upon it this time.
Armin isn’t the best fighter, but he still puts up a good fight. You have the prop knife this round, and you’re winning. He may not have the brute strength of Reiner or Eren, but instead, he uses his brain to fight, aiming primarily for your legs and remaining defensive. All his efforts are for naught, as you’ve pinned him in the blink of an eye. Armin yields to you, just like he had in the past rounds.
“You win again,” Armin says with a smile, accepting your outstretched hand, and you pull him to his feet once more. “I lasted longer this time, though!”
You return his smile with a squeeze of your hand. “We’re both improving, aren’t we?” Armin nods. The sun has started its descent below the horizon, painting the sky a beautiful orange color. You tilt your head up to look at it. “It’s getting late. We better get going to catch a shower before suppertime.”
Armin nods again with a hum. “You know, it’ll be quicker if we shower together.”
“Oh, yeah?” you tease, turning to walk with him towards the showers.
“Mhmm,” he smirks. To imaginary onlookers, Armin looks like he’s innocently messing with you, but the glimmer in his eyes tells you his perceived innocence is merely a facade.
— Jean Kirstein
Winning against Jean is a challenge. You’re both evenly matched in talent, so it comes down to technicalities and skill to beat him. And when that doesn’t work, you resort to playing dirty. Today’s exercise is to wrestle the other to the ground and keep them there until they tap out. Something Jean is excellent at, unfortunately. So you have your work cut out for you.
The two of you were the only ones left in the training yard, the sun setting beyond the trees. Everyone else had gone to shower and change for supper, but you were determined to beat him, even if it meant you’d both sit down for supper in sweaty uniforms. Jean has pinned you twice now, and his victories made him cocky. Perfect.
It’s the beginning of the round, so you’re circling each other from a small distance away. Jean’s hair is ruffled, giving him an almost disheveled appearance that suits him well. You hate how he still looks good after hours of training. “Say, Jean-bo,” you say with a smirk.
Your expression tells Jean you’re up to no good, and he isn’t even slightly surprised. “No, no, no, you’re not gonna trick me! Not this time!”
“Awwww, do you not trust me, Jean-bo? Since when have you so little confidence in me?” you tease.
“You know when!” Jean inches closer to you.
You shake your head no, feigning innocence. “No, I don’t think I do, Jean-y. Enlighten me, hm?”
Jean waves his hands as he speaks. “Last week, when you got me so worked up, you somehow managed to get me all tied up in my ODM gear!” You giggle at the memory. “Heyy, no laughing at me!”
“I can’t help it! You were hanging upside down!”
“Only because you spun me around and twisted my lines!” Jean exclaims, eyes fiery. “Captain Levi made me run laps ‘till I dropped!”
Your grin is filled with attitude, knowing exactly how to effectively press Jean’s buttons and irritate him. You watch as he stalks closer and closer to you. He watches you closely, eyeing you up and down. You imagine he’s trying to piece together whatever you’re planning. Having fallen to your schemes more than he’d care to admit, Jean’s learned not to underestimate you. But you still have a few tricks left up your sleeve that Jean hasn’t cracked just yet.
“I bet it was hard coming back and finding out our superiors surprised us with meat for dinner, too,” you snark. Unbeknownst to Jean, the squad captains promptly changed their minds when Sasha practically launched herself into the ceiling. There are nail marks left over to prove it.
Jean’s eyebrows furrowed in frustration. “You didn’t even save me any, either!”
You answer by sticking your tongue out at him, playing innocent. You let him get within grappling range, his actions playing right into your evil plans. He quickly knocks you on your ass, giving Jean an easy win if he can keep you there. But his frustration made him sloppy, leaving holes in his attack for you to latch onto and exploit.
Turning the tables, you slide out from below him and kick Jean’s legs out from underneath him. You straddle his waist before he has the chance to retaliate, pinning his arms behind his back, rendering him immobile. “I win, Jean-bo,” you grin with a laugh, reveling in the glory of your success.
“You only won because I let you!” he argues, face flushing red.
You chuckle at his reaction. “I won because you got sloppy, Jean-y.”
He rolls his eyes, scoffing, but he holds no resentment against you. “Not my fault I got sloppy; you were goading me!”
“Not my fault you fell for it!”
Jean huffs. “Will you let me up now?”
“Maybe. I think I deserve something for winning, don’t you agree, Jean-bo?” you tease.
He does his best to look at you from the corner of his eye. “If you don’t let me up, you won’t get any kisses. How’s that for your prize, idiot?” You hurry off him, not eager to discover if Jean would hold true to his threat of withholding kisses from you. Jean stands and dusts off his stained pants, pouting at you cutely with a huff. “If anything, I’m the one who deserves kisses after that.”
You roll your eyes affectionately, but you kiss him anyway. “You’re so dramatic.”
— Marco Bodt
Marco watches as you approach him, his signature smile plastered across his features. He’s sitting in the mess hall with Jean, helping the slightly shorter man with what appears to be paperwork. Jean looks up from his work when he notices your presence, kicking Marco’s leg with a knowing smirk.
You sit down across from them, mirroring Marco’s smile with a sweet one of your own. “Hey, Marco, Jean.” Jean gives a halfhearted wave. “Whatcha up to?” you ask, leaning over the table to look at the paperwork between them.
“Not much; Jean needed help writing his debrief report, so I offered to help him with it.” Marco looks at you with a stupid amount of affection, so much you can practically see it radiating off him. Since joining the Survey Corps, Marco has let his hair grow out, his bangs falling in his eyes, giving him even more of the boyish cuteness he already possesses. He claims he’ll cut it short again, but you like to believe Marco keeps it long because he knows how much you like it this way.
“How soon until you guys finish?”
Jean groans at your question. “Not fucking soon enough. It’s making me wanna rip my hair out.” Marco giggles quietly at his reaction.
“Not long.” He smiles at you, nudging your foot with his. “Something you need?”
“I was hoping you’d have some free time to spar with me, Marco,” you hum, nudging him back.
Jean, being the dick he loves to be, makes a gagging sound at the both of you. “C’mon, guys, cut it with the sappy romantic eye fucking, already. Go and spar with them, man; I’ll be fine to finish up on my own.” He sticks his tongue out in fake disgust, hurriedly shooing Marco off the bench.
You roll your eyes with a soft chuckle, taking Marco’s soft hand within your own. He waves goodbye to his friend as he leaves and holds the door open for you as you exit. “What exactly do you want to practice? Anything in particular?” he asks, swinging your arm cutely.
“Hand to hand, mostly. I practically got my ass handed to me by Reiner the other day, and I don’t want a repeat of it.” As you walk towards the edge of the training yard, the sun is high in the sky, surrounded by a pretty shade of light blue, not a cloud to be seen. “What about you?”
Marco shrugs, happy to go along with whatever you prefer. “Nothing comes to mind. I’m happy with whatever you want to do.”
“Okay,” you smile at him, reaching your destination quickly.
By the time you have Marco on his back and yielding to you, the sun has started to set. You help him up and dust off the dirt from his shirt. “So, you finally have enough?”
Marco nods, exhaustion written all over his face. “I don’t think you’ll have a problem holding your own against Reiner, that’s for sure,” he says tiredly, rubbing his eyes.
— Connie Springer
Connie loves hanging out with you, even if that means he gets his shit rocked while doing it. He thinks it’s hot when you show off how strong you are, so he’s more than happy to seriously train with you instead of just goofing off.
Today’s training is melee fighting with a rifle. Something Connie hates. He’s never been good with rifles; they’re large and clunky, and he can never get an accurate shot with them during target practice. Sasha’s excellence at it drives him up the wall, so he’s adamant about improving his skills, no matter how much he hates doing it.
“You gonna keep losin’, or should I start putting in some effort?” you tease, standing upright, holding your rifle diagonally across your chest.
Connie drags himself off the ground, white pants stained brown with dirt and mud. “You’re not gonna be winning for much longer, babe,” he says with an evil-looking grin, not giving you any time to prepare before he lunges at you, thrusting the training bayonet towards your chest.
“Oh, yeah?” You easily dodge his attack, striking the backs of his thighs in retaliation, earning yourself a yelp of surprise and pain. “Doesn’t seem like it, babe,” Connie growls in frustration, darting behind you to land a blow on the weak points of your knees, making your legs buckle, falling to your knees.
“You wanna take that back?” He stands over you, pointing the fake bayonet between your shoulder blades.
You turn your head to look at him, returning his smirk. You shift your rifle to your other hand and sweep it in an arch behind you, just barely knocking Connie unstable enough for you to escape the compromising position. With Connie off balance, you return the favor, kicking him in the back of his knees, and he lands flat on his face. “No, I don’t think I will,” you chuckle triumphantly, pinning him there with the heel of your rifle. “Maybe next time, love.”
Connie responds with a groan. “I swear, you and Sasha are conspiring against me.”
“Why, I have no idea what you mean! I’d never do something like that!” It’s clear that you’re lying; you and Sasha get along like a house on fire, so that’s something you both would one hundred percent do just to annoy him.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever, just let me up, idiot,” Connie grumbles, shifting to lay on his back so his face isn’t in the dirt anymore.
You hum to yourself, tapping your chin with a finger. “Hmmm, I don’t know, should I? I kinda like seeing you underneath me like this.”
Connie’s face flushes a deep shade of red. You notice his pants have tightened slightly, and you move the heel of the rifle to sit just below his belt. “Shut up.”
“What if I don’t want to? What then?”
“Then I won’t share my dessert with you,” he goads.
You sigh defeatedly and help Connie up. “Dessert tonight better be good.”
Connie kisses the corner of your mouth, holding your free hand in his. “Maybe you’ll get two desserts.”
“Oh? I do like the sound of that,” you smirk, properly kissing him back this time. You hear Jean yell in disgust, and you both flip him the bird.
— Bertolt Hoover
“Are you sure you want to keep going? It’s dark out!” Bertolt whines, looking utterly exhausted.
“I just wanna get this trick right!” you reply, sweat dripping down your forehead.
He sighs. “You know I love you, but wouldn’t you fare better if you weren’t this tired?”
You ball your hands into fists and position them like Annie does. “Just one more time, Bertl, please?” you plead, and he caves quicker than you expected him to.
“Just one more, then we’re headed inside, okay?”
You nod in agreement, and Bertolt rushes toward you. You angle your body so your side faces him. You lift your arm and fold it so your wrist touches your shoulder. When Bertolt reaches you, you grab his sleeve and pull his arm longways across your folded one, and you turn your body again so your back is flush against his chest. In the blink of an eye, you’ve got Bertolt off the ground and over your shoulder, quickly throwing the taller man to the ground. It knocks the breath out of him, but you both have a smile on your face despite it.
Between heaving breaths, Bertolt congratulates you. “You did it! Finally!”
“Finally!” You collapse beside him in a fit of giggles, ecstatic that you’ve finally gotten the hang of the move you’ve been trying to learn all day. “I’m so tired, Bertl.”
“I tried to tell you that, love.” He smiles at you sweetly. “But you had to do it one more time,” Bertolt says with a chuckle, kissing your sweaty forehead.
“Oh, shush,” you giggle again and kiss his nose in return. “You like training with me.”
Bertolt’s tan skin darkens with a flush of red across his cheekbones. “Never said I didn’t, honey.” He kisses your forehead again. “Let’s go take a shower, yeah?”
You nod, groaning as you sit up. As the adrenaline fades away, you begin to feel the toll the training had on your poor muscles. Everything is sore and vaguely hurts, making you even more eager for the boiling hot shower in your near future. “The baths should be empty by now, so we can take one together if you like.” Your words cause Bertolt’s blush to worsen, only serving to make you giggle again. “You’re so cute, y’know.”
“Shut up,” he whines, hiding his face from your watchful eyes. “Let’s just go take a shower, okay?”
“Okay, okay,” you grin, kissing the backs of his hands before standing up. You offer him a hand, which he accepts, even though he most likely doesn’t need assistance. “I hope there’s extra food left over from supper.”
Bertolt keeps his hand within yours as you walk back to the bathhouse. “Probably not. You know how Sasha gets.”
“I can always try to bribe one of the cooks. They love me,” you say as your grin widens with a cute smugness.
He chuckles and shakes his head. “They’re gonna stop loving you if you keep pestering them for extra food like this, love.”
“Impossible.” You open the door to the bathhouse, but like the gentleman he is, Bertolt holds it so you can walk inside first.
— Porco Galliard
When he’s training with you, Porco’s cockiness is oftentimes the reason for his downfall as well. He knows you’re also an excellent soldier and fighter, but that doesn’t matter to him when he’s determined to beat your ass into the dirt. But that also gives you a slight advantage as well. He doesn’t underestimate you per se, but he does think he’s hot shit, which opens up plenty of opportunities for you to get him angry, then beat him at his own game once he’s let his guard down.
“Hey, Pock,” you grin at him while he cocks a suspicious eyebrow at you.
“What?” he questions between panting breaths. “You trying to talk your way outta this ‘cause you’re afraid of losin’ again?” Sweat drips off his chin and down his neck, making him look stupidly attractive, at least more than should be allowed for this situation.
You smirk at him. “No, dummy. I was just gonna say you look hot, but I guess you don’t wanna hear it,” you say with a shrug, watching to see if your plan works, which it does.
Porco’s brain lags for a few seconds, giving you all the time you need to dart behind him and wrap him in a headlock. Porco yells and claws at your forearm, but you only tighten your grip on him, forcing him to either struggle or surrender. “You cheated, asshole!” he curses you out, gritting his teeth as he fruitlessly tries to break free of your hold.
“Not my fault you fell for it,” you snark back, teasingly tightening your arm around his throat. “You should’ve kept up a stronger guard, Pocky.”
“God, don’t call me Pocky. Pock is bad enough,” he groans, his short-cropped nails leaving little crescent marks in the meat of your forearm. His words say he’s angry, but the way he’s pressing against your front tells you otherwise.
You rest your chin on his free shoulder, digging your chin into it just to fuck with him more than you already were. “Oh? You don’t like it? But it’s so cute, Pocky.”
Porco growls at you with frustration, but he stops trying to escape your grip. “If I yield, will you stop calling me that?”
“Maybe,” you giggle, drawing out the ‘A’ sound. “Only if I get to brag to Marcel about beating you.”
He huffs and rolls his eyes, ensuring you know of his despair. “You and your demands are gonna kill me one day, and I’ll enjoy the silence I get from being free of your nagging.”
You pout cutely, but unfortunately, Porco couldn’t see it. “That’s such a long way to tell me you love me, Pocky.”
“Mmm, I wonder why,” he snarks, swallowing thickly. “Will you let me go now?”
“Can I brag to Marcel about your crushing defeat?”
Porco groans dramatically. “Fine, you can brag to him, I guess.” You pepper his cheek with kisses before you free him. “I’m never hearing the end of this from either of you, am I?”
“Nope!” you giggle, kissing his cheek again before backing away.
taglist: @myglitteringstardust, @alicchis-badonkadonks (sorry if this isn’t you, it’s the only blog that popped up when i typed in the user from my taglist form), @nxuvillette, @killeva, @aestosia, @aangze, and @fantasy-and-love.
