#bertholt x reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

justevelynnnn · 11 months ago

Text

ocean boy.

notes: something a little different. i got inspired by this one fic abt armin seeing an old friend after everything happened so here i am. not proofread😭

also takes place in the actual aot world a year after the rumbling.

context: old childhood friend armin x fem reader (reader is implied to be dark skinned)

you used to be part of the Scouts or Survey corps or whatever a few years ago.

When you look around your new home you think back to those days. Once Eren was captured by Bertholt and Reiner you took it upon yourself to just abandon the team. It became too much. You found a way down and off the wall and took off. So much was going on you knew you were crazy for joining in the first place.

And from what you’ve seen and heard it only got worse.

You now reside in what used to be the Stohess district. The new members of the Garrison, plus some of the old ones who survived, was the only current authority around. It’s been a year since the scary events of the rumbling. When the news came back of the aftermath of the rumbling you couldn’t help but have a panic attack. Imagining all those innocent people, children and pets, getting crushed alive? They say 80% of people died.

And yet here you were. One of the lucky 20% of people.

Did you think you deserved it? No. Not after possibly leaving your friends worried sick. They probably thought you fell off the wall and died or got crushed under the armored titans feet during the fight.

You felt bad for not announcing your departure especially during a moment like that. But what else could you have done? Everyone was so caught up on being this brave warrior willing to give up their lives…

That wasn’t you and it never was.

You only joined the Scouts because they provided food and shelter for refugees back when wall maria was breached. You, Armin, Eren and Mikasa were too young at first but then finally you guys were 12 and able to sign up. At first you didnt really want to. It seemed scary. Even the other options like the Military police or the garrison seemed a bit much.

In the end no one forced you to. Aside from the promised food and proper shelter you only joined for one person….

Armin.

From the day you moved to Shiganshina to when you met Armin you were picked on for looking “different”. You noticed even at a young age you were different and so you were lonely. People were weary of you. But that was until you met Armin. He was sitting under a tree reading a book and you hesitatingly approached him hoping for a new possible friendship.

He was startled at first when you tapped his shoulder but then calmed down. He quietly observed you but you quickly mistakenly took it as him being like everyone else when he was just curious. As you turned to leave he grabbed you hand and told you that you were beautiful. More than anything he’s read about the outside world.

Little did he know that’s exactly where you were from. However you never told him that.

Armin told you about his secret book and everything he saw in it. You knew about most of the stuff already but to see him so excited brought a smile to your face. Especially when he talked about the ocean. He loved the ocean so much when you told your grandma about him you called him “Ocean boy”. It wasn’t just because he loved the ocean though but also because his eyes were as blue and deep as the ocean itself.

You really liked his eyes. Back at home no one had blue eyes.

He was also smart and kind hearted and not like most boys. You didn’t know why you liked being around him so much but you did.

You were happy someone was treating you like you belonged and even more happy his friends were the same. He introduced you after a few weeks of talking and laughing and being children. It was green eyes boy and a black haired girl. Eren,the boy with green eyes, seemed stand off ish at first but he was still nice to you and Mikasa,the girl, was basically your new bestie. When Armin was busy it was you and Mikasa either playing with each others hair or dolls.

Everything was great until that one horrible day.

The day Maria fell.

It was so so scary. Your Grandma brought you inside the walls to be save. There were some eldians back where you lived sneaking in somehow and brought titans with them. You assumed they swam?

Your parents went missing as the town went into a panic at seeing a real titan so your Grandma moved you into Shiganshina to escape.

But she didn’t survive that day.

You lost her and couldn’t find her in the crowds of screaming people but deep down you knew she was gone. You and Mikasa cried over your losses on the boat while Armin comforted you both and Eren declared to kill all the titans.

Yes, Eren was a fighter. And Armin was a dreamer. And Mikasa was a lover and a strong soul. But who were you? What was your purpose other than following then around?

You never wanted to fight those stupid scary things. You never cared about the theories and the secret truth to titans. You just wanted to hide anyway and pray they all just disappeared or leaves you guys alone for once.

Then Eren was a titan too. You felt like life wasn’t real for years.

There was real trauma you developed from this all. When you quit the scouts you wanted to be sure no one found you so you ran to Wall sina and lived in the underground under the Stohess district working at all bar.

You made just enough working there and occasionally stealing and reselling some things do you don’t have to turn to prostitution. You lived in a shitty tiny home with 4 other random people so you guys could split rent and go about your days. Sometimes you snuck out to get fresh air and sunlight.

Days turned into months and months into years. You were now a young woman wondering what was happening on the outside. You got most of your news from word of mouth but also an occidental rare newspaper. That’s how you got updates on the scouts and marley and the rumbling…

You learned after everything was over that Eren and his brother started the whole thing and Armin was the one to finally end Eren. Things slowly went back to as normal as it could be.

Everyone had to move about ground to try and rebuild life. For now rent and food was free so you were trying to enjoy that but you couldn’t shake the depression from knowing 80% of the world was now flat and dead. Why were you here? You’re a coward, a loser.

Armin saved the world from extinction and always had these big crazy dreams and was highly intelligent. What would he think of you now?

As the town attempted to rebuild for another day and clean up a Garrison member announces that a member of the Scouts is coming by the speak to a couple residents and that everyone needs to get inside immediately and be quiet. Simple protocol for when one of the special group people like that stop by.

You go into your new tiny home where you live alone. The town was quiet as everyone was indoors. You just sit drinking tea in your kitchen waiting for the day to pass but then you hear. .. a knock?

But you were being quiet! You leave the kitchen preparing to deal with a Garison member. You collect yourself as you open the door…

When the door is opened you did not expect to see what you saw in front of you…

“…..Armin?”

Oddly enough, you feel more fear than surprise.

In front of you was a boy who slightly towered you. No, a man who slightly towards you. A blonde, blue eyed, softer but stern looking man. He wore a white button down and brown pants. Clothes only higher ups could afford now.

He stared.

And stared.

Like he’s holding his breath, like he’s re living something crazy and couldn’t believe his eyes. And then finally,

“Y/n.”

You wondered why he was here. How he was here. This..was the Scout coming to town?

“How..what..?” Is all you can say. You then notice your appearance isn’t too clean.

You wear a plain green dress that’s probably a couple decades old and your hair hasn’t been brushed properly in weeks.

“………May..i come in?” The man softly asked snapping you out of your embarrassment. Of course you move out the way as he slowly steps inside.

“Armin….” You begin to say. But then realize, what CAN you say? Why you left? Did you miss him?

He looks around like he’s studying the place.

The house was obviously abandoned during the height of everything. You assumed it belonged to an older couple just by how it was decorated. Over the past year you add bits of your own touch but it still looked like a grandparents home.

You watched as your childhood crush friend roamed your dining room and living room and made his was into your kitchen. You started to wonder why he was really here.

He stops in front of your unfinished tea cup.

“This is the same tea captain Levi drinks..” He says softly.

“Oh, yeah well it’s all they have now.”

He stares into the cup a bit longer. Almost like he was deeply thinking of something.

“Do you want to sit somewhere?” You asked but he doesn’t move except his eyes into yours.

They’re still small pools of the ocean or the endless sky. The same ocean and skies you found yourself lost in often as children.

Armin sighed and looked away.

“It’s been years. Years since you…i don’t even know anymore? Everyone thought you….”

“Died?” You finished. “I’m sorry. I can explain everything if that’s why you’re here…”

He doesn’t say anything so you take that as a yes.

“I just……couldn’t do it anymore. I was never a Scout or a solider or any of that. I just didn’t want you guys to leave me. I had no one left, not even my grandmother. Everything was getting to me and everyday was a nightmare so I had to leave.”

You said all that as Armin leaned against the counter on the opposite side and crossed his arms looking at ground and listened.

“What else was i going to do? I didn’t have a dream like you or the drive like Eren… I just wasn’t cut out for it. But i’ve been here the whole time, Min. Living among the last bit of survivors.”

“We missed you. Mikasa was a mess.” Armin says coldly.

You felt horrible. Tears well up in your eyes as you imagine Mikasa depressed over your disappearance.

“Armin-”

“And Eren was only just then getting worse. We had a search party for you after we got Eren back. But you were no where to found. We even had a makeshift funeral…Do you think no one else was scared?!”

Armin is looking at you now staring you down making you feel small.

“I was the weakest on the team. Intelligence can only take you so fucking far, y/n! Do you know i died? I got burnt alive and Levi chose me over Erwin to be revived! Why?? Everyday i have to live with that. Everyone was going through a hell of their own so what makes yours so special?!”

He was looking into your eyes now and turning an angry shade of red.

You shivered.

You had nothing to say. You felt like a failure already for years and this only confirms it.

“What do you have to say, y/n? Why did you leave us, why did you leave…me?”

“I’m sorry. I just couldn’t anymore.”

“Why didnt you tell us how you felt? Why did you just leave?”

“I thought you guys would call me a coward.”

He slowly walks towards you and puts his hands on your shoulders. It’s been so long since anyone has touched you let alone your old friend.

“I don’t think you’re a coward.”

“But you said-“

“I think you were like anyone else and was scared. And we’ve all done things to be ashamed of and that, was probably the least worse thing out of all of us. You just left. Eren caused the rumbling. Killed innocents. We all have. I have.”

You look into his eyes with horror as you hear him say he’s killed people. When this whole thing started he was the sweetest boy who couldn’t even hurt a fly. Eren you can imagine maybe but Armin?

“I’ve killed so many people. And i have to live with that also the rest of my life. Everyone does. All you did was leave.”

“My god…” You were in shock. What really went down all those years of you being gone?

“I missed you dearly. It ate me up alive when we thought you were gone. I had so much i wanted to tell you.”

“Like what?”

He looked away. Then he looks back at you and hold your face with both hands, hands now nearly the size of your face.

“I love you.”

Your entire heart dropped to your stomach. Maybe even your fucking ass. Did the boy you had a crush on since you were 9 really just say he loved you? Did he “love” you or did he love you? Your eyes just widened but you said nothing.

“You were so kind to me. By my side even when Mikasa and Eren wasn’t. I love your heart. Your mind. You. I loved you and i wanted to tell you but there was never a good time it seemed. And then you…. disappeared.”

“Armin-“

“Shhh.” He interrupted. “And when i heard you were one of the remaining residents here i just had to come. No way she’s still alive right? No way this is the one and only y/n i was head over heels for right?”

You lift your hands to gently hold Armjns wrists as you looked into his tired eyes. God you missed his eyes.

After a small moment he slowly leans in and kisses you. His lips were dry but passionate. Like you were gone his last kiss ever. You sighed into the kiss as you wrapped your arms around his neck and he lowered his hands to your sides.

The kiss was half a minute long but felt like eternity for you. When he pulled away he hugged you tightly. You still didn’t know what was happening but you were happy. Somehow happy. Even after all this.

“I’m so glad you’re alive. You’re all i have left next to Mikasa.” Armin says into your shoulder.

“I guess the ocean isn’t on that list anymore?”

“No.”

You knew a bit of history from when you went to primary school. You knew Eldia was an island isolated from everyone else and they were supposedly “devils” but you suspected otherwise. You knew marley and eldia had issues and when you moved to eldia and heard this boy speak about the “outside world” and the ocean you knew it was only a matter of time before he learned the truth. Before they all did, at least the naive innocent ones like him.

He pulled away.

“I want you to tell me everything. The truth. I want to know where you are from, what you’ve been doing here…”

You led Armin to a chair by your small dining table and motioned for him to sit. Once sat you started.

“As you probably know know the titans specifically go after you guys. Eldians. So some Eldians were somehow sneaking to where i lived, across the ocean, and somehow titans followed. Confusing but people in my town started to panic. I lost my parents and my grandma was all i had left. She had this crazy idea to move inside the wall where we’d truly be safe. So after a couple week long boat ride and lots of carriage rides we ended up in Shiganshina.” You sighed.

“I lived in the outside world.”

Armin just stared.

“I didn’t say anything because i already stood out so much. At least here i did. Back where i lived everyone looked like me. Dark. And hearing you so interested in the world outside the walls i didn’t want to disappoint you. There isn’t much other than enemies for you guys.”

“Well…”

“Are you upset?”

“I don’t know how to feel honestly. Just a question, what did you guys have to be afraid of if the titans just wanted to eat us?”

“I don’t know that one honestly. I never saw one eat anyone until we got over here. But living so close to those things was scary enough…I’ve always hated titans.”

“You and me both.”

“But i hear the curse is over now?”

“Well, yes. Ymir’s curse has been lifted so…the titans are finally gone. But at what cost?”

Armin looks worn and empty. Completely different from what you’ve seen in the past.

“And i also heard you’re..a commander? What’s that about?”

“Hange sacrificed her self. I was handed down the responsibility of being her replacement.”

“Oh no…I loved her…” You were truly heartbroken at this. Oddly enough she loved titans. Found them fascinating.

“We all did..” Armin sighed. “I’ve been trying to make peace with everyone around us. Especially since we no longer pose a threat.”

“Well, i’m proud of you. You’ve always tried to search for the best answer to things around you.”

“Yes, and what about you? What have you been doing the whole time?”

You looked away, thinking back on the past few years.

“Well, i’ve been living in the underground working at a bar. I shared a place with a couple of people to pay the rent and after all this rumbling drama they moved us up here to rebuild and i’ve been here. Uneventful really.”

“The underground huh…”

“Yeah, nothing special. Wasn’t too fun but i’d rather that than facing titans and the threat of being eaten everyday.”

“I see..” Armin crossed his arms. “So now that we’re all caught up, where do go from here?”

You walked to the window by the front door and looked out at the deserted street in front of you. You thought a moment about your answer.

There’s something you always wanted to do with him…

“You wanna…go see the ocean with me?”

You looked back at him who stayed seated at the table. He looked ahead with his arms resting on the table now and with a tear running down the side of his face.

He nodded.

On the way there Armin joked about how going to see the ocean is what seemed to have caused this mess to begin with.

Once there, you two took your shoes and socks off and roll up your pants and go to sit by the shore. Armin sits and you followed. It’s evening now. The sun was setting. It was truly beautiful.

All you two could do we stare into the distance in silence. Sharing this bittersweet moment. Neither of you knew what the future held or if a future was even possible but now you guys had each other and that’s all that mattered.

Now it was you and him.

You and your ocean boy.

- Sooo i wrote this over the past 2 days… i might make a second part but tbh school is starting up again soon so i don’t know where we go from here. If this does well i might even make it a series.

63 notes · View notes

brave-and-gentle · 8 months ago

Text

Poetic: Reader x Jean Fluff Part 3

Welcome to my unexpected fluff mini series! If this is your first time here, please check out Part 1 and Part 2. Then carry on to Part 4.

If you like this mini series, be sure to check out my original character x Jean fic on Ao3 here

Pairings: femme reader x Jean

Summary: You and Jean start warming up together (figuratively and literally, Trost is still cold as fuck), but there's something in between you two.

Warnings: alcohol use

Word count: ~4.7K (it keeps getting longer because I have no chill about Jean)

When you wake up, your stomach is twisted in a knot. Your mouth feels like someone shoved a wad of cotton inside of it. You roll over and find a tall glass of water with ice – someone must have put it there recently. Sasha? Footsteps and clanging of pots and pans echo in the kitchen. She must be making breakfast.

You grab the glass of water and recount the night as you take careful sips. Connie was just as wild as Jean said he'd be. As soon as you two walked into the apartment that Connie, Eren and Armin shared, Connie handed you both tequila shots. Reiner did not cry, but he did sulk as the TV in the living room replayed parts of the game. At one point, Annie got so fed up with Connie's bragging about the game that she punched him in the face, after which Armin took her home. Sasha squealed in delight that you came, emphasizing that it was always more fun with more girls around. She regaled you with the most interesting parts of the game, while Mikasa whispered bits of explanations to you. While you were grateful for Mikasa's interpreting, it became difficult to understand as Connie brought you some sort of tequila drink. Eren, itching for a fit, egged on Bertholt, who finally gave in and put Eren in a headlock, but that didn't seem to damper Eren's spirit as ultimately, his team had won the basketball game. Marco periodically handed glasses of water to everyone. And Jean? He stayed with you all night. You two didn't speak much, but his presence comforted you during the chaos. You're pretty sure he and Marco walked you, Sasha and Connie home. Definitely Connie too, his snores are almost as loud as Sasha bumping around in the kitchen.

Before you know it, your glass is empty and your cracked lips cry for more water. You swing your legs out of bed and ugh – dull pain pokes your legs. You throw on an old sweatshirt and take small steps to the kitchen.

You suck in a breath of air because it's not Sasha in the kitchen.

It's Jean.

“How'd you get in here?” you blurt. Jean turns his head and smirks, then returns his attention back to the frying pan.

“Good morning, sunshine. Sasha let me in and fell right back asleep,” he explains while tossing vegetables into the pan. They sizzle the second they hit the pan. Unlike Jean and Marco, you and Sasha live in a duplex with a separate entrance from your neighbors. “Omelet'll be ready in a couple minutes if you want.”

“Ugh,” you groan and take a seat at your four-person kitchen table. “I don't think I feel like eating for a while.”

“Your stomach probably hurts because you didn't eat anything last night.”

You huff in disagreement. “I didn't, but still – I feel gross.”

“Like you're going to vom?” Jean jerks his head over at you like he's ready to run for the trash can.

“No, I don't think so. Just. . . gross.”

Jean tosses the vegetables in the pan and nods. “Favorite hangover food?”

You rub your stomach, willing it to stop wrenching in a tight knot. “Ah, don't know because I haven't had a hangover before,” you confess.

“Wait, NEVER?” Jean looks over with disbelief in his widening hazel eyes.

“Historia and I didn't drink much,” you shrug. “Though we nursed Ymir back to health plenty of times.”

“Ha, sounds about right.” Jean grabs a plate of toast and sets it in front of you. “Here, maybe some toast will settle your stomach before anything more substantial.”

You take a piece and nibble on the crust. “You seem well versed in hangover recovery,” you say before taking a bigger bite.

“Had to be – Marco and I lived next to that gremlin our first year.” Jean points over to a snoring Connie on the couch.

“He's a menace to society,” you give a soft laugh. Jean flips the omelet onto a plate and sets it in front of you.

“For you, if you like. Otherwise Sasha will inhale it the second she wakes up.”

You thank him and take a careful bite. Sweet and savory swirls in your mouth – it's cheesy, sweetened with tomatoes and a hint of spice.

“Jean! This is soooo good,” you moan. The tension in your stomach eases with every bite.

“Pays off to be a mama's boy.” He flips a dish towel over his shoulder, sits down next to you and digs into the omelet he made for himself. “So how's the first hangover treating you?” He asks between mouthfuls.

“Not so bad with you here,” you admit. Before he can respond, Connie rolls over and awakens.

“Jean boy???” He yawns and rubs his eyes. “You makin' us breakfast?”

Jean replies that he made you breakfast.

“What about me??” Connie complains.

“Shhh,” you stop him. “Jean is doing the lord's work, let him rest.” You close your eyes and savor another bite. Sasha's door opens and she emerges with her comforter wrapped around her. Her mouth is wide open mid-yawn.

“Jeaaaaaan,” she yawns, “do I get sooooome?” She plops down on a chair next to you and combs her fingers through her tangled ponytail.

Jean narrows his eyes at her. “The first time I get to see your new place and you're already asking me to make you food?”

“Did you expect anything less?” You chuckle and grab another piece of toast. “You did, however, make food the minute you got in here. You did this to yourself.”

“Ugh, fine fine fine,” he groans and gets up to make omelets for Sasha and Connie. While he cooks in the kitchen, the three of you relieve the chaos of last night. Though you were far from blacking out, some memories are a little fuzzy.

“I still can't believe we went through that whole bottle of tequila,” you shake your head.

“Easy to do when you have a good group of friends,” Connie grins from the couch. Sasha throws her arm around your shoulder.

“Next time,” she tells you, “we'll keep Connie away from you. He's got a reputation for filling up people's drinks when they're only a few sips in.”

“No kidding,” Jean mutters and places two more plated omelets on the table. Connie dashes over and shovels the omelet in his mouth at a pace that almost rivals Sasha. “Yuck, you two are disgusting,” Jean glares at them.

You laugh so hard you clutch your stomach. You never imagined this amount of chaos and love at your kitchen table. Jean's face softens as he watches you laugh.

“Hey, do I have you on Insta?” He asks you.

You shake your head, unable to talk because you're still giggling. He unlocks his phone, but the background photo isn't the usual one of himself, Connie and Marco on the soccer field. It's a pale ass cheek. He clicks his phone shut and slams his hands on the table.

“CONNIE!!! What is wrong with you??”

This sends you and Sasha into another giggle fit.

“Hey man,” Connie holds his hands up and grins, “you left your phone unlocked and I was three tequila shots in. That's on you.”

“Why are you even here?” Jean jabs a fork at his friend.

“So I don't have to listen to Eren and Mikasa fuck like bunnies all night – again,” he emphasizes. Jean twitches next to you. You notice a shadow pass over his face. Or is it your imagination? He buries his face in his phone to change the background photo. “I much prefer when Annie stays over. Those two fuck like mice.”

“Ew, Connie!” You giggle. “We did not need the visual. Please spare us.”

“Here,” Jean mutters to you and hands you his phone, which has the Instagram app open. You type in your handle and request to follow. Your heart beats a little faster. You're no fool – you know that all social media is fake and filtered, but still, Jean's Instagram will give you a hint about how he sees himself, or at least, how he wants to be seen. “I gotta head out,” he says and shoves his phone in his pocket. “I'll see you degenerates later.”

“Thanks so much for breakfast, Jean!” Sasha beams and waves as Jean gathers up the leftover ingredients and heads out.

“Ditto,” you chime in. “Say hi to Marco for us.”

“Will do,” he nods and shuts the front door behind him.

You turn back to Sasha and Connie, who are munching on the last few pieces of toast. There's one left, which you and Sasha eye at the same time – but you're faster.

“Ha!” You proclaim victory and take a small bite. “That was really sweet of Jean. Is that a regular occurrence?”

“No,” Connie frowns and runs his hand over his buzz cut. “I was just thinking that it's really weird that he came over. He stopped taking care of my hangovers by the end of freshman year.”

“Probably because it was a weekly tradition,” Sasha teases. “Cleaning up your vomit isn't exactly fun the fourth time in a row. Anyways,” she turns to you. “He must really like you.”

“Wait, that's why he came over??” Connie's eyes widen. Everyone knew that you and Jean had gone to see the ice sculptures together, and that you frequently met up at the coffee shop, but only Sasha and Connie knew about the kiss. To their credit, they could actually keep a secret pretty well. Although Connie could only keep secrets because he usually forgot them.

“You are so dense sometimes,” Sasha shook her head.

“I dunno,” you pick up your place and head to the sink to wash it. “He was probably just being nice.”

“Jean is nice,” Sasha agrees, “but he doesn't come over and make breakfast for just anyone.”

“Mmmm,” you murmur, refraining from reading too much into it. It was definitely a boyfriend move. But just last night, he said you were friends. Friends. You rinse the plate and scrub off the omelet remains.

“Any developments? Anything at all?” Sasha presses. Your stomach tightens a little. You don't think you should mention the art fundraiser – it seems too personal.

“Well, we hung out together at a brewery instead of going to the basketball game. And we're going to hang out again sometime this week,” you admit and put the plate away.

“WHAT!” Sasha stands up and slams her hands on the table. Connie flinches away from her. “That is crucial information you left out!”

You hold up your hands in defense and lean your back against the kitchen counter. “It only just happened last night! I don't even know when or where we're hanging out next.”

“Don't worry, I'll make sure Jean boy gets the hint,” Connie smirks and purses his lips to make sloppy kissing noises.

“UGH!” You and Sasha groan at the same time and rush Connie to stop his slobbering.

“I'm never telling you anything again,” you mutter playfully and go back to your room to inspect Jean's Instagram. You flop on your bed and open up your phone. Your background photo is you, Historia and Ymir on graduation day, wearing the mandatory black robes despite the oppressive heat at the time. It was a stark contrast to Trost's current frigid spell.

Jean's Instagram profile picture is a shot of him kicking a goal at one of his last college games. You scroll through the rest of his photos. It's a wide range – photos of him, Marco, Connie and Sasha at various college activities, soccer games, Jean and his mom and stepdad, random poetry quotes, and of course, gym photos with Reiner, which you snort at.

Your phone buzzes and Jean's name appears at the top. You tap to open his text.

Hey, forgot to ask earlier – are you still free Wednesday nights? I know we usually meet at the coffee shop, but I thought we could do something different.

The corners of your mouth tilt up uncontrollably.

Are you suggesting we forgo our creative endeavors?? :o who are you??

Typing bubbles cross the bottom of your phone screen.

I would never! Consider this a creative field trip. I promise it'll make sense.

Your smile widens as you wonder what Jean could have planned for you two – that also has something to do with your creative dates.

Hmm. Alright. Sounds sus, but I'm trusting you.

You won't regret it. ;)

You can't help but giggle. You turn over and clutch your phone to your chest. You haven't felt this way for a while. Not since your sophomore year of college.

You had fallen hard and fast for a guy that lived just down the hall from you and Historia. You flirted back and forth for months, joking about you and Historia being the crazy, noisy roommates even though you two were usually studying in the library or watching movies together. Though you weren't one for parties, you always went when he asked if you were going, just for a chance to see him, maybe distant eye contact or a touch on the shoulder. You started dating and he made your heart sing – when he felt like gracing your with his presence. You weren't stupid. You knew he was stringing you along. You knew he was bored with you once the chase was over. But you held onto him for an entire year. An entire year of your life you now considered wasted.

The butterflies in your stomach twisted. This wouldn't be the same thing, right? Jean wasn't stringing you along, right?

~ ~ ~

Waiting for Wednesday night is agonizing. Work at the clinic is boring as per usual – check in families for their primary care appointments, make sure they had the correct insurance and scheduling them for their follow-ups. You try writing the story you've been working on every night, but your mind keeps wandering back to Jean, making any progress impossible.

As soon as you get out of work on Wednesday, you whip out your phone to text Jean.

We still on for tonight? What's the dress code?

You hop onto the train heading home and check his instant response.

Of course, your knight in shining armor wouldn't dare let you down. Dress code is anything you'd normally wear to the coffee shop – casual and cute. Shouldn't be too difficult for you.

You smirk and tuck your stray hairs behind your ear. And yet, the pit of your stomach turns a notch. He's being forward, too forward for just recently affirming that you were friends, nothing more.

You give him a thumbs up emoji and shove your phone in your pocket and watch the world whiz by as the train takes off. Just friends, you remind yourself. Jean's just flirty, that's all.

An hour later, you're almost ready to go. Sasha sits on the your bed and watches as you pick out your favorite high-waist black jeans and a blush pink sweater.

“You sure you don't want to wear this?” She asks and pulls out a tight fitting royal blue shirt. The sleeves and chest are mesh, just until it reaches your cleavage.

“Sash, it's way too cold for that!” You pull the sweater over your head.

“All I'm saying is Jean should be drooling over you,” she smirks and places the shirt back in your closet.

“Then he can drool over me in a sweater,” you roll your eyes and check your make-up in the mirror.

Knock knock

“I'll get it!” Sasha rushes to the front door before you have a chance to protest. “Hellooooo, Jean boy. She's ready for you.”

You grab your purse and rush out to meet Jean and playfully push Sasha away like a disgruntled teenager. You look up at the six-foot two man. He's also wearing a sweater – an amber brown that brings out his earthy hazel eyes.

“Hey,” you breath and grab your parka. Trost has warmed to an almost pleasant 15 degrees Fahrenheit.

“You two have fun,” Sasha waves her fingers and pushes you both out the door.

“Damn, she's looking to get rid of you. Is Nicolo coming over tonight?” Jean raises an eyebrow as you start walking.

“I don't think so. I think she's just happy to see me get out and do something – wait, where are we going, by the way?” You tense up as the wind picks up and scratches your face like a knife. Somehow, it didn't feel that much warmer than the cold spell a few weeks ago.

“Can't divulge that yet,” Jean sings and bounces in his step. You take longer strides to keep up with him. “We'll catch the train in a couple blocks.”

“Brrr,” you hum and attempt to shrink deeper in your parka like a turtle hiding in its shell. You two are silent for the next couple minutes, fast walking to the train to get out of the bitter cold. Luckily, the train pulls up as soon as you do. You find two seats together and take a moment to bask in the stale, but warm train car air.

“Sounds like living with Sasha has been good for you,” Jean circles back to your earlier comment. He takes off his knit hat, runs his hands through his hair, and gazes at you.

“Yeah, I really lucked out. Once Historia told me she was leaving I really thought that was it for me.” You play with your parka zipper, pulling it up and down.

“How so?” He tilts his head.

“I thought I'd be a recluse, friendless loser for the rest of my life,” you snort. “But really – how do you even make friends after college? That's what I was worried about. So many of mine moved away and we're already starting to lose contact.”

“Yeah, I hear you. What do you miss about them?”

“Their company more than anything. Someone to hang out with on random night. ” You bite down on the inside of your cheek. “But if I'm being honest. . . I don't know if I miss them.” Jean's eyebrows rise. “Don't get me wrong, I really miss Historia and Ymir,” you correct, not wanting him to think you're totally heartless. “But some others, I'm not sure why we were friends, now that I think about it.”

“I think I get it,” Jean nods and stretches his arm across the back of your train seat. “Friends by proximity?”

“Right,” you confirm. “And there's nothing necessarily wrong with that, but having friends with similar interests and values hits different.”

“And do you feel like you have that now?” He leans in closer to you. You can smell his cologne – fresh pine.

“I think I'm getting there. . .” you trail off, “though I suppose it might depend on what you have in store for us tonight.” The train slows to a halt. Jean perks up.

“This is our stop.” He hops off his seat and holds out a hand to you. “Milady?”

You laugh and take his hand as you stand up and walk outside with Jean. He holds on to your hand and guides you as you both fast walk to get to whatever your destination is as soon as possible. With his long strides, it's almost like he's dragging you.

He pauses at a nondescript corner that most people would walk by and not notice anything. Except for you. Jean opens a small iron gate, which creaks, and he motions you forward.

“For real?” You grin as you walk through the gate and down the concrete steps that lead into a basement entrance. “How'd you know?”

Jean shrugs. “Lucky guess.”

You glare at him – because this isn't a spot just anyone could guess at. He hops in front of you to open the door. “Alright,” he confesses, “during the after party, I overheard you telling Armin that you and Historia used to come here and that you missed it.”

You give a soft smile and enter into the warm basement. The yellow lights are dim and glow along the stone walls. To your left is a small bar, serving mostly just beer and wine. In front of you are rows of brown wooden chairs and benches. At the very front of the room is a lone microphone.

“I have missed it,” you sigh and unzip your parka. “It felt weird to come here alone.”

“Welp, now you have me,” Jean grins. He points to the bar. “Can I grab you something to drink?”

“Any kind of white wine,” you shrug.

Jean eyes widen and he clutches his hands to his chest. “White wine? In the dead of winter??” He mocks. “That's monstrous!”

“It's what I prefer, okay?” You laugh and wave. “I'll go find us some seats.” You walk to the third row, close enough to see, but not so close to feel awkward. You drape your parka on the back of a chair and sit down.

You took your first creative writing class your sophomore year of college. When your professor mentioned a poetry slam at a local venue, you were immediately intrigued – and terrified. It was an unknown, something you'd heard of but never seen. The idea of sitting alone petrified you, so it was a relief when Historia said she would go with you. That first time, the poets had mesmerized you. They bared their souls to total strangers and spoke of unrequited love, white-hot passion, heart wrenching devastation, numb depression, child-like glee, and unbridled hope.

“One white wine for one uncultured woman,” Jean interrupts your flashback and hands you a glass of chilled chardonnay. He sits beside you and holds a mug with steaming contents.

“Says the one who's never been to a poetry slam,” you throw back and take a sip of the chilled wine. Jean smirks into his mug. “And what did you get?”

“Mulled wine. Much more appropriate for this time of year. You want a sip?”

You nod and exchange drinks. The cinnamon, cloves, and orange spices take over your senses and warm your body from head to toe. You don't realize you're groaning until Jean gives you a gentle kick. “Regretting your drink choice?”

“No,” you narrow your eyes at him. “Sometimes I like having drinks out of season. It reminds me of a different time.”

“And what does chilled white wine on a winter's night remind you of?” Jean leans in closer to you. He takes a sip of your drink in the exact same place your mouth was. He doesn't break eye contact.

“It reminds me of . . .” you trail off, struggling to think with his earthy hazel eyes warming you from the inside out. “It reminds me of sitting by the river with my friends on an early summer night. We'd talk and laugh all night. Someone would bring a guitar. We'd watch the sun go down and the fireflies come out.”

“Sounds mesmerizing -”

“Alright everyone, thank you for coming to our weekly poetry slam,” a woman in dark jeans and a black turtle neck takes the floor and interrupts your conversation. You and Jean re-exchange drinks. “Our first poet has been a regular here for nearly a decade. . .”

~ ~ ~

After the poetry slam, Jean treats you to his favorite wine bar in Trost. He orders two flights without even looking at the menu.

“I'm taking it upon myself to educate you on better winter wine options,” he says and pushes the first flight toward you. “Though I have to say, you did make white wine in winter almost sound poetic.”

“I'm insulted,” you roll your eyes and swirl the first glass of red wine. “Am I doing this right by the way?” You raise your pinky finger. “Do I look pretentious enough?”

“You look pretentious and poetic,” he laughs and raises his glass. You both say “cheers” and take a sip. “Speaking of,” he sets his wine glass down. “Have you ever performed there?”

“No, I've never performed at all,” you confess.

“Really? I thought that'd be right up your alley.” He leans back in his chair and gazes at you.

“Yeah, I've thought about it,” you tug on the ends of your hair. “But I never worked up the courage to. It's so different than submitting writing to a journal. It really is an entirely different art form.”

“Do you want to?” Jean asks. You've never met anyone who holds your gaze as steady as he does. His earthy hazel eyes haven't left you since sat down.

“Um,” you chew on your bottom lip. “Maybe. I'm not sure. I feel like I haven't written anything worth sharing in months.” You take a sip. “You know, you're lucky in that respect.”

“How so?” He raises an eyebrow.

“You get to create for your job. It's worked into your schedule. Maybe if I were doing something like that, I'd have something worth sharing. I feel like every day I come home exhausted from just existing and I don't want to write.”

“I dunno,” he sighs. “The grass is greener. I get to create, but I'm creating with a bunch of middle school kids who are constantly flirting or kicking each other off their chairs. Or both,” he chuckles. “Sometimes I feel like I'm burning myself out with creating simply for the sake of creating. On the bright side,” he pauses and gestures to you, “you get to be more intentional about your writing.”

“I suppose there's that,” you concede.

“Plus,” Jean adds, “I bet you do in fact have writing worth sharing. You can always use something from the past as inspiration.”

“Hmmm,” you hum into your wine glass. The alcohol is coursing through veins. You're not sure if the heat in your face is from the wine or Jean as he leans in closer to you. “Alright, enough creative talk for now. Tell me your weirdest stories about the middle school menaces.”

Jean laughs and launches into a story about a kid who thought it would be funny to staple his tongue.

Your stomach aches with laughter as Jean tells you story after story about the kids he teaches. You finish the wine flights and hop back on the train.

It's late for you on a Wednesday night. Despite the bright lights of the train, your eyelids are heavy and your head nods until you rest on Jean's chest. You feel his gentle fingertips brush your hair behind your ear. The train jolts to a stop.

“Hey,” he whispers in your ear and squeezes your shoulder. “We're home.” You pry your eyelids open and follow Jean out the train door. The wind whips your hair around and you groan that it's freezing. Jean grabs your hand.

“C'mon, the quicker we get you home, the quicker we're warm,” he says and pulls you along.

“I can't keep up with your spider legs!” You laugh and run to keep up with his strides.

“Spider legs??” He exclaims. You can't see his facial expression since he's wrapped up in homemade scarf. “That's a new one.”

You're both giggling as you approach your duplex and fiddle to find the right key with your frozen fingers.

“Ahhh,” you sigh and burst into the heated living room. Sasha's no where to be found – either up to some shenanigans with Connie or fast asleep in bed.

“Thanks for coming out with me tonight,” Jean grins. “I hope it makes up for the uh, painting incident.” He scratches the back of his neck.

Even though it absolutely does, you want to tell him that it doesn't. You search your mind for any reason to stay in his company longer.

“I think it's a good start,” you tease. “Thanks for the surprise.”

“Ha,” he huffs, “how many more times do I have to take you out?” He takes a step closer to you. You have to crane your neck up to keep eye contact.

“Mmm, I'll let you know. It might take a few weeks. . . or months.”

“You are a demanding woman,” he laughs and shakes his head. You can smell the spice of red wine on him. He leans down a little and – you swear you see a shadow cross over his face. “So I'll see you for trivia tomorrow night?”

“Oh – uh, sure.” You fumble.

“Great.” Jean winks at you and steps out the door.

You close the door behind him and wonder what is haunting Jean Kirstein.

23 notes · View notes

teakookssi · 3 months ago

Text

Before I Leave You [Eren/Levi x Reader FF]

[ full story can be found here or here ] [Overview & prologue] ➺ pairing: levi ackerman/eren jeager x fem!reader ➺content: mafia au, crime, arranged marriage, enemies to lovers, angst, lol so much angst ➺warnings: violence, blood, strong language, guns/weapons, and illegal activities are all mentioned but hey, that’s aot for you, so if you can handle that, you can handle this (:

chapter 14: here comes a consequence

You’re sitting across from Jean and Connie in the dimly lit parlor of your home playing cards on the coffee table when Sasha walks in, silent as a wraith. Only Bear, who had been at your feet playing with his toy mouse made out of wool, sprints out the door the moment she arrives.

Sasha herself lingers by the door wearing a grim expression on her face, but she does nothing to make her presence known. Just continues to watch you, Jean, and Connie play for a while longer.

You don't acknowledge her either, knowing that she has come to report something you probably don’t want to hear. But there’s also an open bottle of whiskey in the center of the table and a cigarette in between your fingers — two of your main sources of comfort—so you reckon that should be enough to keep you amicable, or as close to it as you are capable of being.

The room itself has a calming ambiance so she has that in her favor as well. The velvet emerald green curtains behind you make the room’s lighting even darker against the forest green walls, while the smoke of the lit cigarettes in the room surround you like a hazy blanket; impairing your vision to anything beyond so that the world outside seems distant and inconsequential.

Eventually, your patience wears out.

“You just going to stand there all day?” you question Sasha without looking up from the cards in your hand. “Or are you actually going to speak?”

Connie and Jean look to you with a puzzled expression on their faces before quickly realizing you’re not talking to them after noticing Sasha standing by the door behind them.

“Sasha!” Jean calls to her in surprise from his seat, craning his neck slightly at the door behind Sasha to look left and right. “Where’s Mikasa?”

“On patrol,” Sasha replies back simply. After a brief pause, she then adds tightly, “As am I.”

You take a long drag from your cigarette and languidly exhale the smoke into the air, already aware of this.

Mikasa had come to you late last night to inform you that she and Sasha had been assigned to join your father to visit Armin's new territory the following morning. This wasn’t surprising to you. Ymir most likely wanted to check how business was doing and if there was any problems he needed to be aware of regarding the sudden change in leadership within the sector.

“Well, let’s hear it then,” you prompt, placing a card from your hand on the table to draw another from the deck in front of you. “Has Armin managed to meet my father’s expectations or is he set on replacing him with one of his own?”

“He seemed satisfied enough,” your wraith reports.

You raise an eyebrow, taking in her worried expression. “Then why do you have that look on your face?”

Sasha’s scowl deepens. “My spies have told me there have been rumors going around the Colossus Sector. Of rebels trying to instigate an uprise against Armin’s leadership—people loyal to Bertholt’s family. Before we left, I confirmed this with Armin.” She steps forward and hands you a piece of paper while Jean and Connie exchange glances. “He gave me the names of the ones he suspects are leading the revolt.”

You take the paper from her and find two names written in Armin’s slanted handwriting. You read the names aloud. “Colt Grice and Marcel Galliard?”

Sasha nods grimly.

You recline back on the couch, cards still in your hand, and though you appear relaxed, your muscles are taut. You poke at the inside of your mouth with your tongue, annoyed. “My father knows about this?”

Sasha looks uneasy. “When Ymir questioned him about the rumors, Armin assured him there was nothing to worry about. That the situation had been handled.”

“But it hasn’t?”

Sasha remains silent.

You nod. “So he lied to my father.”

“Considering your current situation, Armin didn’t want to worsen your situation by telling your father just how actively his enemies are plotting his demise. But Armin thinks these loyalists will make their move soon and urges we be on high alert for any suspicious activity.”

“Annie and Reiner have been awfully quiet since Armin took over the Colossal sector,” Jean points out.

Sasha gives a small shake of her head. “There has been no evidence tying them to these rebel groups.”

“They were close allies to Berthold,”Jean argues back. “Do you really think they’d stand by and let him be humiliated and stripped of his power the way he was without doing something to avenge him?”

“Maybe it’s one of the other sectors allying against us?” Connie offers.

“Regardless of who else is behind it,” Sasha cuts in, arms crossed against her chest, “we have the beginnings of a rebellion in our hands. And Bertholdt’s loyalists are leading the charge. That much we know to be true.”

You rub your temples, fighting off a headache. You’re growing agitated so you reach for the bottle of scotch in front of you to pour yourself a glass.

“It is to be expected, isn’t it?” Connie says absentmindedly. “After the way their leader was treated.”

You down your drink in one swing. “No,” you correct harshly with a growl, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “This is what happens when we choose to let them live.”

If your father had just let you kill them all, this would have never happened.

“It was the only way to gain legitimate power over their territory,” Jean reminds you carefully, as if hearing your very thoughts.

You roll your eyes and toss the rest of your cards on the table in frustration, signaling the end of the game.

“Well, it doesn’t matter, does it?” Connie asks. “They’re not stupid enough to step foot here.”

“Armin thinks they are,” Sasha tells him, “which is why he’s sent a warning.”

You rise to your feet, dropping your cigarette in the ashtray. “Then I trust you all to deal with them accordingly,” you say to them through gritted teeth, “before my father decides to lock me up in here for the rest of my life.”

You snatch the bottle on the table by its neck on your way out the door, needing to drown in your frustrations. Hating that you had to rely on others to dispatch your enemies for you while you were trapped in here like some domesticated animal incapable of surviving on its own out in the wild.

But the moment you pass Sasha at the door, she swiftly takes hold of the bottle in your hands, holding it hostage from you and keeping you in place. You frown at the intervention and when you try yanking it back, she gives you a knowing look.

“Fine!” you growl at her viciously, shoving the bottle at her chest. “Take it!” You wave your arms dramatically in the air, gesturing to your surroundings. “Take everything away while you’re at it! Everyone’s doing that already, right?”

You storm out of there and up the stairs to your room the way a child behaves when denied of her sweets, but Sasha, Jean, and Connie know this is more than some childish outburst or tantrum.

You don’t notice the pained look on their faces as they watch you walk away from them, but it’s there. Plain and visible to see. They hate seeing you this way. They know you’re hurting and lonely and struggling with the darkness threatening to consume you, but they have no power or say to alleviate your suffering. All they can do is watch over you helplessly and hope you don’t stray too far away from them they can no longer reach you.

—

Later that night, you’re taking out your frustrations in physical combat and trying to gain back some sense of control with Jean down in the basement. You’ve been at it for the past two hours without pause. You’re both tired and drenched in sweat but you haven’t called it quits yet and Jean knows how much you need this so he won’t stop until you do.

He’s holding a body pad in front of him to serve as your target and to shield him from your kicks and punches. You’re about to throw another series of hits his way when movement over your shoulder catches Jean’s attention. He straightens and bares his teeth, turning hostile.

“You,” Jean snarls over your shoulder in disgust.

Your back is to the door so you don’t see who it is that’s just walked in, but you know there’s only one person that can get Jean riled up that way. You let your fighting stance fall and turn to the door behind you to find Eren walking down the steps leading down the basement. Historia follows right after him, both of them still in their office attire.

Eren’s bright green eyes are blazing and firmly locked on you as he cuts across the room to confront you, looking every bit upset.

“You’re being targeted?” Eren asks you angrily. “You knew about this and you still left last night?”

A muscle in your jaw twitches at the bold accusation, very much aware of Jean’s presence behind you. You’re not facing him but you can imagine the level of shock on his face at Eren’s words.

“He was with you last night?” Jean demands. There’s a hint of jealousy in his voice mixed with outrage at hearing how you let Eren accompany you rather than someone from your inner circle. But instead of answering him, you throw an accusatory glare at Historia who stands beside Eren like some mother hen guarding over her chick despite him towering over her. Connie must have told her about Armin’s warning regarding Bertholdt’s loyalists and for some reason found the need to tell Eren about it.

Yet the girl doesn’t look as apologetic as she should.

“If Eren’s the only one Ymir is allowing to be around you,” Historia reasons with you, “he deserves to know.”

You scoff dismissively. “What good is he going to do? He needs more saving than I do.”

Eren’s cheeks flush at the memory of what happened at the train station the night before and he averts your gaze, ashamed.

You smirk, his reaction proving your point, and you turn away to practice your knife throwing with the cardboard shooting target stationed at the back of the room, thinking you’ve put an end to this conversation.

But Historia is quick to follow after you, not at all done with you yet.

“So train him,” she urges as you collect some of your favorite daggers from where you had laid them out on a nearby table with the rest of your weapons and holsters. “There’s no harm in him learning how to fight.”

You ignore her as she continues to talk, taking aim and releasing a few of your blades at the intended target in front of you, each of your daggers hitting home with deadly precision and landing with a sharp thud.

“If you give him a gun and some time to practice he—”

“Enough Historia!” you cut off, whirling on her and slicing the air between you with the remaining dagger in your hand to silence her.

She backs away, unnerved by the weapon in your hand as you take a menacing step towards her. “Despite what you like to believe, I am not running some damn charity ward. If I invest my time in someone, it’s because they have something worth investing.” You point to Eren behind her with the blade in your hand. “And he has neither the strength, the skillsets—least of all the spine—needed to survive here. You want to hand him a gun to play with? Be my guest. But when it comes down to it, he will never have what it takes to pull the trigger.” Your eyes lock with Eren. “No amount of training or fighting will change that.”

Losing your desire to continue training, you leave for the door, clutching the blade tightly in your hand to keep you from completely losing it as you roughly brush past Eren and Historia.

Eren curls his hands into fists and grits out quietly, “You don’t know what I’m capable of.”

You stop in your tracks, unable to let this slide. “Oh, you’ve shown me exactly what you’re capable of,” you drawl out dryly, turning on your heels to face him again. “And you, Eren Yeager, really don’t want to die.”

Eren lowers his gaze, flexing his jaw, unable to deny the way he cowered against death the night before.

“Not that there’s any shame in that,” you add with a shrug. “All men fear dying, especially when death is staring you in the face. You reacted just as any normally sane human-being would react.”

Anger quickly replaces Eren’s shame as his eyes snap to you. “And what of your reaction? Why put yourself in that position at all? To prove a point? Your father trusts me to keep you out of—”

“My father?!” you snarl incredulously, annoyed by his own ignorance. “Have you not realized it yet?” Your head tilts to the side as you commence to approach him. “The sole reason my father assigned you to me wasn’t because you asked him to. Or because he saw some godly potential in you.” Eren frowns as you draw nearer, subtly noting how violently you’re swinging the blade in your hand as you speak. “Make no mistake. My father wants you dead. If he agreed to your request, it was to punish me. Because he thinks you have some hold over me.”

Eren braces himself as you come to stand before him with eyes cold and hard as stone. “But he miscalculated. Whether you live or die makes no difference to me.”

Fighting back a flinch, Eren forces himself to swallow down your words.

Historia, on the other hand, is a different matter. “So you’re just going to let him die out of spite?” she asks in disapproval, unable to tamper that caring nature of hers. “He’s risking his life for you! The least you could do is provide him with the means to survive.”

You flash her a crooked smile. “OR I could just kill him now. Why prolong the inevitable, right? We all know his number was up the day he crossed my path anyway.”

Historia glowers at the suggestion, hating that you were mocking her, before exhaling sharply, her fists still curled tightly at her side.

“Fine,” she hisses through her teeth. Without warning, she turns on her heels and moves with fierce strides towards the armory room in the back of the training room. “If you won’t train him, then I will.”

But the dagger is out of your hands and strikes the wooden door of the armory across the room like lightning, making Historia freeze in place as it lands inches away from the side of her head.

“No,” you tell her firmly. “You will not.”

Eren whirls at you, eyes wide with alarm, but you ignore him as your gaze slides over to Jean in warning.

“None of you will,” you say to him. “Is that understood?”

Historia turns, aghast. “Then you’ve sentenced him to die!”

You throw Eren a meaningful look, reminding him that you had given him the chance to leave last night and he refused to take it. “He has done that himself.”

“To protect you!” Historia cries out, moving towards you, but Eren quickly steps in her path, holding her back.

“Historia, don’t,” you hear him urge, wanting to calm her down. “Please, stop. It’s okay.”

You watch her struggle in Eren’s arms with a look of disgust. “You have heart, Historia—I’m painfully aware of that,” you say, taking a few steps forward to look down on her. “And I tolerate it because you are useful to me and my father. But if you don’t like how I run things, by all means.” You point to the stairs leading out of the room. “There’s the door. Leave.”

Historia stumbles back, stricken. Your threat hits home, making her look over to Eren helplessly because as much as she wants to help Eren she won’t go against you. She feels too indebted to you for all you’ve done for her to try.

Just then, the door to the basement opens and Levi comes walking down the stairs. Alone. He’s still got his dark coat and gloves on which means he’s come straight from dealing with underground business. Still, he doesn’t look hurt or covered in blood so whatever type of work it had been was done quickly and clean.

His deadpan gaze does a quick survey of the people in the room before resting his grey eyes on you.

“We need to talk,” is all he says to you, but based on that dark look on his face, you’re sure as hell not going to like it.

Jean and Historia get the hint and start to leave. Eren starts to follow right after but Levi throws a hand over Eren’s chest and shoves him back.

“I didn’t say you could leave,” Levi growls at him.

You raise an eyebrow and cross your arms over your chest while Eren, Historia, and Jean all frown in confusion. But Eren does as he’s told and stays put while Historia and Jean leave the basement to give you all some privacy.

When its just the three of you, Levi exhales sharply. “Lord Reiss is hosting a charity event this weekend,” he begins to inform you slowly, “and your father has been invited to attend. He expects you, me, and Eren to join him—”

You let out a sharp laugh and walk away before he can even finish his sentence. “Like hell.” Just the idea of being trapped in the same room as those duplicitous, stuck up fiends with their false smiles and empty laughs was suffocating enough.

“Anya,” Levi chides behind you.

“No.”

“This isn’t a request.”

“I don’t care. I’m not going.”

“You will if you want him to terminate your confinement.”

You stop dead in your tracks, hands curling into fists at your side. Annoyed that your father knew you wouldn’t be able to turn away from this.

“He doesn’t need me there,” you insist through clenched teeth, keeping your back to him. “You’re his business partner, not me,” you add petulantly, glowering at him over your shoulder before resuming your exit. “You deal with them.”

“You’re his daughter and heir,” Levi counters. “He needs you there at his side, to support him.”

You turn on your heels to face him. “Support him with what?” you demand. “He knows I detest the whole lot of them. I have no reason for being there…” You cross your arms over your chest and raise an eyebrow, offering him a sly grin. “Unless he wants me to burn the place to the ground? If so, I’ll gladly help him with that.”

Levi replies to you with a dark smile of his own. “Darling, if you so much as threaten anyone or give off the slightest impression of looking someone the wrong way, your father will not hesitate to take you back to the countryside. And I, for one, will do nothing to stop him.”

“Do it and you’ll be dragging my dead corpse back with you,” you snarl, eyes unyielding. You refuse to step foot in that cursed place for as long as you live.

Levi growls in distaste at your threat. “Then do as you’re told.”

Before you can counter back, Levi turns to Eren. “As for you. Despite my deep opposition, Ymir insists on keeping you as part of the company.” He shoves a manila envelope at Eren’s chest for him to take. “You have until the night of the event to familiarize yourself with the guest list and the names of the ones highlighted. If you’re as good as they claim, you’ll have them eating out of the palm of your hand in no time. So find yourself a suit worthy for the night. This is a black-tie event, so play the part and act like you belong there.” Levi’s sharp gaze cuts to you and adds, “Both of you.”

You answer him by flipping him off and walking away.

—

On the night of the charity event, you make your way out of your room with a deep sense of unease nestled in your chest.

There’s a reason your father wants you present at this event — it can’t be solely just to torture you. But if you don’t see this through, as your father evidently wants you to, you won’t ever know why. So you force yourself down the hall towards the staircase whilst ignoring the way your insides burn at the thought of what this night might entail.

As you reach the head of the stairs, you find Levi waiting for you at the bottom of the staircase looking aloof and dangerous as always. But bloody hell, even from this distance he looks more handsome and more human than you’ve ever seen him. And you don’t think its possible but you feel yourself falling even more in love with him.

Your fiancé wears a finely tailored black tux over a white dress shirt that makes him appear sharp and elegant. Nothing like the dark tailored suits he usually wears when out in the field that give him a far more lethal, rugged, and intimidating appearance. His dark curtained hair that usually hangs over his eyes is parted to the side and combed back, giving him a more boyish, princely appearance that painfully reminds you of when he was a boy…Perhaps because his mother used to style his hair in that same manner. The bow tie pinned at his collar doesn’t help in the least.

You would have stood there and admired him all night long, but your black heels announce Levi of your presence at the top of the stairs and he swiftly turns to you in attention, ready to escort you to Lord Reiss’ estate—not only as his fiancée but as the daughter and heir to one of the most highly influential businessman of his time, Thomas Ymir.

But Levi is not prepared by what he sees before him.

As a testament of your father’s well-established nobility, you wear a strapless, skin tight black dress with a high molded waist-line and elbow length black gloves, all made of the finest material. Your long hair is held up with hairpins sharp enough to stab a man’s arteries and fashioned in a loose up-do with a few stray strands left at the front to frame your face. But underneath, strapped to your thighs and tucked inside your gloves, are daggers of all forms, sharp enough to pierce a man’s heart.

The second Levi catches sight of you, he swallows heavily, looking stunned and completely mesmerized. Yet it’s the way he watches you descend down the stairs, eyes running down the length of your figure that makes your stomach twist with longing. And you suddenly think, maybe this night is worth all the hassle, if it means him looking at you the way he does now. Like you’re the most beautiful creature he has ever seen and he can’t afford to look away.

You smirk in spite of yourself.

“Are you impressed, my lord?” you ask as he offers his hand for you to take the minute you arrive at the foot of the stairs.

His eyes drop down to your tinted, blood red lips as you speak. They linger there as he replies softly, “I’m always impressed by you.”

He leans forward, aching for a taste of you, but despite your attraction to him, you’re still upset with him for making you come to this event with him. Before he can touch his lips with yours, you pointedly turn away. This rewards you with a resentful smile from him, but he gets the message and doesn’t try again.

That’s when you notice he’s holding something in his other hand. A medium sized, dark navy, velvet jewelry box. You raise an eyebrow. “Is that meant to impress me?”

His eyes flicker to where your attention is drawn and he straightens, attempting to recover from your teasing. He opens the box to reveal what looks like a fifty something carat worth diamond necklace and matching earrings.

“A gift,” Levi explains. “From your father.”

You stare at it for a moment, breath-taken. But its beauty is not what has your heart caught in your throat. You feel Levi take your hand and walk you over to the closest mirror in the foyer, wanting you to see how it looks on you.

As you stand in front of the oval shaped mirror, you watch through your reflection as Levi removes the necklace first from out of the box and clasp it securely around your neck. You feel the coldness of the stones against your skin instantly but it brings you a strange sense of comfort. Makes their existence all the more real.

“He wishes for you to wear it tonight,” you hear Levi say beside you, studying your reaction closely in the mirror. “He says it was—”

“My mothers,” you finish distantly, touching the stones around your neck and admiring the way the diamonds sparkle against the light of the hallway like newly dead stars in the night sky.

Your eyes glisten with nostalgia as you remember of the times you saw her wear it for your father. The most expensive, luxurious thing he first bought your mother after Ymir & Co became legalized.

“He’s really trying to make a statement with this, isn’t he?” you say as a means to break out of your reminiscing. “Pulling out something so valuable.” You reach for the diamond earrings still in the jewelry box and put them on yourself. “What is this all even worth, like 80k?”

Levi chuckles, placing the empty jewelry box on the console under the mirror. “You’re worth much more than that, love.”

You turn to face him with a raised eyebrow, confused.

“Darling,” he tells you, raising a hand to caress your cheek tenderly, “his most prized possession isn’t something so easily replaceable. What he values most is you.”

There’s an intensity in his gaze as he says this that lets you know he isn’t just speaking for your father anymore, but for himself. And you might believe it, if either one of them was the least bit capable of expressing it on their own.

Guess it runs in the family.

12 notes · View notes

rinsaint · 2 years ago

Note

i know a lot of people view bertholdt as a sub but i see my beloved as more of a soft dom than anything tbh!! in the show/manga, he’s shown to have no sense of his own self-will and this clearly bothers him so i feel like he tries to gain his own self-will through his relationships!! he’s always super gentle with you, stretches you out with his fingers and tongue for hours so he can feel all of you and you can feel all of him, telling you how you take it so well for him, showering you in praises, holds you so close to him; sex with him can sometimes feel like you two are one mmmmm im so in love with him (*´꒳`*)

OH MY GOD. yes yes i do agree with you. personally i do view him as a switch more then anything. but he does rather love being the dom during sex. He loves being the person that makes you feel good. He loves to be in control and loves to make those beautiful sounds that makes him hard fall pass your lips. He’s definitely a soft dom 100%. He loves to see your flustered state as he slips his thick cock in, wrapping your hands into his, as he sets a rhythm that has your toes curling. Leaving soft kisses on your cheek as you let out whimpers. and the way he praises you omg. “doin’ so good baby. just like that. taking my cock so well pretty.” “fuck, y’gonna make me cum pretty. m’so close, cum with me yea?” He just loves the intimacy of it all.

#[ ☆ ] — anons !!#bertholdt smut #bertholdt x reader #aot drabbles #aot smut #snk x reader #snk smut #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan smut #eren smut #jean smut #armin smut #reiner smut #bertholt x reader #bertholt smut

193 notes · View notes

jeanbeaux · 4 years ago

Text

CANDIDS

bertholdt hoover x f!reader

w/c: 1.5k

genre/warnings: modern!au, tooth rotting fluff, author apologizes for any cavities given, Bertholdt is introduced like a haikyuu character post time skip

a/n: This is a part of @peachy-momos’ 300 follower polaroid collab! I had a lot of fun with it and hope you enjoy, Berty boi is def one of my underrated faves of the AOT universe. Much love to my beta-reader @ivsahi who has now realized shes a bertholdt kinnie.

If you were to ask Bertholdt Hoover, 25, wildlife photographer for National Geographic, what his favorite camera he had used over the years was, the answer would surprise you.

It’s not his father’s old Minolta Maxxum 7000, which he found at age six. He wasn’t even after the camera, just fascinated by the worn leather strap that was peaking out of the shelf in the living room. And so he reached up on his tip-toes and yanked down, sending the rest of the books clattering as the 35 MM SLR fell into his grubby little hands. The crash gave his mother a fright, but her scolding died on her tongue as she saw her son’s steel green eyes light up with fascination as he played with the dials.

Nor is it the Canon EOS 7D he got on his 10th birthday. He carried that with him everywhere, taking pictures of him and Reiner on their adventures in the patch of woods beyond his house or the various dogs he saw in his neighborhood. He’s pretty sure his fingerprints have worn into the rubber grip on the side.

Those cameras started it all for him, and they sit in retirement beside all the shiny DSLRs and focus attachments on the dark cherry floating shelves in his office. With a wall of his room dedicated to computerized gadgets that have let him capture migratory birds in flight and cheetahs mid stride, it’s almost outlandish that Bertholdt Hoover’s favorite camera looked like a child’s toy — for its nothing other than Fujifilm Instax Mini 9.

He still remembers the day you ran into him, quite literally, at the college bookstore, sending his film canisters flying everywhere and your coffee straight on to his weathered flannel. You were babbling apologies as he turned redder, going on about how you must be so blind to not see the literal tower of the human being in your way, hoping to salvage your fumble by treating him to a drink at your favorite cafe on campus.

After an outfit change, he found himself in a booth telling you all about how he’s struggling with color negative film development. You didn’t listen like Reiner does, who always interrupted to joke about how Bertholdt should help him stage his nudes, or even like Annie, who he was pretty sure lets him go on because it’s the perfect form of white noise to her.

Instead, you sat with your head in one hand, nodding enthusiastically and probing him further. You were genuinely interested, someone who made his passion feel appreciated. And that’s what caused that one coffee date to turn into another, and then three months later, you’re in his dorm room presenting him a cream colored polaroid camera with a Cyndaquill charm attached.

“It’s so you can understand the only camera I own,” you said, pulling your own polaroid out of your bag with a smile.

It looked minuscule in his giant hands, the device rotating in his palms as he tried to figure out the settings. “What makes this one so different from the ones I have?” he asked.

“Because you can’t edit the pictures, silly. You’re always fixing the lighting and colors even on your film prints, this just captures everything in the moment. And you can’t reprint them, so each picture is a limited edition Bertholdt Hoover original. See, look!”

Bertholdt’s head shot up after he heard the flash that followed the end of the sentence. He may love being behind the camera, but he still needs some time to be comfortable being in front of it. He was tensing in anticipation as you both waited for the picture to develop, the white square fading to reveal the image of Bertholdt, eyes narrowed as he tried to figure out the camera. He looked at ease, in his element.

It was the first candid of himself he ever liked.

“Aw, look at you,” you cooed as you slid the polaroid into your phone case. “Now I think that’s a moment of you worth saving, don’t you agree?”

A year later, he found himself bringing the Polaroid along with him on your dates. You had decided to celebrate your anniversary on Paradis Beach, laying out a red and white checkered cloth on the sand and lounging the day away. The snacks that were spread out on the charcuterie board dwindled as the sun began to dip into the waves; you and Bertholdt both focused on painting pictures of each other.

“And done!” you announced, turning your canvas around for your boyfriend to see. You had splotted it in blue and green, the black line art you drew of his face standing in a striking contrast. The canvas now hangs in the living room of your shared apartment, and you’d later argue that it was your Picasso inspired interpretation of your boyfriend to anyone who notices it at your dinner parties; but in reality, it looked like elongated Wirt from Over the Garden Wall.

“Why did you make me look like Jean?”

“It looks nothing like Jean, the nose is totally different! It’s not my fault you have the same head.”

“Please don’t tell him or show him that, he’ll rope me into his arguments with Eren,” he teased.

“Well, let’s see how well you did then, DaVinci.” You peered over his shoulder in search of his work. The watercolor rendition captured you perfectly — from to the flecks in your irises to the soft upturn of your lips when you smiled.

It looked like it could be one of his pictures.

“I shouldn’t have agreed to do this with an art major,” you sigh. “Of course your painting would turn out more legitimate than mine.”

“Hey! I never said I didn't like it. And, I’m a Digital and Film Photography major, you know.”

“Tomato, tomah-to,” you stuck out your tongue.

Bertholdt broke out into a laugh as he looked at you, your brows furrowed in mock anger as you pouted back at him. As he saw you with your teal sundress fluttering in the wind, the flyaways of your hair turning golden under the setting sun, he realized that this vision of you was something he wanted to immortalize. And with a soft “look over here, dove” to beckon you gaze towards him, Bertholdt clicks on the shutter, a smile of his own growing behind the camera to match the one you’re beaming at him. He pulls out the film and waits for the picture to appear, and to his chagrin, the camera focused on the sun behind you, the film yielding your silhouette against the orange sky.

He frowned and turned the camera back around, searching for the light filtering settings.

“What are you looking for?” You moved to lay down next to him, your head falling back on his chest.

“The metering adjustment, it keeps focusing on the sun.”

“I don’t think a camera that was meant to be understood by 16 year olds would have anything that fancy,” you snorted, reaching out for the Polaroid to turn the dial to the image of the sun on the rim of the lens. “The solution is more simple than you think, o wise photography major. So smile! Let’s take a selfie.”

Now, Bertholdt finds himself chuckling as he pulls that selfie out of the box containing all the polaroids you had gathered in the three years you had been together. It had turned out horribly, catching only the top half of your face and his chin. It had taken you five tries to get both your heads into the frame, but he decides to hang up all of the pictures on the string in front of him instead of the sole perfect one.

He takes a step back to admire his handy work, the gazebo of the botanical garden he took you to on your first real date now fully surrounded with alternating garlands of your favorite flowers and photo donned fairy lights that were slowly coming to life with the growing twilight.

It was incredible how much that little camera had captured — the Camp Half-Blood halloween costumes, the weathervane like sleeping positions you found him with your cat, the pictures in front in every state sign you ever travelled to and the ones he caught of you cooking in the kitchen.

Your entire relationship filled the little white rectangles that hung from the wooden rafters, and the next step was in the little velvet box in his back pocket.

“So, Bertholdt,” Reiner calls out, “Which one of your fancy cameras am I using to catch the big moment in?”

Bertholdt bends down to rummage for the Polaroid in his camera bag, the cream shell now marred with a few scratches and the Pokemon charm now fading in color. He’s got Annie using the Nikon and Porco on his iPhone for a video, but he knows he can trust Reiner with the most important camera of all.

After all, this is a moment he wants to make sure you both have forever — unedited & irreplaceable.

thank you for reading!!

#bertholdt hoover x reader #bertholt x reader #bertholt hoover x reader #bertolt x reader #bertolt hoover x reader #bertholdt x you #bertholt x you #bertholt hoover #bertholt hoover fluff #bertholt hoover headcannons #aot x reader #snk x reader #aot fluff #snk fluff #bertholdt hoover x you #hanimehub

255 notes · View notes

paperbagpetrichor · 6 years ago

Text

Hold On | [Bertholdt x Reader]

This was written awhile ago (read: 2017); nevertheless, I hope you enjoy!

It was a clear, cloudless, beautiful day. The sky had found itself in that elusive, impeccable state of hues, just darker than a pale blue but ever so slightly less saturated than a pure cerulean. Not a single puff of whiteness dotted the admirable air. A slight breeze blew now and then, gradually easing the sun’s sweltering heat into a pleasant warmth that remained in excellent equilibrium with the rest of the environment. There was no remainder of the past few days’ previous humidity. All in all, it was a day that you had dreamed for. Not just because of the weather, of course; no, it was far more than that.

Today was the 57th Expedition Outside the Walls.

Otherwise known to you as the first time you’d truly see the world for what it was: one unconstrained, unconfined, and completely free from man’s touch.

For once you hadn’t needed a roommate to wake you up. Your head had been the first one to pop up that morning, beating even the early-bird girl who lay in the bed adjacent to you, Mikasa. Ymir had even greeted you with a pat on the back, glad to have the time she usually used to shake you from your vivid dreams to Krista. At breakfast you’d wolfed down every morsel - something Sasha was not too happy about.

But no matter. That spike of energy still remained within you, even as you sat through about twelve repeated verses of the same instruction plan, over and over, again and again. The team you’d been assigned to - along with Ymir and Bertholdt - was led by Nanaba. And she was nothing if not thorough.

Just as Nanaba was about to dive into her final reiteration, Ymir’s snores snagged her attention, and she sighed. “Ymir,” she snapped, successfully startling the girl awake. You couldn’t help but giggle to yourself. It was as though your roles were reversed - on any other day, that would’ve easily been you. Even Bertholdt seemed to have noticed. His eyes were rested upon your seated form for longer than you’d noticed.

“Sorry,” Ymir muttered, narrowing her eyes and resting her chin in her hands. “But I think we get it. When are we leaving, anyways?”

Nanaba folded her arms, a smile growing on her lips despite herself. “As soon as Commander Erwin gives us the signal.” She paused for a moment, glancing over at another group, one of whose team members’ was not particularly pleased with his position and had entered a fit of shouting. Nanaba cast a final glance back in your direction, then ran a hand through her short hair and departed with a quick, “I’ll be right back.”

It was evident that Ymir had been trying to catch up on some sleep as she muttered, “Jeez...can’t Daz ever calm down? There’s no way he’ll get out of here alive.” Her tone was that of someone discussing the dirt on their shoe, not that of someone dealing with life and death.

“He’s just afraid,” you interjected softly, unable to suppress your pity for your poor teammate. He always seemed to have too many things on his mind...unfortunately, everybody else seemed to disregard that, and viewed him as pathetic. “And - considering everything, he has a right to be.”

Bertholdt appeared as though he had been about to say something, but as your phrases drew to an end his eyes quickly settled on his feet as opposed to you, where they had been just momentarily. A small bead of sweat had formed on his forehead.

“No, don’t tell me you’re scared, too, Bertholdt,” Ymir groaned.

“Hm?” Bertholdt tilted his head to the side, contemplating Ymir with a puzzled look. It took him a few moments for the question to sink in. “Oh - no. Just wondering why we were placed so close to the front.” His last sentence was just barely audible.

Only you heard his muted words, and, despite all your faith in the upper level members of the Survey Corps, you found yourself curious about the exact same thing. The majority of the teams assigned to the front had been comprised of only experienced soldiers - or at least an even mix of new trainees and their superiors. So why had your team, set to ride just behind the first row of the right flank, been chosen with three trainees and only one Squad Leader? It didn’t make much sense to you. “Maybe it’s because Bertholdt ranked so high?”

“If that’s the reason, it’s a dumb one,” retorted Ymir. “I at least hope Krista got a safer position than this.”

Ah, of course. This was why she was acting particularly ornery this morning: she and Krista had been divided onto different teams, relatively far apart from one another. “Don’t worry, Ymir,” you smiled, “Krista can take care of herself.”

Ymir couldn’t help but give a small nod before falling silent.

A sudden ear-splitting call jolted the three of you from your small talk, sending you scrambling to your feet and racing to mount your horses. Nanaba had already found hers at the head of your line of three. “Ready?” She called back to her teammates.

“Yup.”

You gave her a determined stare. “Definitely.”

Bertholdt, next to you, gave you a timid smile and then replied, “Yes.”

He’d answered right on time; for, just a mere moment after he’d closed his mouth, Commander Erwin’s orders were delivered.

And, tightening your grip on your steed’s reins, you began your first steps outside the wall.

For some reason you were the only member of your team that was audibly infatuated with the scenery. Miles and miles of fresh, overgrown, verdant grass, clumped together so closely that you couldn’t tell where one stalk ended and another began; a tall, dense forest of gargantuan coniferous trees in the background; an unadulterated view of the stunning sky, unlimitless in its sheer size. You hardly took notice of the soft noises of amazement that were spilling from your mouth.

“[Y/n].” Bertholdt, on the other hand, had apparently heard them. His horse fell in-step with yours as he closed much of the gap between the two of you. “Stay focused.”

This yanked you out of your awe, but proved to be a needed reminder. You had been more than prepared to fully submerse yourself in this new world and forget the mission entirely. “Right.” You leaned farther down, feeling the resistance between your form and the atmosphere greatly decrease, cape flapping about like a flag behind you. This was why you were here: to plot a course from Karanes to Shiganshina. Not to daydream about what could have been. “Thanks.” Bertholdt was rather relieved that you didn’t notice the ever-growing redness of his face.

You rode on in laser-sharp focus for quite awhile without any further interruptions. It was you, your team, your military branch, and your world. Not the world within the walls - no. The genuine, bona fide Earth, that ever-puzzling enigma constantly clouded with enigma so much so that you had been prevented from seeing it for all your fifteen years of life. All of them until now.

And yet ‘now’ was the time when a purple flare exploded in the sky.

“What?” Nanaba’s tongue slipped and she was exposed to be just as clueless as the rest of you were.

“Emergency,” Ymir muttered, gritting her teeth as she tried to pinpoint the location of the flare’s origin in comparison to its range to Krista’s group.

You weren’t exactly dying to say something. A strange sense of trepidation had seized your previous excitement, replacing it with something colder, something harder.

Nanaba took a sudden sharp turn, yelling back, “Get ready! Three abnormals approaching!” She shot up a flare of her own - although it was black instead of the murky purple.

Your gaze followed her index finger, allowing your eyes to fall on the three aforementioned beasts. They were relatively small - two five-meters and one seven-meter - but posed a threat nonetheless. You waited, hands on the buttons of your 3DMG, ready to burst off at any moment, for Nanaba’s orders.

But those expected orders never came, because at that exact moment another purple flare painted the sky, and Ymir flung herself into action. “Ymir!”

“Damnit…” Nanaba ranted, performing a lightspeed head-twist round her shoulders to check and make sure you were still there. A bit of the anger in her eyes disappeared as she saw the tensed figures of both yourself and Bertholdt. “I need you two to try to reach the flare site. Help with whatever is needed. Ymir and I’ll get these, then rendezvous with you near the outskirts of the forest. Got it?” Bertholdt beat you to an answer. “Yes.”

“Good.” And with that last, single word, Nanaba flung herself into the chaos.

Lightly nudging his horse’s side, Bertholdt sped past you. Upon noticing you weren’t by his side anymore, he cast an anxious glance back at you. “We have to go.”

For whatever reason, a part of you - a small but nevertheless important part at that - whispered to you that something here wasn’t right. No, not right at all. You’d promised yourself that you’d never leave a teammate behind; wasn’t this exactly that?

“[Y/n]!” Bertholdt’s message grew significantly louder. He was practically yelling when he restated, “We have to go! It’s Nanaba’s orders!”

Dammit. Leaving Ymir and Nanaba behind drove a wedge deep within your heart, but your mind managed to grasp your body’s control for the time being, and it knew that it had to obey rules. You desperately tore your eyes from the ongoing battle. Staring wouldn’t have helped. Ymir can take care of herself; Nanaba can take care of herself; together they’re practically invincible. You had to keep reminding yourself this as you dashed after Bertholdt.

“They’ll be okay…” you murmured, perhaps to nobody but yourself.

“They will be,” Bertholdt reassured. “We just have to do our part.”

You fastened your grip on your horse, fingernails digging into the leathery material of the stallion’s halter. Just get to the site. It’ll be okay. It’ll be okay.

It took you all of ten seconds to realize it was absolutely not okay.

Within mere moments of entering a ten-meter radius of the flares’ source, the grass was no longer green. It was red. Red with the blood of your dead comrades.

“Oh - no…”

It was hard to find a spot that wasn’t littered with human remains. The entire area was a massive above-ground burial site, its ghostly inhabitants severed from their bodies and tossed like limp toys across the Titan’s sickening sandbox. Pressure built up at the back of your eyes and you bit the inside of your cheek to prevent the tears from spilling over. You’d seen the destruction of the Battle of Trost, but that was almost nothing compared to this crimson carpet of carnage.

You had been so focused on the magnitude of damage around you that you didn’t notice the only living person along with you draw closer. “[Y/n]...” he began softly.

Head jerking round to face him, you nearly screamed at his sudden unwarned presence. “This is - what...how could…?”

“Just hold on,” he urged. “These people didn’t die without striking back - look.”

You followed his gaze to a mound of giant, smoking, decaying bodies. Titans. These soldiers must have died fighting them. It was no wonder...there were so many dead, it was almost unimaginable as to how many live ones there had been.

Oh.

“Bertholdt!” You shot out the wires of your 3DMG, anchoring yourself to the tallest nearby structure. “Watch out!”

An eight-meter class was approaching with frightening speed. Immediately after landing on your desired branch you launched yourself into the air, using a bit of gas to slow your fall as you flew behind the Titan, landing on its upper shoulder blades and running across the length of them, dragging your swords through the burning flesh of the monster. Its hand nearly caught you but you completed the task just in time: as it reached for your spot, it began to collapse, and you darted back to where your horse had remained, relatively unfazed. Bertholdt must have continued on. “Let’s go, boy.”

Soon enough you were riding just behind Bertholdt, who appeared relieved to see you. “I - haven’t found anyone yet,” he informed quietly.” You spared him the translation: he hadn’t found any survivors. “Okay. The second launch site was a little farther - we have to keep going.”

With a nod from your counterpart, your plan was set in stone. As much as you hated it you began to successfully tune out the ocean of vermillion within which you rode. Deep breaths. They had died valiantly.

The ground beneath you began to shake rather abruptly, as though the earth itself was to split directly underfoot. You shot a gaze over your shoulder and spotted the sight: a ten-meter abnormal. “I might need your help. Keep an eye out.” And you dove once more into the waters of battle.

Swinging around it, you managed to devise a perfect plan to hit it in its weak spot, but as you propelled yourself towards the Titan it did something you’d never seen before.

One minute your horse was there, waiting for you.

The next it was smashed against a tree.

An inexplicable rage began to flow through your body. You’d had enough now. Losing your comrades was bad enough - losing your trusty sidekick was another. This horse had been yours. Yours and nobody else’s, and you had loved it to pieces. It had loved you, too.

But now it was in pieces.

Your throat emitted a strangled cry as you stabbed into the tender flesh of your attacker, cutting far deeper and far slower than you would’ve under normal circumstances. This absolute demon deserved its death; every painstaking moment of it. You were hardly aware of the fact that you were shouting for Bertholdt the entire time. You only felt your mouth moving, not the words that it was forming, calling for someone who wouldn’t come. Had he been hurt? You couldn’t see through the smoke as your opponent gave way to its pain.

“Bertholdt!” you yelled, trapped in the terrifying state of unsureness. Where had he gone? Was he okay? Please let him be okay, oh, please, please, please….

Your time to think was cut short as a thirteen-meter ran out to the left of the tree you’d perched yourself on. Was this possible? Did you have enough energy - enough supplies - to take on another - much less a large abnormal? You didn’t have a choice. As such, you braced yourself once more, and fired off into action. Calculate where its blind spots are. Where can it not see me?

The mental preparations had almost been finished when a fifteen-meter appeared, hot on the heels of its thirteen-meter friend. “Bertholdt!” It was pointless, but you couldn’t help it.

You had reached a point of pure hopelessness. You were going to die, just as all the soldiers you’d found today. Soon enough nobody would remember your name because you were just another dead body rotting in just another grave, alone, so, so alone.

If this was to be your end, you would go down fighting.

The tears in your eyes began to bubble over as you shot out frantically for the smaller, close titan, readying your blades with shaky hands. You had to remind yourself to breathe; to blink. You had to force your heart to keep going. Almost there, just a few feet left.

There was hardly a foot between you and the thirteen-meter when you felt what may have been to most excruciating shock of agony that you had ever - and would ever - experience. Your maneuvering gear was suddenly slammed back into your hips, the belts that connected it to your body constricting until they cut the circulation off, the buckle of the strap running just beneath your chest digging deep into your skin. A harrowing crack was heard as pain bloomed like a deadly flower across your ribs. Your screams were high and loud and labored and torturous, your lungs inflating and pressing against the shattered portion of your left chest with every mammoth inhale. You were crying now, crying so hard that the tears completely blurred your vision - or at least almost completely, because you then realized the cause of this horrendous pain.

The fifteen-meter titan had snapped one of your wires. And then, perhaps worst of all, it had grabbed you in one of its gigantic hands.

This was it.

You still found yourself screaming for him. There wasn’t any reason; you knew that. You knew you were only causing yourself more pain along the path of your death. You just had to. Had to go out knowing that there had been someone you’d really, truly, cared about; regardless of whether he cared for you the same way.

Please.

Just as it was about to completely encase you in its grasp, a ragged voice that was almost at first unrecognizable blared off. “Hold on, [y/n]!”

In a flash the two main fingers that had grabbed you were suddenly gone, sliced cleanly off by someone with immense skill. You fell inelegantly to the ground, softening your blow with the small amount of gas that remained in your gear, and felt your hands grow wet with the salty liquid spilling from your eyes. You couldn’t hear much of anything above your own sobs, but you felt the ground trembling beneath you as gargantuan steps were taken by the giant beasts that had nearly snuffed out your light. There was nothing more that you did besides put your face in the grass and weep. Weep for your friends, out there somewhere, perhaps meeting worse fates. Weep for those that had died at Battle of Trost. Weep for your pain. Weep for your fractured rib. Weep for yourself. Weep for the dead. Weep for the fact that you could have joined them.

Weep for the fact that the last living person anywhere near you could be killed within an instant.

Weep for the fact that you could hardly move your body to help him.

Two deafening crashes suddenly occurred, one directly after the other, and the ground convulsed for the last time.

“[Y/n]! Hold on.” You felt someone gently helping you to a sitting position, fingers timid and wary, as if their very touch could destroy you. “B-Bertl…”

“What happened?” He demanded, putting a hand around your back to help steady you and ease the pressure placed upon your injury. His eyes were brimming with fear and sadness and...something else that you couldn’t quite pinpoint.

Words came to you, but they failed to make it out of your mouth. “I - I…” you started, choking up, “I….”

You flung the arm of your uninjured side around him suddenly, pulling him to you, burying your head in his chest. You couldn’t speak. But you could hug. And Bertholdt, your greatest friend, your closest companion, your lifesaver, needed so much more.

His heart rate increased drastically as your face rested against it, the pumping of his blood audible due to your sheer closeness. And he hugged you back - so gently, so carefully, as though handling a wounded butterfly for the first time. “We’ll be alright,” he whispered, running a hand through your hair. He’d wanted to do that ever since he’d first met you - both embrace you and play with your locks. He was in need of just as much comfort as you were.

And you two formed that perfect equilibrium.

“Thank you.” The two words managed to float effortlessly from your mouth. “Thank you - s...so much…”

He pulled you closer. “I shouldn’t have left you like that.” His voice had relapsed into its typical reserved, soft sound. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” And, as you two held one another, it was.

No matter how much suffering you had seen or endured or lived or experienced or suffered, this moment, this one simple, tender, marvelous moment...it was enough to take the pain away.

“You’ll be fine, [y/n],” he continued, perhaps not directed at you so much as for you, “we’ll be found, and we will be alright.”

And, as you two held one another closer, you were.

61 notes · View notes

shingekinomyfeelings · 2 years ago

Text

Would You Still Love Me? Part 2

Reiner x fem reader; established relationship; college au; comedy-fluff

synopsis: Reiner's love for you is tested in a way neither of you saw coming... The next day, he discusses the issue with his friends. Think they'll be any help?

warnings: none

notes: Part 1 beta read by @reiner69er. Banner made by me. Dividers by @delishlydelightfuldividers. Comments help earthworms grow large and healthy!

taglist: @ariasfandom

“So...” Sasha blinks, peering into the jar that sits on the table in front of Reiner. “Y/n turned into a worm, and… you’re keeping her in a jar now?”

Reiner covers the container with a piece of paper again, stifling a yawn. He hadn’t slept much, and had to admit he had been a little gutted when he’d awoken that morning to see that you were still a worm. He’d hoped maybe you’d… sleep it off or something?

“The jar’s just temporary until the aquarium and things get here.”

“Aquarium? She’s not a fish, Reiner,” says Connie, who is busying trying to finish last week’s assignment before the professor collects them that day.

“The stuff I found online said she’ll do best in a habitat with alternating layers of sand and potting soil so there’s be enough nutrients and moisture. I was up late reading about it.” Reiner tiredly rubs his face as the others stare at him.

Bertholdt, who spent the night at Armin’s dorm, rolls his eyes but says nothing.

“And you brought her to class with you because…?” Ymir prompts, a smirk playing on her lips.

“I just want to keep an eye on her, in case she suddenly changes back or something. I’ve got her phone in my pocket, and if her family calls I wanna be able to tell them I know exactly where she is.”

There’s a deeply uncomfortable pause, and Ymir opens her mouth but is interrupted.

“Well, I think it’s sweet!” Historia declares, trying to avoid an escalation of whatever is going on with Reiner. “Reiner, how can you, uh, how can you tell the worm is a she?”

“Um...” Reiner shifts uncomfortably, a hint of a blush on his cheeks. “Well, Armin says earthworms are actually uhh...”

“They’re true simultaneous hermaphrodites.” Armin finishes the sentence for him. “They have both complete male and female reproductive organs. They can’t self fertilize, though, so in a way, they function as one sex as a time during mating.”

"Yeah," Reiner says gruffly. "But y/n is a she, because she's always been. That's how gender works, right?"

“Oh, that’s beautiful!” Ymir laughs. “You must be relieved, Reiner. You and your hermaphroditic girlfriend-worm make an adorable couple. I bet they’ll even make a Lifetime movie out of your story.”

“Haha, yeah!” Connie wheezes. “They can call it, ‘Worms of Endearment!’”

Reiner is too pissed off to admit that that’s actually pretty funny. You’d probably have laughed out loud, he thinks, if you weren’t currently a worm.

“I wanna see y/n up close and see if she remembers me!” Sasha says, grabbing the jar before the sleepy Reiner can stop her.

She removes the paper and reaches in and picks you up, but you’re wet and wiggly and almost immediately slip out of her fingers, falling several feet onto the filthy floor. Sasha freezes. The fear in the room is palpable as Reiner springs from his seat and dives across the table, falling gracelessly onto the floor and cupping his hands over you to shield you from the many pairs of surrounding feet. His gaze snaps to Sasha, and his golden eyes are icy enough to send the girl into a frantic apology.

“I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to drop the girlfriend!! – I mean, your worm! – I, I mean, I –”

With a low growl worthy of a dog guarding a marrow bone, Reiner orders to Connie, “Give me your water bottle.”

Too afraid to question why, Connie hands him the bottle. Reiner pours a little water onto his hands, then gingerly picks you up off of the floor and uses the rest of the water to carefully rinse you clean of any debris, before setting you back down in the dirt in your container. He’s practically holding his breath, watching until you start to burrow back into the soil.

He sighs in relief and gets to his feet and grabs his bag and slings it over his shoulder, then gives Sasha another dirty look before leaving the classroom, holding your jar in both hands as if it might jump away. Everyone watches, wide-eyed.

Ymir scoffs, breaking the tense silence. “Tsh, what a man child. His girlfriend skips their afternoon make out session for a day and he’s already doting on a literal bug and pretending it’s her? Sheesh, no wonder y/n dipped. What a freak show.”

“Well… worms aren’t bugs. They’re annelids.”

“Great defense, Arlert. I take it all back. Makes what he’s doing seem perfectly normal.”

Bertholdt stares at the table. It really isn’t like you to go somewhere without telling Reiner, or to leave your phone behind. Could something have really happened to you? He makes up his mind that he’ll have to find you himself.

As class ends and the room empties, Bertholdt motions to his friends to wait. “Have any of you seen or heard from y/n since yesterday afternoon? That’s when Reiner says she, um, turned into a worm.”

Armin shakes his head. “I asked Mikasa. She said that y/n has an evening class on Tuesdays, so she and Reiner always meet around 4:30 to hang out behind the auditorium. I... don’t know why she knows that. Anyway, she saw y/n leave one of the lecture halls not long before that. She said y/n seemed tired, and Mina Carolina says y/n didn’t show up to the evening lecture. Maybe she felt sick and went home? It still doesn’t quite make sense, though.”

"Could this all be some elaborate prank they're both playing, and Reiner is just a way better actor than any of us ever thought he'd be?" Eren asks, joining them. Armin and Bertholdt filled him in on the details last night.

“His having her cell phone is pretty suspicious,” Armin points out.

Ymir shrugs. “Maybe he killed her. Maybe he just snapped, and then the guilt made him break from reality and convince himself she turned into a worm.”

“Ah, that’s stupid,” Connie waves it off. "Reiner's practically golden retriever in human form around y/n. He'd never hurt her."

“Maybe he’s got a dual personality,” Ymir counters.

“Ymir, please don’t let Reiner hear you making jokes like that,” Bertholdt says with a sigh. “Skipping classes for a weird prank like this is a little extreme, right? Look, my theory is that they had some kind of dispute--”

“And he killed her.”

Bertholdt ignores Ymir’s interjection and continues, “And she told him she wanted to take a break, or maybe even break up. She was probably so upset by that that she skipped her evening class and went home, and Reiner was so devastated that he...”

“...went totally insane?” Connie offers.

“I was going to say, ‘retreated into a comforting fantasy.’”

“Okay, but, he doesn’t exactly seem comforted, does he?”

“It’s a little over the top,” Bert admits. “But even though Reiner acts like a jock, he’s always been really sensitive deep down. When we were little, Porco told him the Rugrats all died in a plane crash and Reiner cried so hard he threw up a little.”

“So, if you’re right, how do we snap him out of it?” Eren wonders.

“What if we get rid of the worm? We could sneak in and take it and let it go somewhere. Maybe once the worm is really gone, he’ll have to face reality.”

“Wow, Armin, that’s cold!” says Connie. “And besides, Reiner might literally kill us. You saw how he looked at Sasha when she dropped y/n by accident.”

Bert thinks for a moment. “I... I don’t think I could do that to Reiner. I think the first step would be getting him to admit something went wrong between them. Then maybe the rest will fall into place. I’ll try to get him talking tonight. In the meantime, I think we should avoid mentioning the worm around him, even if he’s carrying it around. That’ll just encourage his fantasy, right?”

As they all file out into the hallway, the others seem to agree, and as they go their separate ways, Ymir can be heard whining to Historia, “If I disappeared, would you go insane and pretend I’d turned into a worm because you love me so much?”

Bertholdt, meanwhile, wonders where Reiner was headed with the worm...

Part 3 coming soon

120 notes · View notes

pinkmirth · 3 years ago

Note

I LOVE YOUR BLOG SO MUCH WTFFF oh my god if you’re taking requests some bertholdt bf hcs + smut would be much appriciated

THANK YOU SM NONNIE 💕! bertl’s the sweetest guy ever and I just wanna lather him in kisses :) here’s a cluster of headcanons for him because he deserves it <3

— bertholdt hoover headcanons.

pairing: bertholdt hoover x f!reader

summary: a combination of fluff (and) smutty headcanons for bert!

content + warnings: sfw content, nsfw/smut, all characters are aged up (18+), somnophilia, size kink, oral (female and male receiving), female bodied reader, minors DNI with the nsfw segment of this post!

word count: 800+

( SFW! )

his body always feels really warm. bertl’s literally a walking heater. considering this, you have no clue why he’s always wearing long sleeves and fluffy sweaters.

has tons of coins in his pockets. tell this mf to get a piggy bank because you can hear all his loose change jangling around whenever he walks :0

he’s a menace in his own way ‘cause he can sleep in just about anything. dude gets so tired that he casually ends up falling asleep in something like jeans…

adding onto this by saying that he falls asleep anywhere. a simple park date between the two of you results in him dozing off on a bench.

bertholdt does pottery! he’s made a whole set of plates, bowls, vases and mugs for your kitchen and it's the sweetest thing ever.

this man cracks his fingers a lot. he just be poppin’ them hoes all the time.

he has really long lashes; to be more specific, bertholdt just the prettiest eyes ever. the soft look in his pale green irises makes him seem so sweet.

he’s accidentally kicked a child before… in his defense, with his height he could hardly see the poor kid 😭

for whatever reason, he isn’t very fond of armin. (because you were dared to kiss the blonde at a party and he hasn’t let it go since :/)

bertl loves applesauce. don't ask why, he just does.

he acts as though you guys aren’t an official couple sometimes, it's as if he’s still in the crush phase. like, he’ll get all flustered when you shoot him a nice compliment, or if there’s the slightest hint of physical contact between you, he’s blushing like a middle schooler that’s got a bad case of puppy love. he just can’t seem to get used to the affection. you’re just like ‘haven’t we been dating for forever now???’

he falls for people really easily, love at first sight type shit. it’s probably rooted in his yearn for others to truly acknowledge him.

bertholdt is extremely (scarily) punctual. he prefers going somewhere an hour early rather than a minute late.

gets annoyed really easily, but lets things go even quicker. you could watch him roll his eyes over something and he’s smiling a second later like boy I thought you were mad 😭!?!??

he’s adopted the habit of putting his feet on you just to mess with you. it’s annoyingly cute.

he’s always beside you. it’s that he’s either latched onto your arm, or standing behind you with his hand on your hip. bertl’s so touchy and doesn’t even notice it, he just wants to be close to you. he’s the literal epitome of following someone around like a lost puppy.

loves to wrap his arms around your torso. he feels big and confident when encircling your middle and pulling you close to him, and he utterly loves how you lean into him. he just absorbs your warmth with red-tinted cheeks and a rapidly beating heart.

( NSFW! )

this man goes crazy for (consented!) somnophilia. whether it be on you or him, he doesn’t care— he just loves it.

you commonly wake up to his pussy-drunk self making out with your cunt. he scrutinizes your expressions, takes in your breathy moans, peering up at you with such pleading eyes. he’s begging you to let go, to cum in his mouth. he lets out the lewdest sounds when you finally release, drinking up your essence and licking you clean.

and when you surprise him with a blowjob while he’s asleep? that’s what he likes to call paradise. once he wakes, he's growing stiff against your spit-lathered lips, softly moaning over the lazy pump of your hand running against his shaft. climaxes so fast that it’s practically embarrassing. he dirties your face with his cum, his chest heaving and face painted with scattered blush.

absolute king at fingering omgg!!! he knows how to put those lithe fingers to work. just one digit can make a total mess out of you.

his happy trail is a beauty to behold. whenever his lean frame is revealed, you can’t tear your eyes away from his pelivs. just yes.

big dick bertholdt!!!!!!!!! must I say more?

he hits so fucking deep, I don’t think he realizes how big he is. the shallowest thrust from him is already hitting your guts like damn. he’ll never get over how he’s able to make you to fall apart so quickly.

SIZE KINK SIZE KINK SIZE KIIINK! did I say size kink? because he fucking loves that. having sex with you really opens his eyes to how big he is. because fuck, how is he able to tower over you so easily? he’d never admit to how cocky it makes him; being able to bend you to his will, with the help of his huge hands, convincing smile, and long fucking cock.

#bertl <3 #— harmoni writes #— (💕) harmoni loves bertl #not sfw #bertholdt smut #bertholdt hoover smut #bertholdt x reader #bertholdt thirst #snk smut #aot smut #bertholt smut #୨୧ — isla writes #୨୧ — mira writes!#౨ৎ — 𝓂𝓎 𝓁ℴ𝓋ℯ 𝓈𝓉ℴ𝓇𝒾ℯ𝓈!

742 notes · View notes

elonmuskoutpizzasthehut · 3 years ago

Text

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐬 𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭? 𝐀𝐨𝐭

ᴀᴏᴛ sᴘᴏʟɪᴇʀs?

ʟᴇᴠɪ

None. I don't think I have to even explain, but if it's soooo important after all the titans and dangers are done he might agree to adopt

ʜᴀɴᴊɪ

Yes. They would love to have children adopting or not. She could teach them all about titans! They would love to have children with their lover<333

ᴇʀᴡɪɴ

If he were to even get with someone he would probably have 2-3 children or just one but also comes with terms to what his partner wants. And it HAS to be after the war is over and dangers are gone (even tho he wasn't alive for that long)

ᴍɪᴄʜᴇ

1-2 I just feel like he would be that type of person. Just dont make him change diapers pls

ᴢᴇᴋᴇ

1-2 maybe 3 he would be a great father and would have the biggest soft spot for his kids, because he wouldn't want them to go threw the same pain he did

ᴘɪᴇᴄᴋ

1 would love them and would probably have more but likes to not be woken up at night

ᴘᴏʀᴄᴏ

1-3 I feel like he would go for three only because someone said he wouldn't be able to do it so he tried to prove then wrong. He loves all of them tho <3

ᴀʀᴍɪɴ

Would LOVE to have a child or children. I just feel like he would worry so much :( Would make sure he knows EVERYTHING before actually trying to have one (I also feel like he has the genes for twins)

ᴇʀᴇɴ

1 and only one. He wouldn't know what to do, he would love them with all his heart but have no clue what he's doing :( would be deathly tired from just the first two days

ᴍɪᴋᴀsᴀ

Doesn't care, she would love to have children but if her lover isn't into that she'll convince them to at least have one

ᴊᴇᴀɴ

1-2 did u see that cutscene with him and Mikasa? He's gonna have at least one or two he would probably actually be pretty good at parenting, but would be that one embrassing dad

ᴄᴏɴɴʏ

1 maybe 2 I feel like he would want a family but not a huge one just a small comfy family :)

sᴀsʜᴀ

I feel like she would fall into the same footsteps as her parents and take in children as their own but she might want at least one biological one

ʀᴇɴɪᴇʀ

Yes. Would worry a lot about dying and stuff because of his titan powers. Though he would love to have a family huge or small he doesn't care (I also feel like he has twin genes as well)

ʙᴇʀᴛᴏʟᴅᴏʟᴛ (ʜᴏᴡ ᴅᴏ ᴜ sᴘᴇʟʟ ʜɪs ɴᴀᴍᴇ?)

1-2 idk I just feel like he would have that many and for no reason at all. His kids would be super tall as well

ᴀɴɴɪᴇ

None. She's chill with her lover and a cat

ʜɪsᴛᴏʀɪᴀ

Probably 1 biological and 1 adopted I just feel like she would feel bad to not give at least 1 orphan a home

ʏᴍɪʀ

Doesn't care whatever Historia wants

𝐒𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐟𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐏𝐨𝐧𝐲𝐨 (𝐛𝐭𝐰 𝐏𝐨𝐧𝐲𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐢𝐭)

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭?

#armin x gender neutral reader #levi x reader #hanji zoe #erwin x reader #eren jaeger #reiner x reader #annie leonhardt #zeke jaeger #jean x gender neutral reader #connie springer #sasha braus #bertholt hoover #pieck aot #aot headcanons

258 notes · View notes

mommypieck · 2 years ago

Note

jerking Bertholdt’s cock and edging him until he cries. that’s it. that’s the post

he's so shy, hiding his face in his hands. he isn't sure if he should hide his red cheeks or the moan he's letting out. he just looks so good!! his cock is red and leaking all over your hand. u love how big he is in your hand, u can't even touch your finger together at his thickness.

"please y/n, let me cum." he whines into his sweater sleeve, his body is basically shaking at the stimulation. you have been torturing his cock for a while now.

"not yet, bertie." you purr into his ear, your hand stroking faster, other hand massaging his balls.

you almost feel sorry when you see little tears forming in his eyes.

"shh it's okay." you whisper, kissing his cheek to stop him from crying. bert can only mumble serious of pleas and cry, his hands trying to stop your first from moving.

"cum now." you whisper in his ear. u don't have to say more because he's squirting cum all over your hand and the couch. he always cums a lot but you're literally drenched in his cum.

#aot smut #aot x reader #attack on titan #snk #aot headcanons #attack on titan smut #attack on titan bertholdt #bertholdt x reader #snk bertholdt #bertholdt hoover #bertholt hoover #bertholdt smut #aot bertholdt #bertholdt hoover x reader #bertholdt hoover smut

749 notes · View notes

reinerswarrior · 1 year ago

Text

Just Say It Already

Public exhibition, oral, cursing and pressure on poor Berty

The blondes master plan was to take the other in to the bad side of town and give him some practice in standing up for himself with a unruly people, but he didn’t. He had been approached my an unruly male, who had made fun of him and the blonde waited to see what bertholdt would do but the taller mail just shrunk behind him if he could actually hide his 6’3 form behind the others 6’1

Now Reiner was annoyed after trying all day and nothing worked so now he didn’t know what else to do “You’re a warrior, Bertholdt..Act like one..” he grumbled as he stared at the other with a glare and Bertholdt could feel sweat rolling down his back at this point as the other was staring him down

“I am..B-But that doesn’t mean I’m able to do that..What if they fight back?I don’t want to fight anyone for no reason!” He objects and he sees Reiners expression sour instantly “Fuck that..They are devils,they deserve to be put in thier place” he says as his golden eyes darted around and he raked his fingers through his sandy blonde hair as his adams apple bobbed in annoyance “I don’t know why you just won’t do it”

"I-Im sorry but I just couldnt-!" Bertholdt insisted and Reiner just frowned as he reached out and grabbed his wrist. He really thought Bertholdt would of done so but he was surprised yet not surprised that he didnt. "Cmon...me and you are going to have a talk" He says as he shook his head and he led the meek male with him towards the next smaller alleyway and as soon as they entered it, he shoved Bertholdt in front of him and the taller male stumbled against the wall

"Damn it.. Why cant you just say fuck you?" Reiner sighed as he stared at the other then his lips parted "Fuck you-!" He hissed at Bertholdt "Fuck you...Fuck you...Fuck you-!" He repeated before he threw his hands up in the air "See? It's not that hard-!... Just say it-!"

He insists but bertholdt couldnt speak past the lump in his throat and he just whined but then he felt lips crashing onto his neck and the all familiar press of Reiner's chest and hips against his

"Oh Bear...." Reiner sighed, using the nickname that melted Bertholdt like butter. "I wish you could just do it.. Stand up for yourself so I dont have to" He says as he nuzzled his neck and the lanky male wrapped his long arms around Reiner but Reiner grunted as he pushed them back against the wall "I'm not going to give up till your able to say it" He says and Bertholdt knew exactly what he meant

"I'm not going to curse at you Reiner" he tries to say gently but then he was struck into silence as the blonde began to shrink...or rather he was slowly going to his knees as hsi rough hands lifted Bertholdt's sweater and his button up below it "Wait Reiner.. What are you doing-?!" Bertholdt gasped but the only thing that answered him was the clicking of his belt getting unbuckled.

"O-Oh god-" Bertholdt began but Reiner was already yanking down the front of Bertholdt's Tan trousers and he felt his erection getting pulled out. wait- when did he even get hard? It must of been as soon as he was pushed against the damn wall....of course Reiner knew his weaknesses.

"We cant-! I can see people...They can see us-!" Bertholdt was gripping the others hair wildly as his heart raced and his back was drenched with sweat as his eyes darted wildly.

They were indeed in front of everyone who looked thier way but no one had noticed yet. "They're probably used to it.. This is that kind of place around here...We can do shit like this and no one will judge" Reiner says and he was fully prepared to pull away if the other said the safe word to get him to legitimately stop but he noticed the hands in his hair were not trying to push him away so he continued to pull Bertholdt long slippery erection out

Bertholdt's eyes squeezed shut as Reiner went down on him and he wasnt used to topping but he liked this...His mouth was so warm.. And so easy to thrust in.. Which he did ever so slightly and he felt so good he almost forgot there were people around. At the memory his eyes shot open and sure enough he met eyes with a stranger across the street and instantly he hunched over Reiner's head, His torso curling around it and he felt Reiner choke and gag around him as the movement made him deepthroat him. That was hot.

He was distracted again as he looked back up at the stranger but they had already made their way by and paid them no more mind "Oh Reiner..I cant...I cant believe...Fuck...You feel...Your mouth..Your throat..Your spit-...Ah-....oh god...oh-..." He moaned out in a jumble as he looked down and his erection was throbbing wildly. He was so excited at being watched by strangers, he knew it was a new kink he had just uncovered and he wasnt going to last

Then he looked down and saw that the blonde with a red face and he had tears running down his red cheeks from being forced to take the long cock of the taller male and white hot fire pumped through his gut "Oh Reiner...Oh...oh I-..Oh-" then he looked up again and he met eyes with none other than the man at the beginning "Fuck you-!" He cried out as his orgasm struck, making him arch his back and his head tilted back in his orgasm, hitting the back of his head on the wall while he heard the gurgle of his seed choking Reiner as he gripped his head and forced him to deepthroat till he stopped cumming.

The stranger just chuckled before continuing on his way. He reached up to scratch his chin before rolling his eyes. "Damn idiots" He murmured "Braun owes me" Meanwhile Reiner pulled off of Bertholdt and tucked his lovers softening cock back into his pants and adjusted his belt back to normal before getting to his feet with a grunt "There we go.. Good job..." He murmured, his voice strained as he wiped his mouth, wiping off the access seed of his lover "Now.. we're going to go home.. and you can curse at me as much as you want while I take care of my lil issue.." He says, gesturing down to his erection tenting his slacks and Bertholdt couldn’t be sure but he could see it twitching from here as Reiners voice rasped;

“We can practice more later~”

#reiner+smut #reiner braun smut #reiner smut #reiner braun #reiner x reader #bertholdt hoover smut #bertholdt smut #bertholt smut #reiner x bertholdt

69 notes · View notes