#Sieg Yeager x reader

[adalz]

Lacrymosa - prologue

pairing: Zeke x Reader ー Priest!Zeke x Angel!Reader

chapter warnings: /!\ sacrilege tw, blood tw, mention of war and ptsd

world count: 1.9k

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Zeke got to his feet and gritted his teeth at the sharp pain that shot through his lower back. With a soft laugh, he placed one of his hands still full of dirt on the small of his back, arching it slowly to stretch his muscles. The back of his hand ran over his forehead, fingers collecting sweat, before returning his attention to what was left of a small orchard in front of him. He sighed, looking at the already-dead fruit trees, the long-forgotten plants and weeds.

What an idea, honestly, to start an orchard behind the old Chapel - he’d really thought it would be a good thing, encouraging him to come around the clearing more often, to keep an eye on the old building, to check if it was still standing. The clergy house was on the east side of the woods which was stupidly close to the Chapel for not having an excuse to come. Yet it was far from the village, and no one, but him, was coming anywhere near the remote building nowadays.

He should have known better, planted a bunch of flowers and called it a day. Now he was dripping with sweat, and his back was hurting like an old man. Somehow, he was still convinced that the idea was great, yet the realization was mediocre.

It’d been decades since a celebration had been held within its walls. He wasn’t even sure to have ever witnessed another soul into the Chapel, ever since his ordination. He couldn’t blame the villagers for staying away from the isolated clearing – there was something stifling around here that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

As long as he remembered, the old Chapel has always been abandoned. It was an ancient building, which revealed the presence of ancient civilization in the region, large columns entrapped in the walls, and if one were to pay attention, they could see the carvings on the entablature that had been worn down by rain and time. A small wooden steeple had been built on the massive stone edifice, probably centuries later, and the space between the columns had been filled with stone and high stained-glass windows, their colors faded over time. It had probably been rehabilitated at some point, sacralized under the order of some narrow-minded bishop, during the Great Purification of religions. At least, Zeke thought, it'd allowed the edifice to cross the ages, to this very moment. He always found this place mesmerizing, but in an odd way. As if the fact that he could gaze upon such an edifice was something forbidden, something that time forgot to turn into dust.

The early autumn sun was beating down hard on his neck, and his shirt was sticking to his chest. He’d rolled up the sleeves of his shirt over his forearms, so as not to stain it with dirt. One of his fingers slipped under his collar, releasing the sticky fabric from his throat, and he let out a loud sigh as he crouched down again, mind already wandering on the nice bath he was going to take once he was done with-...

He raised his head from the ground briskly, trying to listen carefully to a noise.

There was a whistling sound. It was more like a wave of whistles. It sounded like...

A sound he’d heard a long time ago. A sound he recognized all too well. It whistled in his ears, waking up every cell in his body.

It came back to him abruptly. Painfully so. Raw, vivid adrenaline suddenly pulsed through his veins. The horror of memories. A sound he never thought he would ever have to hear again. A sound he heard from the sky. A sound he prayed he would never hear from the other side of the horizon.

The sound of bombs falling from the sky.

A whistle too long, getting too close, too loud. Before he could even look up, a loud noise banged behind him. In the Chapel. Stone and glass shattered into pieces.

Zeke scrambled to his feet, turning to the sky to see, to see, what plane just passed overhead. What colors were on the plane, what army could attack such a small town, lost in the middle of nowhere. He thought that the time for peace came all those years ago. He really believed so. He thought he would never have to get his hands dirty on gunpowder and blood again. He never thought it was what was going to kill him.

Waiting for a detonation. A blast igniting death. He wouldn't even run. It was useless, it was already over. From the sky, he had seen cities wiped off the map before he could even scream.

His heart was racing in his chest, adrenaline pumping through his bloodstream, the terror and horror of war ringing in his eardrums. Forgotten faces flashed before his eyes, old friends. He thought of his mother.

What a beautiful day it was. If only he had realized that earlier.

Nothing came. The silence stretched and his whole body was frozen, waiting for the moment.

But nothing came.

For a split second, he thought that perhaps there was still time to run, time to escape the explosion – but it was foolish. He thought of the villagers, only a few miles away. The Old Chapel was far from houses, protected by the valley thick forest. He thought of the kids. If the shockwave was as powerful as what he saw with his own eyes, they wouldn’t even be able to run.

But nothing was coming.

The ground crunched under his shoe as he took a step forward. Uncertain. A second. The world was still whole around him.

Then he began to run; he crossed the orchard, skirted the back wall of the Chapel, running in long strides. Glass cracked under his feet. He stood in front of the wooden door and pushed it open.

An unusual light was filling the space, alighting a dusting of broken stone swirling in the air over the pews.

Zeke walked down the center aisle, towards the altar bathed in direct sunlight. Towards a gaping opening in the vaulted ceiling. From its edges fell rubble that shattered the dusty marbled floor.

He took a step forward. Reckless. A second. The walls were still standing around him.

Behind the altar, amidst the debris, was a bloody form. It was not a bomb, he realized. Shards of glass and drops of blood dotted once pristine feathers.

It was not a bird; it was too big to be a bird - it ripped open the vaulted ceiling. Yet the feathers were there, twirling in the air with the dusting, sliding across the cracked floor as if on water.

It was still. Zeke stood still.

The moment went on forever, confusion overwhelming all certainty. And just then, there was a fluttering movement. Ruffle of wings. Slipping out from between the feathers, a hand.

He heard the glass crack under his feet before he knew he moved. His knees crunched against the ground as he fell to his knees.

His hands hovered over the silhouette, slowly leaning it to catch the hand -cold, so cold- and his fingers slid against the wrist, feeling a pulse and going up ever so slowly, until capturing the roundness of a shoulder. He pushed his other hand into the feathers, which were reddening with every second passing by, and gently tipped the weight.

Breath caught in his throat. He stopped moving, taken aback, his mind trying to make sense of the impossible.

What affront was it? What did he just commit? To have set his eyes on a child of Ymir. He had just opened Pandora's box. He had laid eyes on the invisible.

Yet he did not remove his hand from your cold cheek. His fingers slid down your neck, holding it steady as his fingers closed around what was left of...- an arrow?

He took a deep breath and yanked it away. Your face - so beautiful, so soft - winced in silence, pain pulsing in your chest, and your head slid slowly back against his arm as Zeke placed a steady hand around the wound to stop the blood flow.

Dry blood already drew sinuous paths, along your nose, down your neck. It joined back together strangely on your temples and on your cheeks, without ever touching your lips as if a violent shock had diverted its course.

He moved carefully, so that the weight rested on his knees, careful not to jostle a wing. They were so large, so soft and one of them seemed broken, sliding against his bare forearms, skimming the tops of his now shaking fingers.

With the pad of his fingers, he pushed the feathers out of your face. His breath caught in his throat again.

There was something frozen in your face; pain certainly -your heart was beating so hard against his hand on your neck-, but also something soothing. Something impenetrable; something he had never seen. Something he had never felt. Something that resonated so loudly within his chest, so painfully as it tugged at his own heart.

Eyes closed, lips parted and torn, Zeke could barely hear a breath. But there was a breath.

A child of Ymir. Angels with powerful wings, faithful followers of the Goddess. Heroes whose importance was inevitable in the sacred texts of the Genesis of the World.

Children who had saved the Goddess Herself and who were gifted immortality for their selflessness, granted the one thing Mankind shed blood for in the first place. She offered them wings so that they could join Her, at the top of the Mountain, in Her home, Paradis. Children whose adolescence and eternal beauty had been painted and sculpted in marble for centuries. Yet your face was not a child's face - it was engraved with millennial youth. Hundreds of lives and purest emotions.

Zeke was a man of faith. But he was also a man of his time. Of course, he believed in Ymir, in the sacred texts and scriptures. But he also knew the path that had led him to his faith. He knew why he was here today. He knew about war and death. He had been around the demons of madness.

He believed in Angels, in their meaning, in their symbolism, in the messages and the analysis that were made of them in the sacred texts. He believed in the message of generosity that they represented. He believed that only open-mindedness would lead to the idea of an eternal life, to peace through kindness.

He had simply never considered the fact that their existence could be made of flesh and bones.

Yet nothing could deny the absurd presence of that barely quivering body against his, your face bearing the traces of fatigue and pain, and these wings made of pristine colors. It was all real.

An angel fallen from heaven, a child of yesteryear with a face more beautiful than eternal life.

Perhaps he would die for having looked at your torn body and at the river of blood running down your cheeks. Or perhaps you fell into his arms for a reason.

Sitting there, his hands bleeding around your throbbing neck, he looked up, beyond the vault, towards the sea of clouds, towards the infinite sky. He would probably die. He would just die one day.

He tore his eyes away from the sky and turned back to the body in his arms, his mind clouded by the pulsing of your heart against the pad of his fingers.

How could anyone has let such a heavenly creature fall from the sky?

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[natsukitakama]

What kind of Yandere are they ? Pt 2

Author note : I was supposed to write a Christmas headcanon but nothing came so since the new season is full of daddies/mommies I couldn’t not write a part 2 of this headcanon (I already planned a part 3). Yes I wrote this while listening the new AOT’s opening 

Before we started, let me reminds you those relationships are TOXIC please be careful. No one should treat you the way they did in this headcanon, you’re precious and deserve someone who’ll be able to take care of you properly. 

Warning : violence / Mention of stress / Toxic relationship / slight nsfw (kinda explicit but you can skip it if you want to) if you don’t feel confortable with those kinds of things don’t read it, I want you to feel good on my blog this is a happy place. 

i do not own those gifs credit to the owners 

Masterlist 

Zeke 

I finally write for him 

I don’t know if it’s a yeagar’s thing, but this man is a master when it came to manipulate his beloved. 

He is pretty smart guys and since he always had to lie to everyone he became quite strong at it. He knows what to do or to say in order to get what he wants 

And when he decided you would be his : you would be his. No matter how hard he will try, that something you can’t control 

At first it will appear innocent : a young man seducing someone he has a crush on. Nothing weird on that ? Wrong

There nothing «��normal » on his behavior, but he is doing his best to hide anything that might compromise him. 

If he is being too intrusive he will  joke on it claiming he was being too passionate about you. 

But he will still have his answer one way or another 

Normally the man is pretty harsh and not afraid to be rude, but with you he is the smoothest guy alive. Like I say he is pretty smart. In addition he is aware about how attractive is he, the man is a whole flirt especially with you. So he knows when he can touch you or when he can just brush your hand to get a reaction of you. 

It’s odd that after couple of weeks flirting together you started to fall for the man, believe me when I say everything go according to his plan. The minute he saw you : he worked hard to get all the information he needed to be close to you. He also learned who could be a danger for your relationship and acted accordingly. 

At first your life would seem better, but you were wrong. It would take you a long time (if you’ll ever notice this) to acknowledge that most of your friends weren’t here anymore, that you tend to see most of your family less than before. 

What kind of Yandere he is ? 

MANIPULATOR  : Like I say before, the man is smart. During his whole life he had to lie, to adapt in order to survive and get what he needed to have. It became an habit of his, he does naturally without even thinking about it. So it’s no surprise he will manipulate you, not in a harsh way ; everything with him is smooth and collected. He knows that loosing his shit in front of you won’t help his case worst it might scare you and he won’t be able to see you (or he’ll have to kidnap you which he would try to avoid it). Every word, every action is always on purpose nothing is improvised even his kiss. He is not afraid to lie to you. He would lie, tease, embellish, flirt to have you wrapped around his finger. And if he thinks someone might be dangerous he’ll force you to think the way he does, even threatened some of your friends to separate them from you. Cause that’s how he is : paranoid. 

PARANOID : that’s how he is. Everyone is threat for your relationship. Since he is kinda aware about how unhealthy is behavior is, he knows some of your friends or your family won’t agree on your relationship. In addition, you’re so special, so attractive, so sweet, he is afraid someone might take you away from him. He always needs your approval, and won’t be afraid to have it by edging you during sex, kissing you deeply until you can’t breathe. Not because the man is always collected that he doesn’t freak out, he does plenty of time especially when it comes to you. You’re far too precious and he is aware that everyone might want to steal you (yes he actually saw you as on object something people may take away from him). Because he tends to manipulate you easily, he won’t be afraid to do it in order to keep you away from your family friends, anyone who might be able to make you realize how unhealthy he is of you. Before you can even realize, your « noisy’ friends as he calls them aren’t here anymore, they barely talk to you they even starts to ghost you without giving you any explanation (if you’re wondering, of course he’s threaten them, black mail he is fine with everything as long as it put them aside). 

DOM : Not really a surprise here, he is pretty big (not put intended) in all mean, he knows he is worthy because of his royal’s gene, in addition his beast titan is stronger than never, he is smart and know what to do in order to survive. But that doesn’t mean he is a sub quite the contrary, he is hard and not afraid to be rude even in front of a superior. So when it comes to you, you’re so delicate so in love with him that you’ll never think about being rebellious : even when you do it, he won’t mind punish you (in a sexual way or not it doesn’t matter to him as soon as you obedient). Cause that’s what he expects : Obedience. That’s how you’re supposed to express your love to him, affectation are gladly accepted but he is not a fool, he won’t fall and let you take control over him. HE is the one in charge no matter what, and if he has to reminds you who is in control he would do it : by teasing most of the time. 

TEASER : He might not be seen as a funny guy (which is kinda true), he really enjoys tease you for multiple reason. : First because seeing you getting all flustered because of him is very arousing, second because it remains you who is in charge and finally because you are his and that’s a proof that he owns you. Being able to touch whenever he wants to, make you cum whenever he feels like it, getting you on tears everytime you’re acting like a brat is a most for him. That’s also a good way to punish you when you’re acting like a « damn child » as he calls it. It’s also a way for him « break you » little by little, meaning that at some point you’ll be dedicated to him and that’s exactly how he wants you to do. To do that he won’t hesitate to bring you on verge all the time, he is the king of edging honestly. 

« Please.. I.. I can’t » « You should think about it before flirting with that damn baker »  « I… I… I did… fuck … not » 

You weren’t lying though. This morning you walked into your usual bakery looking for some good bread,. Zeke being the man he is, wasn’t very difficult as long as it was tasty he was fine. It wasn’t the case for you, you were quite fond of a particular type of bread and you knew your favorite baker would sell it. But here’s the thing, the baker wasn’t doing this bread because it was a good bread, he did it because you loved it and it was a way for him to seduce you and be sure you would come back, Zeke was sure of that.

That’s why today, he decided to go with you just to see if bake would be cocky enough to flirt with you right into his face. You didn’t mind, it was another way to spend more time with him, so here you were holding his hand walking into your favorite bakery not aware of what’s about to come. So when you take your order, Zeke couldn’t help but feel anger going through his body : the way the baker was looking at you was indecent, hell they have the balls to even touch your hands while giving you the chance. How dare he ? How dare you smiling at him when you were with HIM. Getting the confirmation that the baker was in fact a damn thief (he would take care of him later), he needed to take care of you : after all you are the one who wanted to go again in this damn bakery even though the baker was flirting all over you, he needed to punish for claiming people’s attention. 

That’s explain why you were currently on your back in his bed, your member holding by some ropes, spreading you to his eyes and only his eyes. You couldn’t remember how many time, Zeke brung you on the verge of coming and yet he was taking this away from you. Again and again. Everytime he felt your cunt clucnthing around his finger or tongue, telling him how close you were he backed off without a second thought no bother hearing at your whimper. 

« Y/N don’t try to hide it, I know you were flirting with him behind my back. You wanted my attention uh ? Is that what you are ? An attention whore ? »

« I wasn’t… fuck» you couldn’t even talk properly, not when he was stroking you all the good way 

« Excuse me ? i couldn’t hear you » 

« I wasn’t *breath* flirting *breath* I-I belong to you »

« Of course you are honey I never doubted that »

Honestly, it was a miracle Zeke didn’t cum already. The sight of you all spread for him, your body begging for his attention your face covered by tears and brush from all the pleasure he gave you. Maybe this time he will give you want you want without make you beg for that ? 

Levi 

This one is a piece of work : most of the time he is already pretty cold but now that he got attracted by you. It’s quite impossible to know what he has in mind. 

He is 100% obsessed with you, he will follow you, get close to any of your friends even your neighbor for all he cares. Since he got charisma people won’t bother asking why he was asking question about you, they all think it was his way to get close to his crush nothing weird on that. Except, he is not afraid of beat the shit out anyone who might try to bother him (not answering his question, threatening him, getting too close to you to piss him off) 

Since he is pretty handsome, he knew he didn’t need to work a lot to get you into his pants, but he wanted you to be as obsessed as he was about you. In order to do that, he had to get to know you : but he won’t do it the traditional way. He will threaten, beat, black mail, stalk, anything to have all the information he needed to see you. 

Your first meeting seemed to be a coincidence but it wasn’t, Levi thought about everything : When, Where, How. But for you of course, it was a (good) coincidence, you heard that a gorgeous man was asking question about you : what you like, what was your favorite tea/flower, what was your type of man, and frankly it was flattering and now that you saw Levi you knew it was him. The way he took you to that coffee, the flower he gave you as a gift everything felt right as you have met your soulmate (which in Levi’s eyes was true). 

But you didn’t where you were getting into 

So what kind of Yandere he is ? 

DOM : Who is surprised here ? He is already like this before so obviously in Yandere vers, it would be worked. He Is always telling you what to do or not to. He is always in charge no matter what, telling you how to clean (and 99% you didn’t do it the way he wants you to so he would do it), how to fuck, if you think you can talk to him well you’re kinda wrong. He expects you to be obedient and agree on everything he asked you to, after all he knows you so well right ? There no way you would question his order. Why would you do that ? Especially when he takes care of you so well. He needs to be in control otherwise your relationship won’t work, in his mind he has to be in charge since he knows you like the back of his hand and since he is aware of what he needs, so obviously he needs to work on this relationship. He was being nice here, cause you would take all the benefits while he would work hard you but that’s a burden he would gladly have for you. 

FRIGHTENING: If your relationship, your love, his adoration aren’t enough to force you to obey well he is quite scary and won’t hesitate to glare at you. Most of the him his death glare are enough to scare you enough and make you apologize for your behavior but if he has to he would take matters on his own hands : literally. Yes he would never put a finger on you but that’s doesn’t he won’t grab your throat to raise you while scolding at your for being a shitty S/O. Yes his harsh words are another way to punish you, he knows how mean he can be and would use it with caution : unlike Zeke he doesn’t want to break you, just to reminds you your place and how lucky you are to have him by your side

COLD : like I said, usually he is pretty distant with people and he tends to be even more cold with everyone else. Even with you. Expect a lot of silent treatment from him, especially if you disappoint him, he works so hard to have your affection and to make you obsessed about him that now he is using it against you. He knows you can’t tolerate silent treatment especially after being scold, it makes you feel like you weren’t worthy enough. But it’s efficient cause everytime you come back on your kneel begging for his mercy asking him for forgiveness, promising you would never be a brat again. 

MANIPULATOR : It’s easy for him, since he gets all the information he needs to act. He knows everything about, so he can behave properly and knows what to do to get a special reaction from you. He uses this knowledge to make you fall harder for him, force you to be depend on him like you couldn’t live without him. To do that, like I said he would give you silent treatment when you’re bad, he would reward you when you’re acting the way he wants you to. After couple of months with him, he is about to be in total control with you and honestly he has never been so proud before. 

« Come on Y/N sit on my lap you deserve it » 

Getting your boyfriend’s attention was a piece of work especially today, he was super angry for some reasons and it took you a lot of strength to behave properly. But you did it. Since you started your relationship everything felt so right, you had everything you couldn’t even wish, you were spoil with love. It’s like your boyfriend could read on your mind (he wish). 

As a reward for your behavior, Levi bought you a gorgeous cloth that you saw last week during your date, and now he expected some shows. Some shows you did, taking all your time to walk into his lap, rolling your hips to flatter your body all while Levi looked at you with dark eyes. He spent his all day tracking some bastard who lusted at you during your date last week, and now that he was done with him he was back at home with nothing else but his sweet Y/N cleaning the house properly, dancing slowly to some musing on their minds. 

« Don’t make me wait Y/N come on Hurry. » 

So you did, you practically ran into his lap your body shaking slightly from excitement, you couldn’t wait to be rewarded. Levi knew your body so well, he only has to touch you and your body would melt. You didn’t have to do anything just follow his leads, it was so good. When you were finally on his lap, your hand went into his chest for support, at first he said anything he just look at your body up and down as if you were some piece of art (you were at his eyes) and then finally it happened. His hand cup your hips and he started to rub it slowly and then out of nowhere you felt his hands on your ass grabbing it which made you moan. 

« Now look at you already sensitive for me we don’t even start » 

Tonight he planned on make you cry for him. 

Hange

They are the closest of what I called a Yandere, you know the psychopath one. 

They didn’t mean to be like that, they’re just so passionate, so in love so crazy about you. 

If you think they won’t try some experiment on you, you’re wrong, you’re so wrong. It could go as for as to try how many you can cum before collapse or how much pain you can tolerate. 

You’re everything they could dream of so of course they had to analyze you : to them it’s pretty romantic cause they’re learning a lot of things about you and seeing you cry, just a proof that you’re opening to them (in their creepy mind crying is like confessing be careful). 

In the meantime, they may hurt but they also worship you, as I said before you’re everything they could dream off so obviously they won’t break what would be the point ? But if it had to happen don’t worry they will conserve your body : you are their beloved no way they wouldn’t keep you. 

They’re typically the type to follow you everywhere, make a sort of list of every place you went into. Especially they’ll write every name of people you talked to just in case they might have to make them … disappear. 

I’m pretty sure they’re like Sangwoo from Killing stalking, they got a basement where they could put you in, in case you weren’t behave properly or if they want to experiment something about you. 

But what kind of Yandere are they ? 

PSYCOPATH : Since you became their obsession, they became complete crazy. They couldn’t stop thinking about, they needed everything that could reminds them of you. So yeah at first, they stole couple of your things : like dirty cloth, underwear, tooth brush, hair brush anything you might touch or were in contact with your body. Everything is put on an altar, you’re like a piece of heaven about them. During a long time, they were fine collecting few things but then it became not enough they needed more, they craved for your attention. They tried to talk to you to get your love but it wasn’t quick enough, so they didn’t think twice before kidnapping you. You were meant to be together but that doesn’t Hang would wait forever.  

POSSESSIVE : as soon as you were at home, you became their. You were their everything, and Hange could barely handle the sight of you talking with anyone who weren’t them. They’re quite clingy around you, it’s their signal : if you’re not letting them go, Hange would have to take manners on their own hands. And we all know what would happen if we make Hange angry, they’re pretty scary on their own way. If you really pissed them off by talking too long with someone, Hange would have not choice but to mark your body with branding iron, so everyone could know by the mark on your body (probably your chest or your hand) that you belong to Hange. And if even like that someone try to take you away from them (how dare they ? Your body is literally labeled Hange’s property) well, they would kill them. 

WORSHIP/ PASSIONATE : not a surprise here. They were always passionate about titans and know that you were on their life, they were obsessed with you. They collected things about you, and even now sometimes they took some sample of your body like your hair, skin or even your drool. But it’s really during sex or experiment that you realized how obsessed they were about you : always complimenting, always getting flustered just by the sight of your body, your skin darkened by their touch, your lips plump because of the kiss you shared. The sight of you bare chest naked is enough to drive Hange crazy. 

SADISTIC : Not in a mean way. They never enjoyed hurting someone, but they enjoyed making expriment on your body especially when it make you all tears because you couldn’t take it anymore. If you’re not crying when Hange is down with you then they didn’t do a good job. Of course, if you’re acting like a brat of if Hange thought you were enjoying yourself too much with someone else, they would have to punish you : during time like this they couldn’t care less about your safety as long as you know who you belonged to. 

« Come on Y/N I know you can take more than that » 

« Please… I … I can’t no more »

« Now don’t « please » me you’re not even crying that mean I can push you a little bit sweetheart » 

Closing your eyes, you knew at this moment that you couldn’t stop them. When Hange had something on their mind nothing could stop them especially when it was related to their beloved : you. Today Hange woke up wondering how many time you could cum without them touching you. This question literally obsessed them during the whole day until enough was enough. Once Hange felt like they needed to have an answer, they didn’t think twice before taking you into « your » basement. 

And here you were, laying on their table your leg widely spread while your hands was linked above your head. You couldn’t even remember how many you already cum, but what you were sure was that Hange had just started. All you could feel was the coldness of the table since your senses was deprived : you didn’t what Hange gave you but your body felt numb you couldn’t feel anything but at the same time you felt everything. The pleasure was especially deepen. 

« So Y/N ? How do you feel ? Good right ! At first I wanted to try how many climax your body could handle but it wouldn’t be efficient since your Body has is own limit. So I tried differently. You didn’t notice the new flavor of your juice right ? I did a good job right ? Right ? »  

All you could hear was Hange chuckling, of course they had to drug you otherwise you would completely break down from being too sensitive. Before you could even answer back you saw them rather felt them coming closer to your very intimate part. Your breath started to speed up while your whole body was slightly shaking from excitement you couldn’t help but pine for Hange’s ministration. 

« Woaa look at that I didn’t even touch but your body is clenching around nothing ! Guess I did good job them right Y/N ? Let’s see how far we go now shall we ? »

You nodded slightly knowing it was pointless since they would keep going no matter if you wanted it or not 

[mmayflowers]

“All you ever do is hurt me” Eren Yeager x GN Arlert!Reader

Fandom: Attack on Titan

Warnings: Season 1-4 Spoilers (you have been warned), Eren Yeager (he needs his own warning smh)

A/N: Tell me you have brain rot with out telling me you have brain rot 😀✋ This prompt was borrowed from @lotsoffandomimagines prompt list, thx Ace.

*＊✿❀All you ever do, All I’ve ever done.❀✿＊*

You never thought that being outside the walls would be like this. You had daydreamed with your older brother, Armin, about what the world outside the walls was like. Your life now was not what you had dreamed about.

When you were 10, your home fell to the titans and lost everything including your grandfather who you lost later in the year. At 12 you joined the military with your brother and his friends to help the fight against the titans. You had turned to one of your brothers friends in that time, the only one you thought would listen. Eren Yeager. He lost his mom in the fall of Shiganshina and hadn’t been the same since. You and Eren had talked during all of the sleepless nights and the long days. He confirmed you, and you had felt safe. After the Battle for Trost, you had done the same to him. Sitting, talking when he wanted to and listened when he needed you to. However, everything changed when you, along with Eren and your friends were assigned to Levi’s new special squad.

You were constantly put in risky positions, always in danger. All for Eren’s sake. The times you almost lost your life we’re beginning to be countless. Not one remark from Eren, the boy you had grown to love.

At age 15 you found out some of your friends were sent to destroy all you ever knew and almost lost your brother.

Reiner Braun and Bertholt Hoover. The armored titan and the colossal titan. They were the two who cause so much pain and loss and suffering that fateful day, all to get into the walls. They took Eren in hopes of taking him back to their home across the sea as you would later find out. You had found the sea despite all of the pain and more encounters with death. After the Retaking of Shiganshina, the Survey Corps, or what was left, made their way to the sea. However it was evident that your fight wasn’t over yet.

Now here you stood, at age 18. In front if the boy who seemingly caused it all. After the fall of the titan’s reign on Paradis, after your excursion to Marley, and after the death of Sasha Braus. All Eren caused was pain, to everyone, but also to you.

“I didn’t expect you.” His voice was different. It was older, but more tired.

“I didn’t expect this from you.” You said. “It’s been a year Eren.”

“Did Sasha make it?”

“Did she make it?” You laughed, anger was laced into the noise. “She died on spot, she’s gone, she’s dead.”

“And you,” he asked “how are you?”

“Like you care.” You spat. Eren harshly gripped the bars that separated the two of you.

“I HAVE DONE NOTHING BUT TRY TO PROTECT YOU Y/N!”

“NO!” You screamed back “NO ALL YOU EVER DO IS HURT ME! IT’S ALL YOUVE EVER DONE!”

You had never raised your voice. Not at Eren, ever. A tense mood settled over the room, all the titan shifter could do now was listen.

“The Battle for Trost, that day with the female titan, several times during the Shiganshina siege. I almost lost my brother because of you, NOW WITH SASHA, THE MASSACRE AT MARLEY! I almost lost my life… because of you. We’re in the survey corps, and that’s an understandable risk, but not to the degree i’ve experienced. It’s not ok.”

“Y/N-“

“Save it. I don’t want to hear it. Hange wanted to talk to you. I’ll go tell them they can come in now.”

Turning on your heel, you walked down the hallway. You didn’t look back, and you didn’t respond when you heard the boy calling your name. You had been hurt before, but not again.

Not for anyone ever again.

A/N: this is really bad, but it was kinda self indulgent… so Enjoy!

[natsukitakama]

Being in relationship with Zeke Yeager would include

*looking respectfully* 

Author note : I know some people aren’t quite found of him and I can understand. But I know some of you simp for him (me too don’t worry). I hope you’ll enjoy this. 

i do not own that gif I found it on google so credit to the owner (if you know them please let me know)

Warning : mention of spoiler if you haven’t season 2, 3 et 4 / slight nsfw cause I’m going to hell / fluffy because we derserve it 

Masterlist 

Annoying. Not in a bad way but this man can’t shut up, he always has something to tell just because he loves seeing you getting flustered or angry because of him. 

That’s just how he is. He loves teases people and get the most of them. It’s even worse with his S/O 

Typically if you want to kiss him (private or in public won’t matter although he might prefers being private about his relationship) he would litteraly make you beg for it. « Couldn’t you wait until we’re home ? So needy Y/N » 

Since he was educated to be a leader he is pretty god at reading people’s body language and won’t hesitate to use it on you. 

Not a surprise here you barely got a fight : the man barely loses his temper and since he can read you like an open book he knows exactly what to do to avoid situation like this. 

Nonetheless it doesn’t mean he can’t provide every argument. So yeah times to times you two fight, most of the time because you know he is hiding something from you, and everytime you confront him about it he just brushes if off telling you, you’re being paranoid or something. 

Although he got a huge ego so yeah he might act as if he was smarter than you and would tell you so.

He is kinda mean and cold and even though he is trying his best to cherish you, sometimes he says things he shouldn’t tell. It ends up with you crying or trying not to (but he can tell) and just leave him. 

Man he hates it. Everytime he got to see his grandparents and everytime they scold him for being an assholes to you. 

And everytime he could come back to you with a gift either a book that you might be interest on, flowers or even jewellery if you are into that. 

He would apologize for being a dick to you

100% end up making sweet love just to be sure he is forgiven (also because he misses your touch but shhh he has a reputation) 

Don’t lie to him. He would know. As I said before he can read people and especially your body’s language. It took you a long time before owning his trust, don’t give him reason to not trust you : it you want to say something tell him.

He is pretty blunt himself so he won’t mind and actually would love it if you are confident and comfortable enough with him to talk about anything

Like I said earlier he might want to be cautious with your relationship, not because he is ashamed or anything but he knows that not everyone loves him and he is afraid that they might use you against him as a threat. He can’t tolerate that (also because he will betray his own army, he doesn’t want you to get hurt or worst because of him) 

Yeah because you’re not a part of his plan, he never talked about anything related to his plan. 

It might surprise you but I don’t think he is actually good at flirting. He is pretty blunt and not that subtle, he won’t go as far as to say « I think you’re hot » on your first meeting but still you will notice that he was more talkative with you. 

Maybe it’s a fantaisie of mine but I think he would love send you letters : he tends to be more sensual while writing. You always got a letter when you start your day at work and if he couldn’t manage to be with you that or even call you during work, he’ll send you another one with flower to apologize. 

But he can be smooth when he wants to, especially when he is teasing you : that’s his way of flirting with you. He can’t help but feel like he has to tease you just to see you with a pout on your face. (His heart melt everytime he saw you like this) 

He tends to be more rough with his teasing if he is dating a male than a women, his grandma raise him to treat women like queen so he will oblige. 

He daydreams a lot about you, sometimes it’s just about you laying on his chest sleeping like a baby, he could literally feel your soft hair on his hands as he stroke them. Sometimes it’s more sensual, as he could easily remember the touch of your skin against his hands, the whimper that left your lips each time he is kissing you, sucking you, bitting you, the way you gripped his shoulder as he was pouding into your core relentless. 

It didn’t help that everything seemed to remember him of you, when he is drinking is usual coffee at 10 AM he got a memory of you cooking his breakfast whistling softly as you were happy to cook some meal for your man. When is having his tea after his lunch time the flower scent coming from his tea makes him of your perfume. His book and paper on his desk, reminds him of you when you’re overworking, claiming that your mess make actually sense for you and that no you weren’t just too lazy to clean up. 

If he claims himself to be good when it came to emotion and to keep everything for himself, his grand-parent noticed something about his behavior. He seemed more clean and presentable (not that it wasn’t the case but he wasn’t the one to take extra attention of his looks), he was more polite always trying to not swear or at least not that much, they noticed him looking somewhere as if he was looking for someone. 

Sometimes he calls you just to annoy his superior (cause he knows they survey him), just to talk about anything but especially to talk trash about some embarrassing things. But since he never used a name or something they never know if he was talking to you or someone he just slept with. Occasionally he would talk about embarrassing story about this superior, he knows he won’t be punished otherwise it would be a proof that he was telling the truth earlier. 

He is possessive not like Porco or Eren where they would let their anger scare the poor people trying to talk to you, he is smart enough to know when someone is hitting on you or when someone is just speaking to you. But still, he doesn’t like when he sees somebody being too touchy on you. How dare they ? He is commander, smart, handsome, strong and that poor people think they could challenge him ? 

During time like this after, kicking that poor person out of your way, he would take you home. Don’t ever think you leave this house, he won’t stop loving you until you can’t walk and the only thing you could remember is his own name. 

Be careful, Zeke is patient very patient. 

If you think he won’t edge you until you’re crying mess for release you’re wrong. He tends to tease you and make you beg to cum, so when he feels like he has to remind you who you belong to, one word can describe your night with him : intense (yeah because not only will he edge you but he’ll also overstimulate you and if you’re crying because it’s too much he would just look at you as if he was surprised « oh ? Too much ? But I thought you wanted to cum ?". 

He doens’t want children for multiple reason and he won’t like if you keep ask him about it : he doesn’t want to be a father please respect his decision. (He would try to explain to you his opinion so it won’t appear as a selfish decision) 

Some nights, he feels guilty for not explaining to you his plan, what he wants for future but he knows it’s for your own sake. You couldn’t take it and he is aware that he is not mean to last forever and than one day you would wake up and he won’t be there for you, he is already acting like a an asshole because he is taking your love while he knows he would die eventually (quicker than you he hopes), he won’t put any pressure because of his plan. 

[adalz]

Lacrymosa - part 2

pairing: Zeke x Reader ー Priest!Zeke x Angel!Reader (mention of Angel!Levi x Angel!Reader)

chapter warnings: /!\ sacrilege tw, blood tw, mention of war, food tw

world count: 7.8k

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Eyes flashed open, and the incessant rustle in your mind immediately dissipated.

Into the darkness, ears still buzzing with distant whispers an untrained ear would have mistaken for the wind, your whole body was oddly serene, as if fear was the mirage of an old memory. You were lulled with a strange feeling, there, at that exact moment, silence almost palpable all around you.

You emerged from a dreamless sleep. And you couldn't quite remember the last time it happened. Whispers of forgotten sins and the whistling of the wind had brought you out of a sweet and painless torpor.

Everything was dark around you. Before your eyes, the moonlight was dancing against a pale wall. Laying on your stomach, the side of your face pressed into a pillow, you tried to lean on your forearms, but your body was too sore, your throat dry. Carefully, you folded your arms under your chest.

You recognized this place – the color on the wall and that sweet lingering smell of the cotton sheet. Pressed tight against your shoulder blades was the heavy weight of your wings.

It felt like it all happened a lifetime ago; that room, the escape, the warmth of his skin against yours, and the promises coming out of his mouth. And yet, strangely enough, there wasn't an ounce of panic clouding your mind. Everything felt fine.

He did come back for you, and he ran through the forest, your breath fragile against his neck and blood all too rare running through his fingers. It was the sound of his voice that kept you anchored in his reality. His heart was beating so hard, and he had run so fast. Unsteady respiration mingled with the wind on your cheeks. The smell of burnt bread and his strides in the stairs. It seemed like you’d lost consciousness the moment he pulled you away from the flutter of his chest.

Life was taking a turn that you never would have suspected. None of it made sense, yet, you weren't afraid anymore.

Fingers slid from under your chest to slightly brush your neck, and you silently sighed with relief, feeling a thick bandage wrapped around your throat.

It was night. The Surface and its mortals, fallen asleep at twilight, unconsciously waiting for the return of the chariot in the sky, to whisper grace and hastening to sin.

Carefully, you tried to lean on your elbows again, and you slowly managed to raise your shoulders, arching your back, and tilted your head, lying down with difficulty on your side. The sudden change of position woke up numb muscles with an unpleasant yet reassuring twinge. Everything was fine.

From this position, you could finally see the small room. The same four walls, the same door. The window was ajar, night breeze gently blowing in, making the curtains dance in its breath. Milky white reflections of the moon hinted at a sky clear, for it to shine so brightly on the walls, in your eyes and upon his blonde hair.

So close, a sleeping form. So close.

It was as if he’d never left your side; he was seated on the floor, his head on the crook of his arm against the mattress. Asleep at your bedside, just like a boy would vainly try to fight fatigue to stay awake a bit longer. In the moonlight, you could see his back heaving to the rhythm of sleepy breaths.

One of your hands slipped out from under your body, and you reached towards him. It was odd, strangely overwhelming, to lay your eyes on the delicate shudder of his sleep, to listen to his muffled breathing.

Slowly, you brought your fingers to his forehead, on his warm skin, brushing aside a few strands of soft hair in a delicate gesture – only with the cold pads of your fingers, slightly enough to make out his closed eyes.

He looked soothed - the stern crease on his brow was gone, his face tranquil. Soft breathing, the only movement in suspension in the air.

You remembered how he said he had sutured your wound and how horrified you were - he had no idea what he had done, whose skin he had pierced, what blood he had spilled. But how could he have known? And despite all of that, with his words full of promise and hope, he had shut the door of death that was threatening to swallow you whole, once and for all.

Delicately, you tucked the strand of hair behind his ear, but it was too short, and as your fingers started to disappear along his jaw, the lock slipped back over his lashes. Adventurous fingers run the length of his jaw, your thumb brushing his unshaven cheeks and you could almost imagine him, fingers around your neck, steady suture and trembling breath, sewing your skin meticulously.

Your hand slowly withdrew from his skin, and hovered over his extended throat, following the curve of his arm, to his folded fingers. In his hand was a pair of round glasses. You laid your hand there, brushing against his.

The sound of his breaths guided you into a sort of lethargy, and now that the relentless whispers in your head were gone, you felt yourself tipping slowly somewhere where nightmares couldn’t be heard anymore? Somewhere where flames had been extinguished a long time ago.

You woke up, and the room was bathed in golden light. Everything was quiet, a soft breeze coming from the window. Zeke was gone.

Your arm was dead, so you pulled it out from underneath your chest, shaking it out slightly before heaving yourself upright. The sun was high and yet it was not the light that bothered you the most; your hand ran up your back, to feel your wings. They were flattened against you, and one of them was wrapped tight in what you thought was a bandage. It was folded up and curled slightly against your shoulder. It hurt a bit, like a muscle cramp, from having it clenched so tight. The other one was hanging out below the hem of a large sweater.

These clothes were not yours; the blood-soaked shirt that you remembered clinging to your chest had given way to a distorted brown knit sweater, a pair of cotton pants stained at the knees. They were comfortable and warm, already warmed by sunlight.

You pulled the neckline up over your head, letting the brown fabric fall on your laps and arched your back, unfurling your wing behind you, sighing in relief. Your throat was on fire, but you ignored it. One of your hands slipped between your shoulder blades, kneading the aching muscles there.

You had no idea how long you slept, but it was long past dawn. Your joints ached, eyes still burning from sleeping so tight. A glass of water was on the small table near the bed, and this time, you reached for it.

There was no music in the air, you realized as you stood up, but when you opened the door, muffled voices could be heard coming from the floor below. You looked down at the sweater in your hands for a moment, before putting it back on your shoulders.

Everything in that windowless space seemed strangely familiar, as if you had spent two thousand years in that landing, in front of that staircase, echoes of a forgotten song still resonating somewhere deep inside of you. You walked toward the stairs, facing it, and took in a deep breath.

You once ran, hoping to fly, but when you fell against the hard ground, all your certainties shattered. It had been liquid fear pumping through your veins before the hurtful realization that you needed help. That you couldn't do it alone. And so, you had let him collect scalding blood with his bare hands, and you closed your eyes on his mortal nature as he caught you with his fingertips, to forget everything and start again.

This time you wouldn't run.

One knee bent and one step at a time. Your hand slid against the wooden railing, steadying your legs.

They were downstairs, their voices echoing a bit louder with each step, yet so quiet. Familiar voices, one inexhaustible, another humming from time to time. Words mattered little, and you were barely sure you understood them; one step at a time, your wings in your back, and everything was fine.

One step at a time, and you abruptly stopped; right in front of you were two figures. Their backs turned, they were standing in what seemed to be a kitchen; there was a nice smell wafting across the room - that of food, that of the tall trees all around this house, that of freshly cut flowers.

The kitchen was long and narrow, with a large wooden table in the corner. It was messy, half-filled cups and a plate with cut bread, a pile of newspapers and a vase full of flowers. It smelled of lilies.

You took another step down and the boy -Colt, you remembered- was laughing. He was talking while looking at the man beside him, who was hands deep in a sink, and he was laughing. And as Zeke sometimes answered him, he would laugh a bit more.

“You shouldn’t make light of the honor that is to become a priest, Colt.”

You took another step down, and the boy suddenly backed away from the countertop with a laugh.

“I’m not, I swear!” he said, stuffing a piece of bread in his mouth, “I just can’t help but wonder why they’re all so… conservative, and you’re just-...,” he turned on his heels, and raised his head. Eyes meeting yours, he stood immediately still. His hand was interrupted in its motion, mid-air in front of his face, his mouth open and his eyes fixed on you.

His arm dropped softly, and his mouth opened a little more, and he watched you silently as you descended the last few steps, carefully.

This sudden interruption didn't seem to bother Zeke, who immediately spoke up to respond.

You didn't pay attention to what he said, something about isolation and congregations being up his ass and doing whatever he wanted, and you took a step forward, toward the boy.

Colt, the boy from the clearing. His voice overwhelmed with panic and confusion, the vibrant color of blood on the ground still in his eyes, and his silhouette in the doorway of the temple. The boy who ran when Zeke told him to. The boy who taught you his name without meaning to. He had called him “father”, and you couldn’t help but wonder; he was young, probably still in his teen years, and the warm brown color of his eyes were transfixed on you. His lips were parted where was still hanging the end of a sentence. He didn't make a move, his eyes following you at every step, and you eventually stopped in front of him.

Behind him, Zeke was still talking, his voice concealed by the trickle of water and from where you stood, you could see that he was washing some dishes.

Colt mumbled something, so you moved a bit closer. His hair was an ash-blond color, cheeks flushed of a lovely shade of pink, and he had crumbs of bread on his cheek.

He took in a breath, as if to say something, but stopped dead at the touch of your fingers.

Your hands were not as frozen as they once were, for the touch of his cheek against your fingertips was not as feverish as you remembered Zeke’s skin. With your thumb, you wiped away the crumbs.

His eyes widened; your breathing stopped. You quickly withdrew your hand, as if you’d burned yourself, and took a step back.

Light was illuminating his face, coming through the large glass door. It was wide open, and beyond its frame, you could see the dirt path, and the sea of trees.

Feet slid unconsciously across the tiles towards the sunlight, and your fingers brushed against the cold glass.

One step forward and you were outside, in that small garden surrounded by the low stone wall - the gate’s doors were still wide open, towards the forest, and in the trees, you could see the birds flying behind the leaves and the sky was filled with their songs. A world of color and light was before your eyes, and this time your heart was calm in your chest, a soft warmth against your cheeks. You truly realized that everything was going to be fine.

“I'm glad to see you up and about again.”

The sound of his voice startled you, and your body turned suddenly in his direction. A small smile on his lips, his eyes on you.

In his back, Colt was standing in the doorway, looking at the two of you, his hands behind his back, and you noticed that his face had turned a scarlet color.

Behind small round glasses, Zeke squinted in the sunlight, and you could make out his half-closed eyelids. He was rubbing his hands on a dish towel, his sleeves rolled up over his forearms, fine blond hairs shining in the sun. His aura was appeasing, and knowing his attention was on you was strangely reassuring.

You weren't going to run away. You could have had, if you’d wanted to, with the doors and windows open to the wind. But there was no reason to believe that someone was trying to keep you in that house. You were no prisoner, and your very presence outside proved it. None of this was threatening. You didn't want to be their captive, and obviously they didn't either. It wasn't your intention to run away, yet you realized how much it looked like it.

His smile immediately faded when you took a step toward him, and he filled the space between the two of you, his hands forward, as if you were going to stumble. You weren't going to run away, and you didn't want him to think you were stupid enough to let fear guide your judgment a second time. You didn't want him to think you weren't grateful.

You opened your mouth to tell him, to let him hear, but your throat made a strange sound of protest, voice broken and hoarse, and your fingers touched the heavy bandage against your throat. You tried to swallow, and your throat was on fire.

“It’s all right,” he said, and you raised your head to him. “You should save your breath, angel. We don’t want your stitches to burst again, do we?” He was close, and his hand came to brush your arm.

Feathers of your wings ruffled, violently trying to flare out as emotions rose to your cheeks. Whole body tense, and everything screamed at you to pull away from his touch, every bit of your body alert as five fingers slid over the thick garment.

However, you let your body anchored itself to his touch, and you took a deep breath, silencing the emotions. Slowly, you looked up at him, and he was right there, searching for your eyes.

“Are you…” he whispered, and you could almost feel his breath on your nose. He looked lost for words, and the sentence hung in the air between the two of you. As you were about to open your mouth to speak, he cleared his throat and glanced away. His hands gently withdrew from your arm.

“Never mind”, he said with an embarrassed smile, and you swallowed down your words.

You glanced briefly over his shoulder, and Colt was still standing there, arms dangling and eyes wide. They met yours and he lowered his head quickly.

“It’s his first time seeing an angel, don’t hold it against him,” Zeke said with a soft laugh, drawing your attention back to him. He had followed your gaze towards the house, so that you could see his profile, his blond eyelashes behind his glasses, the straight line of his nose, and the curve of his lips.

You cocked an eyebrow, suddenly amused. The opposite would have been surprising, you thought. You reached between your two bodies and pointed at Zeke.

“Me?” he asked with a laugh, pointing to his nose with his forefinger. He said in a mischievous whisper, “Oh, you know, running through the woods carrying bloody beings fallen from the sky recently became a habit of mine.”

The remark awakened a twinge in your chest, and even if his tone was light, you couldn't help but feel guilty. Of all the places on the Surface, you had fallen right into his arms.

“Sorry.”

It came out of your mouth like a croak, a false note in a symphony, and Zeke seemed taken aback. His eyes alternated in yours for a few seconds.

“That’s not-... Well, you don’t have to…”, he blurted out, looking embarrassed. “Don't force your voice, okay? None of this is very important anyway.”

Gently, you placed a hand against your throat, swallowing the fire of your words, and took a breath. There was so much to say, so much left to do, and so little time. He had promised, and you felt like time was running out; you had to get back, find a way. He had promised to help you.

“Will…” you began, feeling the rocky sound of your voice rub against the walls of your throat and he stared at you. The ghost of his fingers tipping your chin up was still there, and you raised your head, feet grounded:

“Will you keep your word?”

Your voice was strangely high but talking wasn't as painful as swallowing - you tried to focus on the weight of the captive wings on your back, and the effort seemed less tough. He slowly started to smile, stood straighter, and nodded.

“I will do everything in my power to help you.”

“You have to keep your mouth shut. No one else,” you gave a quick glance at Colt behind him, “can know.”

“Understood.”

“Swear.” you said and took a step forward. He slightly flinched.

“I swear.”

“Good,” you nodded. Fire in your lungs.

He took a step back and started rubbing his hand over his neck.

“Er... I don't know if you're hungry. But if you are, I made soup.”

You didn't know for how long you’d been there, and how long you had fallen. Food was not essential to you most of the time, but the rules were different here. You felt weak, you couldn't fly, and your abilities were enfeebled. The tugging in your stomach was a new sensation and the hunger made you feel hollow, and you hated it. So, you nodded again.

His face broke into a wide smile, little wrinkles forming around his eyes. He took a step to the side, and you slowly moved forward; Colt rushed back inside.

When you came in, he was arm deep into a cabinet. You recoiled as he abruptly turned around - but in his hands was only a soup plate and a glass.

Zeke stepped from behind you and pushed away the pile of newspapers and passed the towel over the table, before pulling up a chair; his eyes met yours again, encouraging you to sit down.

Quietly, you took a seat, keeping an eye on them as they jostled each other, bustling around you; the kitchen wasn't narrow though, but they kept bumping into each other.

The last time you had been here, you hadn't really paid attention to the ground floor, then focused on your steps and fear beating inside of you; but this time, the space was clearly taking shape in front of your eyes. The walls were covered with windows, letting in the late morning light. The staircase was in the middle of the room and cut the space in two - on one side the kitchen you were in, facing the stairs. On the other side, you could see a fireplace. There were shelves full of books near it - you only realized that the ones that were once lying on the floor on the second floor had been put away.

A hand reached out in front of your face, and you raised your head. Colt was standing in front of you, and he said, with a solemn tone, “The name’s Colt Griece, by the way. It’s nice to meet you!” Zeke turned abruptly from the stove.

Colt looked very serious, almost self-conscious, giving you his name like that. He still had the spirit of a little boy, and it was clear that the recent events might have been a bit overwhelming for him. You would have liked to forget his name just to learn it all over again, if it would have made him smile, but instead, you simply said, “I know.”

His eyes widened again, and he turned to Zeke, who was watching the two of you over his shoulder - he let out a small laugh.

“Goodness…” Colt whispered, looking stunned. “Is that because... you're like... omniscient?”

"Colt." Zeke scolded, placing a bowl of soup before you.

You didn't say a word, eyes on the plate in front of you, the aroma everywhere around you and you were already salivating. When you eventually looked up, four pairs of eyes were on you.

“No,” you answered.

“Oh,” said the boy, fidgeting with his fingers, “Of course. That would be weird, right?”

You smiled at him, and nodded, keeping quiet on the fact that it wouldn’t be that weird at all, before looking back at the soup plate. There were different sorts of vegetables in it, and you were dying to fill this weird feeling in your stomach.

“Go on,” softly said Zeke, sitting down next to you. He pushed a spoon towards you on the wooden table, before grabbing a newspaper and unfolded in front of his face. Colt sat back down, staring at the man in front of him.

In your nose was the pleasant aroma of soup, and you had no strength to stand on ceremony. Your body was responding to the laws of the Surface, and if in Paradis you didn't remember ever feeling hunger, this time it was real, and it was gnawing in your stomach.

You pushed the spoon away and brought the bowl to your lips. Warm liquid ran down your throat, like a shower of needles, but the sensation was bittersweet, almost pleasant. With your eyes closed, the taste of the delicious aroma in your nose and down your throat, you exhaled and put the bowl back down in front of you.

The two men’s eyes were on you.

Colt slowly pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to you. You took it, wiping your mouth, and exhaled slowly.

Just as you were about to speak again, a clock struck a little further away. You sharply turned towards the sound, towards the room with the fireplace and Colt stood up quickly.

“I didn’t see the time go by,” he said to himself, “I’m gonna have to go.”

“Don’t forget your bag,” Zeke pointed out, his voice a bit louder as the boy was already up, putting on his jacket.

“Oh yes, of course,” he laughed, “Thanks Father,” and your body stiffened.

He paused, turning to you. “It was really nice meeting you, uh…”

As he stared at you, you realized he was going to leave. You had no idea where he was going, if he was going to tell someone about this, about you. He was leaving, endangering himself, and you with him. You'd already gone too far, allowing too many unacceptable things to happen.

He tilted his head to the side, and shyly smiled.

“Okay,” he huffed, “Well, I’ll be going now. I’ll see-...”

He stopped when you suddenly grabbed his arm.

He had to stay.

He had to stay and swear not to say a word to anyone - or something bad would happen to him.

As you thought about what to say, what to do, a hand came to rest on your shoulder. In your back, the soft warmth of Zeke's body. He spoke softly, his voice soft and low, like the wind playing with the lapping of the ocean.

“Don’t worry,” he said, his breath against your ear, “He won’t say a word. Right, Colt?”

“Ah, yes of course,” said the boy, looking alternately at your faces. He smiled again, almost too eagerly. “I’m on your side. I’ll help you. I mean, if you’d let me.”

Zeke's hand against your shoulder was getting warmer, and you almost felt his fingers slide down the nape of your neck. You gently released Colt’s arm, and nodded.

You stood by the low stone wall for a moment as Colt was moving away, down the path that ran alongside the house, toward a valley. He was riding one of the vehicles that sat against the wall – he called it a “bicycle”.

Before disappearing around a bend in the road, he turned around and waved his arm in your direction. And just like that, he was gone.

Despite the claims of the two mortals, you couldn't help but be cautious and skeptical about the situation. You couldn't rest on your laurels; all of this was temporary. Everything would be fine, but you still had to find a way home.

You turned toward the stone house to look at it more closely, from the edge of the sunny garden, before catching a glimpse of Zeke. He was leaning against the door, his arms crossed over his chest, and he was staring right at you.

He had a way of looking at you with such intensity, blue eyes shining with an indescribable gleam that made your skin tingle with agitation. It was always that same smug look, that insufferable smirk that you wanted to rip off his face. He had the smile of a man who knew he had the world's favor - he saved your life, twice. And his eyes were so captivating, you were sure he knew you were somehow in debt.

It had been so long since you had seen mortals, since you had felt the beat of their lives with your fingertips, glimpsed their fragile bodies in motion. At that time, your body was as delicate as theirs.

You didn’t venture to the Surface. You weren't allowed to, and you weren't interested in doing so anyway. Nightmares and echoes of screams still clouded your sleep- you were still hurt by them and by this cursed land.

Levi would come down sometimes. He’d leave for nights on end, and you would wander the marble floors, hoping that he wouldn’t waste his blood to recklessness. And when in the bright sky you’d see the glow of his silver wings, when you would eventually hear the sound of his footsteps echoing in the halls, then you’d breathe again.

Of all children of Ymir, Levi was the only one to descend. She had allowed him and only him - you always thought it was because he was the strongest of you all, because his determination was so great that it could overshadow the rest of the world.

He once told you that he couldn't talk about what he was asked to do, down there. He rarely spoke about it, but the truth was that you never really asked. He would have told you everything if you’d just asked him.

There was only one memorable thing you could remember him saying about the Surface, but you couldn’t really pinpoint when it was. It was a hot day, as they usually were, languorous and lazy. You remembered the sound of his voice calling you through the bright white stone of the walls, and it pulled you out of an odd torpor. With a glimmer of hope in his eyes, he only said that things were changing.

And as you stood there, in this very moment, your eyes in those of this unaware mortal, the wind swirling in the treetops around you, you realized he really never said anything. The world hadn’t only changed. It was not the same, transformed, the wild spirits in fire appeased. Blood had been spilled for too long to keep on longing the massacre of daughters and sons.

You wondered if Zeke knew, if he knew the Old Stories. If he would ever be able to understand the filthy truths of his world.

He straightened up, scratching behind his ear, and you spoke. Strong and steady, your voice gravelly - unscared.

“We should talk,” and your voice echoed around you, through the tall trees of the forest. Maybe even down the valley, up into the sky. Somewhere, a bird chirped.

“We should,” he replied, with a small smile. He backed away slowly, maintaining eye contact, and walked back inside the house. When you walked past him in the doorway, he hadn't taken his eyes off you.

You went towards the side of the room you’ve never been in, and Zeke was on your heels.

There was the massive clock against the wall in front of you, the one that had made Colt run away, ahead of himself. It was made of finely lacquered brown wood, and a delicate sound punctuated the space with a discreet ticking. Behind a glass window, a golden pendulum was swinging with the passing seconds.

In front of the fireplace were two mismatched armchairs. You looked at them for a moment, before grabbing a small stool, near a large bookcase by the window. You put it down in front of the flame-blackened den, trying not to glance at Zeke who was standing still, watching you.

You sat down with a sigh and stretched softly. Wings slightly shuddered in your back.

“Tell me about the temple in the clearing,” you said plainly.

“Okay...,” Zeke replied, stepping around one of the armchairs before sitting down. He leaned on, propping his elbow on his knee, his eyes locked in yours, “But first, let’s agree on something; I think I do have at least as many questions as you do,” he gave you a mocking smile. “So what about this: you ask a question and I’ll ask one back. Once you've asked all your questions, I’ll shut my mouth and keep my questions to myself. What do you think?”

You stared right back at him an instant, before letting out a small laugh - but seeing his serious face, you frowned at him some more.

“I don’t have to do anything.”

“Of course not,” he said with a laugh, lowering his head. He sighed, rubbing his hand along the top of his thigh. His legs were very long. “But you know that this, er...,” he motioned his hand between the two of you, “relationship... doesn’t necessarily have to be hostile.”

In your back, wings shuddered again, and you realized how uncomfortable you were. It wasn't so much that he was too close to you, but the stool was lower than the armchair, and he was looking down on you. And he was becoming dangerously annoying. You thought back to the burning touch of his skin against yours, how he had touched you so carelessly, never questioning whether you were hostile or not. Maybe it wasn't necessarily hostile, but it was definitely subject to change.

“Fine,” you finally said through clenched teeth. “But I’ll only answer your questions if they suit me.”

“Deal,” he answered back and slid down off the armchair, kneeling on the floor right in front of you. Behind his glasses, his pupils were dilated as he held out a hand, his head slightly back, to look up at you, and you felt incredibly naked under the weight of his gaze. He motioned you to take his hand.

An outreached hand, just for you to take. You couldn't help but smile at the irony of this moment, the irony of everything that was happening to you. Again and again, it was him, with his tousled flaxen hair and his odd clothes, with his eyes of the purest shades of the horizon and his sly smiles. It was his outstretched hand, it was his skin, tanned by the sun of a past summer, and his slender fingers and veiny forearms, scattered with sun-colored hairs.

Then, gently, you stretched your hand towards his, and your fingertips ran along the warm skin of his hand, and when his palm was firm against yours, his fingers closed around your hand gently.

“Then it’s a deal, angel,” he cooed softly, and his eyes were sparkling like a child's. And with the soft warm feeling that spread in your chest, you finally discerned what all this was.

It was in his gaze, in the carefree and reassuring touch of his skin on your body, in his silent smiles and concealed laughter, it was in his sleeping form cradled by the moonlight, and in his soft and light handshake. He radiated a delicacy, a fragility that was almost indiscernible, and you were sure that if he could have held you between his fingers, holding you safely against his chest, he would have. You wondered if it was because you had shattered right before his eyes that he was so eager to treat you like a porcelain doll.

Gently, you let off his hand, clearing your throat, “So, will you tell me about the temple in the clearing now?”

“The temple in the clearing, uh?” He unfolded his legs and sat cross-legged, looking thoughtful, scratching his neck.

“It’s not really a temple, angel. Well, at least, not anymore. People around here call it the ‘Old Chapel’. It’s one of the oldest buildings in the region, I believe.”

He paused, and you watched his brow furrow as he looked for words.

“I grew up in the village down the valley, and ever since I was a boy, this place’s been dilapidated. It’s not used anymore, mainly because it’s literally falling into ruins, and, well, there’s no funding to restore it and it’s too far from the village for anyone to venture there. That’s surely one of the reasons why the clergy house - well, this house,” he said, gesturing around him, “is so far from the village. It was built when the Old Chapel was still used for the service. Some centuries ago. The history of the building, I don’t know. I assume it dates from well before the Great Purification. At least.”

You weren't sure you understood everything, but your assumptions were correct; this place, the one he had called a ‘chapel’ was indeed a temple to Ymir. Abandoned by all, rebuilt to the liking of the mortals. You thought they had all been burned down.

You smiled at the irony, once again - of having fallen from the sky, into a place of the Creator's mortal spirituality. You, whom no one had come to find, in the remains of the first religion. You wondered if all this was connected.

“My turn now,” he said softly, but it sounded more like a question. You clenched your jaw, and nodded.

“How did you fall?” he asked, and his eyes were narrow.

You winced.

For a second, you considered telling him everything, before pulling yourself together. It was better to stay evasive; Mortals weren't even supposed to see you, so creating a connection with them and discussing Holy Wars and the contingencies of celestial life seemed completely absurd. And either way, you were not really sure that you could remember all the details before you fell.

“I was pushed,” you conceded, absent-mindedly touching a snag on the knee of your pants. He let out a small laugh and you looked up at him.

“There's nothing funny about it.”

“No, of course not,” he said, “I’m just... I mean, it’s really absurd, this whole thing,” his eyes were steady on your face, “everything that’s going on, it’s just-... It’s unbelievable,” and with a beaming smile, his eyes twinkling behind his glasses, he whispered, “You’re unbelievable.”

The ticking of the clock suddenly fell silent, carried away by the pounding of your heart in your ears, and you could swear that from this close, he could hear it too. Heat bloomed in your cheeks, and his eyes were piercing, almost intoxicating. It was an ache, in between your ribs, a pulsation in your core and it was consuming you whole. It was a wave of all the emotions you forgot, all of them, burning on the tip of your lips and every one of them was ignited by him. It once was fear, panic, and then relief, calm - yet you couldn't put your finger on this one. All of this was confusing, and you were losing yourself in a universe too big, too vast, and his eyes were too deep to regain your footings.

Truth was, you had no idea who he was, what he was doing to you or what his motives really were. You only knew his name, and you knew that he had healed your wounds. But everything around him was blurry. Among the mist, there was the forest and the temple. There was Colt. Colt with his blond hair and his gentle temperament. Colt, who called him in the forest, over and over again.

“Why is Colt calling you ‘father’?”

Zeke took a second before answering you. Then he said, as if it was obvious, “Because I'm a priest.”

You tilted your head, and he slowly moved closer to you. “I’m not really his dad. If that’s your question.”

“That’s not my question.”

“Oh, okay.” He cleared his throat.

You glanced at the window, towards the clearing above the trees, “I didn’t know men could be intermediates for Ymir,” you said almost to yourself, “they usually are women.”

“I-,” he mumbled. You turned back to him and he was looking uncomfortable, lost for words, rubbing the back of his neck, “I never heard of priestesses, actually. Women aren't really admitted to the priesthood.”

“What?”

“I mean, the rules probably have evolved since the last time you were… here.”

You huffed out a puff and went on, “That doesn't make any sense. Whoever came up with this rule is an idiot.”

Zeke chuckled softly, “Whoever came up with this rule is long dead, angel.”

Everything was so odd, and you wondered if all this was the aftermath of the War - a world deconstructed for men, obscuring spirituality as a whole. He had spoken of ‘Purification’ and there was so much you didn't know, after sleeping away from the mortal realm for so long.

“Okay…” he resumed, “Now don’t take it the wrong way, it’s a genuine question.”

You braced yourself to his question, noticing the impish look on his face.

“Did you do something particular to make a higher authority cast you out of-...”

“I wasn’t casted out !” Your voice broke a bit, “How can you even suggest that!”

“You said we were pushed!”

“Pushed doesn’t necessarily mean ‘casted out’!”

No one had been casted out for centuries. And it certainly wasn't like this, only falling from the sky. It was darker, more solemn. Wings ripped away from the flesh. Feather turning into mud. Curses and blood. You remembered it happened once, but it was so long ago that you couldn't remember their name.

“If I had been, you wouldn't have even been able to set your eyes on these wings,” you said, pointing at them as they stick out of the sweater. “You touched them already, didn't you?”

“I sure did,” he said with a smirk, “They’re amazing.”

“Don’t look so pleased with yourself,” and his smile widened. You added, “It’s a sacrilege.”

"Shit..." he grinned, leaning back against the armchair. He looked amused. It was clear that he wasn't taking this conversation seriously.

“You won’t tell on me, will you?” he whispered coolly, like it was a secret between the two of you.

“Of course I’ll tell on you!”

“But I saved your life, angel,” he stated plainly, smirking. The ease with which he was getting under your skin was quite extraordinary.

“Coercion is also a sacrilege, Zeke - you’re just making things worse.”

He didn't answer this time, that same smile on his face - his eyes were full of meaning, and you could almost feel them running over every inch of your face. You wondered if you had said something wrong.

“So you do know my name?”

Of course you knew his name. It was perhaps the one thing you were the most sure about, in this wild, strange world. Everything was unclear, swaying in a stream of questions with obscure answers, and the only thing you really were sure of was that he answered to his name in the forest.

“It’s not your turn to ask a question,” you said.

“Yeah,” he drawled, before bringing one knee up to his chest.

The movement made him wince slightly, and he rubbed his hand against his lower back, arching it.

“Does your back hurt?”

He sighed, lolling his head against the armrest, “A bit, yes. But don't worry... it's probably just old age…” he said with a tragic air.

“That's because you're always sitting on the floor,” you pointed out.

“Nope. That’s because I keep running in the woods these days.”

“You literally slept on the floor last night. I saw you.”

“I wasn’t exactly hiding.”

He glanced at you with an amused eye, watching you as you searched for your words. He truly had no shame. You decided you liked him better when he was sleeping. Still and silent. At least you didn't have to put up with all his teasing.

“Then, don’t blame this on me,” you blurred out. He frowned, straightening up.

“I don't,” he said quietly, “I’m not blaming you for anything.”

It was a bit overwhelming, to be honest. Playing games with him while you were running out of time. It was getting hotter and hotter, and your head was dizzy. Fingers came to check on the bandage around your neck, but it was dry. You stood up, and walked over to the window.

Before grabbing the handle, you took a look at the books there. The pad of your fingers came running along the dusty gilt edges and you pushed open the window - breeze rushed inside the house.

“Okay, my turn now,” he said, and you turned back to him. He stood up, one hand on the floor, and brushed some dust off his pants. Before he could speak, you cut him off.

“I haven't asked mine yet.”

He crossed the space in one long and smooth stride, and leaned against the window beside you.

“You have,” he said without looking at you, and added, “about my back.”

“What? No, that was not my question.”

“But that was a question.”

“Why would I care about your back? I was just-...I was…”

“First of all,” he said, looking at you over his glasses, wearing a sad face, “that’s very rude. Second of all, you should watch your wording, angel, because I thought that was your question.”

Frustration grew in your chest as he flashed an amused look. Leaning against the windowsill, he arched his back once more, and you wanted to break his spine with your own hands.

You held up a finger, “You’re cheating,” you said but the threatening voice you tried to use had no effect on him.

“If you’re asking a question, you’re the one cheating.”

“Then we’re done.”

“Don't you want to keep playing?”

“No I don’t, Zeke,” and this time your voice was loud. His smile faded immediately - you ignored the twinge in your heart.

It was enough - you couldn’t afford to play for time, to bet anything on his stupid words.

“This is not a game. None of this should amuse you,” you let out an exasperated sigh, and realized how close you came to him. "Something terrible happened,” you urged, “and I’m running out of time. I-... I shouldn't even be here, you shouldn't even be able to see me; you shouldn't have even touched me. All of this will have consequences. Zeke, you made me bleed.”

He was looking confused. “I didn’t-...,”

“You pierce my skin with a needle, didn’t you?”

He glanced to the side, then back to you.

“Oh.”

He took his glasses off, and rubbed his eyes. The action lasted a few seconds, and his hand eventually stayed there, against his face. He sighed.

“Shit.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat.

Was he crying? He wasn’t sobbing, but he was so still, and you felt so overwhelmed.

You didn't know what to say, you didn't know what to do. Perhaps you could have pushed his hand away from his face, slipped your fingers against his cheeks to lift his head up, to take a look in his eyes. Instead, you whispered to him: “I know you didn't do it to hurt me,” and it came out softer than you would have hoped.

“I-,” he began, his face still hidden by his hand, "I'm a little lost here, you know,” he conceded.

“I feel like I should know what to do, but the truth is, I'm terrified. You're right, none of this should be happening, and yet,” a small laugh, “here you are.”

His fingers slowly slid along his nose, brushing down his lips, over his jaw, and his eyes found their way back into yours. They were narrow, like he wasn't sure he was allowed to talk anymore, “I’m gonna need you to help me, angel,” he said, almost imperceptibly.

The sun was in your eyes, the wind in your hair, and you smiled.

“First of all, you should stop calling me ‘angel’. It makes me uncomfortable.”

“What should I call you then? I guess I could call you ‘dove’, but I don’t thi-...”

You cut him off before he could continue his sentence.

“Why don't you call me by my name?” you suggested. Careful words, and you weren’t even sure of what you were asking. Your bodies were so close to each other, and this time, you could have sworn it was his heart you heard beating in his chest.

“I couldn’t…” he whispered, the sound of his voice hanging in the air, his breath short on your face.

“Calling me by my name is not sacrilege. It’s actually quite respectful,” you added, concealing a smile.

“I would love to,” and he bit his lip, looking down again. “I mean, to call you by your name. You just never told me.”

You let out a small laugh, and he locked his eyes on you, gaze lingering on your lips.

He took a deep breath, and there were dandelions blowing wishes in your lungs. Carefully, your voice imperceptible to your own ears, you whispered, “Then ask me. Maybe I’ll answer the question.”

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