#bertholt

- For appetizers, he makes cucumber sandwiches with a special ranch sauce he invented by himself.

- For the main course, he cooks a smoked salmon that it took him almost two months to perfect. He tried adding different things every time he re-did the recipe and, after a hundred failed attempts, he finally found the perfect way to enhance the recipe.

- For the sides, he makes buttered corn and other vegetables. He wants this date to be as fancy as possible.

- But he also does make some fries in case you decide that vegetables are not what you are craving at the moment.

- Last but not least he has prepared a flambé made out of your favorite fruit for dessert.

- For the drinks, he has three different bottles of one, one specific for each dinner course he has prepared. White wine for the appetizers, a dry red wine to go alongside the main course and finally a rather sweet dessert wine to go along with the delicious flambé he made.

- He places everything in a picnic basket before heading towards your house. It takes two baskets to fit everything and to make sure it’s all perfectly still so nothing will spill and ruin this date.

- As he rings the doorbell, he adjusts the little tie he has on to impress you and you can’t help but flash him your brightest smile.

- When he tells you about the classes he was taking, your heart nearly skips a beat seeing how happy you are. Nobody has ever done anything like that for you before and the fact that he went out of his way to make this day perfect for you only shows how much he is perfect for you.

- He presents you his arm and you gladly take it, walking up the small hill towards the large tree where you would set your food down.

- Porco wants to impress you and show you how smart and strong he is so he takes you camping for a weekend.

- At first, he's explaining to you about what plants you shouldn't touch or what animals you should look out for but before he has time to finish his explanation, he trips over some tree roots.

- When you get to the camping site, he tells you not to worry because he is an expert in outdoor living and he’s got this under control. He very much does not.

- It takes him almost an hour to put the tent together because he forgot the instructions at home and even then it collapses the second he open the zipper. Frustrated, he walks away for a few minutes, long enough for you to put the tent together yourself.

- “You did it, Pokko. The tent is standing up thanks to you!” You say, letting him take all the glory for your work because you know how important it is to him. He smirks, admiring the reward for “his” hard work.

- After preparing the shelter, he decides to take you towards the freezing cold river. He wants to show you how well he can fish but you realize he doesn’t have any of the equipment necessary for it.

- “Fishing rods are for pussies.” He says, dipping his bare hands into the water in an attempt to pull out a fish. You don’t say anything, you watch from a distance as the fish slips from his hands while you cook some of the food you brought.

- Porco is quite good at making a fire at least and, in the end, he was able to catch a couple of fish out of pure luck. And I emphasize, Pure luck.

- He takes over cooking because he says “this weekend is for you to relax.” You sigh, knowing he won’t give up until you hand him the utensils. 

- The fishes are filled with bones and half raw but you eat it just to see the smile on his face.

- At night, you are both shivering with cold, blue lips and all so he cuddles with you hard. You make up your mind that the very next day would be your last in the woods.

- He steps out of the tent in the morning and a shriek escapes his lips. Quickly, you run outside to see what’s wrong and in the distance you see a massive bear minding its own business while it eats your trash..

- “Can we go home?” He asks until he realizes you are already packing up your things, shoving everything into bags without worrying too much about how organized it is. You are ready to get back to civilization.

- Pieck is a very good cook but every now and again she decides to treat you to a dinner date at your favorite restaurant. So for once, you decide to take her to her favorite restaurant.

- Her favorite place to eat is a little weed infused restaurant in the city where you live. 

- You order some drinks to start off and you can already feel the effects starting to surface while Pieck is already on her second drink. She gets some mozzarella sticks to start off and she moans as soon as she takes the first bite.

- Secondly, you look at the menu feeling a little spaced out but your stomach growls like a dog protecting its family. So you choose the first thing that looks appetizing while Pieck that’s a deep look into the menu.

- She ends up choosing a simple three cheese chicken pasta and it ends up being the most delicious meal she has ever had in her entire life.

- The dessert isn’t all that good, so Pieck decides to take you to an ice cream shop down the road and get you your favorite flavor with as many scoops as you would like.

- You can barely walk in a straight line so your girlfriend guides you back to the car. She is not affected by all the weed you just consumed in any way, shape or form.

- She’s the one to drive you around and she even lights up a joint on the way to the ice cream shop, completely fine even after ingesting an insane amount of weed infused food.

- You get five scoops on a waffle cone and even more on a regular bowl to take home with you. The munchies getting the best out of you and Pieck smiles the entire time, her eyes shining brightly as she looks at you.

- “Shit, I feel nauseous.” You say getting up the stairs to your apartment.

- “Yeah, I think you might have had a little bit more than you could have handled it.” She replies, opening the door.

- As soon as you walk into your house, you rush towards the bathroom and Pieck is right behind you with a bottle of water and a hairclip to put your hair back.

- Bert is a nerdy boy so he would definitely take you to the arcade.

- He holds your hand the entire time you are there and even when he is shooting hoops.

- The owner of the arcade fucking hates him because he’s so tall he can just easily put the ball through the hoop on the little basketball game so he wins tickets until the machines run out.

- The only reason he doesn’t get kicked out is because you are with him. If it was Reiner they wouldn’t even be allowed to step foot inside the place.

- Said and done, he earns enough tickets to get you one of the board game prizes but that’s not enough for him.

- He always lets you win at games when you are playing against each other, even if you don’t earn much tickets from it. He will always find someone for a rematch and earn all the tickets back.

- Except air hockey.

- Air hockey is Bert’s favorite game because he used to play it with his dad when he was a kid and he was genuinely the best at it until you showed up in his life.

- At first, he let you win. But when he realized that you were actually crushing him, he decided to go all out against you and he still lost. He loses every time.

- You can’t tell the different because to you it’s simply another game that you are “better than him” but it crushes his soul because you usually scores so many more point in so little time that it is a borderline record.

- He always has an excuse not to play air hockey with you.

- “Let’s skip air hockey today, the line for it is a bit too long.” Or “I’m not in the mood today can we do something else?”

- In the end, you flash him some puppy eyes and he caves. And loses. For real this time.

- By the end of the day, when you go to exchange your tickets, you combine them and realize you have enough for a couple of the higher up prizes and enough for a few of the smaller ones.

armin would be so intricate

he's so good with nimble work

i mean look at those beautiful hands

he would always draw a small heart with his initial tucked somewhere in the design, unnoticeable at first

loves to draw petals, defo one of his favs

armin is so focused when he does it, determined to please you

he's is definitely trusted to do a sleeve with his skills

a small blush appears on his nose while focusing

he is just so amazing at everything he does!

eren would be a doodler

he loves you to the moon and back and would do anything for you, but when the question arose of him trying to do your henna he nearly combusted in that moment

not exactly out of happiness though, more fearful ig

would spend ages getting a grip with the cone for him to flail his arms and whine that he can't do it

"babe how the fuck do y'all hold this"

alot of huffs heard from him

don't think he doesn't enjoy this though, he absolutely loves indulging in what you want

gives up after 20 tries and doodles his name and random swirls on your hand

he took the time to actually attempt to make it look nice though, well done!

a sigh of relief left his mouth when you were actually pleased with what he did

jean would be so determined

as soon as you requested it, he was already bustling about, searching for the cones

he lowkey took this opportunity just as an excuse to hold your hands for a long period of time

it took him a few tries while practising actually about 50 but he tried his best, how cute <3

his hands would be shaking from the nervousness but your free hand stroking his hair would calm him down in an instant

it would be a simple design because he was afraid he'd mess up

but he did so wonderfully for his first try

"i hope you like it"

he ends up drawing a smiley face on the upper side of your face while you take pictures

levi would be secretly enjoying it

he acts as if it's the easiest task in the world but on the inside, he's panicking

'what if i mess it up' he thinks

his strong hands came to use with getting a good hold of the cone though

is very into drawing detailed flowers

maybe hides a heart or two without you realising

'stop moving, it'll smear onto my shirt"

enjoys doing acts of services like this for you, but will never admit it

like armin, is amazing at it

"you do it on me now"

he would like it if you guys matched 😆

bertholdt would be intrigued

he was fascinated when you first brought up the idea

as soon as he got started practising, he found that he quite enjoyed it

enjoys using a cotton bud to smear the petals for a more realistic appearance

holds your hand ever so delicately and carefully, not wanting to mess up

he adored the way you smiled up in encouragement when you checked up on how he was doing

you had to stop him from going all the way up your arm

"can i do this more often on you?"

so cute lol

marco would be so happy

he was surprised you would even let him do something so fiddly and attentive

he spent ages looking for designs he think would fit you and finally landed on mixing them all together

making his own "marco-design"

would accidently get it on his face

but its okay because it looks like he has more freckles and that's adorable

would lay your hand on his knee

adds smiley faces within the designs

"what do you think so far?" "is there anything else you want me to add?"

he enjoyed this moment very much and would love to experience something like this again

tags ~ @k-kyanma

Your hands were cold from writing so much and your body sore from sleepless nights. And even the worst of Magath's murderous looks couldn’t affect you. Not anymore. Probably never again.

Your mission’s reports and analysis were more than disappointing, and he hadn't even pretended to rebuke you. Without a word, he took the documents from your hands and punished you with silence. To your words only responded the noise of a crowd past the windows.

Behind the shadows under his eyes and the wrinkles on his brow, disappointment was engraved. And ignorance was worse than the excess of anger.

He merely tried to silence you with a vague wave of his hand at some point. No looks, no words. A gesture for you to shut up, to get out of his office. But he had no idea of your determination. This was not the end. Not like this, not yet.

You spoke again, this time a bit louder and his eyes stopped on the papers scattered in front of him. If he didn't want to look at you, he would see you. He didn't need to listen; he would just hear. Because you had the solution, and you wouldn't let it go. You had to try.

He sighed, visibly annoyed. Against his heart, medals of Honor and military decorations hanging from his uniform rose with the deep breath he took. 

“Commander,” you said again. His attention finally on you was almost palpable, his ears devoted to the words flowing out of your mouth. 

Your voice was calm, diligent: “I believe I have in my possession a piece of information that I am certain will make the girl yield to Marley, and given the present situation, I think it would be more intelligent for us to act right n-”

“And why,” he harshly interrupted you, “didn't you use it when you were given the chance, soldier?” His eyes settled on you as he rested his chin on the back of his hands, and you saw fatigue in his eyes. 

It was the first time he spoke to you all morning, and the look in his eyes was inscrutable. As you opened your mouth to continue, you tried to ignore the sudden buzzing in your ears.

“Because I did not have it at the time of the questioning, Comm-”

The slamming of his hands against the desk cut you off again. He straightened up, his uniform crumpled, and his body forward, leaning on his forearms. He meant to be threatening - but his posture betrayed resignation.  

“I don't know whether you’re brave or just plain stupid. You dare to come here, to present yourself before me, acknowledging your failure, proving to me that you are, once again nothing but an incompetent.”

The cutting remark slid over you like fine rain. Anger was finally speaking, and it was only responding to yours. And from the frustration in his voice, all his words deprived from the meaning he was trying to instill in them. If Magath had chosen you in the first place, it was precisely because you were the most capable.

“If you only did what was asked of you, you’d have had all the cards in your hand at the right moment. So congrats, soldier! You stand out in mediocrity,” he let out a mocking laugh, but his head was down, and he was not looking at you anymore. “It's too late now. And don't think for a second that being naively honest serves you. Quite the opposite.”

You thought it would have affected you. That his words would have an impact. You, the ideal soldier, on the verge of excellence, throwing yourself body and soul into training and formation and work - scolded like some recruit. You who rose above your station despite this cursed blood in your veins - drowned by his words, spat out with so much disappointment. And yet, you never felt so light. He gave reason to your frustration. The only thing that rang in your ears was that he wouldn't let you go back.

You cleared your throat, “Commander-”

“Shut up. Please, not another word.”

”She-”

“For the Emperor’s sake-!”

“ ‘She will open up to you,’ “ you cried out at the top of your lungs, and they were ready to burst, filled with compressed air, you took in a single breath, as if it was your last. “ ‘More than to any other officer because you are sensitive to those kinds of things.’ ”

He looked daggers at you, and if his eyes could have killed you, right then and there, you’d be lying on the ground, already drained of your blood, but you kept going, with the same respiration, unable to catch your breath.

“I am the sensitive one. I am capable; and what else will the others do? Gouge out her eyes and slice her arms over and over again, until the will to live leaves her, until she’s nothing more than a ghost of herself, already dead for the handover.”

Breath in.

“You and I both know that this is no solution; you said so yourself. Those are your words, and you said them because you believed in them. You believed in me. And you somehow still do. You know I can do it, and you know I'm the right person to send back down there.”

Breath in.

“You told me to get inside her head and now I am telling you I have the key to make her yield from the inside. Give me one last chance. I’m begging you.” 

Breath in. 

Breath out.

“Commander.”

He had gone pale. Knuckles against the wood were beginning to turn white. From squeezing too hard, from hearing too much. Insolent and reckless, perhaps. But certainly not an incompetent.

His head was low, but his dark eyes were still fixed on you. In a slow movement, he reached into his uniform jacket, and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He stood up straight, and slowly walked around his desk. You kept your eyes fixed on the wall in front of you, steady. Trying to look unscared. Impassive to the affront you just committed. The lighter clicked next to you and the pungent smell of the cigarette wafted in your face. 

“You've got some fucking nerve,” he said, teeth gritted.

“You think you’re a smartass, huh? I can have you demoted. Have you called for a dishonorable discharge. For shooting this fucking mouth off.” He stood still in front of you, a threatening scowl across his face, so close, you could hear his medals clattering on his jacket. He took a long drag of the cigarette. You didn’t blink.

“Do you need help remembering who you are - how you got there in the first place?”

He breathed out a mouthful of smoke, and it was scorching hot against your cheek. “Show some goddamn gratitude.”

Breath in.

“Tell me soldier”, you heard him say, from behind you. “Do you ever even think?” Ears were ringing. Threatening. His presence suffocating. You braced yourself for his words. 

“About where you’d be if I hadn't stepped in that day?”

Just breath in.

“Maybe already dead in the gutter. Thrown away after being used by the top brass. Whoring around Liberio for a living.”

Blood rose to your cheeks so violently, your body quivered. Here it went.

“That’s what that officer said that day, remember? When they caught you, hidden in the forest. Near your family house, was it? Watching it go up in smoke in the middle of the night. Looking at the high flames licking the roof, bursting the windows. I remember it quite well; we could still hear someone screaming from inside.”

Why can’t I breathe? 

“You were standing there, your eyes wet and your body frozen in terror. He said, ‘with a pretty face like that, we could get a nice price out of it, eh captain?’ ”

It reappeared in violent flashes before your eyes, it slammed in your ears. Forgotten and rejected emotions resurfacing under your muscles. Images. Wildfire on your skin. How you got here. What had been taken from you to make you submit. 

“I’d have agreed and you wouldn’t be here disrespecting me right now.”

Throat dry, eyes dry. I can’t breathe

“Lucky for you, everyone’s dead that night. No one will have to pay the price for your words, orphan.”

How you served the country that made you an orphan. In your ears, the beating of your heart. There’s no use trying.

Magath went around you, a hand over his mouth as he took a puff. He stood still, staring at you for an instant, before leaning back against his desk and exhaled loudly. You weren’t so sure you were as unblinking as you would have wanted to be.

“Pretty sure I already made it clear that I hate your big fucking mouth.”

He took another drag out of his cigarette; then a second one. You were waiting.

“Now you shut the fuck up and you listen to me.”

There was a twitch in your right eye and you tried to hold the unsteady breath in your throat.

“If it were up to me, I’d have sent you back as many times as you asked,” he finally said. His tone had changed. 

“God. I’d even have sent Galliard if I had the authorization. All the Warriors if they felt like it. But I can’t. It's over. Things have changed - the times have changed. War is coming, soldier. It's too late. They'll take care of it now.”

Without another word, he stubbed out his cigarette on the sole of his boot.

“They'll find a solution by themselves.”

It burned on your tongue, burned in your mouth, to know who, who? Who could do better, who would ever have the information you had, who knew what button to press - but you said nothing.

“There's nothing I can do,” he said simply, returning to his desk. “So just forget it.”

So that was it. There was nothing more; nothing more to say. Swept aside the effort. You should have been relieved, relieved that you’d have nothing more to do in this sordid titan inheritance. With this whole consent to die. And yet, a bitter taste spreads in your mouth. The taste of failure, this suffocating sensation of having let down all those who counted on you. To be, once again, powerless. And it ate you, it ate you, Bertholdt's soft words when he told you about Krista, Galliard's anger when he told you about Marcel. Braun's traumatized eyes when he thought about the past. The girl flirting with death, there, six feet under earth.

“Don't make that face,” you heard. You raised your head. Magath was staring at you, and the darkness in his eyes was gone. 

“I know what I said, soldier. But I don't take the decisions anymore. Now, chin up and get the fuck out of my office. Enjoy the respite before the candidate exams begin. It's parade time. Go and take your mind off it. And try to forget about it.”

-

All you had to do was walk down a few steps from the grand staircase of the General Staff Building to hear the festive air on the street. You passed under the great columns and stepped into the late morning light.

The atmosphere in the main square was drastically different from the office you just came out from. When you crossed it early this morning, you’d noticed the barriers and stands, huge banners to the Empire's colors still laying on the ground. Now, they were flying up in the late morning breeze. You didn't think there would be so many people.

On the thoroughfare through the square, the parade had already begun, with musicians on horseback, cheering from the crowd behind the barriers. In the stands, you could see the uniforms of the top brass. 

Looking at the gathering, you could easily imagine the crowds in the streets of the capital. If there were so many people here, then you could only imagine the chock-full avenues along the Fountain Garden, all the way down the Bell Tower.

You only realized yesterday that the military parade for the Returning Warriors was taking place today. Usually, you were well aware of these events, as you oversaw the formalities and the organization of the administrations, but with your recent occupations, this might have been delegated to someone else.

The sky was low and heavy, casting on you weary blight. The atmosphere was indeed festive, but something was off. Out of place. You perfectly remembered the day they came home, the sunny harbor and cheerful faces. It was a new day, a new era; a promise for better days, high hopes floating in the street. Here, in the capital were jostling the rich and noble. Today, there was a military parade. If the attention for them was once upon a time genuine, here, everything reeked of politics. From the top step of the Building, you sighed. 

“Overwhelming, isn't it?”

You turned your head towards the familiar voice, and your gaze met probing warm brown eyes. It took a few seconds to recognize them.

The armband blood-red color. Long brown hair tied up nicely in her back, exposing her fair face and her uniform epaulettes. Coming out of nowhere, the Warrior Finger was watching you. 

Her voice was softer than you remembered. Perhaps slower, more composed. You realized you only were introduced once, quickly, yet you never exchanged a word with her.

“I hope I didn't scare you,” she said, tilting her head to the side.

There was something intriguing about her, something you never really thought about. She seemed sweet-tempered, often overshadowed by the rest of the headstrong Warriors, quiet and pleasant - standing in their shadows. 

Yet there was something threatening about her, a great reputation as a formidable fighter on the battlefield. Of mad endurance and speed. A smart tactician. Sharp. Deadly.

You glanced to the side, to get a better look at her, and her eyes were fixed on your profile. 

“Have you been here long?” you finally asked, returning your attention to the crowd. Her eyes were practically poking holes in your cheeks.

“Well, I should be asking you that,” she said with a laugh. She pointed at the building, “I saw you from inside; you've been standing out here for a while.”

The sun was high behind the clouds, a murky horizon opening to your eyes. You didn't know what time it was. In fact, you didn't care. You could have stayed here for hours; it wouldn't have mattered. 

Pieck spoke up again as you felt your thoughts begin to wander away.

“I don't believe I've personally introduced myself,” she said, stretching her hand out to you, “Pieck Finger. Nice to meet you.”

You caught her outstretched hand, warm against your fingers. Her grip was iron. 

“I heard what you did.”

You let out a mocking laugh.

“I didn't do anything.”

“Don't say that. You've done plenty, more than you think. I wanted to thank you because I know Pock won't. Thank you. Even if he won’t say it, I'm sure he appreciated all your efforts.”

Galliard's grumpy, imperturbable face came to mind when you heard the nickname. Of course. She’d inherited her titan along with the others. One same golden generation. Childhood friends and fellow Warriors. She must have known Marcel and Porco together; two boys shining bright with the same dream. Torn apart by the same fate. 

You just smiled at her, lowering your head, not saying anything more. The crowd suddenly erupted into applause, resounding down the steps.

“Aren't you marching?” you asked suddenly. “I thought this was your moment of glory.”

“Oh yes, of course, but later - I'm marching with the rest of the rescue team.” She jerked her chin toward the music below. You followed her gesture with your eyes.

“Forward, Marley's two favorite Heroes.”

A procession of riders had moved down the main road. In its center, between the cavalry band, stood two riders. First you recognized Braun, waving to the crowd. 

Then you saw him - mounted on a buckskin stallion, his back straight, arm stained with that familiar red, head high under his cap. All you saw was him. 

“Coming back to save the Empire.”

He looked huge. Imposing. Both glorious to thunderous applause. To flowers and to cheers. Heroes. Claimed by the people. Yet, even from afar, you could see the rueful look on his face, and you could only imagine the sadness in his eyes. A reluctant hero. 

“People want to see them, after all. After five years.”

The shadow in his features, his eyes fixed forward. And all of it, this whole mockery made you sick to your stomach, sick for him. To have seen it all, and to have destroyed it all. To be cheered against his will. The celebration of his destruction. The most powerful weapon in the world, here, right here, barely a hundred feet away from you, hidden behind his armband and medals, was trembling with fear. Of having to go back soon. Of having to do it all over again, again and again - until death tears him apart.

It was then, at that very moment, that you realized that he would not survive. That you would die. To have to send a wounded and bleeding boy on thousands of years old battlefields. 

You were terrified, your heart in balance for him, for this boy; that every part of your body was crying out to protect. You wanted to dive into the crowd. To elbow your way through heavy bodies, arms, raised hands, shouts and cheers. You would not stumble, you would stand tall, you would push through the barriers, and you would rip him off his pedestal, rip the laurels from his hair. Tear out the bandages, to cauterize his open wounds with your lips; his hand in yours, yours on his face and you would free him from this wrongful world.

Maybe there was something you could do.

Something that would give him a break. Find someone else to take his place, someone who was rightfully claiming their Warrior title. Someone who wanted to fight, if only for a moment, for him, so that his wounds could heal. Someone who could buy him time to get back on his feet. For him to live outside of death and destruction if only for a moment.

“Pieck,” you turn to her in a sudden movement.

The young woman looked at you in confusion, her brow furrowed. She had moved closer, her hand resting on your forearm, and you grabbed her by the tops of her shoulders.

“I called you but-” she said, but you cut her off.

“To whom would you write your last letter?”

The question didn't seem to faze her. She simply shrugged. 

“My father, probably.”

“Because you love him, right?”

“Of course,” she said with a smile.

“Because it makes sense to send your last words to someone you love. A person to whom you have yo say important things, at all costs. For whom we might sacrifice everything. A person you love.”

“Yes, I guess it does.”

“Pieck, I know how to get the Jaw.”

She froze at your sentence, her eyes alternating in yours. The crowd was screaming in your ears, and your fingers were frozen on her shoulders. She took a step forward, and grabbed your wrists. With an interested glint in her eyes, she nodded.

“I know how to get the Jaw back; I know how to make sure Marley doesn't go to war right away. They'll be scared, five Titans in Marley, no one would be crazy enough to try it. I know how to do it and this time I won't be afraid. I know how to get her to agree to the handover. And we can both do it, right now. Get back what Marcel left for Porco.”

At no point had she looked at you like you'd lost your mind. Like you were completely crazy. Eyes gentle with attention. 

Her eyes shone at your words. They shone to protect her loved ones, her friends, her brothers in arms. The Cart Titan; the titan of protection. A dangerous weapon, and an even more dangerous heart. A determination that matched your own.

“If you think you can do it, then we should at least try,” she said. She brought her hand to your face, her thumb sliding down your cheek. “I’ll be your witness.”