"I'll seize the roses,with my wings, we'll fly."

The King chuckles lightly at Simon’s surprise, “She is my eldest,” he begins,“Honestly? A fussy brat when it comes to marriage, too picky for her own good. Every suitor we’ve introduced has fallen short in her eyes. But she cannot prolong marriage any longer, I need to ensure she can lead this Kingdom when I am gone.”

“But, your majesty, I-”

“She will accept it.” the King interrupts with an unbending certainty. “She does not talk to me on these matters, but my beloved wife tells me that she is rather... fond of you, for whatever reason that may be.”

Simon had only met you a handful of times, at ceremonies or other boring royal events. You were always friendly to him, of course, but he had never imagined it extended beyond mere courtesy. Never entertained the idea that you may think of him for more than a fleeting moment.

The thought of resisting laying down his sword no longer finds its way to his lips, now silenced by the King’s proposition. Marriage was never in the cards for a man like Simon—he's too rough, too guarded, they all say— let alone with the cherished princess of the realm.

But if so, why does the mere mention of such a union not fill him with a sense of dread, but with something akin to anticipation, want, even?

At Simon's pause, the King continues, “If you wish, you may speak with her yourself. Hear her mind from her own lips. But I do believe she will be pleased with this arrangement, as will I.”

The King doesn’t elaborate on that last part—he doesn't need to—Simon understands the unspoken words. He was practically born into the castle, his mother had been working for the royal family when he was born and he lived in palace walls, becoming a knight at a very young age. Loyal to the Kingdom ever since, which is why he knows the King trusts him implicitly, with his own life and, by extension, yours.

The King’s handshake seals the pact, a smile playing on his lips. And whilst Simon’s acceptance was partly the reason for such an expression, the King failed to mention one other thing.

Conveniently forgetting to tell Simon you were a nightmare to handle. A tempest that no suitor had managed to yet tame. But Simon's not a delicate prince, he's a fighter—even now—one that's won countless battles. So if he can handle the bloodshed in war, surely he can face the storm that is you.

At least, the King hopes so.

Simon's not sure he's ever heard the word, “No” so much in his entire life. The sound is a constant on your tongue and the two of you weren’t even married yet.

“No, I’m not attending that dinner.”

“No. I refuse to bow to the whims of the court on this matter. It's our wedding, not theirs.”

“No, Simon, I refuse to wear that!”

The nobles frequently whisper about the turbulent nature of the union, always some form of gossip wondering just how long the old knight can endure the storm that is his future bride.

Simon though, he knows he’ll be just fine. He's faced many hardships in his time as a knight, never one to shy away from challenges and back then the only reward he got was decent food and a bed. With you as a prize there really is no limit to what he'd do and he knows he’d gladly weather any storm you came at him with.

For Simon, there was no sweeter victory, than you.

After settling the arrangement with the King, Simon quickly discovered your troublesome character. He knew you were a force to be reckoned with of course, but what he hadn’t expected, was the pride that swells in his chest every time you stand your ground, even when you use that stubborn tongue against him.

Simon finds himself standing in awe of you and your stubborn will. In the eye of your storm, he discovers a woman who is greatly independent and loyal to those she cares for, not at all the brat the court likes to make you out to be.

“Don’t worry... I’m sure it isn't too late to back out of this arrangement.” an older man speaks, tearing him from his thoughts, "I'm certain even the King himself would understand."

“Back out?” Simon questions, puzzled, as he looks away from the man, not entirely sure he wants to waste his breath.

“Haven’t you heard?” the man tuts, shaking his head in disapproval, “The princess is notoriously difficult. She’ll have you on a leash before you know it!”

Simon’s eyes follow you, taking in the graceful sway of your hips as you move throughout the ballroom. “Is that meant to deter me?” he replies, a little too bluntly than is perhaps polite. “I have no problem letting my future wife take the reins, she is royalty, after all.”

He pauses, gaze lingering on your form, “Besides, I am a knight…or was. Following orders is second nature to me. If my wife wishes to put me on a leash, I’d get on my knees and play the role with pride.”

In Simon’s eyes, you were not nearly a nightmare at all. Challenging? Yes, he would be a fool to deny that, but in a way that ignited his passion. You were intelligent and valued your autonomy. Those who found you demanding were simply the ones who didn’t give you the respect you deserved, and Simon had come to realise that your responses were always justified.

To him, you were simply a graceful princess, who would one day make a great Queen. One that would surely stand apart from your family as you always voiced your displeasure for outdated customs and refused to be confined by them. You challenge Simon, but your spirit also inspires him, pushing him to be better and himself pushing past the traditions that he was once so familiar with in his knighthood.

“Come, come—I want to dance with you.” you beam, excitement evident as you rush over to him. Simon puts down his glass and stands almost instinctively, he knows he would follow you anywhere if you were to just smile at him like that so there is no point in him pretending otherwise.

A pretty, soft melody fills the ballroom as you lead him towards the centre. A small laugh leaves your lips as you see his apprehension and it's a beautiful sound, one he could listen to endlessly, never growing tired of it, even if it was at his expense.

Both of your eyes gleam under the warm cascading glow of the lights and Simon can’t help but smile, a rare softness gracing his features. The two of you dance, lost in the feeling. Simon’s strong, yet gentle grip, holds you steady, one hand respectfully roams along your lower back, causing a slight shiver to run across your skin.

In this moment, it was just the two of you. He wasn’t a hardened knight, just Simon and you were just two souls, enjoying this dance together.

And maybe his soul was always yours because here with you, he feels like he belongs, more than he ever has in his entire life. Everything else around you fades to nothing as he twirls you around, your movements fluid as you both melt into each other. Your steps were effortless but he tried his hardest to keep up, even if fancing was not his strongsuit.

“You’ve been practising the dance.” you smirk at him, admiring the glint in his eyes.

“Well I can’t embarrass my darling wife on our wedding day, can I? I have to get my practice in sometime.” He chuckles lowly and it’s a sound that goes straight to your core. Right now as you look at him, you silently curse yourself for insisting the two of you wait until the wedding night.

You looked at him then like he was the only person in the room and it was something Simon hadn’t known he was missing in his life. There was a slight flutter in his chest that he’d never felt before and he wouldn't have imagined the first time would be with the royal princess—no—his wife to be.

The music flowed and there was not a single worry in your mind, the night was just pure bliss as you felt his hand in yours, the other one lovingly caressing your waist, ocassionally dipping down a little too low to be proper but in this moment you couldn't find it in you to lecture him.

The night slowly winds down as you rest your head on Simon’s chest, a sigh of pure contentment escaping your lips. He held you close, his heart swelling with a tenderness that he would never be able to voice. His touch felt natural, familiar, as if you two were already years into marriage. Nobody would guess that the wedding was still a few weeks away with how you two looked at each other now.

“I’m grateful to be the man you marry.” he says, pressing a kiss to your knuckles and the smile you gave in response almost brought him to his knees, he felt he could die a happy man, then and there.

“I am too.” you whisper.

No more words were needed, the answer was in the way you held him tighter, the way you looked up at him adoringly and in the way your heartbeat matched his.

The night was still, the complete opposite of the bustle currently ongoing in the castle. A lot of preparation was underway in advance for tomorrow. The wedding day of the Princess would be a massive day for the kingdom, a day your Father feared would never come, but thankfully Simon had knocked you off your feet and honestly, you, him.

The soft glow of the moonlight filters through the window as you stand in your chamber. A playful smile tugs at your lips as you watch Simon linger in the doorway, reluctant to leave.

“Si, you really must go,” you insist, trying to sound stern, but the laughter in your voice betrays you. “It’s almost midnight, and you know you can’t see me before the wedding.”

Simon smirks, leaning against the doorframe, his eyes soft as they hold yours. “I’ve faced down armies, my love. You really think I’m afraid of a little superstition?”

“Yes,” you replied with a mischievous grin, stepping slightly closer to him. “Because if you stay, I’ll tell everyone that the brave knight Simon was too smitten to follow a simple tradition.”

“Then tell them, it’s not like they don’t already know.” he chuckles, “When people hear my name, I'm not sure anyone even remembers the once feared knight. My image has already been shattered, I've been reduced to a lovesick puppy….And for you, I am perfectly okay with that.”

As he speaks, he crosses the room and gently brushes a strand of hair from your face, his touch lingering as if he can’t quite bear to part from you. You catch his hand, holding it between your own as you look up at him,“It’s only until tomorrow,” you whisper, though the words were as much for yourself as for him.

Simon reluctantly sighs, leaning down as he peppers kisses along your jaw, “I suppose I’ll have to manage until tomorrow-” he practically whines, the dramatics not lost on you. It's a far cry from the image he once portrayed but you couldn't love this side of him any less.

Reluctantly, he steps back, letting your hands slip from his as he turns to leave. But before he crosses the doorway, he pauses, clutching his chest dramatically as you playfully roll your eyes at him and shoo him out. “Sleep well, my future wife,” he says softly as he finally retreats and you love how the endearment slips out so easily. You already know he’ll be referring to you as 'his wife' at any chance he gets after tomorrow’s done and you wouldn't want it any other way.

“Sleep well too,” you reply with a tender smile, watching him go though you long to pull him back.

The room felt emptier without him, but your heart was full of the promise of tomorrow, of the life you were about to begin together. You sighed, turning towards the window, where the moon hung high in the sky, serene and bright, hopeful. Tomorrow, you would walk down the aisle, and everything would change.

It was funny really, you never dreamed about marriage before Simon and he never considered it until you. You were complete opposites in some ways, but also not so different at all, you both had come to realise.

As you lay in bed that night, sleep seemed like a foreign concept. Your mind was a whirl of thoughts and dreams of what was to come. You thought of Simon, of the way he looked at you, his eyes full of love and unwavering devotion. You thought of how he had become your anchor, your partner in all things. You imagined everything with him, even the sappy things you know he’d tease you about.

Your heart fluttered with hope and joy as you imagined the ceremony. The moment when you would stand before him, declaring your love and commitment for all to see. The future felt like a beautiful mystery, but one you were quite looking forward to experiencing together.

Across the vast castle, Simon too lay awake, staring at the ceiling of his chamber, his thoughts consumed by you. He had experienced so much in his life, but nothing had ever filled him with the same mix of joy and anticipation as the thought of marrying you.

He replayed your smile in his mind, the sound of your laughter, the way you had banished him from your room with that playful sparkle in your eyes. He couldn’t help but smile at the image, his heart swelling with a love that threatened to consume him.

And of course, you both dreamed of the wedding night.

You longed to trace every line of his skin, to press your lips tenderly against the scars that told stories only his body could share. You wanted to know him in every way, unravel him completely as you both explore each other in the most intimate way.

Simon, in turn, imagined the delicate fabric of your white dress, how it would softly fall away, revealing the woman he had adored from afar for so long. He envisioned the way the soft candlelight would catch the gentle curves of your form, the way your eyes would hold his as you became one. The thought of your shared breath, your intertwined souls, and the closeness that awaited forever after that filled his mind with a longing that was both tender and bold.

The sun emits an ethereal golden glow that settles over the castle as the day begins. The halls buzz with activity, people rush back and forth, the final touches being put in place. Even the Kingdom itself was hectic, everyone preparing to celebrate the long awaited royal wedding.

But in your chambers, everything was surprisingly calm. You stand in front of your mirror, dressed in a gown that flowed beautifully. The white a pristine look you were unfamiliar with and for once in your life, you feel truly nervous.

The door opens, and your mother steps in, her eyes softening as she sees you in your  dress. “You look like a dream,” she whispers, tears glistening in her eyes.

You smile, a genuine smile, though your mind was already far away, wondering what Simon looked like- what was running through his mind in this moment.

“Don’t let your thoughts run a thousand a minute,” the Queen begins, knowing you too well as she gently tilts your chin to look up at her, “That man is head over heels for you, my dear. I saw him this morning, actually.”

“Has he changed his mind?” you immediately ask, worry crossing your face for a brief moment.

Your mother laughs, rolling her eyes slightly, “You two are both as daft as each other, nobody is running away. Not you, and most certainly, not him.” she reassures you.

“He actually wanted me to give you this-” she says, as she pulls out a dainty bracelet, waiting for you to extend your arm.

“What is it?” you ask as you oblige, allowing her to put it on you.

“Simon said it was his mother’s, a good luck charm, if you will. He wanted you to have it.” she replies and you can’t help the way that makes your heart feel. A giddy smile on your face as you realise he’s given you something with so much meaning. Especially since you knew how much Simon adored his mother, how much she made him the man he is today.

You try to steady yourself, taking a deep breath. This was the moment you two had been waiting for, and now it was finally here, it was surreal, but you were grateful for it all, every second.

The heartfelt moments with your closest family and friends slowly filter down as a beautiful melody fills the hall, signalling the start of the ceremony. The doors open, revealing far too many people for your liking. Honestly you’d just be happy if it were you and Simon, but you understand this is a must for someone of your stature. It didn’t matter much anyway when your eyes were only on Simon, standing at the end of the aisle, his gaze locked on yours.

He looked breath-taking like this. You’d have to thank whoever picked that suit out for him because lord knows it wasn’t him. For all he is, and all his accomplishments, you quickly learnt that style was not included amongst that list.

But you can't think about that right now, not when it dawns on you that this is it, the amazing man at the end of the aisle is about to be yours, forever. Your husband.

As you step forward, time seems to slow. Your Father’s arm in yours as your dress glides along the marble floor, moving closer to the end of the aisle. Simon’s eyes never leave yours, as though he couldn’t quite believe that this moment was real. And when you finally reach him, it's as if the entire world had faded away, leaving only the two of you in this sacred space.

You laugh a little when you notice his nervous swallow, eyes watering just slightly as he tries to keep it together. But with the happiness of it all, you couldn’t stop your own tears from falling and that was all it took for Simon’s to finally fall too. He wipes them away before quickly reaching out to wipe your own, not wanting you to ruin your makeup with tears…at least not yet anyway.

The ceremony passed by in a blur, you both exchange your vows and make promises to one another, some more general ones and others, very specific to just the two of you. But what you would remember most was the look in Simon’s eyes as he spoke his vows, his voice full of emotion as he pledged his love and loyalty to you for the rest of his days.

“I bind myself to you, in this life and the next.” He says lovingly as he slips the ring on your finger.

“And I, you.” you reply, your voice trembling with the weight of your emotions. “For all the days of our lives and forever after that.”

As you were declared husband and wife, Simon didn’t hesitate to lean in and kiss you. You were lost in the warmth of his embrace. Not even thinking about the crowd who were now applauding, or your family who were also tearing up at the ceremony.

You look up at Simon, hand in hand, his smile mirroring your own. He didn’t know what he’d done to have you as his wife, but now that you are, he’s certain he won't ever let you go.

Celebrations had been in full swing for a while now, the night air filled with laughter and music. Drunken nobles made a fool of themselves, sweet blessings were given to you and your new husband and the kingdom was full of joy, everyone wishing prosperity to you and Simon.

As fun as the party was though, once yours and Simon’s first dance had ended, you were only thinking about one thing.

You know Simon’s mind drifts to the same place yours had because the gleam in his eye spoke a thousand words alone. Your hands find each other under the table, fingers entwining as you lean into his side.

“Shall we?” Simon whispers, his voice low and intimate, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes.

“We can’t ditch our wedding party.” you laugh softly, “It’s not polite.”

“Says who?” He scoffs, “It is our wedding after all, isn't that what you keep saying? Besides…I have been patiently waiting to have my wife all to myself, can't I get a little reward?” he grins, leaning in close to give you a kiss.

His lips barely linger, the touch fleeting yet enough to send a thrill through you. You feel your cheeks flush as Simon’s eyes hold yours, a shared secret sparkling between you. The music and laughter of the party fades into the background, and all that matters is the two of you, lost in this moment.

“Come on, my pretty, beautiful, tempting wife,” he murmurs, his hand warm in yours as he helps you to your feet. “Or I mean, we can stay for a few more toasts if you reeaallly want to?” he asks, a playful glint in his eye.

You laugh, shaking your head. “Alright fine, I think I’ve had my fill of conversation for one evening. I’d much rather toast to our future in private.”

With a shared glance of understanding, you and Simon make your way through the crowded room.

You glance around, seeing the joyous faces of your guests. Together, you navigate the crowded room, offering polite excuses to well-wishers, weaving through the guests who were too caught up in their drinks and celebrations to notice the bride and groom slipping away.

Simon smiles bright and he squeezes your hand as he leads you down the quiet halls, away from the merriment. The flickering lights create dancing shadows as the quiet grows, the silence feeling almost sacred after the hectic commotion of the day. Simon’s hand never leaves yours, his thumb gently caressing the back of yours as you make your way to your now shared chambers.

As you approach the door, your heart quickens. This is the moment you had been waiting for, all of this build up, to now, you were both anxious and excited. Simon turns to you, his expression soft and tender as he picks up on your emotions, sharing the sentiment. “After you, beautiful,” he says, pushing the door open.

Inside the room you were met with the soft glow of candlelight, the bed covered in pretty petals. The air thick with the scent of roses and the promise of what was to come. Simon draws you into his arms, his touch gentle but sure. “This is our night,” he whispers, his lips brushing against your temple. “And I intend to make every second of it special.”

You smile, leaning into him, “Sweetheart, as lovely as the rose petals are, isn’t it a bit…impractical?” you remark with a light laugh.

“Oh, I absolutely agree. I didn’t scatter them out, figured it would be a waste since we’d mess it up. I suppose the maids didn’t get the message,” he replies with a playful grin.

Simon's focus never drifts from you as he guides you over towards the bed. A mischievous glint in his eyes as he smiles at you. He leans down, his lips softly meeting yours in a tender kiss.

Simon pulls away momentarily to admire you in your wedding gown, the white a beautiful contrast to the red rose petals surrounding you. It sends a rush of blood straight down to his cock. With a soft growl, he disappears under your wedding gown, kissing up your leg and along your thigh.

Opening his mouth, his teeth gently bite down on the garter, pulling the fabric down with a soft tug. As the fabric slips away from your leg, he lifts his head, his eyes meeting yours as he tosses the garter to the side. “You wouldn’t let me do it in the main hall, I had to do it at some point.” he grins smugly.

His hands move to your waist, pulling you closer as his lips capture yours in another tender kiss, all of the unspoken emotions pouring out in the loving gesture. He moves around you as his fingers nimbly work the threads along the back of your wedding gown.

He wants to explore every part of you, and he certainly plans to take his time tonight, savouring each moment. He wants, needs, to make you his completely. The love he has for you is all-consuming, and he wants to show it to you in every way he can, with every touch.

As the gown falls to your feet, his gaze is glued to your body, so delicate, with your pretty lace corset and panties. He can’t help but marvel at how perfect you are. “So, so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, shaking his head slightly as if he can't believe he's really this lucky.

His hands move to unfasten your corset, revealing more of your body with each passing second, lips trailing your skin as he does so. Simon’s eyes drink in the sight, his hands running over your curves, causing you to shiver.

He lifts you up effortlessly, placing you gently on the bed. He takes a moment to admire the way the petals look beside you as you lay down, the sight making him delirious. His warm breath moves across your skin as he peppers kisses along your jaw, your neck, trailing down towards your collarbone, gently nipping at the delicate skin every now and then as he works his way down.

He presses a kiss to your shoulder, admiring your body and the way the candlelight dances across your skin. “God, you’re breathtaking…how did I get so lucky?” he whispers, moreso to himself.

His body settles over yours as his hands cup your face. “You’re all mine...My precious wife,” he says gently, before his lips move down to kiss the wedding ring adorned on your finger. He smiles, returning his lips up to your mouth as his hands begin to roam, exploring every inch of your body.

Simon's touch is both tender and demanding, his fingers trace every curve along your body, the dip of your waist, the swell of your breasts.

He holds you gently, but the grip is still strong enough to remind you he was once a well equipped fighter. He plants sweet kisses, with occasional soft bites along your skin that you know will bloom in the morning with a faint rose hint.

He likes the idea of marking you, claiming you as his own. He knows you’re already his and he’s yours but there’s a sense of pride he gets in flaunting that fact. Letting the people know that the royal princess is truly enamoured with a man like him, a man people would look down upon before. He nips at the sensitive skin just below your ear, his tongue darting out to soothe the sting.

His kisses trail down to the valley in between your breasts as his hands continue to explore you. He palms your breasts, thumbs flicking over the sensitive peaks, eliciting a soft moan from you. He likes the sound of that, loves knowing he can make you lose control so easily.

Simon's mouth moves to your breast, his lips wrapping around your nipple, drawing it into his mouth as he begins sucking gently. He can feel you arching into his touch, and he can’t help but smirk against your skin. He continues his worship, his tongue swirling around your nipple as he lightly pulls at it with his teeth a ltitle. “Is that good, hm?” he teases.

You nod as he moves to the other breast, treating it just as lovingly. He nips and sucks, teasing you with his mouth, and you can feel your arousal building. His hands keep exploring, one moving lower, slipping beneath the waistband of your panties.

His touch is light, trailing his fingers along the dampness there, almost torturing you with the promise of what was to come. His lips soon follow down, kissing a path down your stomach, his tongue darting out every so often as he maps out your smooth skin.

He continues further down, his kisses growing more urgent as he reaches the edge of your panties. He hooks them to the side as he reveals your pussy, his breath hitching. He takes in the sight of you, your arousal glistening, your folds parted just enough to reveal the prize within. “My pretty girl’s already so wet for me.” he coos.

Simon swallows at the sight, and he can't help but emit a low growl of desire. Leaning in, his tongue flicks out to taste you, savouring how you taste. He laps at your folds, teasing the entrance to your core as his fingers smooth over your thighs lovingly.

He continues his worship, his tongue delving deeper, only coming back up to suck on your clit. He could feel you trembling beneath him, your moans growing louder as he brought you closer to the edge. “So sweet- you taste so fucking divine.”

Simon's fingers join his tongue, slipping inside you, curling to find your most sensitive spots. He moves them in a rhythm, his thumb flicking at your clit, his mouth never leaving your core.

He continues his assault, his mouth and fingers working in perfect harmony as his eyes lock onto yours. You let out a breathy moan as he slides his ring finger into you. The sight of it disappearing inside you making his own arousal grow. He watches as he fingers you, his thumb circling your clit as he works his finger inside you.

He dives back in, his face between your thighs, his tongue swirling around your clit as his fingers continue their ministrations. The overall blend of every sensation almost seems too much to bear, and you can feel yourself getting closer and closer to that sweet release.

He eats you out like a man starved, like you are the most divine thing that ever rested on his tongue, and in a sense, that was true. "You're all mine" he murmurs, his voice low and husky. He flattens his tongue against your folds as the bridge of his nose brushes against your clit.

He pulls his hand away momentarily as he lifts his ring finger slightly, pressing the ring against your clit, smirking when your body shivers at the cool metal and you mumble something incoherent.

His pace increases, his tongue flicking faster, his fingers thrusting as deep as they can, hitting that sweet spot inside you. He can sense your orgasm, feel it in the tremor of your thighs, the clench of your walls.

Simon's lips press against your clit, sucking it gently as he keeps his fingers exactly where you want them. The combination of his mouth and fingers is all too much, and you cry out his name as you come undone, your body trembling beneath him.

He continues, even as your orgasm subsides, drawing it out for as long as he can. When he’s sure you’re spent, he pulls away, his eyes meeting yours once more.

"Mine," he repeats, a satisfied smirk curving his lips.

With a gentle tug, Simon fully removes your panties, discarding them. He moves up your body, his lips capturing yours in a searing kiss and you can taste yourself on hihs lips as he positions himself at your entrance.

“You ready?” he whispers against your lips.

“Yes- I want you, please” you whisper back almost desperately and that’s all he needs as he slowly pushes inside you. The moment he does, you both let out a soft gasp. He pauses, letting you adjust to his size, his eyes never leaving yours. “Fuck, baby, you feel so good." It takes everything in him to not immediately start thrusting, his head buried against your neck as you both savour the moment.

He starts to push into you, his strokes very slow and tender, so you can feel every inch. His hands roam across your body, caressing your skin, pressing soft kisses to your skin wherever he can. He pays attention to every noise that escapes you, each slight twitch, taking it all in, locking it in his memories.

His thrusts quicken as you lock your legs over his waist, heels against his ass. He feels you drawing closer and closer; he wants to be the one to push you over. He bends down at the waist, takes your lips in a rough, hungry kiss, and maintains the pace of his intense thrusts. His hands move to your hips, as he pulls you against him, thrusting as deep as he can in ecstasy.

The room is filled with the sound of moans, slapping skin on skin, and both of your quickened breaths. Simon's free hand moves to your breast, squeezing it firmly as he tugs at your nipple. The sensation is almost too much to bear, and you can feel your orgasm building, growing closer and closer.

“Is that good, baby?”

“Yesyesyes, so good.” you babble as you cling to him.

By the time Simon's cock has reached that pivotal spot, you can’t help but whine with the feeling of him so deep inside you. Your eyes meet and in that moment, you feel a soft intimate connection beyond the physical.

He quickens his pace, a few simple thrusts increasing the urgency of the moment. He continues to drive into you, his thrusts more fierce now, his body trembling as he nears his climax. The two of you move as one, your bodies locked together in a dance of passion and love.

The moment is intense, the two of you reaching for that peak, both of your body's aching for release. As he continued his movements, he let out a low groan, his voice thick with desire. "Fuuck- keep squeezing me like that—shit—and I might have to put a baby in you."

His words send a thrill through you, the thought of starting a family with him making your heart flutter. Simon's thrusts grow more desperate, his body trembling as he nears his climax.

"You can-" you whine, "you're my husband now."

Simon's eyes darken at your words, and he lets out a low growl. "Yeah? Call me that again."

“My husband.” you say through breaths as you look up at him adoringly.

He leans down, bringing you in for a loving kiss as he continues to thrust into you. He can feel your body responding to him and it spurs him on.

Simon continues to drive into you, his body trembling as he nears his climax. His movements become desperate, his thrusts faltering slightly, becoming sloppier.

“Please- so close-” you whine

“Yeah? I suppose I can’t deny my future queen.” he groans against your skin, head buried in the crevice of your neck. Simon's thrusts grow more frantic, as you both reach the peak. His body shakes as he fills you up to the brim with a thick heavy load. You cling to him, your body shaking, his name a cry on your tongue as your own orgasm crashes over you in waves, leaving you both breathless and spent.

Simon collapses onto you fully, forgetting for a second just how heavy he is compared to you, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. After a few moments, he lifts himself up slightly, pressing a kiss to your glowing skin, a satisfied grin plastered on his face.

The two of you catch your breath, relaxing in each other's arms, the afterglow washing over you both. For a moment, the outside world ceases to exist, it’s only you two and you wish you could stay in this bubble of intimacy forever.

As Simon pulls out, you can’t help but let out a soft whine, the emptiness inside you leaving you missing the feeling. His release runs down your thighs as you begin to trail kisses along his body. Your lips brushing against his skin, feeling the ridges of his scars.

Each kiss you place on his body is filled with love and adoration, your tongue traces the lines of his scars, feeling the weight of his past. Simon feels vulnerable, you can tell in the way he looks at you. He’d just filled you with his cum, but the sight of you focusing on his scars was what made him feel shy.

Your lips linger on his chest, your eyes meeting his, your love for him shining through. "I love you," you whisper, the words echoing in the room, a promise of the life you two would build together.

His eyes soften, and he pulls you in closer, leaning in to kiss you softly, his hands tangle in your hair as he deepens the kiss, afraid you’ll escape if he lets you go.

Pulling back from the kiss, you continue your journey down his body, taking your time to map every inch, every ridge, watching as his body shivers slightly when your breath meets certain areas. “You’re mesmerising and I’m so thankful you’re my husband.”

“I’m the thankful one. I’m merely a retired knight, compared to you-”

You shush him as you finally reach his cock, now slick with your juices and his. You wrap your lips around the tip, your tongue swirling around the head, cleaning it gently.

“Shit-” he hisses, still so sensitive from before, just barely over his first orgasm Simon can’t help but let out a soft moan, his fingers threading in your hair to guide you as you pleasure him. "You don't need to- Christ-"

Your lips move up and down his shaft, kissing along his cock which is already hardening again. Simon's eyes close, his body relaxing as you take care of him, leaving him feeling loved in a way like never before.

He lets out a slight moan, muffled as he bites his knuckle. His hips gently thrust up to meet your mouth. Simon’s praise comes out as a soft whisper, "Fuck, you're good at that, angel." His fingers play with your hair, his touch gentle as he enjoys the way you take care of him. You can feel his appreciation, his words making your cheeks flush with pride. You let out a low hum at every praise, the noise vibrating along his cock, causing his eyes to close.

Simon's hips continue, his cock sliding against your lips and tongue as he loses himself in the bliss. "Christ, you're working me up again."

You smile around his cock, the sound of your laughter muffled by his cock in your mouth. One of your hands moves to his balls, gently fondling them, only adding to his satisfaction.

Simon's breath hitches, his fingers tightening in your hair as he nears his climax. You can feel it building, and you quicken your pace, your tongue working faster as you want to bring him to the edge once more.

He lets out a desperate groan, his hips bucking as you bring him closer to his climax. But just as he’s about to go over, he abruptly pulls away, his eyes meeting yours.

"God, no- Need to be inside you again." he growls, his voice thick with desire.

His tongue dances with yours, his hands moving to your hips, guiding you back up towards the headboard, where he’s leaning against it. "Want you on top."

You nod, your lips still locked with his, and move as directed, straddling him. His tip is leaky, pre-cum dripping profusely. His eyes close in bliss and his breath is shaky as you gradually sink down on his length.

Simon's hands move to your hips, his fingers digging into your hips as he watches you ride him, his eyes never leaving yours. You set a steady pace, your hips moving in a rhythm, your breasts bouncing with each thrust.

Simon's breathing grows heavier, his eyes darkening with a mixture of lust and love as he watches you ride him, his cock filling you up perfectly. It feels as though you’re made for him, as if he’s made for you and God he hopes he is.

He swears marrying you is the best thing that’s ever happened to him, before he thought the knights were his home. But now he knows it’s you, you’re his home and he wants to start a family with you.

His desire grows, his need for release overwhelming. His body trembles as he feels himself quickly getting close again, and he can’t help but bring one of your hands to his lips, kissing the ring on your finger again.

“I’m all yours, forever.” you whisper tenderly as your hips slow momentarily.

“And I’m yours, always. Every fibre of me, I swear it.” he says, with so much love and devotion in his tone that you could almost tear up.

He wants to be at your mercy, to let you take control and show him the pleasure he craves. He’s lost in the moment, his body writhing beneath yours.

"Thank you, fuck, thank you-" Simon whimpers, his voice thick with desire. In this moment, it’s easy to forget the man he used to be, the feared knight who commanded respect and terror. Here, he was just a man, lost in the passion and love that exists between the two of you.

His hips lift to meet your movements halfway. The two of you move together, your bodies locked in a dance of desire, your love growing stronger with each passing second.

As you continue to ride him, Simon leans back, his head resting against the headboard as he lets your hips do the work. His breath hitches in his throat as he feels the way you use your hips against him. He’s no match for them and it’s one battle he’ll happily lose.

The hushed whispers, the tender touches and the dim light from the candles, set the perfect romantic scene. You can feel his body growing closer to the peak, his fingers digging into your hips. The two of you move together, whispering sweet nothings to each other as he runs his hands across every inch of your body that he can reach, desperate to be as close to you as he can.

It’s not long before a guttural groan escapes Simon’s throat, his body tenses as he erupts inside you. Thick ropes of cum shoot inside you, the sensation overwhelming as he hits that peak. You moan his name, a bundle of nerves coursing through your veins as your orgasm hits you, body trembling as you gush around his cock. Simon's eyes close as he feels the aftershocks of his climax and yours.

He remains there, keeping his release plugged inside you as one of his hands rests on your belly, his fingers gently tracing circles on your skin. He looks up at your sweat-sheened skin, a satisfied smile on his lips as he gazes at the woman he loves. "Gonna look so good carrying my babies," he whispers, a tired smile forming on his face.

His hand moves from your belly to your breast, his thumb brushing against your nipple, teasing it gently. "You're perfect, baby, perfect for me."

As you lean down onto him, your forehead resting against his, Simon wraps his arms around you. He holds you close as the two of you bask in the moment.

Simon presses a soft kiss to your forehead as he holds you close. "I love you," he says softly, his voice filled with emotion.

"I love you too." you whisper back, your voice filled with just as much love and adoration for him as the two of you lay there, entwined.

You rest your head on his chest, catching your breath as the world outside is still. Every beat of his heartbeat reminds you of this new chapter in your life, one you now share with Simon, knowing the love will only grow stronger each day.

The cottage you're in for your honeymoon was picturesque, a quaint little refuge tucked away from the rest of the world. The ivy-covered walls, soft chirping of birds and the fresh air felt like some much deserved peace.

You and Simon stepped out onto the sun-dappled path as you walked together. Hands entwined as you walked towards the meadow that stretched before you. The sky above was a canvas of endless blue sprinkled with cotton clouds crossing lazily across the horizon.

"Isn't it magical?" you said, your voice tender in the gentle breeze. You smiled up at him, "It's like we've stepped into a fairy tale," you whispered, leaning into him, happiness threatening to spill over the edges of your heart.

Fairy tales aren't real.

Or at least that's what he would've said before, but now, seeing how you look at him, it makes him believe they might be.

"I think you're a fairy tale," he said, his voice gentle.

Simon's words wrapped around you in a soft embrace. You reached out and brushed your fingers against his cheek, marvelling at the tenderness that had come so naturally between you two.

"And you're my knight in shining armour," you returned, teasing the idea with a smile. "You rescued me from a life that I didn't know needed saving. You've given me the happiness I've been dreaming of without even knowing."

He led you to a blanket spread under the shade of a willow tree. Its long, sweeping branches formed a natural canopy that made a private haven for just the two of you. "I didn't rescue you. You've always been able to handle yourself just fine without me."

“Must you always be so practical... Can't you just take a compliment?” you chuckled lightly.

Simon flopped onto his back, propping himself up on one elbow as he turned to look at you. "It's just hard to get used to the feeling that a person like you views me so highly, I suppose," he admitted, his voice tinged with awe.

You reached out, your fingers trailing gently along his arm. "Well, you'd better get used to it," you teased, "It's going to be a common occurrence in this marriage. No more self deprecation." you said as you cupped his face and waited for him to nod.

Slowly, purposefully, Simon nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. "I promise," he said, his voice steady and resolute. "I will see myself through your eyes, and I will believe in the man you see."

He sat back up, as he reached into the hamper, grabbing a bottle of rosé and two glasses. He poured out the liquid and handed you a glass.

"To us," he toasted, his eyes never leaving yours.

"To our forever," you replied, your glass touching his softly.

As you took a sip, the sweetness of the drink mixed with the loving air of this moment, and Simon swept a fallen strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers continued on to trace the line of your jaw, and that tenderness, that made your heart flutter.

"Is this the first time you've ever felt truly relaxed?" you couldn't help but ask.

Simon acted like he was thinking about the answer, and he felt his face flush because it was an immediate yes in his head. He knows you can see through him, especially when you laugh after his extended contemplation.

"I can tell." you began as you rested a hand on his shoulder, "You're not tense- You're going with the flow…Your hair is-."

"Hey- what's wrong with my hair?" he interrupts with a chuckle, a hand on his chest in mock offence.

"Nothing's wrong with it," you teased, a twinkle in your eye. "It's just a bit… unruly. But in a charming, carefree way."

Simon laughed, shaking his head. "Unruly? I think that's a fancy way of saying I look like a mess."

You playfully ruffled his hair. "A handsome mess," you corrected, your voice gentle. "It suits you. But, if you want, I can cut it for you, maybe help you shave too."

Simon raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a smirk. "And let you take a blade to my face? You must think I'm a lot braver than I am."

You chuckled, lightly brushing your thumb across his lower lip. "I promise I'll be gentle. Besides, you've handled far more dangerous things. A little shave shouldn't scare you."

"But a razor in the hands of my beloved? That's a different kind of terror." Simon joked.

You giggled, leaning closer. "Shush, I'll be careful, I swear."

He smiled, sidewise, cocking his head a bit. "As for the haircut…what if you cut it lopsided?"

You playfully pouted at him, giving him a sort of mock-stern face. "Well, then I guess you'll just have to charm everyone with your rugged appearance. It's a good thing you're a knight with a silver tongue."

He smiled at you, a contented silence filling the air. You leaned back against a tree, and he rested his head on your lap as you both burrowed under the shade of a willow tree.

"Well, I suppose if it looks bad, that's just an excuse to extend our honeymoon…you know, to let it grow back out?" he quipped, a smirk on his face.

You laughed softly and gently ran your fingers through his hair as he rested his head on your lap. "A clever excuse indeed. You always seem to find a way to turn any situation into an opportunity for more time together."

His eyes locked with yours, shining with merriment. "You caught me," he said, his lips playing with the thought of a smile. "But can you blame me? Every moment with you feels like a precious gift."

You smiled and then bent down to place a tender kiss on his forehead. "Well, if that's your intention, I'm certainly not about to argue. I'm quite fond of these lazy afternoons with you."

Simon sighed, very satisfied, and closed his eyes. He felt a moment of satisfaction. "I could stay here forever," he said, his voice only just above a whisper. "With you, everything feels different. Lighter. You make everything feel right. Like we were always meant to be here, in this moment, together."

It was then that you knew this honeymoon wasn't going to be a brief phase, but a lifetime of treasured memories. A soft breeze stirred the willow branches above, and your fingertips moved along his jaw. "I've been thinking," you said softly, "this cottage is cute, homely."

Simon's eyes opened once more. He looked at you steadily, sensing the change in your mind. "Go on," he said, his voice low with anticipation.

"Perhaps, a good place for a family," you mumbled, the words laced with hope. It felt like a thin thread reaching from the present into a future that the two of them had only dared dream about. Of course it's not like Simon wasn't already trying to get you pregnant, but voicing it aloud here, like this, felt different.

Simon had already imagined it a thousand times that morning alone. As nice as the castle is, with all those grand halls and bustling corridors. The privacy of a cottage does offer something more intimate, more serene. He could picture the laughter of children, echoing through the meadows, in wildflowers and rustling leaves, with tiny feet darting between sunlit patches of grass.

He turned his face upwards towards you; his expression was tender as he gave you a soft smile. "I've thought about it too," he confessed; his voice was warm with emotion. "I already see us here, building our own traditions, filling this place with our own memories," he said genuinely as he sat up, his finger gliding along your jaw.

There was a flutter in your stomach at the thought of it, imagining Simon in that family role. "I'd love that," you whispered. You leaned in close and then rested your forehead to his, embracing this lovely picture of the future. "Let's make it our home."

Simon leaned forward, brushing his lips across yours to give you a light, gentle kiss. His eyes gleamed, full of love and determination as he pulled back to look at you. "We'll make it everything we've ever hoped for," he vowed.

You both fell silent then, your shared vision settling around you. The sun wrapped the meadow in a golden glow and cast a shimmering halo about the two of you. Here, on this honeymoon with you, he felt the truth of something he had once doubted.

Fairy tales must be real, for he knows now that he's living in one.

You turn to look around you as cadets scramble like mice to get their equipment ready, shaky hands filling their gas canisters, many with tear-stained faces.

You bite the inside of your cheek. It has to be done, you reassure yourself, we need to snuff the founder out of hiding. It's been too long.

Sweat beads across your palms as you tighten the belts around your thighs holding your ODM gear up, ensuring they're secure. 

This had to be done.

ᯓ

All cadets were to be stationed in the middle guard led by a support squad. The advance team stationed near the breach had already been wiped out by the titans, so it was up to the rest of you to do what they couldn't.

"Why did this have to happen now?" Jean mutters into his hand over his face, "Just one more day and I would have been in the interior--fuck, I can't do this."

You're sitting across from him with Bertholdt standing only a few paces behind him. Bertholdt pulls at his collar once, then again. Unbuttons it. You can't help but notice how his eyes stay glued to the brick beneath his feet despite the scene unraveling around you.

A cadet vomits next to you three in the grass, groaning as bile burns his throat. Another sits with her knees to her chest, rocking back and forth with her arms wrapped around herself.

Jean rubs both hands over his face and huffs, his gaze not quite meeting yours across from him. He then pushes himself off the ground abruptly, pacing away and shoving his clammy hands into his pockets to mask the fact they're shaking.

Your eyes follow his figure until it disappears between to buildings.

Your feet are already pointed toward the alley he's turned into before you even think of following.

His head picks up the moment you near the mouth between the two buildings. His jaw is clenched as he prepares to yell at whoever approached him, gaze softening a fraction when he's met with your face instead.

"Oh, it's you." He shields his reddened knuckles with his other hand as you walk up to him.

"How're you holding up?" You ask tenderly, leaning against the wall adjacent to him.

"Well," his eyebrow twitches as he rambles, "the wall is breached, the advance team has been completely wiped out, the outer gate is history and the inner might as well be too because the titans are in, and they have cadets fighting them off."

You pinch the bridge of your nose in mild annoyance at his tone, "I mean with you."

"The hell does it look like?" Jean snaps, stepping closer to you, "I almost had it. I almost made it to comfort and the life I tried to build for myself and this happens the day before? There's a slim chance we make it out of this, and what then, will there even be an interior? Will we even be here?"

The way his voice cracks at that last part slips your mind

"Oh, don't bullshit me with that right now, Jean," you roll your eyes, words spilling out like venom, "people are dying and we need to step up and you're complaining about comfort in the interior? You could be a little less negative and put this energy into what we trained and prepared three years for rather than ignorance."

Your own words shock you for a moment. Four years ago you wouldn't have defended the lives of devils, you'd let them all die without a second thought. You almost made it happen.

Why do you care so much for the enemy, and why so much about Jean?

"Seriously, look around. You'd be stupid to think there's another possible outcome of this situation."

You scoff in disbelief and push yourself off the wall to pace away from him, turning once to speak to him over your shoulder. "Yeah, to help people, Jean. Not to sit on my ass and turn a blind eye for my own safety like the rest of those selfish uppity assholes. I didn't know you'd be just like them."

"That's not what I--" Jean began to say, his feet frozen right where you left him.

"Shit!" He hisses through clenched teeth after you storm away, his fist colliding into the stone bricks once more with a thud.

Bertholdt's eyes are blank and observant when you return, "So how'd that go?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

You zip through the air on your ODM gear, landing on a rooftop to observe the terrain around you. There aren't many titans left around you now, but many more are filtering in through the breach.

The titan blood soaking through your jackett reeks of something rotten and metallic. It's a scent you've grown familiar to.

Through the chaos, you'd lost four people of the squad you'd been assigned to. You shake your gas canister once before checking the dial. It feels light, you must have about less than 20% of your gas left.

You take another look around you. The only things in sight are steaming titan carcasses and bloodstains atop roofs and splattered across the street.

Nobody in sight, not for as far as you can see.

If you're going to make it anywhere, you'll have to use Jean's method of using momentum to preserve your gas. You wince at the thought of him. Even regarding the circumstances, you can't help but think of how he's doing. Maybe you shouldn't have said such cruel words to him before parting.

A drop of rain falls on your face. You turn your face toward the sky, feeling one after another fall around you until it's started to pour. To your left, a flare signal to withdraw to the wall is shot into the sky. You move to take a seat on the roof shingles beneath your feet and weigh your options.

"I definitely don't have enough gas to make it to the wall, so that's out of the question," you mumble to yourself with nobody around to listen. You sigh, bringing a hand to your face.

You take a look around once more. This time, a group of cadets scattered on rooftops can be spotte a little ways out.

On the rooftop is Jean, sitting with his head in his hands, lost in thought.

"Sitting here on this roof is totally pointless. Eventually the titans are gonna come for us!" Connie waves his arms around as he shouts at him, "We don't have much gas left and we'll just waste what little we've got if we try to run."

Jean's eyes are low as he looks up at Connie. Most of the surviving rookies regrouped on the rooftops around him, and it doesn't take long for him to notice you and your squad are nowhere to be seen.

Anxiety eats at his chest, a weight suffocating him at the mere thought that your corpse could be laying in a pool of your own blood on the streets or in the stomach acid of a titan.

"You're using your head for once, Connie. Nice going," Jean speaks monotonely, turning his head to the other cadets, "but I'm not sure if we've got the numbers needed to pull going to HQ off. The veterans from the vanguard are dead. How exactly are a bunch of rookies supposed to pull of a suicide mission like that?"

He continues, "And I bet the supply room is crawling with them, so not much we can do in there."

"So it's hopeless." Connie exasperates.

"Yeah, what a dull life this turned out to be," Jean rests his head in his hand, "I never even apologized to her."

"God, what did you do?"

Jean shakes his head, "I was an asshole."

"What's new?" Connie scoffs, managing to crack a smile.

You can see the cadets on the rooftops take off for HQ. As some of them progress, their ODM gear sputters and they go crashing into the buildings. You begin to wonder if Annie, Reiner, and Bertholdt are still alive, but stop yourself. Of course they are.

With what little gas you have left, you follow the cadets to HQ. Inside, Jean counts the amount of cadets that have made it. Nine. And neither of them you. He turns to the others cowering inside of the room.

"Hold on--you guys are the supply team?" He questions, his voice low. His jaw clenches.

"Y-yeah," a male cadet affirms, voice shaken.

"You cowards! You left us out there on our own!" Jean outrages, yanking the cadet from the floor, his fist landing a blow into the cadet's jaw, "People died out there 'cause you didn't have the guts to do your job!"

His chest twinges at the thought of you out there without gas, dying alone because of those who were too frightened to carry out their duty for their peers relying on them.

"Jean, stop!" Marco holds him back as he thrashes against him.

"Titans were coming at us from every angle! They overran the supply room, okay?" A cadet with a brown ponytail cried out, rushing to the wounded one's side.

"It's your job to deal with it and back us up anyway!" Jean points his finger at them as Marco attempts to pull him back.

Reiner's the first one to see you coming. He stands by the windows, arms crossed and gazing out mindlessly, "Incoming."

You crash-land into the room through the broken window, rolling into a bookshelf, "Ow, shit."

Jean's anger dissipates immediately at the sight of you--alive. Breathing. Safe.

He opens his mouth to speak, but the words die quickly in his throat when the building tremors.

A giant opening is broken into the wall of the room, a gust of wind smelling of death sending a cadet standing near it flying backwards. A titan's face appears, eyes dragging over each of you like a dinner platter.

Your heart drops. Cadets scramble out of the room. Chaos erupts once more.

Jean stands at your side facing the gap in the wall, fingers trembling around the triggers of his blades. His breath hitches. "What--what the fuck?"

A titan-sized fist collides with the face in the opening. The titan goes flying, and then you see the body connected to the fist.

You immediately whip your head toward your comrades still standing behind you. You share knowing glances. Not in fear, but disbelief.

Had you done it?

Its appearance is too unique.

This isn't an abnormal.

This is it.

"Breaching the wall will snuff out the Founder."

"I know what you meant," the bartender you'd come to know as Aaron sighs across the bar from you, crossing his arms over the bartop to be eye-level with you, "but I don't think it would be wise to give you anything else tonight, L/N."

Your eyebrows knit together in drunken confusion.

"I'm cutting you off for the night." Aaron enunciates his words over the loud chatter in the bustling bar. "I'm just starting to grow concerned for you. I can't keep serving you like this."

"Like what? I'm fine," you scoff in annoyance, mostly to yourself. When he just stares at you, you repeat, "I'm fine."

"I know you're not," he pauses, touching his index finger to the middle of your forehead, "trust me, no amount of alcohol is going to solve whatever's going on up there."

Your mind is hazy, your body growing warmer by the second, the bar filling to its almost full capacity. You push out of your seat at the bartop, stumbling toward the bathroom as the amount of people seems to suffocate you.

The bathroom is as stuffy as the bar room, with linoleum tile yellowed from years of wear, and incandescent lights flickering slightly overhead. You lean against the cold tiled wall, resting your cheek against it in an attempt to cool your face.

The reflection ahead of you above the sink catches your attention. Your hair, which was once pulled into a bun at the crown of your head, now hangs slightly lower, pieces in the front and back coming out. Your beige jacket had been discarded on a barstool god-knows-where and when. Your red armband is wrapped around your arm, a reminder of who you are, and where you belong. A warrior.

You think back to the time you spent on the island, as you often do while you're like this: drunken, alone, and full of regret. You think of the people you met, cared for, loved. You think of their faces when you had no other choice but to reveal who you were. Their faces seem to be a blur in your memory, but never his.

Your gaze is locked on your reflection, eyes blank and your face flushed red on your cheeks. You slide down the wall slowly and land on your backside to sit against it, hands planted on the cool, dirty floor beneath you.

You think of his face once more. The look in his eyes when you had no other choice but to fall back with your comrades, the way his mouth parted and he shook his head in disbelief. You remember the way he froze as you gripped your hand around your blade, drawing blood as your spine erupted with yellow-hot electricity.

Closing your eyes, you can picture the day you saw him for the last time. The scout regiment had traveled to the Shiganshina District to plug the initial hole in the wall. You and your comrades had been waiting. So much blood was shed, and you had no choice but to watch atop the Cart's back cargo.

As the battle progressed, defeat seemed evident. Reiner had been captured out of his titan, Bertholdt was nowhere to be seen, and Zeke, on the verge of death, had to be retrieved by you and Pieck. You held onto the Cart's hair in an attempt to stay on her back as she barrelled through the city in ruins.

Titan marks resembling exposed muscle adorned your face from your recent transformation. You squinted, the wind whipping your hair around your face as Pieck raced between buildings, jumping over and through them. Zeke sat atop the cargo on her back, limbs severed and steaming.

You attempted to wrap his wounds, but the constant thudding of Pieck practically galloping through the streets made it hard to keep anything still. A red smoke signal fired in the sky tore your gaze away from his steaming limbs and to the horizon. Fuck, that can't be good.

// now playing: lover, you should've come over by jeff buckley

As you brought your gaze forward, that's when you saw him. Though Pieck was barrelling forward at immense speeds, time seemed to slow for a moment as you locked eyes.

"Jean." you breathed out, your chest twisted in knots of guilt. You watched as he hesitated where he was standing for a moment, exposed under your gaze before pushing Hange and himself to the side to avoid getting trampled.

Pieck came to a quick halt, snapping her jaw open, then shut around something. You hadn't noticed anybody else was there other than Jean. You couldn't seem to pull your gaze away from his slender face.

You were utterly ashamed, having to face him once more after betraying him. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you watched his expression display only that of disappointment; angry tears and heartbreak painting his face. He parted his lips to speak, but no words came.

Within seconds, you were on the move again. You scrambled over the cargo on Pieck's back so you were facing him as she barrelled away from the scene. You held out your hand in desperation as if you were trying to grasp at something--anything that could keep you with him. But you were merely grasping at the air, the feelings once tangible now fading away as he faded into a mere silhouette in the distance.

You felt selfish for still wanting him after all that you’d done. To Paradis, Marco, his whole life. He’d imagined a future with you and you fed into it knowing what you’d come to that island to do. You’d betrayed the man you loved—the man that loved you. There was no greater sin, no greater shameful act you’d ever committed.

You curse at yourself, running your hands over your face as you hoist yourself up from the bathroom floor, taking one last look at your reflection to smooth your hair. You're okay.

The muffled music coming from the bar room becomes louder as you ease the bathroom door open, stumbling out into the (now slightly more dense) crowd of people. You unbutton your uniform twice in an attempt to cool off, pulling it away from your frame to fan yourself as you weave your way through the sweaty, drunken bodies standing around.

Unbeknownst to you, a group had walked into the bar a couple of minutes before you left the bathroom. They were gathered around the crowded area at the bar near the door, making conversation over drinks. They'd come over from Paradis to live amongst Marleyans to understand the way they live.

One spots you. They panic.

"Hey, we need to leave," one of them with a buzzcut says to another, tilting his head in your direction but not staring directly, "There could be more of them here." Half of the group had already hastily made it out of the door, leaving cash on the table to cover the tab.

"What, why?" Another one of them asks, ash-brown mullet sticking out from under his hat. He searches the room for the culprit of their concern.

"No, don't look," the brown-haired girl waves her hands in front of his face, blocking his view. You notice the commotion. The rest of them are out of the building now, the one with the hat lingering by the door, eyes on you. There's somebody outside, frantically pulling on his arm.

You tilt your head slightly, trying to make sense of who these people are, and why this stranger in particular has stopped dead in his tracks staring at you from the doorway. His lips are parted, fists clenched at his sides. Half of his face is concealed by the hat, but he lifts his head slightly. Your breath gets caught in your throat.

"Jean?"

He sees you. He knows you see him. He knows you know who he is. You look into his eyes, and you see him the same as the day you first met him. The same lovestruck boy, gawking at you from across the mess hall.

If you didn’t know any better you’d think tears had started to brim at the corners of his glassy hazel eyes. He didn’t move a muscle. Neither did you.

"Jean, we need to go now!" the hand finally pulls him through the doorway, the door slamming behind him. You stand for a moment, taking notice in your arm outstretched toward him, attempting to grasp at something that was no longer tangible.

You’re snapped out of your daze, body pushing through the crowd between you and the door. The more you weave between sweaty, drunk bodies, the farther the door seems to be. Just out of reach; just at arms length but not quite close enough to even graze with your fingertips. You swore you’ve had this feeling before.

You stumble out the door into the cold empty street. You look left, look right. Nothing, only a few passersby. You start pacing down the street, stumbling from a brisk walk to a drunken sprint.

Your heart lurches out of your chest, ears pounding from the blood rushing to them, your legs pumping as fast as possible under your maxi skirt. You’ve caught a glimpse of the very thing every fiber of your being has been longing for the moment you’d left that island, the very missing piece of your soul you’d been forcefully ripped away from. You couldn’t allow him to be ripped away from you again.

You peer into every alleyway, every intersection, anywhere somebody could go from the bar. Everywhere.

Had you imagined him? No, no way. He was real. He had been there, right in front of you.

Your legs grow tired as you continue to wander the area, hot tears beginning to roll down your flushed cheeks. The streets grow emptier by the minute as the city dies down.

“Jean?” You call out once more, peering into an empty alleyway.

No response.

The concrete is cold beneath you as you take a seat at the mouth of the alleyway, eyes still searching the street subconsciously. A broken sob escapes your throat, your arms coming to wrap around your torso just like his used to. Your head falls to rest atop your knees pulled to your chest.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble into yourself, “so fucking sorry.”

JEAN’S POV

Connie had pulled Jean out of the bar quick enough to duck into a back alleyway. Though he isn’t in that bar anymore, he can still see you in his mind’s eye like you’re right in front of him. He sees your disheveled appearance; your sad, low eyes, face flushed from the excessive alcohol consumption, uniform unbuttoned twice.

He also sees you as he did in Paradis: beautiful as ever. Seeing you in such a state at the bar made his heart ache. You seemed to have aged, not just physically like he did, but mentally. It looked as if you’d fought through wars—not just the great Marleyan wars but the battles inside of your head. He knows that.

He knows the ins and outs of your very being. He knows you know him exactly as he does you. Your souls were intertwined, hearts beating at the same rhythm, minds on the same wavelength—until they weren’t.

Connie shushes him as you stumble out of the bar, spinning your head in all directions like a lost puppy looking for its owner. They watch as you pace down the street opposite of them.

Over here, Jean wants to call out, I’m right here, but he doesn’t. He can’t. He can’t have you anymore. You’re on the opposite sides of the war.

No matter how much it hurts. How much it fucking pains him. No matter how much your honey voice keeps him up at night, your face plaguing his dreams.

So he watches. That’s all he can do.

“Jean?” You call out into the empty street. He wants to show himself to you. He wants to go up to you and hold you and breathe in your scent and have everything be alright.

But you’re on opposite sides now.

Connie tries to cover Jean’s eyes, ears—anything. He swats him away silently. His heart wrenches, but he can’t not let you go. Even if it’s only watching from afar, just for a few moments. To feel close to you in any way.

You lean against an alley wall across the street from him, slowly sliding down it until you’re sat on the concrete, knees pulled to your chest. He watches as you wrap your arms around yourself, squeeze. Just like he used to.

It feels like he’s been punched in the gut. 10 times over.

Then you let out a broken sob, head falling to your knees, fingertips clawing at your sides in frustration.

“I’m sorry,” you mutter between sobs, almost too quiet to hear if he hadn’t been listening, “so fucking sorry.”

He doesn’t notice he’s crying silently at first, perhaps too preoccupied imagining how he’d comfort you in that moment if the circumstances had been different; how he’d hold you and tell you everything was going to be alright.

“Come on, man,” Connie whispers, standing slowly, “we gotta go.”

Jean nods slowly, backs of his hands coming to his face to wipe his tears. He remembers how you’d cup his face while he cried, your soft hands wiping his tears away.

His eyes don’t leave your shaking frame until you’re out of view. It felt familiar, as if he’s watched you until you were merely a speck on the horizon before.

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—"