𝓼𝓬𝓪𝓻𝓵𝓮𝓽𝓽 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚

levi has your back pressed against the shelves before the door even fully closes. the dustiness of the closet doesn’t matter to him because his mouth is on yours again, quick and hungry. his hand braces beside your head, fingers gripping the wood, while the other holds your waist.

he kisses you like he argues with others, determined to stay in command, and then you tilt your head and kiss him back harder, and he nearly falls apart. damn you, he thinks, feeling the heat climb all the way to his ears. 

you pull back to look at him. his face is unmistakably flushed, a bright red spread across his cheeks. his lips are swollen, his pupils wide. 

“you look a little off, captain.”

“i look fine,” he argues.

you smile wickedly. “fine? then why are you blushing like that?” you poke his cheek.

“s-shut up.”

he hates that you can do this to him. he hates that one teasing look from you can leave him feeling lightheaded and hot all over. he hates, more than anything, that he wants more of it.

you lean in until your lips nearly touch his again. “make me.”

levi stares at you, then kisses you again with a frustrated sound in his throat, all pent-up embarrassment and want. he’s trying to hard to seem unaffected. it would be convincing if he weren’t practically shaking.

you slide your fingers into his hair, and the reaction is immediate. he inhales sharply against your mouth, then presses closer. oh for fuck’s sake, he thinks. you can definitely tell. he knows you can, and he feels like an idiot.

when you kiss the corner of his mouth, then trail lower to his jaw, he nearly loses what remains of his dignity. “you’re cute like this,” you say.

levi makes a strangled noise that might have passed for a scoff if it wasn’t so out of breath. “cute?”

“mhm.” you press your lips to his, smiling against them when he follows you the moment you start to pull away. “flustered. all clingy and red like a damn tomato.”

“i am not clingy.” he says it while holding your waist with both hands now. he drops his forehead to yours for a moment, trying to collect himself though the effort is pointless. his breath fans warm across your lips. his eyes stay half-lidded, dazed but filled with want.

“this is your fault,” he mutters. “you keep provoking me.”

you brush your nose against his. “and you keep kissing me back.”

levi has no retort. he only stares at you, red to the tips of his ears, and then his expression shifts. “tch. then stop talking.”

he doesn’t bother trying to hide it anymore. he’ll own his flushed face anytime if it means getting to be this close to you.

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You keep your voice soft. Almost casual.

“If I asked you to…” You pause, let your fingers drift lower, tracing the sharp line of his hip. “…eat me out. Would you?”

Levi goes completely still.

You feel it: the sudden hitch in his breathing, the way his hand freezes mid-stroke on your back, the faint heat that floods his neck and ears even in the dim light. His eyes snap to yours, startled, like you just suggested he strip naked in the mess hall and sing to the Squad.

For a long second he doesn’t speak. Just stares. Then:

“What the fuck did you just say?”

His voice is scandalized in a way you’ve never heard from him. Not angry. Not disgusted. Just… utterly thrown. Like his brain short-circuited and rebooted in the wrong language.

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling.

“You heard me.”

He blinks once. Twice. His mouth opens, closes. Opens again.

“You—” He exhales sharply through his nose, drags a hand down his face. “You’re lying there with cracked ribs and half your body looking like it lost a fight with an Abnormal, and your first thought is...”

He gestures vaguely between your legs, then immediately regrets it and drops his hand like it burned him.

“That?”

You shrug one shoulder, the uninjured one. “Not my first thought. Just… a thought.”

He makes a sound somewhere between a scoff and a strangled noise. His ears are bright red now. You’ve seen him covered in blood, seen him kill without blinking, seen him clean an entire kitchen at three in the morning. You have never seen him this flustered.

“You’re impossible,” he mutters. But there’s no bite in it. Just disbelief. And maybe, buried under layers of composure cracking, a flicker of something hotter.

You shift closer, let your thigh slide higher against his. His breath catches again.

“I’m serious,” you say quietly. “If you wanted to. If you ever wanted to.”

He swallows. Hard. Looks anywhere but your face for a second before forcing his gaze back.

“I’m not—” He stops. Starts over. “That’s not… I don’t just—”

He cuts himself off, jaw tight. You can practically hear the gears grinding in his head: propriety, control, the fact that he’s Levi fucking Ackerman and people don’t talk to him like this. Let alone ask him to...

He exhales again, longer this time. Rubs the back of his neck.

“You’re still hurt,” he says finally. Like that’s the most important objection. “You can barely move without wincing.”

“I’d lie still,” you offer. “You’d do all the work.”

His eyes darken at that, pupils blowing just enough to notice. But he still looks scandalized. Almost comically so.

“You—” He points a finger at you. “You have no shame.”

“None,” you agree, smiling now.

He stares at you like he’s trying to decide whether to bolt from the room or pin you to the cot and prove a point. His hand flexes against your hip then settles there, thumb brushing slow circles through the fabric of your borrowed shirt.

“I’m not saying no,” he mutters at last. Barely audible. “I’m saying… not tonight. Not when you’re still bleeding through bandages.”

You nod. Fair.

“But you’re thinking about it.”

He glares. It’s half-hearted.

“Shut up.”

You laugh, ignoring the pain on your ribs, and press your face back into the crook of his neck. He smells like the perfect mix of smoke and mint.

His arm comes around you tighter. Protective and possessive at the same time.

After a minute, so quiet you almost miss it:

“…Maybe when you’re healed.”

You feel the words more than hear them, vibrated against your skin.

You smile against his throat. “I’ll hold you to that.”

He huffs. But he doesn’t pull away.

Sasuke. The name sat in your chest, you had watched him from afar for years, that dark haired boy who moved like the world owed him nothing but silence. He never joined the games or the easy laughter. He just trained, eyes sharp, body always pushing harder than anyone else. It made you feel small sometimes, your own childish joys were pointless next to whatever fire burned in him.

Now you were supposed to marry him. Live with him. Share a house and a life with someone whose voice you could count on one hand. The thought twisted something deep inside you, a mix of fear and fluttering curiosity that would not leave you alone. What did he think when he heard the news? Did his face stay blank the way it always did? Did his hands clench at his sides or did he simply nod, accepting his fate?

The wedding day arrived too fast. Your parents dressed you in a simple white kimono that clung to your skin in all the wrong ways, the fabric stiff and unfamiliar. They pinned flowers in your hair while you stood there quiet, heart hammering so loud you were sure everyone could hear it. No grand event, a small shrine and the necessary words to bind two clans together. You did not see Sasuke until the moment you stepped into the hall.

You walked toward him slowly, eyes fixed on the floor at first because looking up felt too real. When you finally lifted your gaze, there he was. Sasuke stood straight and still in his dark formal clothes, hair falling across his forehead the same way it always had. His expression gave nothing away. Those dark eyes watching you approach from a distance. It made your stomach drop. Was he angry? Relieved? Did he even see you as a person or just another duty?

The priest spoke the words and you repeated them with a voice that sounded too small even to your own ears. Sasuke said his part when it was time, each syllable precise but empty of warmth. You searched his face the whole time, desperate for something, anything, but he remained closed off. That silence wrapped around you like a second skin. It pressed on your chest, made your hands tremble as you exchanged the small cups of sake. 

After the ceremony came the quiet ride to the estate. The carriage moved through the trees and you sat across from him, knees touching in the small space. You wanted to say something to break the heavy air between you. Maybe ask if he was okay with this. Maybe tell him you were scared too. But the words stuck in your throat. 

Sasuke stared out the window most of the time, jaw set, one hand resting on his knee. Every so often his eyes would shift toward you, before going back to the passing scenery. It left you guessing, heart racing with questions that had no answers. Did he resent you for this arrangement? Did a tiny part of him feel the same nervous pull you did?

The estate was beautiful, large rooms with polished floors and sliding doors that let in soft light. Servants showed you both around quickly and then left you alone, the heavy front gate closing behind them with a final sound that echoed in your bones. Now it was just the two of you. You stood in the main room, fingers twisting in the sleeves of your kimono, watching as Sasuke walked to the window and looked out at the garden without a word.

The quiet stretched. You cleared your throat softly. “This... this is a lot, isn’t it?” 

Your voice came out barely above a whisper. He did not turn around right away. When he did, his eyes met yours for a second that felt endless. He gave a small nod. “You can keep this room, I’ll stay next door.”

“Oh,” you said, even though you knew it was the best decision. There was no reason for you to stay in the same room, you weren’t going to do anything, but somehow it felt like a rejection. 

Sasuke didn’t say anything back, he crossed the room and locked himself in the room in front of yours, not even taking his luggage with him. 

That first night was hard. You barely sleep, your body tensing with the need to cry but nothing felt worthy enough for crying. You were seventeen, married to a boy who felt like a stranger, and the weight of his silence pressed on you more than any loud argument ever could. In the dark you reached out and touched the empty side of the futon, imagining what it might feel like if he ever let you in.

The first month dragged on, mornings started the same way every day. You would wake up in the large futon, the space beside you cold and untouched and stare at the ceiling for hours. Sasuke was gone before the sun rose most times, slipping out for training, missions or whatever kept him away from the estate. You rarely heard him leave. He moved quietly and efficiently, leaving no trace except the faint sound of the door sliding shut.

When you did catch glimpses of him, it hurt more than his absence. You would step into the kitchen for water and find him there, standing by the counter with a cup in hand. Your heart would jump, a stupid little spark of hope lighting up inside your chest. Maybe today he would look at you. But his dark eyes would flick over you for half a second, then slide away. He would finish whatever he was doing and walk past you, close enough that you could smell the faint scent of sweat and metal from his training.

That silence carved into you deeper each time. You started staying in your room more and more, the thought of walking through the empty halls made your stomach twist. What was the point? The estate was beautiful, with its wide gardens and soft light filtering through the paper screens, but it all felt like a cage now. You stopped going outside. The flowers blooming in the courtyard might as well have been gray. Everything felt tedious, heavy, even lifting your arms to brush your hair took too much effort. Meals sat cold on the tray the servants left by your door. You picked at them without tasting anything, then pushed the food away.

Loneliness settled over you, suffocating and familiar all at once. At night you lay there listening to the quiet house, wondering where Sasuke was. In his room, sharpening blades. Or maybe he was staring out at the moon, thinking about you. You replayed every small moment from your childhood in your head, trying to find some sign that he had noticed you back then. But there was nothing. He had always been focused on his own world, training until his hands bled.

You felt yourself fading. The girl who used to sneak glances at him during training, who laughed with her friends and dreamed about silly things, she was slipping away. You barely recognized the face in the mirror anymore. Your eyes looked dull, your hair hung limp because brushing it felt pointless. You stopped changing out of your sleep clothes some days. Why bother? No one was there to see you. Sasuke did not care. Your parents were far away, busy with their alliances and their plans. It was just you and the crushing weight of his indifference.

One afternoon you forced yourself to the main room, hoping maybe he would be there. You found him instead by the window again, back turned to you as he cleaned his kunai. Your throat tightened. You wanted to scream at him, to ask why he never spoke, why he acted like you did not exist. 

The words burned on your tongue but stayed trapped there. What if he confirmed it? What if he said out loud that this marriage meant nothing to him? The fear of that answer kept you frozen. So you stood there in the doorway, watching the way his shoulders moved, the sharp line of his jaw and felt a familiar ache bloom in your chest. A mix of longing and resentment with warmth that refused to die no matter how much his silence hurt.

You retreated back to your room without a word. Curled up on the futon, you pressed your face into the pillow and let the tears come quietly. They soaked the fabric but made no sound, the last thing you wanted was him to hear you. Not that he would come check anyway. The days blurred together after that. You lost track of time, sleeping during the day and lying awake at night, replaying the wedding ceremony in your mind. 

You felt lost, everything you used to enjoy felt distant now. Reading made your eyes hurt and thinking about the future filled you with dread. You were seventeen, married to a boy who was a stranger, living in a beautiful prison where the loudest thing was the silence between you. And through it all, Sasuke remained unknowable. You never knew what he was thinking behind those dark eyes. 

The night air felt cooler than usual, you had slipped out to the porch hours ago, unable to stay curled up in your room any longer. The walls had started closing in again, pressing down with all the emptiness of the past month. So you sat there on the wooden edge, knees drawn up to your chest, the thin fabric of your sleep robe clinging to your skin. Tears came without warning, spilling over as the weight of everything crashed down.

You did not hear him approach, Sasuke moved too quietly for that. But suddenly there was a presence behind you, a shift in the air that made the hairs on your neck stand up. You kept your head down, refusing to look. Let him see. Let him walk away like always.

“What are you doing out here?” 

You did not answer, instead you wiped at your cheeks roughly, staring out at the dark garden where fireflies flickered. Ignoring him felt like the only power you had left in this house. He had ignored you for weeks, now it was your turn, even if it made your chest ache worse.

Sasuke lingered there, you could feel his gaze on your back. “It’s late,” he said finally. Always so damn quiet. “You should go inside.”

That was it? After all the days of nothing, that was what he chose to say? Something inside you twisted, you turned your head just enough to glance at him over your shoulder. He stood a few feet away, arms crossed loosely, his expression gave away nothing. 

You looked away again, hugging your knees tighter. “Why do you care?” Your voice came out softer than you meant.

He did not respond right away. You heard him shift his weight, the faint rustle of his clothes. When he spoke again, it was even lower. “You’re my wife.”

“It does not feel like it.” You still wouldn’t face him fully

You could sense him processing your words, but who knew what was really going on behind those dark eyes? Did he feel guilty? Annoyed that you were forcing this conversation? Or did it mean nothing to him, just another inconvenience in his focused life?

“I did not ask for this either,” he said after a long pause. His tone stayed flat, but there was something underneath it. Or maybe you were imagining it because you needed to believe he felt something. 

You swallowed hard, fresh tears burning your eyes. “Why do you act like I do not exist? I sit in that room every day wondering if you hate me for this arrangement, or if you just... do not care enough to even look at me.” Your voice cracked on the last part, but you kept it quiet. “I feel like I am disappearing, Sasuke.”

He took another step closer now. You could see his hand at his side, fingers flexing once before stilling. “I train. I have duties. That has not changed.” 

“You think I do not know that?” You finally turned to face him, eyes red and swollen, cheeks wet. “You always trained as a kid, I admired it back then. But now I cry out here alone because the quiet in this house is too loud, and you finally show up just to ask what I am doing? Like it is some inconvenience.”

Sasuke’s jaw tightened just a fraction, his eyes met yours for a longer moment than usual, holding secrets you could not read. “What do you want me to say?” he asked, voice rough. “That this is easy? That I know how to do this? I do not.”

The admission hung between you, it was not much, but it was more than he had given in weeks. Yet it was not enough. Not when the loneliness had already carved so deep. You wanted to reach out, to touch his arm or demand he look at you properly, but the fear of him pulling away kept your hands still. 

“I want you to see me,” you whispered, turning back toward the garden. "That’s all.”

But then his voice came, low and raw in a way you had never heard before. It cracked just a little at the edges. “I see you. And I see someone who deserves more than this. I see someone whose life I’ve ruined.”

The words caught you unexpectedly, your breath caught and for a moment the whole world narrowed to the need and sudden desperation of his voice. He thought he had ruined you. Your mind spun with it all, the ache in his tone mixing with the loneliness that had been eating at you for weeks. You wanted to turn around, to look at his face and try to understand what that meant to him, but you could not. Your eyes burned fresh with tears and your throat closed up tight. Speechless. Completely speechless. The weight of what he admitted pressed down so hard that you could not even form a reply.

Instead you pushed yourself up on shaky legs, not glancing back at him. You walked away from the porch, feet moving almost on their own through the sliding doors and down the hall to your room. The floorboards creaked softly under you but you barely noticed. All you could hear was his voice repeating in your head. He saw you, he thought he had ruined your life. 

What did that even mean coming from someone like Sasuke, who never showed his thoughts? You closed the door behind you and leaned against it, sliding down until you were sitting on the floor with your face in your hands. 

You stayed in your room for the next week and he stayed away too. It was like both of you were ghosts haunting the same house but never crossing paths. Sleep came in broken pieces, filled with dreams of his dark eyes watching you from a distance. During the day you sat by your window sometimes, staring at the garden without really seeing it. 

The loneliness had not gone away. He made everything more confusing. He saw you as someone ruined by this marriage, by him. Did that mean he cared enough to feel bad? You never knew with Sasuke. His silence had always done that to you, leaving you to fill in the blanks with your own tangled emotions.

Then one night, close to midnight, a soft knock sounded on your door. You sat up in the futon, heart suddenly racing. No one knocked at this hour. You stayed quiet at first, unsure, but the knock came again, gentle but there. Slowly you got up and padded over, sliding the door open just a crack.

Sasuke was there. On his knees.

He knelt right in the doorway, head slightly bowed, dark hair falling forward to hide most of his expression. His shoulders were tense, hands resting on his thighs, the sight of him like that, the proud and quiet Sasuke on his knees in front of your room, made something inside your chest crack wide open. 

He did not look up right away. Your mind raced with questions. He was so close, yet still so unknowable.

“I…” He stayed on his knees, not moving to stand. You watched the subtle rise and fall of his shoulders, wondering what thoughts were hidden behind those lowered eyes. After all the days of nothing, this gesture felt huge and terrifying at the same time.

Now here he was, kneeling as if waiting for judgment. And you still did not know what he was truly thinking, only that his silence had shaped every feeling you carried for him since you were kids. The quiet boy who trained alone had grown into this man who could break your heart with a few raw words and a single gesture in the dark.

For a long moment nothing happened. The silence stretched between you again, the same heavy quiet that had defined every day of this marriage. Then his shoulders started to tremble.

Just a slight shake that you almost missed in the dim light. But then his breathing hitched and when he finally lifted his head to look at you, his dark eyes were glassy with tears. He was crying. Right there on his knees in your doorway, tears slipping down his cheeks one after another. His jaw clenched hard like he was fighting it, but it only made the tears fall faster. His hands fisted on his thighs, knuckles white and a broken sound escaped his throat. 

“I... I’m sorry,” he whispered. The words came out messy, stumbling over each other after he had held them in for too long. “Forgive me. Please. I ruined everything for you. I’ve seen it every day in how you hide away, in the way you look at me like I’m already gone.” 

He kept going, the tears streaming freely now, cutting tracks down his face. His usual mask had shattered completely. Sasuke looked like a complete mess, shoulders hunched forward, dark hair sticking to his wet cheeks. He did not wipe the tears away. 

“I never wanted this for you. You were always there. I saw you when we were younger sometimes, reading under the trees while I trained. I noticed. But I did not know how to... I still do not know how. This marriage, this house, it trapped you with someone who only knows how to push people away.”

Your heart pounded so hard it echoed in your ears. All those nights you had cried alone, wondering if he even thought about you. All the times he had walked past without a word. And now here he was, falling apart in front of you. His silence had always left you guessing, and even in this moment part of you wondered if this was guilt talking. But the tears on his face looked honest. Painfully so.

“I want to take care of you,” he continued,voice rough with emotion. “If you’ll let me. I don’t deserve it. I know I don’t. But every day I have stayed away because I thought it would be better for you. I was wrong, I see that now. You deserve more than an empty house and a husband who hides. Let me try. Please.”

He bowed his head again after that, forehead nearly touching the floor in front of your feet. His back shook with silent sobs that he tried to hold back, but they slipped through anyway. The sight of it made fresh tears burn in your own eyes. You wanted to reach out and touch his hair, to pull him up and tell him it was okay. But your legs felt weak and your throat was too tight. Part of you still ached from all the days he had ignored you, from feeling like you were disappearing in this beautiful prison. Another part felt a rush of warmth at his words, at the way he had finally cracked open even a little. You had spent so long wondering what was in his head. Now some of it was spilling out and it left you speechless all over again.

“Come inside,” you whispered finally. 

You stepped back and slid the door open wider. Sasuke lifted his head slowly, eyes red and glistening, searching your face like he was afraid you might change your mind. He rose to his feet on unsteady legs and followed you into the room. The door closed softly behind him with a sound that sealed the two of you in this small space filled with all the loneliness and confusion of the past month.

Both of you were still dressed in your day clothes. Yours were rumpled from hiding away, his carried the faint scent of the night air and training. You moved first, hesitant but sure, reaching for the ties of his outer robe. Your fingers trembled a little as you loosened them, helping him shrug it off his shoulders. He did not stop you. Sasuke just stood there, letting you peel away the layers with careful hands. It was intimate in a way that made your cheeks warm, it felt like tending to something wounded. You didn’t say anything about his bruises or scars.

He returned the favor after a moment, his calloused fingers working gently at the sash of your robe. His touch was light, scared to break you further. You helped each other in silence, folding the clothes neatly and setting them aside. Underneath you both wore simple sleeping garments, nothing fancy, the soft fabric that made the moment feel even more real. Skin brushed skin accidentally, a shoulder here, a wrist there, sending small shivers through you each time. You kept your eyes mostly down, focusing on the task, but every so often you caught glimpses of his face. The tear tracks on his cheeks, the way his jaw stayed tight like he was still holding back. You wondered what was going through his mind right then. 

Once you were both changed, you turned to him fully. Sasuke looked smaller somehow in the light of the room, his eyes still wet and raw. You picked up a clean cloth from the side table, stepping close enough to feel the warmth radiating from him. Gently, so gently, you pressed it to his face and dried his tears. His breath hitched when the cloth touched his cheek, but he stayed still, letting you wipe away the evidence of his breakdown. Up close like this, you could see every detail: the faint redness around his eyes, how his lashes were clumped together, the exhaustion etched into his features. It made your own eyes sting again. 

“There,” you whispered, voice soft as you set the cloth aside. Your hand lingered near his face for a second before dropping. “Lay down with me.” 

You took his hand, surprised at how warm his fingers felt against yours, and guided him toward the futon. He followed without resistance, the two of you settling down side by side on the bedding. 

You turned on your side to face him, pulling the blanket over both of you. Sasuke lay on his back at first, staring up at the ceiling, but then he shifted too, mirroring you. His dark eyes met yours, still guarded but softer than before. You could not read him completely. You never could. 

“Tell me," you said quietly, not demanding but needing it. “Talk to me, Sasuke. About anything. I need to hear you.” 

Your hand rested on the space between you, close enough that he could take it if he wanted. The intimacy of changing together still hummed under your skin, not passionate but real and tender.

He stayed quiet for a long moment, this time it felt like he was gathering words instead of hiding behind them. His fingers brushed yours lightly, almost by accident, and you held your breath waiting to see what he would say next. 

“I stayed away because it was easier,” he said, each word took effort. “I thought if I kept my distance you could have the house to yourself. Pretend I was not here ruining your days. I never wanted a wife. Not like this. Not when we are both still so young.”

You swallowed hard, the loneliness from the past month rising up again but softer now. “It didn’t feel like distance. It felt like I didn’t exist to you.”

Sasuke’s brow furrowed slightly. He shifted a little closer under the blanket, his knee brushing yours accidentally.

“I noticed you back then,” he admitted quietly. “You looked free in a way I never was. This marriage took that from you. I hate it. I hate that our clans decided this for us and I couldn’t stop it.”

You could tell it was hard for him to say them out loud. 

“I never blamed you for the arrangement,” you whispered back. “But the silence broke me, Sasuke. I kept wondering if you even saw me as a person and not just another duty.”

He reached out then and his fingers wrapped around yours properly. “I saw you. Every day. I just didn’t know how to show it without making things worse. I’m not good at this. But I want to try for you. I meant what I said. I want to take care of you. If you’ll let me start over, even just a little.”

You squeezed his hand, feeling some of the heavy weight in your chest loosen, you knew his quiet nature would not vanish overnight. But hearing him say it, seeing the way his eyes stayed on yours instead of sliding away, it felt like the first real breath you had taken in weeks. 

“I want that too,” you told him. “I don’t need you to be loud or different. Be here sometimes. Eat with me. Talk to me even if it’s only a few words. Let me see the boy who trained so hard instead of the ghost who lives in this house.”

Sasuke nodded slowly, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “I can do that. Tomorrow I will not leave before you wake. We can walk in the garden if you want. Or just sit. Whatever you need.”

You moved a little closer without thinking, resting your forehead against his shoulder. He tensed for half a second, but then he relaxed and let his free arm come around you loosely. It was awkward and careful, two kids still figuring out how to be married, but it was something. 

“I’ll forgive you,” you whispered against his shirt. “But you have to forgive yourself too. We are both stuck in this,we don’t have to be alone in it.”

He didn’t answer with words right away, he just held you a bit tighter. He whispered something so low that even you weren’t able to catch it. 

Sleep came easier than it had in weeks, wrapped in the warmth of his presence. Sasuke stayed right there beside you, his hand still linked with yours. It was not perfect. Nothing with Sasuke ever would be simple. But it was a start, and that little bit of healing felt like everything after so many days of fading away. In the morning you would see what happened next, but for now you let yourself believe that maybe the quiet boy you had watched for years could learn to share his silence with you.

His fingers traced lazy circles on your back through the thin fabric of your sleep clothes, a small gesture that still surprised you sometimes. Sasuke had always been so quiet, so contained, but these past few months he had been trying. Little by little. He ate breakfast with you now, sitting across the table even when words didn’t come easily. He walked with you in the garden some evenings, pointing out a bird or a blooming flower with just a few short sentences that meant more because they came from him. 

“What did you do today?” he asked softly, his arm heavy around your waist and his chin resting on the top of your head. 

“Not much, went to buy some groceries for dinner. It’s been a while since I haven't cooked,” you purred, your breath tickling his neck. 

Sasuke hummed quietly. “I’ll help you. Later.”

You smiled softly and shifted closer, your leg sliding over his as you tangled together even more. Your hand came up to rest on his chest, feeling the strong beat of his heart under your palm. 

“Did you train hard?” You drew little patterns in his chest waiting for his answer, he just held you tightly, wanted to melt into you.

“Very,” he muttered, closing his eyes and inhaling your sweet scent. 

You pressed a gentle kiss to the side of his neck, feeling the way his body relaxed even more against yours. These moments had become your favorite, when the weight of the day melted away and it was just the two of you sharing the same space without any walls left between you.

Sasuke lowered himself so he could be at eye level with you, you always get lost in his dark and big eyes, with that shine they have when they look at you. 

“You’re beautiful,” Sasuke whispered, one of his hands coming to your cheek, he was trying hard not to blush. “What did I do to deserve you?”

You smiled, leaning into his touch. “I don’t want someone else, Sasuke. I love how you look at me,” you told him quietly. “Like I am something worth protecting.”

“You are,” he answered simply, kissing the tip of your nose before finding your lips. 

His quiet nature still wrapped around everything, but it no longer pushed you away. In the warmth of the bed, with his body curled around yours and his kisses growing sweeter with every passing minute, you felt truly married to him. Not just on paper, but in the tender ways that mattered most.

“So, kid,” he drawled, “ are you always this shy when the drinks start flowing? Or is it just us making you nervous?” His hand landed on your knee, giving it a squeeze that lingered a second too long.

Tsunade laughed, she was definitely drunker than you, her cheeks pink and her eyes half-lidded as she pressed closer. Her massive chest brushed against your arm, soft and warm even through her top. 

“Leave her alone, pervert. Can’t you see she’s enjoying the view?” Then, without missing a beat, she tilted her head and let her gaze drop right to your chest. “Though I gotta say, those tits of yours look fantastic. Perky and full. Bet they feel even better.”

Heat shot straight through you. You swallowed hard, but the words came out before you could stop them. “That’s a nice compliment coming from you, Lady Tsunade. Yours are... legendary.”

Jiraiya barked out a laugh, scooting even nearer until his thigh was flush against yours. “Hah! Hear that, Tsunade? The girl’s got good taste.” 

His fingers traced lazy circles on your knee, inching higher up your leg. Tsunade’s hand finally slipped lower, resting just above your hip, her thumb stroking the side of your waist. You felt very hot, your panties getting wetter from all the attention.

“You know,” Tsunade whispered, her breath warm against your ear, “I like how you look all pretty between us.” She nipped at your earlobe lightly, making you shiver. “Bet you've got all kinds of secrets under that outfit. Care to share with your Hokage?”

“L-Lady Tsunade…”

Jiraiya’s hand moved bolder now, sliding up your thigh as he leaned in to whisper on your other side. “We can show you a really good time, y’know. We’re not feeling very professional tonight." His fingers brushed the inside of your leg, so close it made your breath catch.

Tsunade’s arm tightened around you, pulling you against her curves while Jiraiya’s touch kept exploring higher.

Jiraiya laughed, shoving his shoulder against hers as he tried to nudge her out of the way. His hand slid up your other thigh, fingers brushing teasingly close to your entrance but not quite touching. “Like hell, Tsunade. I’ve been dreaming about burying my face in a sweet pussy like this for years.”

“Why would I care about that?” She says, shoving her shoulder back against his.

They kept arguing right there between your legs, their hot breath ghosting over your sensitive skin, making you squirm and leak even more. Tsunade pushed Jiraiya’s face back with her palm, leaning down so close her lips almost brushed your clit. “She’s mine first, she won’t need your dick after I’m done with her.”

“No one’s talking about dicks, Tsunade.” He rolls his eyes dramatically. “I’m gonna suck on that puffy clit until she’s begging for more.”

“More of me, obviously,” she adds right away. 

You could barely think straight, your body throbbing with need while they bickered like competitive idiots, both so eager to be the first one to taste you. Their hands kept roaming over your naked body, squeezing your tits and stroking your hips as they fought for position. It was so hot watching them argue over who got to eat your wet pussy first. 

But you were getting tired and needy.

“Enough already!” you snapped, voice coming out sharper and a little angry from all the frustration. You pushed up on your elbows, glaring down at both of them between your spread legs. “Just eat me out at the same time, gosh! Stop fighting and do it together before I lose my mind!”

Tsunade and Jiraiya both paused, then grinned, you just gave them the best idea ever. “Greedy girl,” Jiraiya chuckled.

Tsunade dove in first, her warm tongue dragging flat and rough right up your soaked slit, licking up all your juices while Jiraiya attacked from the side, sucking your swollen clit into his mouth hard. The feeling hit you like lightning, two mouths on your pussy at once.. Tsunade pushed her tongue deep inside you, fucking you with it in messy strokes while Jiraiya flicked and sucked on your clit.

You cried out, hips bucking wildly, but they held you down. Tsunade’s strong hands gripped your thighs, spreading you even wider as she ate you out sloppily, moaning into your pussy like it was the best thing she’d ever tasted. Jiraiya was rougher than you expected, his beard scratching your sensitive skin while he sucked harder, occasionally letting his tongue join hers to lap at your entrance together.

It was too much. Way too good. Their tongues slid against each other and against your folds, wet sounds filling the room as they devoured you. Pleasure crashed through you in huge waves, making your legs shake uncontrollably. You regretted it almost immediately. 

“Wait— oh fuck, it’s too much!” you gasped, but they didn’t slow down.

Tsunade growled against your pussy and shoved her tongue deeper, curling it just right while Jiraiya sucked your clit faster, one of his fingers pushing inside you alongside her tongue. The stretch, the heat, the way they worked together had you screaming. Your orgasm hit so hard your vision went blurry, but they kept going, licking and sucking through it until you were thrashing and sobbing from the overstimulation.

Another climax ripped through you right after, even stronger. Your whole body tensed up, pussy clenching around their tongues as they kept eating you out like they were starving. It felt so insanely good it almost hurt. Your mind went blank, pleasure overloading everything.

The last thing you remembered was Tsunade moaning something dirty while Jiraiya sucked your clit one more time. Then everything faded to black as you passed out from the overwhelming bliss, body twitching helplessly on the sheets.

It took him a few moments to catch up, missing the cute sounds of your moans. 

“Hey, kid—” Jiraiya lifted his gaze, seeing your eyes closed and your mouth half-opened. “Shit, Tsunade, did we kill her?”

She was already kneeling beside you, shaking your shoulders a little for you to gain your consciousness back. “Don’t be dramatic, asshole. She just passed out from pleasure.”

He forms an ‘o’ with his mouth, nodding along Tsunade’s words. “So we are that good.”

“Bring her a glass of water, c’mon.”

For the first time since you knew him, Levi falls asleep before you. Which would be less surprising if he hadn’t spent the last twenty minutes insisting that he isn’t tired.

He sits beside you on the bed in his quarters with a stack of papers balanced against one knee. He intends to win the war against his exhaustion, but his eyes keep lowering, his grip on the papers keep loosening, and every few seconds, his head dips just enough for him to jerk it upright again with a faint scowl.

“You should sleep, you know,” you say, watching the candlelight flicker across his face.

“I’m fine,” he mutters.

You’re not even surprised he’s not listening. Levi could be bleeding through his clothes and actively collapsing into a ditch, and he would still look at you dead in the eye and call it a scratch. You hum, unconvinced, but you know better than to argue with him directly when he’s already decided to be impossible. You lie back against the pillows instead and let the silence do the talking, filled only by the faint rustle of paper when he reads another line.

Two minutes later, Levi lies back against the pillow next to you, reports still in hand.

One minute after that, the report slides from his fingers.

And then, finally, he sleeps.

He always looks different when he sleeps. Awake, he’s hard and controlled, every muscle held tight as if bracing for impact every second of the day, his expression tightened before it can reveal too much. Asleep, though, he looks much younger, almost fragile. You know he would hate you thinking that. His mouth is relaxed from its usual tight line. 

You reach carefully for the papers, meaning to set them aside before they get bent, but before you can touch them, Levi grabs your wrist. It’s a soft, sleep-heavy grab. His fingers wrap around you, and you freeze, your breath caught in your throat. Before you can decide whether to pull away or stay still, he tugs you closer with an irritated sound.

“Levi?” you whisper, more amused than concerned, but he doesn’t wake up. He only shifts until his forehead brushes against your shoulder, his hand sliding from your wrist to your waist. Even now, he reaches for you.

Then he murmurs, barely audible against your shirt, “Love you.”

You freeze. All goes quiet, except for the sparking flame of the candle and the creaking of the old wood around you, but all of it seems too far away from you right now as those two simple words land somewhere deep in your gut.

You stare down at him, stunned. Levi Ackerman, who is never tender, who is never affectionate nor vulnerable, has just said he loves you. Waiting for the one moment he’s too exhausted to guard the door.

“Oh,” you breathe, and you smile before you can stop it. “You’re ridiculous.”

He gives no answer and only wraps his arm further around you by the smallest amount. Carefully, you lower yourself beside him, pulling the blanket over both of you while he makes another soft, sleepy sound and follows your body without waking. Your hand hovers for a second over his hair before you give in and brush a few dark strands away from his face.

“Love you too,” you whisper, so quietly that you think only you can hear it. “But I’m absolutely making fun of you tomorrow.”

.

By morning, Levi has returned to himself.

He’s awake before you, dressed except for the cravat still hanging loose around his neck, standing near the small table with tea already poured and the blanket folded at the foot of the bed. He looks completely normal. He definitely does not remember what happened last night, and if he does, he’s very good at pretending it never happened.

Unfortunately for him, you have a good memory, and you are absolutely not letting this one go.

“You’re staring,” he says without looking at you.

“You’re sweet when you’re asleep,” you say.

That makes him pause, a tiny hesitation in the movement of his hand as he reaches for his cup, but you see it, because you’re looking out for any minute detail that might let you in on what he’s thinking and possibly hiding. Your smile widens. Levi looks at you from the corner of his eye.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he asks.

You sit up slowly, pulling the blanket around your shoulders as you smile again. “Nothing.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“Well,” you say, drawing out the word just enough to make him narrow his eyes in suspicion, “you were very affectionate last night.”

His mouth flattens. “When?”

“After you fell asleep.”

He scoffs. “I was asleep.”

“Exactly.”

“That doesn’t count.”

“Oh, it counts,” you laugh, nodding, absolutely convinced.

He turns toward you fully now, the tea forgotten in his hand. You watch the first sign of worry pass across his face as memory fails him completely. “What did I do?”

You rest your chin in your palm, taking your sweet time because Levi looks like he’s trying to brace for impact while pretending he’s completely calm, which is, frankly, adorable. 

“You reached for me,” you say, and his eye twitches. “Pulled me closer.” He clenches his jaw. “Mumbled into my shoulder.” He flicks his eyes away. “And told me you loved me.”

For a second, Levi doesn’t move at all. Then the tips of his ears go red. Not possibly-red-if-you-squint. Red. A betraying flush creeps up from beneath his collar and spreads across his cheekbones before he turns toward the table, suddenly fascinated by the existence of his teacup.

“I didn’t,” he mumbles.

“You did,” you argue.

“I don’t talk in my sleep.”

“Apparently you do when you’re being romantic.”

“I wasn’t being romantic. I was unconscious.”

“I don’t know, you sounded pretty convincing.”

Levi makes a strangled sound under his breath, caught between a scoff and a curse. If you had any decency, you would stop there; but the sight of him stiff with embarrassment, ears burning while he tries to rebuild his dignity, is too precious to waste.

“You also grabbed my waist,” you add.

“I was asleep,” he repeats.

“You seemed very determined.”

“I said I was fucking asleep.”

“You were very cute.”

His gaze snaps back to you, horrified. “Don’t call me that.”

“Cute?”

“Don’t.”

“Sweet.” His blush deepens. “Oh, you like that one, huh?”

Levi sets his cup down with enough care that suggests he’s either seconds away from leaving the room or burying his face in his hands with the intent to never rise. You soften your teasing—you don’t want to go too far.

“Levi,” you say, gentler now.

He doesn’t look at you immediately, but when he finally does, his expression is once again guarded. But it’s not cold, not with you. Beneath the scowl he wears is an almost wounded shyness. The thought of having been heard clearly scares him more than he wants to admit.

“I’m not laughing at you,” you say.

“That is exactly what you’re doing,” he says.

“Okay, maybe a little,” you concede, because lying to him would be pointless. “But not because of that.” His throat works once. You hold his gaze, your heartbeat suddenly too loud in your own ears. “I liked hearing it.”

For a moment, Levi looks trapped between retreat and confession, between pride and the truth his sleeping self already handed over without permission. You can see the thoughts moving behind his eyes, irritated and flustered.

Damn it. Damn it. Of all the stupid ways to say it first, he thinks. He looks away again, but it’s not enough to hide him anymore.

“Wasn’t wrong,” he mutters.

Your heart stumbles. “What wasn’t?” you ask.

He flexes his fingers once at his side. “What I said.”

You know better than to push too hard, but you’re only human, and he’s standing there with red ears and a confession caught between his teeth, so you tilt your head and ask, “You love me?”

Levi glares at the floor. He doesn’t know whether to spill the truth or not, but it seems he already did last night. He says, in a voice low enough to sound almost angry, “I love you.”

The teasing dies inside you. He knows what he’s saying this time. And though his face is still turned half away, though his ears and face are still burning and his shoulders are tense and he feels like he’s wandered into a battlefield without his equipment, he stays there with you.

So, you smile and reach for his hand. He looks at your fingers, hesitates only long enough to prove he’s still Levi, and then lets you take it.

“There,” he mutters. “Happy?”

You lace your fingers through his. “Very.”

“Tch.” His thumb brushes, barely there, across the back of your hand. “Annoying brat.”

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divider by: sweetmelodygraphics

Mikasa had chosen her path with Eren and the others, and you had stayed behind like always. Friends since you were kids running through the streets, sharing bread and secrets under the old oak tree. You were never as close to Armin or Eren, which made it easier to feel that quiet anger when she left. Why them? Why risk everything when she could have stayed here, safe with you?

Then one afternoon, you were wiping down the counter when shouts echoed from the main street. Survey Corps return. You dropped the cloth and stepped outside without thinking as people crowded toward the gate. And there she was, sliding down from her mount with graceful strength, but something was off. She moved slower, favoring her left side. Blood stained the edge of her uniform jacket, dark and fresh.

“Mikasa,” you breathed, pushing through the crowd before you could stop yourself. 

She turned at the sound of your voice, her dark eyes meeting yours across the chaos. For a second everything else faded. She looked exhausted, strands of black hair sticking to her forehead, but she gave you a small nod that told you everything.

You didn’t wait for permission, you slipped an arm around her waist, feeling the warmth of her body through the torn fabric. “You’re hurt. Come with me. Mom’s shop is right there, and I’ve got supplies.” 

She didn’t argue, just leaned into you a little as you guided her away from the noise. Her steps were steady but you could tell every one cost her.

Inside the back room of the pharmacy, you cleared the small table where you usually mixed medicines and helped her sit. “Take off the jacket, please,” you said, already pulling out clean cloths and the jar of salve you kept specially mixed for deep cuts. Your hands moved quickly, but your heart was racing. She had been gone for so long. Too long.

Mikasa winced as she shrugged out of the jacket, revealing a nasty gash along her ribs and another slicing across her upper thigh where her pants were ripped. The sight made your stomach twist. You had seen plenty of injuries working with the doctor, but this was her. Your Mikasa. The one who used to braid your hair when you were little and promise she’d always protect you.

“You’re such an idiot for going out there again,” you muttered.

You soaked a cloth in warm water and started cleaning the torso wound first, kneeling close so you could see clearly. Your fingers brushed her skin as you worked, gentle circles around the edges of the cut. She was alive, right here after all those nights you spent staring at the ceiling wondering if she was cold or bleeding somewhere beyond the walls. 

“I missed you. Every single day I missed you,” you said without thinking.

She stayed quiet at first, watching you intensely. The tension between you two had been there for years, unspoken words piling up. You loved her in a way that went beyond childhood friendship, sometimes you thought she felt it too in the way her eyes lingered or how she always found you first when she returned. But neither of you ever said it out loud. Not with the world the way it was.

“I’m fine,” she finally said. You saw the way her breath hitched when you pressed the cloth a little too close to the raw skin.

“You’re not fine. Look at this.” Your free hand rested on her knee without thinking, thumb rubbing small circles.

After months of nothing but wondering, you needed to touch her, to make sure she was real. You leaned in closer to apply the salve, your shoulder brushing hers. The scent of her, sweat and blood filled the small space. “What happened out there? No, don’t tell me. Just stay still.”

You moved to the leg wound next, rolling up the torn fabric carefully. Your fingers trembled a little as they traced the edge of the cut, cleaning it thoroughly before spreading the cooling ointment. Her thigh muscle tensed under your touch, you glanced up to find her staring at you, lips slightly parted. You wanted to hug her tight and never let go, to bury your face in her neck and breathe her in until the fear went away. Instead you kept working.

“I thought about you too,” she admitted quietly after a long pause. Her hand came up, resting lightly on your arm as you bandaged the gash. It was such a small touch, but it sent warmth spreading through you. “When things got bad. Your voice... it helped.”

Your eyes stung. You finished tying the bandage and didn’t pull away, wrapping your arms around her middle, careful of the fresh wrap on her ribs, and held on. Clingy didn’t even cover it. You pressed your cheek to her shoulder, feeling the rise and fall of her breathing. 

“Don’t scare me like that again. I hate not knowing if you’re coming back. I get so angry at Eren sometimes, dragging you into all of it, but mostly I just miss you. So much it hurts right here.” You tapped your chest lightly.

Mikasa’s arms came around you then, strong despite her injuries. She didn’t say much more, but she held you back just as tight, her fingers threading through the ends of your hair. 

You pulled back just enough to look at her face, searching her dark eyes. “Stay tonight? At least until the bandages need changing. Mom won’t mind.”

The only thing you wanted to hear now was the sound of the water swishing beneath the boat, maybe even a seagull. But it was like you couldn't drown out his voice. It hadn't changed. It was exactly as you'd remembered it being about four years ago. Though, back then you swore you'd found it charming.

Odiha. That's where you were going, what you were focusing on, in order to service the flying boat that would help you and your fellow scouts reach the Rumbling, you needed to reach Odiha. To stop Eren. So why was Reiner's presence bothering you so much?

Reiner was your best friend at one point. When you first joined the cadet corps, it was obvious you were nervous to anyone who took a second to look. And for that, most people didn't see you as a potential reliable comrade.

Most people.

Reiner liked you. He had once playfully claimed you made funny faces during sparring exercises and took you under his wing, seeing your potential. Back then, Reiner had a talent for making anyone feel seen. Even stubborn cadets like Annie seemed to at least tolerate him, maybe even respect him.

So how could you not fall in love with him?

It was ridiculous how quick it happened. You were sure there were other girls vying for his attention just like you were, but you swore Reiner gave you special treatment. It was stupid.

Reiner would see you entering the mess hall and instantly make sure there was a spot open at his table for you. Bertholdt had typically sat across from him, but most of the time there was a spot directly next to Reiner conveniently available just for you. He'd call you by your last name over to their table, always a smile on his face, always so damn sure of himself.

"Bread?" He had offered, causing you to shake your head with a nervous smile on your face. Nervous. Not nervous enough, apparently. But that didn't matter—not when Reiner was offering you bread, or to train after hours with you, or take you into Stohess one weekend when you mentioned wanting a change of scenery.

"I know you wanted that muffin," Reiner said regretfully as you walked away from the bakery stall at the food market. "Sorry I couldn't get it for you."

You shook your head, mouth full from the cookie he'd already got for you just ten minutes prior. "It's fine, really," you assured him, words slightly muffled from the pastry.

Reiner simply smiled at you, taking a bite of his own cookie.

When you returned to Trost that evening as the sun was just beginning to set, the teasing from your comrades was relentless.

"Woah!" Connie had exclaimed, realization dawning on his face as he looked at you and Reiner entering the mess hall together. "Where've you been all day?" He asked, nosy as ever even if the answer was plain as day.

"A date. Is that really such a foreign concept to you?" Reiner had teased, making Connie grin mischievously.

A date. You had your suspicions that that's what it was, but Reiner hadn't explicitly said it. Not until Connie asked. The straightforward explanation made your heart race, gaze dropping instantly to your shoes as Connie's laughter filled the space.

"So that's why you've been polishing your boots and actually combing your hair. I was wondering what the special occasion was," Jean had said to you, his brow raised and arms crossed in a way that was so distinctly Jean. Despite the words, you were sure it was his own way of approving.

"Oh, my God, is that a hickey?" Sasha suddenly butt in, moving into your personal space. Her hands held your head in place as she stared at the scrape from training on your forehead.

"Hickey—what—Sasha, that's on my forehead!" You had defended, but it was too late. Multiple other cadets heard the word hickey and ran with it, causing a flurry of gossip surrounding you and Reiner. And Reiner didn't deny it. He just smiled at you, and somehow that made you feel better.

There were plenty of times he'd made you feel better. An embarrassing amount of times. A pathetic amount of times, considering what he might've been comforting you about.

You sniffled, attempting to straighten yourself out before dinner was served in the mess hall as you sat on a log on the outskirts of the training grounds, taking in the yellow and orange blend of sunset before you. Even with the view, your mind was elsewhere.

It hit you every now and then at random. Despite it happening almost five years ago, you had pushed the grief down as far as you could bury it when your family was killed during the breach of Wall Maria. You were so young when it happened, but suddenly you were alone. When the Armored had broken through the inner gate of the wall, your childhood home had been crushed by a stray boulder.

You were lucky. You came to terms with that at a young age. Far too lucky. It chipped away at you everyday since, even without you realizing. What made you so fortunate to have escaped? Avoided certain death like your family couldn't? What made that soldier step in and save you but not them?

The wondering was pointless, though. They died and you didn't. For some reason fate had kept you alive until now. And for that, you had to live with a purpose. Even if now that purpose was wiping your snotty nose and trying to compose yourself enough to go eat with your friends.

"Bread?"

You had looked up to see none other than Reiner holding out a small loaf, a second one for himself in his right hand. Hesitantly, you had taken it, using the moment Reiner sat down beside you to attempt to discreetly wipe at the tears on your cheeks.

He didn't ask. You supposed it wasn't his style, or maybe he just assumed you didn't want to talk about it.

Reiner simply took a bite of his bread next to you, leaning forward as he chewed. After moments of silence, Reiner looked at you for a second and then towards the sunset. The corner of his mouth tugged upwards into a soft, almost wistful smile, but he said nothing.

"What?" You finally asked.

He almost replied with "nothing," you could tell, but he sighed and leaned back, either hands at his sides resting on the log. "You know what I miss most about home?" Reiner asked, his gaze locked with the sky. "The way the sun would rise over the hills," he stated.

You realized you'd never talked about it—why you were crying that day. To be honest, you didn't want to. Something about his presence had just put you at ease back then, to the point you forgot all of your troubles.

When graduation drew near, you weren't even sure what Reiner's plan was. Everyone knew his perfect scores got him into the top ten, eligible to enlist as a military police officer in the interior. That would've been great for him, but you weren't sure where that left you.

You weren't with Reiner when the Collosal titan had appeared and breached the wall into Trost. But you were there when Eren was discovered to be a titan himself.

From there, something in Reiner had shifted.

Back then, you figured it was realization of some sort. Realization that things were complicated, things were scary, things were real...

Things got even more real when Marco died. Marco wasn't someone you were close with, but he was always there, always kind. If someone as capable as Marco, as determined, as strong, as kind as Marco could die, what would that mean for you and your friends?

Many cadets dropped out that day, despite graduation being so close. You almost did as well. Especially upon seeing Jean's reaction to Marco's death, you didn't know if you had the guts to continue.

But Reiner always had to step in.

"You're stronger than you give yourself credit for," he said, his strong hand on your shoulder. "Look at me," he commanded softly. You hesitated but met his eyes. They were serious, and almost cold now. Different from how they used to look at you. "I know you've got what it takes."

And that was that. Along with Jean, who was sure he'd join the military police, you joined the Survey Corps, falling under the wing of the Commander Erwin Smith.

You were terrified, but you had Reiner.

Things in your lives seemed to come to a halt when Annie was revealed to be a titan. And then Ymir, along with Krista being some kind of royalty and living with a completely different name—Historia.

It was all confusing and overwhelming, and you really wished Reiner was there for you. And he was, physically, always there. But then he was distant. Even when sitting directly beside you during meals like he did before, his focus was obviously elsewhere.

And then it happened.

You revisited that day often. When Reiner and Bertholdt transformed, and everything you thought you knew came crashing down.

You couldn't even cry, or scream, or do much of anything. You'd learned a long time ago to accept these things, but God did it hurt.

Then he was gone. He and Bertholdt, back to wherever they came from—their "hometown" as they so often called it. You didn't know back then, and you'd honestly stopped caring.

When Eren was rescued from them, he tried telling you on the way back what Reiner had said in response to him screaming at them. Eren had brought you up, telling Reiner about all the pain and trauma you endured years ago when the inner gate of Wall Maria was broken and your family was killed.

Sorry. Sorry was what he said, according to Eren.

What a coward.

The next time you saw Reiner was a few months later. But it wasn't really him. It was the Armored titan, the same one you remember from childhood who had breached the wall. And now here you were, back in Shiganshina with your fellow scouts.

The bloodshed was monumental in Shiganshina. Bertholdt had died, but Reiner lived—barely. You weren't there when Hange and Jean had captured him. And you were grateful you weren't. Just three months after discovering his true self, you knew you'd do something stupid like let him go if you had been there. But that part wasn't really up to you, and he got away regardless.

That's when you discovered the truth of everything. The titans, the walls, Paradis, Eldians.

You wished you could hate him. But everyday you'd hoped for the day you could speak to him again, just once.

Those feelings seemed to have formed into anger as the years passed. And by the time you and your fellow soldiers raided Liberio, you basically lived in a shell. You promised your comrades you weren't going to allow feelings to get in the way, and you delivered.

So much happened in such a short amount of time it was difficult to even remember it properly.

You remembered seeing him—really him—for the first time again on Paradis. He was almost pathetic looking now, but a part of your heart still yearned for him.

Were the feelings even the same, though?

You and the rest of the scouts had to compromise and join forces with the Warriors in order to put a stop to Eren's plan to go through with the Rumbling. It was the first night that Jean brutally punched Reiner at the campfire. Years ago, you might've blindly taken the side of Reiner. Hell, if he said a word to you since being back on the island maybe you would've defended him. But he didn't. So you let it happen.

When the kids, Gabi and Falco, rushed to Reiner's side after the altercation, you felt as though you needed to physically drag yourself away to avoid saying anything to him.

Instead, you found Jean, cooling off in the outskirts of the woods. His head was in his hands, leaning against a tree as he shook.

You placed a gentle hand on his arm, causing him to jump. You made eye contact, but he was quick to look away. Though, your small touch grounded him.

"Sorry about that," Jean apologized. "I got carried away." His voice was breaking, you'd noticed, but you shook your head.

"Don't apologize," you replied.

You made a choice that evening. The choice to stay loyal to your comrades instead of blindly following Reiner like you did when you were a dumb kid. But it didn't make it any less difficult when he stood there on the boat looking almost like he had years ago.

The expression on his face was that of determination. And the people at his side were none other than Jean and Connie.

You scoffed, pulling your gaze away from the men and staring off into the vast ocean—the ocean you didn't even knew existed years ago; the ocean Reiner didn't bother mentioning to you those nights you sat together for hours.

You'd gone over every emotion the past four years. You saw his side as best you could. Even so, it was hard to forgive. Especially when Reiner himself hadn't made an effort to speak to you.

"Hey." You didn't look up, you knew it was Jean.

"You gonna talk to loverboy or what?" He asked after a beat of silence. You finally lifted your head to shoot him a glare. Jean simply smiled, looking back at where Reiner and Connie were still talking and then back to you, sitting beside you on the bench.

You remained quiet for a moment after Jean sat beside you, your fingers absently picking at a loose thread on your sleeve. The gentle rock of the boat beneath you seemed to match the churning in your stomach.

"I'm not talking to him," you finally said, keeping your voice low despite the distance between you and the others.

Jean snorted. "Right. Because ignoring him is working so well for you."

You shot him another glare. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You've been staring at him every chance you get since yesterday." Jean's knowing smile widened as your cheeks flushed with heat. "Don't worry, he's been doing the same thing."

Something fluttered in your chest at his words, but you quickly tamped it down. "Has he... said anything?" The question slipped out before you could stop it, your voice smaller than you intended.

Jean chuckled, that same knowing look in his eyes that made you want to shove him off the bench and into the sea. But then his expression softened.

"No," he admitted. "But it's getting annoying watching you two dance around each other like this. You look at him when he's not looking, he looks at you when you turn away. It's really embarassing for both of you."

You sighed, turning your gaze back to the endless blue horizon. The vastness of the ocean still amazed you, even now. "Well, if he wanted to talk, he would've said something by now."

"Maybe he's thinking the same thing about you," Jean pointed out.

"That's different," you protested weakly.

"How?"

You opened your mouth to respond but found you didn't have an answer that wouldn't sound childish. Jean was right, and you both knew it.

"Look," Jean said, his voice gentler now, "I'm not exactly Reiner's biggest fan. You were there when I..." He flexed his hand, the same one he'd used to punch Reiner the night before, his knuckles reddened now. "But we're all stuck here together now. And whatever was between you two—"

"There was nothing between us," you interrupted, the lie bitter on your tongue.

Jean gave you a flat look. "You're a terrible liar. Always have been."

You looked down at your hands, suddenly finding your fingernails fascinating. "It doesn't matter now anyway."

"Maybe not," Jean agreed. "But you're never going to stop wondering if you don't at least talk to him once. Really talk to him."

The silence between you stretched for several long moments as you considered his words. The rational part of you knew he was right. This tension, this unspoken thing hanging in the air between you and Reiner, it would only continue to distract you. And with what lay ahead—with Eren and the Rumbling—you couldn't afford distractions. And more importantly, you didn't want to die with regrets.

"Fine," you muttered, standing up with a resigned sigh.

Without waiting for some type of reaction from Jean, you turned and made your way across the deck toward where Reiner and Connie stood. Your heart hammered against your ribs with each step, and you briefly considered turning back. But Jean's words echoed in your mind—you would never stop wondering if you didn't at least try.

Connie noticed you first, his animated conversation with Reiner faltering as you approached. Reiner turned, and for a moment, you were transported back to those days in the mess hall—him turning to call your name, saving you a seat beside him.

But his eyes weren't the same. They carried a weight now, dark shadows beneath them speaking of sleepless nights and unshakable guilt.

"Um, I'll just..." Connie mumbled, already backing away, but you barely registered his departure.

You stopped a few feet from Reiner, suddenly unsure what to say. All the anger, all the hurt, all the things you'd rehearsed in your head over the years—none of it seemed right now that he was standing in front of you.

"Can we talk?" The words came out steadier than you felt.

Reiner looked surprised, as if that was the last thing he expected to hear from you. He nodded once, hesitantly. "Yeah. Of course."

You nodded, and without another word, turned to lead the way to the stairs. You could feel his presence behind you as you descended into the dimly lit interior of the ship, the wooden steps creaking beneath your weight. The air was cooler here, tinged with the scent of salt and damp wood.

The sleeping cabins were arranged in a narrow corridor, small compartments with barely enough room for the bunks they contained. Most were empty now, with everyone gathered on the upper deck to watch the endless expanse of ocean passing by. You chose one at random, pushing open the door and stepping inside.

The room was tight, with just enough space for two narrow bunks built into the walls and a small porthole that cast a circle of fading evening light across the wooden floor. You sat on one of the bunks, the thin mattress sinking beneath your weight. Reiner hesitated at the doorway for a moment before entering and sitting on the opposite bunk, the space between you barely more than an arm's length but feeling like an unbridgeable chasm.

Reiner's shoulders hunched slightly, his large frame somehow seeming smaller in the confined space. His eyes darted around the cabin before finally settling on his hands, which were clasped tightly in his lap.

You found yourself remembering another small space you'd shared once, years ago during a thunderstorm. The supply shed had been the closest shelter when the rain had caught you both during evening training. You'd sat side by side on crates of gear, listening to the rain hammer against the roof, shoulders touching as Reiner told stories about his hometown to distract you from the thunder. And you remembered how you felt when he held your hand, the way his touch was so gentle, his fingers lacing with yours. Back then, his voice had been warm, his smile easy, his eyes bright with something that made your heart race.

Now, he sat across from you, silent and tense, his gaze fixed on the floor between your feet. The only sound was the creaking of the ship around you and the distant, muffled voices from above.

The silence between you stretched until it became unbearable. Your fingers dug into the thin mattress beneath you, knuckles turning white with the pressure.

"My family is dead because of you," you finally said, your voice quiet but sharp enough to cut through the heavy air. The words hung there, raw and unavoidable. "Every time I look at you, I see that day. The Armored Titan breaking through the gate. The boulder that crushed our home."

Reiner didn't flinch, didn't look away. He just nodded slowly, his eyes hollow. "I know."

"You know?" A bitter laugh escaped your lips. "That's all you have to say? You know?"

"What do you want me to say?" His voice was flat, resigned. The voice of a man who had already condemned himself a thousand times over.

"I want you to say something—anything—other than 'I know,'" you snapped, the anger you'd been holding back finally beginning to surface. "I want you to explain how you could sit with me that day by the training grounds, offering me bread while I cried about my family, knowing it was you who killed them."

Reiner's gaze dropped to the floor again. "I don't have an explanation that would make any sense to you."

"Try me," you challenged, leaning forward. "I've had four years to think about this, Reiner. Four years to try to understand."

He looked up then, and the defeated emptiness in his eyes almost made you recoil. This wasn't the Reiner you remembered—the strong, confident soldier who always seemed to know what to say, what to do. This was a shell of that man, worn down by guilt and grief.

"I compartmentalized," he said after a long moment. "The Warrior and the Soldier. Sometimes, I... I forgot which one was real."

"And which one was it?" you asked. "Which version of you was real, Reiner?"

He shook his head slowly. "I don't know anymore. Maybe neither."

You stood up abruptly, unable to sit still with the storm of emotions churning inside you. The cabin was too small to pace properly, but you moved to the porthole, looking out at the darkening sky without really seeing it.

"Do you have any idea what your betrayal did to me?" Your voice was quieter now, but no less intense. "It wasn't just that you were the Armored Titan. It was that you were you. Someone I..." You swallowed hard, forcing the words out. "Someone I cared about. A lot."

You heard the bunk creak as Reiner shifted his weight but didn't turn to look at him.

"I nearly quit the Scouts after you left," you continued, watching your breath fog the glass of the porthole. "I couldn't understand how I could have been so wrong about someone. How I could have trusted you so completely."

Your fingertips pressed against the cool glass as memories flooded back—training together in the rain, his hands adjusting your grip on the ODM gear controls, his laughter at your terrible jokes, the way his eyes would find yours across the mess hall.

"And it wasn't just you," you said, your voice growing thick with unshed tears. "I haven't been able to truly trust anyone since. Not completely. There's always this voice in the back of my mind asking if they're hiding something too. If they'll betray me just like you did."

"I'm sorry," Reiner said, his voice barely audible.

You whirled around to face him, anger flaring hot and bright. "Sorry doesn't bring my family back! Sorry doesn't erase the fact that you lied to me for years! Sorry doesn't change the fact that every memory I have of us is tainted now because I don't even know if any of it was real!"

"It was real," Reiner said, standing up now, something finally sparking in his eyes. "That's what you don't understand. It was all real for me too."

"How could it be real when it was all built on a lie?" Your voice rose, echoing in the small space.

"Because I didn't know how to separate the lie from the truth anymore!" He took a step toward you, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. "Do you think this has been easy for me? Do you think I just walked away and forgot about all of you—forgot about you?"

You stared at him, momentarily stunned by the sudden emotion in his voice.

"I've thought about you every single day since then," he continued, his voice breaking. "I see your face in my dreams. I hear your voice when it's quiet. You've been haunting me for four years, and I deserve it."

The raw pain in his voice knocked the breath from your lungs. Tears spilled down your cheeks as you stared at him, really seeing him for perhaps the first time since you'd learned the truth—not as the Armored Titan, not as the Warrior, not even as the Soldier, but as Reiner. Just Reiner, broken and haunted and so very human.

"I know you hate me," he said, quieter now, his own eyes shining with unshed tears. "You should hate me. If I could go back and change what I did..."

"But you can't," you whispered.

"No," he agreed. "I can't."

The admission hung between you, simple and devastating in its truth. You couldn't change the past. Your family was still gone. The walls were still broken. And Reiner—your Reiner—had still been the one to do it.

But the man standing before you now, shoulders slumped under the weight of his actions, eyes filled with a pain that mirrored your own—he wasn't the Armored Titan anymore. He was just as broken as you were.

Then suddenly you moved, your arms wrapping around his waist, your face pressed against his chest as sobs wracked your body. You could feel his heartbeat, strong and steady against your cheek, so at odds with the broken man it belonged to.

For a terrible second, he remained frozen, and you thought you'd made a mistake. Then his arms came around you, tight and desperate, one hand cradling the back of your head as he buried his face in your hair. His body trembled against yours, and you realized he was crying too—silent, shuddering sobs that seemed to come from somewhere deep inside him.

The stubborn shame that had kept you both at arm's length dissolved in the salt of your mingled tears. There, in the dim light of the cabin, with the gentle rocking of the ship beneath you and the uncertain future ahead, you held each other like the last two survivors of a shipwreck—broken, exhausted, but somehow still alive.

You weren't sure how long you stayed like that, holding each other in the dim light of the cabin, your tears gradually subsiding into uneven breaths. His arms around you felt both familiar and foreign—the shape of him changed, but the way he held you still the same.

When you finally pulled back, just enough to look up at him, your faces were inches apart. Your hands had somehow moved to his shoulders, feeling the unfamiliar angles where muscle had once been. His eyes, red-rimmed from crying, searched yours with a question he didn't dare voice.

"I still hate what you did," you whispered, your voice hoarse. "I don't know if I can ever forgive that."

Reiner nodded slightly, accepting your words without defense. One of his hands had found its way to your face, his thumb gently brushing away a tear from your cheek.

"But I don't know how to hate you," you admitted, the confession tearing itself from somewhere deep inside you. "I've tried for four years, and I just... can't."

Something flickered in his eyes—a spark of something you hadn't seen since before everything fell apart. Hope, maybe. Or longing.

You weren't sure who closed the distance. Maybe both of you, drawn together like the inevitable pull of gravity. His lips found yours in a kiss that was hesitant at first, as if he expected you to push him away. When you didn't—when instead you pressed closer, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt—the hesitation gave way to a desperate need that matched your own.

Reiner's arms tightened around you, backing you against the wall beside the porthole. The cool glass pressed against your shoulder, a stark contrast to the heat of his body against yours. His kiss deepened, years of unspoken feelings pouring into it as his tongue met yours.

You gasped against his mouth, your hands sliding up to tangle in his hair, longer now than you remembered. The scrape of his beard against your skin was new, and your heart skipped a beat at the way his breath hitched when you tugged gently at his hair.

When you pulled away again, breathless, his eyes were dark with a mixture of desire and pain. "I shouldn't be doing this," he whispered, even as his thumb traced circles on your hip. "After everything I've done..."

"Shut up," you murmured, pulling him back to you. "Just shut up, Reiner."

He made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob against your lips. "Still stubborn," he breathed.

Your hands tangled in his hair, eyes squeezed shut as you took in the feel of him. You were desperate, you knew. You felt pathetic, but you wanted him. Needed to be close to him.

"It's embarrassing how long I've wanted to do this," you murmured against his lips, your voice barely audible over the sound of your racing hearts.

His forehead pressed against yours, his eyes closed as he took an unsteady breath. "When we were back in training, that day in Stohess..." His voice was rough, trailing off as your lips found the curve of his jaw.

"Why didn't you kiss me then?" you asked, the question muffled against his skin.

Reiner's laugh was soft and broken. "I wanted to. Every second we were together." His hands slid down to your waist, anchoring you against him as if afraid you might disappear. "I told myself it was because of the mission. That I couldn't get distracted."

You pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, your hand coming up to touch his face, feeling the unfamiliar texture of his beard beneath your fingertips. "And the real reason?"

He swallowed hard, his gaze dropping for a moment before meeting yours again. "I was afraid that if I started, I wouldn't be able to stop. That I'd tell you everything." The admission seemed to cost him, his voice barely above a whisper. "And then you'd hate me."

"I did hate you," you said quietly. "When I found out."

His eyes clouded with pain, but he nodded. "I know."

You leaned in, brushing your lips against his again, more gently this time. "But I hated myself more for still wanting this. For still wanting you."

Reiner's response was to kiss you again, deeper this time, his body pressing yours more firmly against the wall. One hand tangled in your hair while the other gripped your hip, his touch both gentle and desperate. You could taste the salt of tears—whose, you weren't sure anymore—and something else, something uniquely him that you had tried so hard to forget.

The ship rocked with a stronger wave, causing you both to sway. Reiner's arm tightened around your waist, steadying you, and for a brief moment, you were back in the training grounds, his arms around you as he corrected your stance, his breath warm against your ear.

"I missed you," he breathed against your mouth, the words so quiet they might have been imagined. "Every day."

You didn't answer with words. You couldn't. The anger was still there, simmering beneath the surface, alongside grief and betrayal and a hundred other emotions you couldn't name. But for now, in the dim light of the cabin with the sea stretching endlessly around you, you let yourself remember what it felt like to be in his arms.

Your lips found his again, harder this time, your teeth catching his lower lip in a way that made him groan. His hands tightened on you in response, lifting you slightly as he pressed you more firmly against the wall. The kiss deepened, grew more urgent, years of longing and hurt and need pouring into it.

The world outside—Eren, the Rumbling, the fate that awaited all of you—seemed distant and unreal compared to the solid warmth of Reiner against you, the familiar-yet-different taste of his mouth, the sound of his ragged breathing mingling with your own.

This wasn't forgiveness. Not yet. Maybe not ever. But as his lips moved from your mouth to your jaw, tracing a path that made your breath catch, you realized it might be something like a beginning. A chance to finally confront all the things left unsaid between you, all the hurt and the betrayal, but also all the moments that had been real.

Reiner’s hands slid down your sides, fingers digging into your hips as he kissed you with a desperation that made your knees weak. The rough scrape of his beard against your skin sent shivers down your spine, and when his teeth grazed your bottom lip, you gasped—only for him to swallow the sound with another searing kiss.

This isn't at all how you expected your "talk" to go. Years of rehearsing different scripts in your head about how you'd tell him you hate him when you saw him, how you'd show him how it felt to feel betrayed and alone... All of those came crumbling down when he touched you like this, so gently but also so needy.

Not that the idea in general hadn't crossed your mind an embarrassing and pathetic amount of times. That, you couldn't deny. Since your cadet days you'd wondered what it would feel like with him, hoping he'd make a move. But he never did. Your heart skipped a beat when you felt the sadness well up inside you again, but that feeling quickly went away when he tilted his head to better kiss you.

His body pressed you harder against the wall, the heat of him searing through your clothes. You could feel the evidence of his arousal against your thigh, and the knowledge of how badly he wanted you—after all this time—sent a thrill through you.

Then, without warning, he broke the kiss, his breath ragged. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide, lips swollen from yours.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured, voice rough.

You didn’t.

A low sound escaped him, something between a groan and a growl, before his hands tightened on your waist—and then he was lifting you, turning, and depositing you onto the narrow bunk behind you in one swift motion. The thin mattress barely cushioned the impact, but you barely had time to register it before Reiner was on his knees between your legs, his hands sliding up your thighs with a reverence that made your breath hitch.

His gaze flicked up to yours, searching, hesitant—like he still couldn’t believe you were letting him touch you.

"Please," he breathed, fingers curling into the fabric of your pants. "Let me taste you."

The raw need in his voice sent a jolt straight to your core. He was begging. Reiner—the man who had once been so confident, so sure of himself—was now on his knees for you, looking up at you like you were the only thing that could save him.

You swallowed hard, your pulse hammering in your throat. You also didn't expect it to go like this. The Reiner that you knew back then presented himself to be some kind of big leader, something you admired because of how he never seemed to let it go to his head. He was one of the strongest, but he was humble.

So seeing him like this, desperate between your legs, felt almost like culture shock.

But even so, being with him, feeling him, talking to him all felt so good. So good you could cry. "Okay," you breathed, nodding.

His fingers trembled slightly as he undid the fastenings of your pants, tugging them down your legs along with your underwear. Your cunt was already pathetically wet just from making out, and suddenly you just wanted to close your legs so he wouldn't see how much he affected you. Stubborn pride still warred inside you even now. The cool air of the cabin ghosted over your exposed skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat of Reiner’s breath as he leaned in, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss to the inside of your thigh.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, making your heart swell.

Reiner’s hands spread your thighs wider, his thumbs brushing over the damp curls between them. His breath stuttered when he saw how wet you were, his fingers tracing your folds with agonizing slowness.

“Fuck,” he muttered, voice wrecked.

He kissed at your inner thighs some more, almost like he just couldn't get enough of the simple action. He'd lick at them, suck them, anything. Reiner was willing to drag this out, it seemed.

"Has anyone ever done this for you before?" Reiner asked, his tone carrying a mix of emotions, staring up at you with his pretty hazel eyes as he kissed at the soft skin of your thighs. Deep down, he selfishly hoped no one else had gotten to see you like this—feel you like this.

Your breath hitched at the sight, unable to pull your gaze away and similarly unable to stop your arousal and need as you felt yourself wet the sheets beneath you even further. "I don't see how that's any of your business," you replied stubbornly, wanting to keep the small amount of control you still held.

That gave Reiner all the answer he needed. "Hm," he responded, careful not to anger you, careful not to upset you. but also understanding and seeing just how much you wanted this—wanted him. And equally he was exceptionally aware of the way his cock twitched in his pants, desperate to make you feel good, desperate to feel your thighs around his head and your fingers against his scalp, desperate to hear you in these moments he's imagined you in so many times.

Reiner didn’t wait for another teasing remark from you—his mouth was on you in an instant, his tongue dragging a slow, filthy stripe up your soaked cunt, groaning against you like he’d been starving for this. The sound alone made your back arch off the bunk, a sharp gasp tearing from your lips as his hands clamped down on your thighs, holding you open for him.

He was messy—no finesse, no practiced rhythm, just pure, desperate hunger. His tongue lapped at you like he was trying to memorize your taste, his nose pressing against your clit as he buried his face between your legs. Every flick of his tongue was sloppy, wet, loud, the obscene sounds of his mouth working you filling the tiny cabin. You could feel his stubble scraping against your sensitive skin, the rough drag only making the pleasure sharper, more overwhelming.

“Fuck—Reiner—” Your fingers tangled in his blonde hair, gripping hard as his tongue circled your clit before sucking it between his lips. His groan vibrated through you, his hands sliding under your ass to tilt your hips up, giving him better access as he devoured you.

He was relentless, like he’d been waiting years for this—because he had. Every muffled sound he made against your cunt, every time his tongue plunged inside you only to drag back up, every time his lips sealed around your clit to suck—it was all too much, and yet you never wanted it to stop.

His enthusiasm was almost embarrassing, the way he moaned into you like he was the one being pleasured, his hips moving against his hand as he rubbed his cock through his pants. You could feel the wetness of your own arousal smeared across his chin, and the sight alone had your thighs trembling around his head.

Drool mixed with your arousal, dripping down his chin as he ate you out like a man possessed. His hands gripped your thighs, spreading you wider, keeping you open for him as his tongue plunged inside you, fucking into you with rough, eager strokes before retreating to suck your clit again.

"Taste so good," he panted against you, his voice wrecked. "Fuck, fuck, I knew you would—"

His words cut off into a groan as he redoubled his efforts, his tongue flicking rapidly over your clit before he sealed his lips around it again, sucking hard. The wet, filthy sounds of his mouth on you filled the cabin, obscene and perfect, and you could feel the way his hips rocked slightly against the bunk, rutting into nothing as he got off on just tasting you.

"Been thinking about this—" he rasped, pulling back just enough to speak before diving back in, his tongue circling your clit in tight, relentless circles. "—every night—"

His fingers dug into your thighs, leaving marks as he held you down, refusing to let you squirm away from the overwhelming pleasure.

"Close," you choked out, your hips jerking against his mouth. "I’m so close—"

Reiner growled, the sound vibrating through you as he sucked your clit into his mouth one last time, his tongue flicking over it rapidly—

And then you were coming, your back bowing off the bunk as pleasure crashed through you in waves. He didn’t let up, licking you through it, swallowing every drop of you as you shuddered and gasped above him.

When you finally went limp, panting, he pulled back just enough to look up at you.

His chest heaved, his eyes dark with need. But above that, it was like he needed some confirmation he did good.

"Fuck," he breathed. "Are you okay?"

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him up your body until his weight settled over you, pressing you deeper into the thin mattress. His skin was fever-hot, his muscles taut with restraint, but his eyes—those damn hazel eyes—were soft, almost reverent, as he looked down at you.

You didn't answer, not verbally at least.

Your hand slid into his hair, gripping tight as you dragged his mouth to yours, kissing him deeply, tasting yourself on his tongue. A rough groan tore from his throat, his hips jerking forward instinctively, the hard length of his cock grinding against your still-sensitive clit through his pants.

His groan was muffled against your mouth as you licked into him, your fingers tightening in his hair. You could feel the way his body shuddered when you nipped at his bottom lip, the way his hips jerked forward instinctively, grinding his cock—so fucking hard against your thigh.

“God, you’re—” His voice broke as you kissed him again, rougher this time, your teeth dragging over his lip. His hands gripped your waist, fingers digging in like he was afraid you’d vanish if he let go. “Fuck, I need—please—”

"Reiner," you breathed, pressing a kiss to his jaw. "Please fuck me."

You could feel it—the way his entire body trembled with the effort of holding back, the way his breath came in ragged bursts against your mouth. His hands fumbled with his belt, his fingers shaking as he undid the buckle, his cock springing free, thick and flushed and aching for you.

Reiner didn’t waste another second.

He hooked his hands under your knees, spreading you wider, his gaze locked on where your slick glistened between your thighs. His breath hitched, his cock twitching against your stomach as he lined himself up, the blunt head pressing against your entrance.

“Look at me,” he demanded, his voice rough.

You did.

His eyes burned into yours as he pushed inside, slow, so agonizingly slow, his jaw clenched tight as he fought to keep control. The stretch was delicious, the way your walls fluttered around him making his hips stutter.

“Fuck,” he gritted out, his fingers digging into your thighs. “You feel—Christ—you feel even better than I imagined.”

And then he was seated fully inside you, his hips flush against yours, his cock buried to the hilt. For a moment, neither of you moved—just breathed, just felt, the weight of years of longing crashing over you both.

Then—because he needed to see it, needed to know this was real—he leaned back on his heels, pulling out almost all the way just to watch the way your cunt clung to him, glistening and desperate, before slamming back in. His cock disappeared inside you, your wetness coating his dick as your body stretched to take him.

The sound you made was sinful.

Reiner’s hips snapped forward again, harder this time, his cock dragging against your walls in a way that made your toes curl. His grip shifted from your wrist to your hip, holding you in place as he fucked into you with slow, deep strokes—like he was savoring every second, like he wanted to memorize the way your body took him.

His dick glistened with your arousal, disappearing inside you with each thrust, your cunt gripping him like it was made for him. He couldn’t look away—couldn’t stop the way his breath hitched as he watched himself fuck into you, over and over, your body taking him so perfectly.

Reiner’s rhythm was relentless, each deep stroke dragging a gasp from your lips. His broad palm slid down your stomach, fingers gliding through your slick until his thumb found your clit, rubbing tight, rough circles that made your toes curl.

"There you go," he murmured, voice thick with praise as he watched your face twist in pleasure. "So fucking pretty when you take me like this. Can’t believe you’re real—can’t believe I get to have you."

You whimpered, your hips lifting to meet his thrusts, desperate for more, for everything. Reiner moaned at the way your body clenched around him, his thumb pressing harder against your clit.

"Love the way you take me," he panted, his thumb pressing harder against your clit. "Like you were made for me, huh? Made to take my cock just like this—shit—"

Then, without warning, he leaned forward, his chest pressing flush against yours, his weight pinning you completely beneath him. The new angle made him sink deeper, his cock hitting a spot inside you that had your vision whiting out for a second.

"There," he rasped, his breath hot against your ear. "That’s it, sweetheart. Let me have you just like this—fuck—"

His thrusts turned slower but impossibly harder, each one dragging a broken moan from your lips. His fingers tangled in your hair, tilting your head back so he could kiss you again, swallowing your gasps like he needed them to survive.

He braced himself above you, muscles taut, sweat glistening on his skin as he watched your face—every flutter of your lashes, every bitten-off moan—like he was memorizing you all over again.

His hips rolled into yours with a deep, almost reverent grind, pressing so deep you could feel him in your ribs. Your breath hitched as he lingered there, his tip nudging that perfect, aching spot inside you before pulling back with a slow, torturous drag that made your toes curl.

"Feel how deep I am?" he breathed, his fingers tightening on your hip as he rocked into you again, slow and unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world. "Fuck, you’re perfect."

His voice was wrecked, his body trembling with the effort of holding back. But he didn’t rush—just kept moving inside you with that same maddening pace, every thrust a sweet torment.

"Could stay like this forever," he admitted, his lips brushing your jaw. "Just like this—buried inside you, feeling you clench around me like you never wanna let me go."

"Reiner," you whined.

"I've got you," he responded, hips never stopping.

And when your back arched, your body tightening around him, he didn’t speed up—just kept fucking you through it, his lips pressed to your neck, whispering praise as pleasure washed over you in waves.

Reiner’s thrusts grew more erratic, his control slipping as your walls fluttered around him, pulling him deeper with each desperate clench. His breath came in ragged gasps, his forehead pressed against yours as he fought to hold on just a little longer.

“I—fuck—I’m close,” he groaned, his voice rough with need. His fingers dug into your hips, his rhythm faltering as pleasure coiled tight in his gut.

You arched beneath him, nails scraping down his back as you panted, “Inside… please, Reiner—I want you to cum inside me.”

His entire body tensed at your words, a shudder running through him. He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his own dark with lust and something dangerously close to worship.

“Are you—fuck—are you sure?” he rasped, hips stuttering as he struggled to keep his pace steady.

You nodded, biting your lip as you clenched around him deliberately, drawing a broken groan from his lips.

“Yes,” you breathed. “Want to feel you—all of you.”

That was all it took.

Reiner’s restraint shattered.

"Fuck—gonna fill you up so good," he panted, his forehead dropping against yours. "Gonna make sure you feel it—"

You clenched around him, your own climax building again, and he cursed, his rhythm faltering.

"Come with me," he demanded, his voice wrecked. "Wanna feel you cum on my cock while I’m deep inside you—fuck—please—"

His words tipped you over the edge. Pleasure crashed through you, your body tightening around him in waves, and Reiner lost it.

With a growl that was almost feral, he slammed into you one last time, burying himself to the hilt as his cock pulsed inside you, hot and thick. His body shuddered violently, his fingers gripping you like a lifeline as he spilled deep, his release filling you in waves.

You could feel him pulsing inside you, his cock twitching as he rode out his orgasm, his forehead pressed to yours. When he finally stilled, he didn’t pull away—just stayed there, his body heavy and warm against yours, his breath slowly steadying.

After a long moment, he lifted his head, his gaze soft as he brushed a sweaty strand of hair from your face.

"Okay?" he murmured, his thumb tracing your cheekbone.

You nodded, your fingers lazily tracing the muscles of his back.

Reiner exhaled, something like relief—or maybe wonder—flickering in his eyes before he leaned down, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your lips.

"Good," he murmured against your mouth.

You lay in comfortable silence for what felt like hours but was likely only minutes, Reiner's weight pressing you into the thin mattress, his breath warm against your neck. His fingers traced lazy patterns on your skin, as though memorizing the feel of you. Neither of you wanted to break the spell, to acknowledge the world waiting outside this small cabin.

"I love you," you whispered finally, the words escaping before you could think better of them. They hung in the air between you, raw and honest.

Reiner stilled, his breath catching. Slowly, he raised himself up on his elbows to look at you, his hazel eyes searching yours with an intensity that made your heart skip. For a terrible moment, you thought you'd said too much, revealed too much of yourself to someone who had once betrayed you.

But then his expression softened, a genuine smile—one you hadn't seen in years—spreading across his face. "I love you too," he said, his voice steady and sure. "I always have."

He leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours. "I know it doesn't change anything," he murmured. "I know it doesn't make up for what I did. But it's true."

His eyes grew serious again. "Whatever happens with Eren, with the Rumbling… I'm going to protect you. I promise."

Before you could respond, a sharp knock at the door made you both jump.

"Hey, you two done?" Connie's voice called through the thin wood. "There's food up on the deck if you're interested. Kinda limited, but better than nothing."

You and Reiner exchanged wide-eyed looks before scrambling to get dressed, movements frantic and clumsy in the small space. Your fingers fumbled with buttons and clasps as you tried to make yourselves presentable.

"Uh, yeah," Reiner called back, his voice remarkably steady considering his panicked expression. "We'll be right there."

You could hear the smirk in Connie's voice as he replied, "Take your time. Not like we can hear everything through these paper-thin walls or anything."

Your face burned as you hurriedly tucked in your shirt. Reiner looked equally mortified, though a small, almost boyish grin played at the corners of his mouth when your eyes met.

"Ready?" he asked softly, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

You nodded, taking a deep breath before opening the door. Connie was waiting in the narrow corridor, a knowing grin splitting his face. Without a word, he turned and headed up the stairs, gesturing for you both to follow.

Reiner went first, and you couldn't help but notice the way Connie immediately engaged him in animated conversation as they climbed, acting as though nothing unusual had happened at all. Their voices faded slightly as they reached the deck above.

Jean appeared at your side as you finished climbing the stairs.

"So," he said, raising an eyebrow. "I take it the talk went well?"

You felt heat rise to your cheeks. "Yeah, really well," you replied, hoping that Connie was just teasing and no one else heard a thing.

"I just mean," he continued, a stupid and annoying grin on your face, "when I suggested you two clear the air, I didn't necessarily mean you should bring down the whole ship with your—"

Your face burned with embarrassment and fury. "I will literally throw you overboard, Jean," you hissed, shoving his shoulder hard enough to make him stumble back. "I swear to God—"

JEAN KIRSTEIN !

REINER BRAUN !

ARMIN ARLERT !

CONNIE SPRINGER !

PORCO GALLIARD !