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blondeboyfriend · 2 years

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𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐍 (𝟏𝟖+)

𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈

[ PAIRINGS ] Eren x f!reader, Grisha x f!reader, Zeke x f!reader [ AUTHOR'S NOTE ] My magnum opus /hj. Shout out to my dear friend Mica because I couldn't have written this fic without their support and guidance. And shout out to @strawberrystepmom because this fic is what brought us together lmaoooooo. [ SYNOPSIS ] Disillusioned by your current church, you find yourself drawn to a charismatic televangelist and his seemingly pious sons. [ WORD COUNT ] 14.6k [ CONTENT ] DARK CONTENT, tall-coded reader, sacrilege, incest (between Eren and Zeke), age gap (Grisha’s in his late 40s, y/n is in her 20s), masturbation, cucking, threesome, voyeurism, drugs (weed), dubcon (power imbalance, pastor x parishioner), degradation (during sex and just in general), angst, manipulation, creampie, thick Yeager dick, humiliation, y/n gets called “sister” while getting fucked but it’s in a religious sense, religious trauma, disturbing biblical imagery (violence), cigarettes (Zeke), biting, hair pulling, impact play (slapping), oral sex (m + f receiving), cum play, panty sniffing, spit play, blood (not in a sexy way), these men are strong and can manhandle/lift you with ease.

And I saw an angel standing in the sun; and he cried with a loud voice, saying to all the birds that fly in the midst of heaven…

The early vestiges of a Sunday morning didn’t inspire deep thinking or any form of reflection. It was a time to be brain dead, to indulge in the death rattle of public access television. You witnessed a zookeeper getting bit by a garter snake on a children’s program, families attending therapy while honing their dancing skills, deadly go-kart races, and a man demonstrating the superabsorbent qualities of chamois cloths.

It was welcomed. You needed to be numbed before meandering to the megachurch. Sermons were easier to suffer through if you were vaguely dissociative, your eyes glazing over as the exploiter behind the altar repeated his chicanery.

Salvation had to be earned. Consumption was godly. Wealth was bestowed to only the most pious of people. Sinners lived impoverished lives. They didn’t work hard enough. Your inability to line the pastor’s pockets proved you didn’t believe hard enough.

You weren’t sure if you called yourself a believer anymore. Church didn’t inspire you. It was just an unexciting compulsion. It signified the start of the week, the sun overtaking the hills. Nothing more, nothing less.

You don’t know what possessed you to tune in for Service For Shut-Ins that morning. Usually you knew to turn off the TV when twilight began to brew. But for whatever reason the show called out to you.

It likely had something to do with the emerald-eyed man on the television shouting, “Hey, you! Yeah, you!”

You were immediately transfixed. His chocolate brown hair was piled on top of his head in a messy bun, tendrils of hair haphazardly framing his face. His olive skin was sun kissed. He wore a crisp white button-down tucked into a pair of black straight leg trousers. His outfit was topped off with a pair of respectable, leather suspenders of a mahogany hue. He looked more like a model than a preacher.

“I think you’ve sufficiently startled the three people that are watching this,” a gruff voice muttered from behind the camera.

“Aw. Come on, brother. There’s at least five.”

The brunette smirked and flipped through a worn bible resting on the walnut wooden pulpit. The room he stood in was sparsely decorated. The walls were stark white. A blue velvet curtain hung behind him, giving everything a rather Lynchian appearance. It was the exact opposite of the flashy amphitheater you typically worshiped in.

“Do we start? Where’s dad?” The brunette asked.

“No idea. We’re live. Start without him.”

“With my luck he’ll get mad and not talk to me for two fuckin’ days.”

“Eren!” The voice hissed.

Eren shrugged and brushed his hair out of his face. He exhaled and cracked his neck, the sound echoing through the television. Just as he went to speak, a door opened and quickly slammed shut. Solid footsteps emanated from beyond the frame.

“Glad you decided to show up,” Eren joked.

“Very funny,” a rather commanding voice replied. “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood today.”

An older man walked into frame and shooed Eren away from the pulpit. His sleek dark hair was tucked behind his ears, much longer than the hair of your usual pastor. He was dressed exactly the same as Eren, though he looked more disheveled and unshaven.

The man stared down at his bible and smiled.

“Ah, excellent choice, Eren. The Gospel of Matthew.”

You heard the man behind the camera sigh and grumble something incomprehensible under his breath. It was pungent with annoyance. You couldn’t help but laugh.

The pastor stretched and cleared his throat. He dove right into the story of Jesus and the rich man, and how the rich man questioned Christ about how one can attain eternal life. He orated the story by heart; it was riveting. At your church the pastor relied heavily on cue cards when he was compelled to quote scripture. But this pastor passionately relayed how the rich man told Christ he followed all the commandments and was curious as to what he lacked.

“‘If you wish to be perfect, go, sell your possessions, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.’ When the young man heard this word, he went away grieving, for he had many possessions.”

He made direct eye contact with the camera.

“To some believers the rich man’s grief is understandable. But what Jesus witnessed was weakness in its purest form. A man too grounded in the luxuries of this world. It’s rather tragic, isn’t it? I can’t imagine having my self worth tethered to the things I own. If you know God, undeniably, you’d never cling to your possessions in the first place.

However, this is not to say the rich man is a lost cause. Everyone is capable of being saved, even the most disgusting and depraved of sinners. But as Jesus says, ‘It will be hard for a rich person to enter the kingdom of heaven. It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle.’”

A chorus of men chanted, “Amen.”

“You,” the pastor said, pointing at the camera and leaning over the pulpit. “I can feel your discontent.” He held his hand to his heart. “I know what it’s like to witness heresy itself. I know how it can make you question your devotion. You curse God, unsure if He is worth following. I want to tell you that He is. It’s undeniably worth living in His light. I tell you, it's not God you wrestle with. It’s the used car salesmen masquerading as your brothers, shrieking in arenas filled to the brim with lost souls. You wrestle with the demons sinking their teeth into your wallet, draining it of every dollar.” His tone grew more intense by the moment. “That is not godliness! That is chicanery! These men do not shepherd their flock with kindness in their heart! They merely want to shear and bleed the sheep, to sell their wool to the highest bidder!”

The chorus of men chanted another, “Amen,” their fervor growing. The pastor’s eyes softened and he gave a small smile.

“You don’t have to weather the storm in your soul alone.”

You were aghast, mouth agape. A tear trickled from your eye down your cheek, leaving a single, salty trail. You wiped it away with the back of your hand and sniffled. How did he know? How did he know you struggled with your faith? That you attended a megachurch run by rich freaks?

No, it was just a coincidence. But a lovely one. You were changed by the pastor's words. He was what you were missing. Him and this Eren. They saved you.

You eschewed attending your old church. Service For Shut-Ins was all you needed. You hung on Pastor Grisha’s every word. Every little thing he said filled you with unspeakable joy. He was intelligent and progressive in comparison to the sermons you used to suffer through. He was also significantly more handsome than any preacher you stumbled upon.

Your hands often found themselves in your underwear, breath hitching as he rolled up his sleeves. His toned forearms could send you spiraling into the depths of lust. Under his intense gaze as he recited scripture, you pretended he could see you delving your fingers in your dripping cunt.

Shame tended to follow after you came, but you couldn’t help yourself. You were smitten.

“I need to see him,” you exhaled.

You found the address for the church on their bare bones website. When you mapped out a route you were pleased to see the church was on the outskirts of town, secluded from the secular nonsense and false prophets.

Your nerves almost got the best of you when you saw the one room church resting near the coast. It was painted black with a white door and white windowsills. It was simple, a welcome change.

“Are you here for service?”

You turned to see a tall blonde-haired man smoking a cigarette. He adjusted his glasses and took a drag. He dressed the same as Pastor Grisha and Eren though the first few buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing a hint of chest hair.

“Uh, yeah. I am. Am I… Am I allowed in?”

He chuckled.

“It’s a church, sister. Not a nightclub. Come on.” He tossed his cigarette to the side. “I’ll walk in with you.”

“Thank you. I won’t lie. I'm a little nervous.”

“Why?” He asked, smirking.

He looked so much like Pastor Grisha you wondered if they were related. The only difference being his flaxen, wavy hair and more muscular build.

“I have a complicated relationship with the Lord.”

“Don’t we all?”

He held open the door for you. You brushed up against his body and your breath hitched. Heat radiated off of him. You wanted to curl up next to him in the pews, have him be your security blanket until you got your sea legs.

“You can sit anywhere, but I don’t recommend sitting in the first row unless you want to get up close and personal with the fury that is Pastor Grisha.”

“Where do you sit?”

He patted your shoulder with his weighty hand.

“I don’t. I work the camera.”

So he was the mysterious voice you heard on occasion. You anxiously thanked him for his kindness before finding a comfortable seat in the middle of the pews. The only other people in the church were a handful of men all dressed the same: white button-down, black pants, leather suspenders. Not a single woman in the room. Suddenly you felt like even more of an outsider. A harlot considering you mostly came to gawk at a beautiful man of God. You nearly choked when he took to the pulpit, but to your dismay Eren was nowhere to be found.

Throughout the sermon you noticed the pastor’s gaze lingering on you. He seemed a little antsy, stumbling over his words, tugging at his collar. A sense of power washed over you. Never once had you seen him struggle to get through a sermon. It was charming.

Once the sermon was finished you quickly gathered yourself and headed towards the door. You caught the eye of the blonde camera operator. He latched onto your wrist as you tried to move past him.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He asked, smirking.

“I was gonna go,” you conceded. “I don’t wanna be a bother, y’know?”

“You’d hardly be a bother if you stuck around.”

His tone was flirtatious.

“I—I, uh, okay,” you stammered. “I can stick around.”

His hand snaked around your waist and he started to lead you out the door. You didn’t know what was happening, but you were pleased Zeke took the initiative to take you under his wing. He was a good Christian.

“What’s your name?”

“It’s Ze—”

Before he could finish, you felt a hand on your shoulder. You turned around to see Pastor Grisha smiling warmly at you.

“Zeke, I hope you're not scaring this young woman away.”

“Oh no. You caught me,” Zeke said, his words dripping with sarcasm.

Zeke let go of you and trudged off, mumbling expletives under his breath.

“He wasn’t scaring me off,” you assured the pastor.

“I’m just giving him a hard time,” he chuckled. “Though he’s not exactly the most welcoming boy around. At least not in a traditional sense.”

“He was very nice. He calmed my nerves a bit,” you said, nervously scratching the back on your scalp. “It’s my first time here.”

“I’m well aware. You’re hard to miss. What’s your name, sister?”

You told him your name and thought it was funny he bothered to tell you his, considering you knew it so well. It was a name that often fell from your lips late at night when you’d let your lusty mind wander. When he shook your hand you tried to memorize how his skin felt against yours. You didn’t know when you would be blessed with such an opportunity again.

“A lovely name for a lovely girl,” he said, squeezing your hand.

You were awestruck and ready to sign your life away to him. No one ever told you were lovely.

“Are you in a hurry?” He asked.

You shook your head.

“Would you be interested in coming to the parsonage for tea? I like to get to know my new congregants lest they not be true believers,” he said with a sharp tongue.

Your eyes widened, terrified that you might not be considered a true believer.

“I’m only kidding, lamb. Come, let’s go.”

You followed him out the door. He directed you towards a little house closer to the cliff overlooking the coast. The architecture was similar to that of the church, but it had two stories and larger windows. The pastor led you inside and you marveled at the foyer. The walls were paneled with wide, oak slats.

“How do you take your tea?” He asked warmly.

You pinched your thigh, dying to know if you were dreaming or not. Luckily you weren’t; you were very much grounded in reality. You told the pastor how you took your tea.

“My office is down the hall, first door on the left. I’ll meet you there.”

You followed his instructions, eager to show him you were an obedient parishioner. As you made your way down the hall you noticed a door cracked open. You peeked inside and saw Eren sitting on his bed, back against the wall, fiddling with something in his lap. Your skin grew hot and you wondered if he was jerking off. You hated yourself for watching, but your curious nature overpowered you.

“Aw shit,” Eren muttered. “I just ground that up.”

He got up, moving a little plate that was resting discreetly in his lap. You sighed. He was just rolling a joint.

“I said it was the first door on the left, lamb.”

You spun around and saw Pastor Grisha holding two cups of tea.

“I… I… don’t know my right from my left.”

You gritted your teeth. It was one of your shittier lies.

“It’s alright. Come, come.”

You followed him into his office and took a seat across from him. His desk was large and made out of the same wood as the paneling on the walls. You dragged your finger across the top of it. It was smooth, not even a hint of splintering.

“Did you make this?”

“I’m flattered you think I’m that handy, but no. My son did. He tends to do most of the building and upkeep around here.”

“Wow. He operates the camera and does the maintenance?”

The pastor stifled a laugh. “No, my other son. Eren.”

You took a sip of your tea. It was exactly how you liked it.

“So, what brought you here?”

“My feet. I’m kidding, uh.”

He smiled.

“I’ve been watching you guys on channel 5 for a few months. I figured it was about time I came to see you in person.”

His eyes narrowed. “To see me?”

“I mean like, you know.” You paused, your nerves getting the better of you. “I wanted to experience this in person. Your sermons.”

You felt like he was staring through you. Like he knew every lurid thought your brain dreamt up.

“I see.”

“I got sick of the church I used to go to,” you admitted.

“And which one was that?”

“Hope Springs Eternal Ministries. It’s the one tha—”

The pastor slammed his cup of tea back on the saucer.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled.

He ran his hand through his hair and sighed.

“There is no need to apologize. It’s not your fault you attended the most heretical church in town.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty bad there.”

“Tell me, lamb.” He leaned over his desk. “Were you happy?”

“Obviously not,” you scoffed.

“What didn’t you like?”

“Too focused on money and I never have any to spare,” you explained, taking another sip of tea. “Hard to stay a believer when your salvation is tethered to how much money you can throw at someone.”

“You poor thing. It’s a tragedy you and all those other cretins are cursed to attend such a disgusting testament to God.”

“Wow. Cretins, huh?”

He blushed. “I suppose it’s my turn to apologize. It’s not their fault they’re so small minded.”

The pastor’s pretentiousness sullied your deification of him. Granted it was your fault for putting a man on a pedestal in the first place.

“Am I small minded, Pastor Grisha?”

He rubbed his foot against your shin. You swallowed hard.

“I’m not sure, lamb. Have you cut ties with your old church?”

“I haven’t been there in a few months.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

You held his gaze and tried to ignore his foot rubbing up and down the length of your leg. Silence flooded the room.

“Yes,” you finally spat out. “I don’t associate with anyone from there. Not a single person.”

He leaned over his desk and beckoned you to come closer. You leaned in and your palms started to sweat. He smelled like cedar and juniper berries. Part of you wanted to kiss him, but you refrained. He cupped your face with his right hand and ran his thumb along your bottom lip. You couldn’t tell if you were turned on or on the verge of an anxiety attack.

“Poor thing. Tell me, are you lonely?”

You hesitated to answer. You were in fact painfully lonely, especially now that you rejected everyone at Hope Springs Eternal. Grisha’s stare was so intense you could have sworn he could read your mind. Just as you went to speak the door abruptly opened. Zeke walked through carrying a bunch of camera equipment. A lit cigarette hung precariously from his mouth.

“You have to tell Hannes not to show up drunk anymore. I spent ten minutes trying to clear him out—Oh, it’s you,” he said, setting the equipment on a plush couch on the other side of the room.

The pastor dropped his hand and leaned back in his chair.

“If I tell him that he’ll never show up again,” he rued. “I hate to think about the trouble he’d get into.”

You were frozen in place, struggling to see how the pastor could be so calm after Zeke saw you on the verge of sucking his thumb.

“Zeke?” He asked. “Are you listening?”

Zeke glared at you, his grey eyes colder than an overcast day in January.

“I heard you, father,” he hissed as he exited the office, leaving the door slightly ajar.

“I oughta go. I don’t want to intrude.”

“Will you be joining us next Sunday?”

“I think so.”

You wanted to bolt for the door but remained seated. The pastor seemed to have some sort of magnetic pull on you. Getting up was out of the question until he said you could.

“I’d prefer it if you knew. Why don’t you give me your phone number so we make sure you remember to show up.”

You gulped. “Alright.”

You scribbled your number down on a sticky note and grimaced. It was a tragic attempt at a smile, but your nerves tainted it.

“I look forward to seeing you again, lamb.”

“That’s if I come back,” you laughed.

His lips became a flat line.

“You will. I’m sure of it.”

The sentence reeked of ominousness. You excused yourself and slid out the door without a word. You feared that if you opened your mouth you’d just scream. When you entered the foyer you saw a very disgruntled Zeke and a sympathetic Eren. They glanced over at you. Eren’s demeanor changed, becoming vaguely welcoming. Whereas Zeke ignored your presence.

“Bye,” you said quietly.

Eren waved and resumed comforting Zeke. Shame came over you. You assumed you were the reason Zeke looked so bothered. Though your obsession remained, you had no intention of returning.

Your phone rang at 2 am, the chime blistering your ears. You didn’t recognize the number and opted not to answer. Just as you were about to fall back asleep, your phone rang again. You declined the call and turned your phone on silent. It didn’t take long for the screen to light up; the mysterious number demanded your attention.

“What?! What is it?!”

“Sorry to bother you. I do realize I’m calling rather late.”

It was Pastor Grisha, his voice clear as day. Not a hint of sleepiness to it.

“Oh fuck, I mean, damn. Dang! Uh, what is it?” You stammered.

“I just wanted to talk to you; that’s all.”

You swallowed hard.

“About?”

“Whatever you’d like.”

You furrowed your brow. Grisha’s actions felt odd and lacking goodwill.

“I don’t have anything to say. I’m pretty tired.”

“It doesn’t matter. Just speak,” he said, his tone finally revealing some hint of urgency.

You paused and tried to think of something to say. You looked out the window at the frost coating the grass.

“It’s been cold lately. I don’t know about you but I’m not used to it. Do you remember it being… this cold?”

You heard rustling on the other end of the phone.

His answer was a clipped, “No.”

“See I’ve seen people try to say it’s always been this way.”

“Ha—have you?” He sputtered.

“Yeah. Uh, like on the news. I feel like they downplay it on purpose.”

“Uh-huh.”

The pastor's breathing grew heavier and you heard him spit in his hand. You clenched your fists and tried to think of harmless things he could be doing. Maybe he had something stuck in his teeth and spit it into the sink.

“It’s gotta be an environmental thing.”

“Climate change,” he choked out.

“You know one of the reasons I started hating Hope Springs Eternal was the pastor not believing in ‘global warming.’ Shows how much he knows, huh?”

“Mhm.”

“I’m, uh, assuming you believe in it.”

“Yes,” he moaned. “It beckons the eschaton.”

You paused, trying to collect your thoughts and ignore what was happening on the other end of the phone.

“Did I tell you to stop?”

“It’s just… That’s a rather disconcerting thought, pastor.”

“Call me Grisha.”

“Okay… Grisha.”

You could hear his hand sliding up and down his cock. You paced around your room. You knew you should have hung up, that this was wrong. But the inappropriateness drew you in. You felt powerful knowing you managed to break down Grisha’s defenses and make him behave like a pitiful sinner.

“Are you close?” You asked.

“Y—yes,” he responded, the words stumbling out of his mouth.

“I hope you realize how loathsome this is.”

You heard a low groan followed by panting, and hung up. You were ashamed of the wet spot in your underwear. You thumbed through your drawer for a fresh pair, slipping them on before crawling back into bed. You lied awake, staring at the ceiling, and tried to make sense of what happened. Masturbating crossed your mind, but it would’ve been unholy. You opted to close your eyes and pray that morning came quickly.

You initially had no intention to return to the little church on the coast, but it wasn’t as if you had anything better to do. As you crested the hill you saw Zeke standing by the cliff, staring out into the ocean. The back of his shirt was speckled with red stains. A cloud of cigarette smoke lingered around him caught in the cold, morning air.

You walked towards him, your hands shoved in your pockets.

“Hi,” you said.

He perked up and side-eyed you.

“Yeah?”

“I just wanted to say good morning.”

“Well, you said it.”

He tossed his cigarette off the cliff and headed towards the church. You trailed after, embarrassed that you reached out to him. Entering the church you were pleasantly surprised to see Eren sitting in the pews. You grabbed a seat in the same row as him but kept your distance.

“C’mere. No need to sit so far away, sister.”

You scooched over to him. He was much more personable than his brother or his father.

“Sister? Wow. So formal.”

He blushed.

“Sorry. It’s a habit I can’t break for the life of me.”

“It’s fine… brother.”

He snickered. “You know for the longest time I used to say it like Hulk Hogan.”

“You mean like, ‘Bruhthurrrrr!’” You mimicked.

“Ha! Exactly.”

“What was your favorite verse? Austin 3:16?”

“You know it,” he said cheekily.

Service began and Grisha spent the majority of the time comparing various atrocities to the Book of Revelation. It was more militant than his previous sermons. Never before had he ever dropped a reference to a “holy war”, but today that seemed to be the running theme.

To say it made you uncomfortable would be the least. But still you found yourself hanging on his every word. You pictured yourself charging through a broken landscape. Flames ripping through cracks in the earth. Locusts fluttering about. The stench of carnage filling your nose. A hideous, rotted beast rising from a bottomless pit. The bodies of sinners heaped high into the heavens; those still cursed with life gnawing on their tongues in agony. It was horrific, but you felt pride. If you lived a virtuous enough life you could fight in God’s army and live in His light eternally.

You were ripped away from your nightmarish fantasy when Eren’s sweet voice blessed your ears.

“Was the sermon that boring?”

“What? No, I was just thinking about it.”

“It’s all good. Trust me, I zone out the second my dad starts talking.”

You wished that was what you had done. You missed the mindlessness you could indulge in on Sundays. Ever since you started attending service you were hypervigilant, bordering on too aware. You stretched your arms over your head and stood up, hoping it would quiet your disturbing thoughts.

“Shit. I should’ve introduced myself earlier. But, uh, my name’s Eren.”

“I know,” you laughed, and then told him yours.

“Now that’s a pretty name.”

Your face grew warm upon hearing his compliment. “Well, I’m off,” you said cheerfully.

“It was nice talking to you. Happy to be around a normal person for once.

You giggled. If only you were a normal person. You bid Eren farewell and headed towards the door. Just as you were about to step outside the threshold of the church, you felt a tap on your shoulder. You turned around to see Grisha.

“Where are you off to, lamb?”

“Home.”

“That’s too bad.”

“Why?”

“I was hoping you’d come back to the parsonage so I could properly apologize for my… indiscretion.”

You had tried so hard to forget about him jerking off while talking on the phone with you, how he punctured you with the sword of his mouth. You knew you should’ve declined his invitation and set a boundary between the two of you. But you were smitten despite how much the pastor unsettled you.

“Okay,” you relented.

Once in his office he collapsed onto the couch, resting the back of his hand on his forehead.

“So,” you began. “Are you going to apologize?”

“I think you should be the one apologizing to me.”

“What? But you said—”

“I’m well aware of what I said.” He fixed his gaze on you. “However, you tempted me to share in your plagues.”

“I didn’t do shit. You’re the one that called me up.”

“You didn’t have to answer.”

“You called me three times!”

He exhaled deeply.

“I suppose I am partially to blame.”

“Jesus fucking Christ! You’re fully to blame,” you seethed.

“Why are you being so hostile? Come, sit beside me.”

For whatever reason you did as you were told. You sat next to him and stared at your shoes like a child about to be reprimanded.

“I feel as though you solely exist to tempt me, like some sort of divine punishment. Tell me, lamb, are you clothed with the sun or are you a whore that sits on many waters?”

“I don’t know…” You thought about the lewd thoughts that often plagued your mind. “I guess the latter.”

“I see,” he said, placing his hand on your thigh. “I can save you, if you let me.”

“And how exactly would you do that?” You asked, glancing down at the bulge growing in his pants.

He squeezed your thigh and turned to face you. His eyes were dark with ardor. He only ever looked this passionate when he was preaching.

“I’d rather show than tell, lamb.”

He started to unzip his pants, revealing his hard cock. You turned away and stared at the wall. He latched onto your wrist and placed your hand on it. You prayed for God to stop your underwear from getting soaked.

“Are you afraid?” He asked.

“No. But this… isn’t right.”

“You have nothing to fear. I’m your savior. You should trust me.”

You faced him. He didn’t look untrustworthy. What would he gain from pulling the wool over your eyes? You needed to be saved. You were lucky this man had decided you were worth his time. You squeezed his cock, watching his reaction. He blushed.

“There’s no reason to be shy,” he cooed.

He repositioned himself so he was lying on his back, pulling you on top of him. He lifted up your dress and pulled your underwear off, throwing them to the side. You had taken to wearing prairie dresses with high necklines and white ruffled collars to fit in amongst the congregants. Oddly enough this made the men pay more attention to you, notably Grisha.

He guided his cock inside you. Your breath hitched as it stretched out your tight cunt. It had been years since anyone had fucked you. You gritted your teeth and breathed heavily through your nose.

“Am I hurting you?” He groaned while thrusting into you.

“Yes!” You yelped.

He placed his hands under your ass, lifting you up, leaving only the tip inside. You braced yourself by putting your hands on his tense shoulders. He peered up at you and tucked a lock of your hair behind your ear.

“That wasn’t my intention,” he grunted.

He pulled your body closer, keeping it flush to his, and started to ease his cock back inside you. You held his face in your hands and kissed him. Your lips overlapped his in a desperate attempt at intimacy. You wanted him to feel your passion and love, that you weren’t some trollop that waltzed in to simply whore herself out.

He slowly pushed his cock deeper into you, his hips rocking ever so slightly. You whined through the kiss before breaking it.

“Fuck. It’s too much,” you whined. “Can you get on top?”

He was more than happy to oblige, lifting you up and resting you on your back while his cock continued to throb inside you.

“How’s that?” He asked breathily.

“Much better,” you moaned.

He smiled and lifted your dress up higher. He pushed down the cups of your bra and groped your breasts.

“Harder,” you mewled.

He pinched one of your pert nipples, letting out a tiny laugh as you squealed. You grabbed ahold of his ass, driving his cock deeper into you. A few tears fell from your eyes as he bottomed out, his cock ramming into your cervix. You bit down on your bottom lip and tried to hold back an agonized moan. But the ache invading your body needed to be heard.

Grisha’s thrusts grew more erratic and his groans became louder. He had been starved of intimacy for so long. His desperate hymn radiated through your body. You found yourself being overcome by ecstasy. It was as if God was shining His holy light down on you. It took everything out of you to start babbling the Lord’s Prayer.

You happened to glance out the window and saw Zeke standing outside, partially obscured by a Monterey cypress. You knitted your brow and swallowed hard, nearly choking on your spit.

“Wh—what is it? Am I still hurting you?” He asked, thrusting away, his eyes now shut as rapture consumed him.

You squinted as if it would give you a better look at Zeke.

“It’s nothing. Keep going.”

You hugged him closer as his cock leaked precum inside you. You prayed Zeke couldn’t see anything. But alas you were wrong. Zeke had adjusted his position, revealing that he was fucking his fist. His pants hung around his ankles. It made you nauseous and you felt as if your entire body went cold, like your blood turned to ice.

“I—I’m going to wash away your sins with my seed.”

You felt disgusted by everything: Zeke masturbating to the sight of his father fucking you, Grisha’s ostentatious assumption his cum was a sacrament, the fact you still found yourself reeling from the rapturious pleasure of Grisha’s cock slamming into your cervix. He dropped one of his hands and rubbed your clit, leaving you a quivering mess.

You wanted to hold back, to have him come inside you and walk out of his office with some form of dignity. But it was impossible. Your unstoppable moans flooded the room.

“That’s it, lamb. Let it all go,” he grunted as he came, fucking his cum into your cunt.

Once he was finished he got up and tucked his cock back into his pants. You were rendered immoveable, body glued to the couch.

“It’s time for you to go,” he said solemnly, zipping and buttoning his pants.

You wordlessly tucked your breasts back into your bra and pulled your dress down. You scurried out of his office, passing Eren on your way out.

“Oh shit! Hey!”

“I’m leaving,” you mumbled, not actually hearing what he said.

“What?” He asked, his eyes filling with concern.

“I have to go!” You cried out while speed walking away from the parsonage.

You quickly glanced over your shoulder and saw him chasing after you, his long hair flowing in the wind.

“Wait up, sister,” he shouted.

“Leave me alone! Just… please. Don’t. I—I just wanna go home,” you said, having regained some level of composure.

You stopped; your feet felt like they weighed a thousand pounds. You felt Grisha’s come seep out of your cunt, dripping down the inside of your thigh.

“Did something happen to you?” He asked.

You shivered.

“No. No. No,” you repeated mindlessly.

He narrowed his eyes, his stare fixated on the rumpled state of your dress.

“Who was it?” He asked.

“No one. It was nothing,” you mumbled as your legs finally found it in them to move.

“Are you going to get home okay? I can drive you back to town.”

“Stop! I don’t even know you. I think I can manage on my own.”

Part of you wanted to collapse in his arms and weep, but you were sick of relying on these men for comfort, for a smidgen of solace. Eren didn’t seem to pick up on your distaste. He took a few more steps towards you before stopping.

“Tell me, sister. Was it my dad?”

“Didn’t I say it was no one?” You seethed, clenching your jaw.

You didn’t return to church the following Sunday or the Sunday after that even though Grisha incessantly called you. Instead you watched a live feed of the service at Hope Springs Eternal. You were able to lose yourself in the pompous extravagance. It wasn’t particularly pleasant. The sermon was the typical “poor people are poor because they don’t love God enough.” But it was nice to not hear rants about fighting in God’s army. Plus you thoroughly enjoyed roasting your old church.

“Idiots,” you muttered, shoving your hand in a box of cereal. “That guy doesn’t love God enough because his toupee isn’t on straight.”

You laughed with a mouthful of cereal and nearly choked on your giggle fit.

However you grimaced when the pastor brought out a rattlesnake. His eyes rolled into the back of his head and he spoke in tongues.

“What is this? Fear Factor?”

Suddenly the crowd erupted into a shrieking mass of glossolalia, throwing themselves at the ground, as the pastor held the snake above his head. You were shocked to see the church had become such a spectacle while you were gone.

“Well that’s unsettling,” you said, turning off your television. “I hope the snake is okay.”

Pastor Grisha’s sermons suddenly seemed reasonable in comparison to whatever the fuck it was you’d just witnessed. You stared at your phone and picked it up. It felt like a stone in your hand. You called Grisha, hoping he wouldn’t answer.

Much to your disappointment he picked up on the first ring.

“Hi,” you said solemnly.

“My precious lamb, have you decided to come crawling back?”

You clenched your fists, your fingernails leaving valleys in your palm.

“Do you guys speak in tongues and handle snakes?”

“I run a church. Not a sideshow.”

“I take that as a no then.”

“That’s all ceremonial grandeur. It’s not of God.”

“Isn’t it in The Bible?”

“Much of The Bible is not to be taken literally.”

“Fair enough…”

“Why do you ask?”

You sighed. “Hope Springs Eternal livesteams their servi—”

“Heretical bastards!”

“Don—Don’t you broadcast your sermons on television? How is that any different?”

“Because I’m right goddammit! Even if I wanted to stop, I couldn't! It’s God’s will! How am I supposed to deny his desires?!”

“I—”

“What I do… What I do is necessary. It’s my duty. Only I can lead us on the virtuous path.”

“What about your sons?”

“Zeke’s more than capable, but he let his brain get eaten away by lust.”

“What about Eren?”

“He’s charming, but a lost cause. Noncommittal. He’s not a firm believer.” He exhaled. “It has to be me. There’s no other option.”

He sounded almost wistful, like he was being forced to do these things against his own will.

“It is how things are and have to be,” he mumbled. “I wasn’t exactly interested in this, but when God calls you don’t bury your head in the sand.”

“I guess. But you could stop. You know that, right? It doesn’t have to be like this.”

“Who am I to question the Hand of God, lamb? I’m a mere man. If He isn’t guiding me, I’ll stray. It’s—It’s hard… for me. You’d know that better than anyone.”

You held your breath. You were used to a level of opaqueness he operated under. To hear Grisha express doubt in the Lord bothered you. He was supposed to be different, to be stronger than the average pastor. One that was steadfast in his beliefs.

“I’ve missed seeing you,” he sighed.

“I doubt that.”

“It’s true. I need you. I’m lost without you.”

“I thought I was a temptress, a whore sitting on many waters or whatever.”

“Hush, lamb. Promise me you’ll come back next Sunday,” he pleaded.

“I’ll think about it,” you hissed before hanging up.

You were pissed Grisha’s plea managed to convince you. You showed up at the church the next Sunday dressed in a plain black prairie dress, something that wouldn’t make you stand out amongst the plain clothed men. You took your seat in the pews and didn’t make eye contact with anyone.

A familiar voice coming from behind you. “Hi!”

“Hey, Eren,” you said, a small smile crossing your face.

“It’s nice to see you, sister. I was worried about you.”

“I’m alright. No reason to be concerned.”

You wanted to placate him, but your tone was too clipped. It was like you were brandishing a knife after every word. Eren’s green eyes were tinged with worry, but he grinned and took a seat beside you. Service began as it usually did, but you noticed Zeke and the camera equipment were nowhere to be found.

“Are you guys not filming anymore?” You asked in a hushed tone.

“Hm? Oh, not today.”

You raised an eyebrow and decided not to think about it.

Grisha’s sermon ended up being much more benign. There was little talk of violence and not a single reference to God’s wrath. As he preached you zoned out.

“Am I boring you, sister?” Grisha asked pointedly.

You perked up and shook your head. He glared at you briefly before resuming the sermon. Nothing weird was happening, but there was an oddness in the air, like something unseen to only you was brewing. Even Eren started to look a little antsy.

“Who here needs to be healed?” Grisha suddenly asked.

You turned to Eren, but his eyes were fixated on the floor. Your body went cold. No one was speaking. Everyone’s eyes were trained on you. You sunk down into the pew, hoping people would forget you were even there. Out of sight, out of mind.

“Sister,” Grisha suddenly said.

You weren’t used to him addressing you in a formal way.

“Yes,” you said cheerfully. You wanted to pull the wool over everyone’s eyes. Maybe if you were pleasant, the mood in the church would change.

“Do you need to be healed?”

“Nope. I, uh, I think I’m good.”

“Who here thinks our sister needs to be healed?”

The men all raised their hands at once. You were aghast to see Eren slowly raising his hand, eyes still focused on the floor in front of him.

“Seriously?” You asked in a hushed voice.

He gave you nothing in response.

“I think we’ve come to a consensus,” Grisha said, leaving the pulpit. “Let’s gather around our sister.”

Everytime he said “sister” you felt like you swallowed a razor blade. You hated hearing it, but speaking up was thankless. It wouldn’t do anything. You were outnumbered. The men gathered around you, all with rather blank looks on their faces. Their eyes were flat and shark-like.

“You guys can’t be serious.”

One of the men placed their hand on your shoulder. The others followed suit and placed their hands on your shoulders, back, and the top of your head. You directed a pleading stare towards Eren.

“It’s fine. They’re not gonna hurt you,” he muttered.

You wanted to attack him like a wild animal, rip into his skin and pluck out his pretty, green eyes. You barely knew him, but somehow this was the ultimate betrayal.

“Fucker,” you said under your breath.

You breathed deeply to calm yourself. It was true. The men weren’t hurting you, at least on a physical level. The church was silent other than your labored breathing and the offshore winds occasionally rattling the windows.

“Do you have anything you’d like to repent for?” Grisha asked.

You flared your nostrils. “No.”

“Are you sure?” A drunk parishioner slurred.

You refused to answer.

“Are you sure?” Grisha repeated.

“Yes,” you answered in your most authoritative tone.

“You made eyes at me during service,” one of the men said. “You gave me a look.”

“What? I don’t even know you.”

“I saw you do it,” another one said.

Another tightened his grip on your shoulder.

“We all saw,” he rumbled.

The door of the church flung open. For a brief moment relief came over you.

“Sorry I’m late—Oh, so we are doing this,” Zeke said, fastening the last few buttons on his shirt.

“You’re just in time,” Grisha said cheerfully.

“Is this really necessary?” Zeke asked, surveying the situation.

“Do you doubt me?” Grisha asked.

Zeke nervously scratched behind his ear. “No.”

He took a seat on the floor near the door and stared at his feet much like Eren did. You wanted to scream, but you were frozen by God’s apparent will. The men continued their chorus of “I saw you” and proceeded to accuse you of other minor offenses you never committed. Every so often you denied the accusations, but after a while your mind began to slip. Had you given a lusty stare to someone? You couldn’t be sure anymore.

“I did it,” you finally said dejectedly. “All of it.”

The men removed their hands and went back to their seats. Grisha sighed and returned to the pulpit.

“Don’t you feel better now? Don’t you feel cleansed?”

You mindlessly nodded.

“Did you finally let the Lord into your hideous heart?”

Again, you nodded. The service ended with little fanfare and everyone left quickly. You found yourself tethered to your seat, unable to move lest you be accused of heresy. Eren remained as well.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“No. You’re not… But it’s fine.”

“It’s not fine.”

“Well then why didn’t you help me? You were right there.”

“I don’t know.”

“Is it because I deserve it? Am I that bad?”

“No.”

“Then why did they do that to me?!” You shouted.

“I don’t kn—”

“You don’t seem to know anything, brother.”

“I said I was sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t mean shit!” Tears welled up in your eyes and your throat burned from yelling after being so quiet. “I… Fuck!”

You kicked the pew in front of you. You didn’t know what to do. Eren probably was sorry. He probably didn’t have much pull over Grisha. What could he have done? You knew you were innocent; none of those sins were yours. The parishioners hadn’t even brought up your daliences with Grisha. Though it’s not like they’d have any information that would make the pastor look bad.

“I don’t think this will make you feel any better. But it’s happened to me a lot. I know how it feels.”

He scooched closer to you and cleared his throat.

“My relationship with God is complicated. It has been since my mom died.”

“That doesn’t make me feel sorry for you,” you hissed. “Everyone has a complicated relationship with God.”

He kept talking. “It usually goes longer. The last time it happened to me it was two hours of getting told I was useless. A drug addict. One guy even called me the Antichrist which made my dad stop everything. He ended up punching him.”

“That’s horrible.”

“It sounds worse than it actually is, sister.”

You couldn’t imagine suffering through an hour consumed by hands laying upon you. You were angry Eren downplayed it, trying to act like it wasn’t all that bad. It was a horrific experience. Not one you’d ever want to return to. You stood up and walked away. You didn’t bother saying goodbye to Eren. He was too lost in his own mind.

Once outside you saw Zeke standing near the edge of the cliff smoking as usual. You made your way over to him. The sunlight danced behind low hanging clouds, occasionally illuminating him in a heavenly way. Instead of the usual scowl, he gave a solemn, “Hello.”

You hated how much he looked like his father. It made you want to be mean to him.

“Are you alright?” He asked, taking a drag off his cigarette.

“I guess. I don’t know. I can’t tell yet.”

“Ah, yeah. That’s the worst part. Don’t worry,” he said, stretching his arms. “You’ll realize how awful it was when you’re trying to sleep tonight.”

You were already plotting how to induce insomnia. Zeke placed his hand on your shoulder. You were too exhausted to flinch. He took a few steps closer until you were finally in his arms, your face buried in his neck. He rubbed your back and you proceeded to sob. You felt silly for breaking down in a stranger’s arms, but Zeke was there. He was tangible, something you could hold onto.

His hands trailed down your back, resting them on your ass.

“Need a distraction?” His breath was hot against your ear.

You sniffled. You could feel his semi-hard cock through his pants.

“I guess. I—I have no idea how you could help me though,” you muttered dejectedly.

“Trust me, sister. I have plenty of ideas.”

He tightened his grip on your ass and rubbed his erection against you. You stared out over his shoulder at gentle waves licking the shore. You wanted to lose yourself in his broad-shouldered embrace.

“You can do whatever you want,” you mewled.

He let go of your ass and held onto your face by the jaw. His fingers were calloused, but the roughness of his touch was spirituous. He forced his leg between your thighs. He had a sick grin on his face. You tried to ignore it as you rubbed up against his leg. Instead you focused on how good his body felt on your clit. You dragged your throbbing cunt up and down his thigh, your breath hitching when the friction became too much.

He forced you to look him in the eyes as you pleasured yourself against him. You wanted to find kindness in his gaze but there was none, just lust. You started to unbutton his shirt while he hurriedly unzipped his pants. You kissed him, biting down on his bottom lip. He groaned and pulled away.

“No biting,” he chastised.

You frowned and lied down in the grass. You hiked up your dress, revealing your glistening folds. Zeke got on top of you, stroking his cock. It was girthy like his father’s, but more veiny and it lacked any sort of curve. You guided it inside you, watching Zeke’s reaction as he was greeted by your tight cunt. He looked so lecherous, so hungry for you.

“Oh God,” you moaned.

Zeke slowly thrusted; his cock filled your cunt. He stared down at you, eyes partially obscured by his glasses.

“How does that feel, sister?”

“Like heaven.”

“Ca—can I hit you?”

The idea of his hand gracing your face thrilled you to no end. You welcomed any sensation that would make you forget the numerous hands that had previously invaded your body.

“Please.”

His hand was swift across your face, leaving a stinging pain in its wake.

“Again,” you pleaded, stroking his cheek.

He was more than happy to oblige. He thrusted his cock deeper inside you and slapped you again. You pulled him into a kiss, pushing your tongue past his teeth. His tongue tasted of tobacco. The woody, sour taste overtook your mouth.

His hands roaming your body was a blessing. His touch healed the wounds left behind the parishioners. You never wanted to let him go. Your fingers were tangled in his soft, flaxen hair. You twirled a lock in between your fingers and tugged on it. He let out a muted yelp you soon swallowed. He broke the kiss, panting as he bottomed out. Your body writhed underneath his, swimming in the shadow of this saint.

“How does it feel, sister?” He asked, holding you down.

“Good,” you gasped.

He grabbed ahold of your jaw again, his grey eyes tunneling holes through yours. You wanted to live in his light, until your body rotted away into dust. You tightened your walls around him. He groaned, his hips bucking against your limp body. You were putty in his hands.

You slid his suspenders off and yanked down his pants. You held onto his plush ass, pulling him towards you so his cock kissed your cervix. His hips seemed to skip a beat as his cock leaked precum inside your cunt. A needy moan fell from his lips and he shut his eyes.

“Can I come inside you?” He quickly asked.

You eagerly nodded. He let out a few desperate whimpers as he drove his cock in you, your fluids intermingling. He was panting harder, his cheeks now a pretty pink. He bucked his hips as his cock shot cum into the depths of your cunt.

“Do you like that, sister?” He asked, fucking you harder.

“Yes,” you squealed.

Once he finished he slid his cock out of you and lowered himself down to your cunt. He lapped at the cum seeping out of it, tongue flicking your clit.

“Say my name when you come,” he ordered.

You dug your fingers into the grass as your body quivered. Zeke ran his hands up and down your legs as he sucked his cum out of you, the lurid noise harmonizing with the waves.

“Zeke,” you mewled as you saw white.

You felt like you were ascending as your body squirmed against his face, his beard tickling the inside of your thighs. You were too lost in your orgasm to hear the footsteps stomping through the grass. Zeke looked up at you, smiling. He rested his head on your thigh and sighed dreamily.

“Are you interested in doing anything else, sister?”

You ignored his question and posed your own. “Why were you jerking off while I was fucking your father?”

His gaze hardened.

“It’s not as if I was looking at him.” He kissed your thigh and took on a kinder tone. “It’s not our fault none of us know how to behave around women… It doesn’t help that we all have a sick crush on you.”

“How are you gonna solve that problem, huh?”

“I did talk to you first. If you belong to any of us, it’s me.”

“I don’t belong to any of you,” you said, unable to hide your disgust.

“Don’t you want to be mine?”

You rustled his hair. He was cute in a tragic sense. It was strange to see such a domineering man rendered down to an endearing puddle of goo. You alternated between wanting to toss him off the cliff, and marrying him.

You were ripped from your peace by the sound of rustling grass growing closer and closer. Zeke glanced up and his face fell. You craned your head back and saw Grisha standing there, clutching his worn down bible to his chest.

“How could you?” Grisha lamented; his question directed at you.

Zeke sat up and pulled your dress back down.

“Are you jealous?” He taunted.

Grisha glared at his son. Although Zeke’s expression was haughty, it had a tinge of uneasiness. It was warranted. The pastor launched his bible at his son, hitting him square in the nose. Blood seeped from it, staining his white shirt red.

“You’re going to hell for that,” Zeke said, covering his nose with his hand.

“Well I’ll see you there, you disgraceful whoremonger!”

You frowned at the notion of you being a whore. It was an accusation you never got used to. You weren’t chaste by any means, but this was the most action you had in awhile.

“Did you not lie with her too?” Zeke asked, standing up and stepping over you to get closer to his father. “I saw you. I bore witness.”

Grisha blushed, clearly horrified by this revelation. “I—I was saving her!”

“You have a really funny way of saving people then.”

You grew tired of their bickering. You found your underwear hiding amongst the cat grass and slipped them on. You bounded off to the path that led down to the beach. Neither of the men noticed you left.

The wind had calmed down, making the journey less precarious. You kicked off your shoes and dug your toes into the sand. Such a simple thing and yet it was the best you felt in years. You walked closer towards the ocean, digging your feet deeper into the sand with every step. Once the water licked your heels you swam out, submerging yourself in a mellow wave. You held your breath as it washed over you. You dove deeper as the currents pulled you further from the shore.

Salt water weaseled its way into your eyes, killing any sense of comfort you found in the lull of the waves. You let your body float to the surface. Resting on your back, you stared up at the overcast sky. You looked like a pathetic version of Ophelia, madness driving you out into the sea. It was hard to be serene while coughing. The salt burned your throat and left your tongue numb.

You were decidedly less glamorous than any Millais painting. But that didn’t matter. You couldn’t care less about how you appeared. Maybe this was pathetic. Maybe you were wading in madness. But was that a bad thing? You’d be in good company. Even Jesus’s family and followers thought he was insane on occasion, possessed by demons, riddled with paranoia. And yet he was a paragon of holiness, of a just life.

The sun peeked out from behind the low-hanging clouds, a little beam of sunlight bled through. The first you’d seen in awhile. It looked like glitter ebbing along with the waves.

“Nice,” you whispered.

Your phone rang constantly. You thought about blocking Grisha's number, but you wanted to hear the desperation in his voice and if he still thought he could save you. Much to your disappointment he never left a single voicemail.

Nothing seemed to completely sever the attachment you had to them. You thought about Zeke fucking you in a field constantly, though on occasion you imagined he was Eren. You found yourself missing the brunette. He was always nice to you. His only major misstep being that he didn’t help you when you were assaulted.

Twinges of resentment remained a plague. You knew Eren was just as much a victim as you. But there remained a pervasive sense of betrayal. It was such a strong feeling for someone you barely knew.

There was some relief knowing they were no closer to God than you.

Eventually one early Sunday morning, your curiosity got the better of you and you answered when Grisha called you for the umpteenth time. You reclined on your couch, watching Hope Springs Eternal’s live stream with the volume turned down.

“Did you call to jerk off to the sound of my voice?” You asked haughtily.

“What? No, sister. I’m not a pig.”

You were surprised to hear Eren’s voice.

“Oh… Hey? Why are you calling from your father’s phone?”

“Psh. My dad wishes he had his own phone. We all share the one in his office.”

“Okay. Uh, what’s up? Did something happen?”

He sighed. “No. I just miss talking to you.”

“I’m sure there are other parishioners to talk to.”

Eren paused. “Actually there aren’t any. My dad stopped opening up service to the public and kicked everyone out. We just do the TV thing now.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Last Sunday he said something about someone taking his lamb to the slaughter? And how he is not fit to be a shepherd because he tasted the waters of Babylon. I tried asking him about it, but he didn’t want me to bear his burden which I appreciate. But on the other hand, I’d like to know what the fuck is going on.”

You knitted your brow and asked, “How’s Zeke?”

“A disaster. He smokes inside now. I can’t remember the last time I saw him with a shirt on. And he’s been asking me for weed which is… I don’t mind sharing, but my tolerance is high. It takes a lot to calm this mess down.” He punctuated his sentence with a soft chuckle. “Also he films dad at a Dutch angle. I don’t know, sister. It’s all bad.”

You wanted to hug him, hold him close and like a vice.

“I guess I can stop by, if you want.”

“Really? You’d be down?”

“As long as I don’t see your father, I don’t mind. He’ll be busy preaching, right?”

“Yup!”

“I’ll see you in a few then.”

“Wow. Really? It’s okay if you don’t want to.”

You assured Eren it was no problem and hung up.

Looking through your wardrobe, you hated yourself for getting rid of all your secular clothing. You burned it all in a religious fury, replacing everything with long dresses, with high necklines accentuated with oversized collars, and long sleeves. Your most plain one was still stiff with ocean water. You ended up settling on one in your favorite color.

When you arrived you expected the church to be in ruins. It was a rather hyperbolic thought. But given what Eren told you, your mind felt free to wander down darkened paths. You didn’t dare approach the church proper, instead heading for the back door of the parsonage.

The tide was low, the stench ever present. You dry heaved every couple seconds. You stepped closer to the cliff and saw the rotting carcasses of fish. You hadn’t heard anything about a major die off. You pinched your nostrils shut and swallowed the spit collecting in your mouth.

“It’s gross, ain’t it?” Eren said, walking over to you. “Let’s get inside.”

He held the door open for you and shut it tight. The sound of door slamming made you jump.

“I’m sorry. I’m tryna keep the smell out as best I can,” he said sheepishly.

“It’s okay. I’d rather you be aggressive towards inanimate objects than smell death.”

“You want coffee? I just made a pot. Or do you like tea? I can make tea. Or we can have both. Best of both worlds. Like Hannah Montana,” he rattled off nervously. He shut his eyes tight and sighed deeply, very much aware of how silly he sounded.

“Coffee is fine.”

“How do you take it?”

You explained in great detail how you like your coffee. Eren was shaky and needed the specificities even if your request was on the simpler side. You took a seat at the dining table, one he clearly built. He carefully prepared your cup and placed it in front of you with a very prideful grin on his face. You thanked him and took a sip. It was perfect.

You wasted no time and started to question Eren on the current state of the church the moment he sat at the table.

“Pastor Grisha kicked everyone out?”

Eren winced, hearing you call his father that.

He took a sip of his coffee. “Yeah. He won’t tell me anything though. He does his sermons and then he spends the rest of his time in his office, muttering weird shit like ‘Where did I go wrong?’ and ‘He slaughtered my little lamb.’’

You snicked. “He’s talking about me.”

“What makes you so sure, sister?”

“I fucked your father, brother.”

“I know,” he answered casually.

“And I fucked your brother. Your father caught us in the little clearing by the cliff.”

“I told Zeke not to do that.” Eren said, the vibrancy of his eyes completely dulled.

“You knew?”

“Duh.. He’s my brother. I know everything about him.”

“Did he tell you he jerked off while your dad fucked me?”

“Unfortunately. He… He was desperate and he really likes you. I’m not saying it was right. He’s got some shit to work through.”

“You really care about him, huh?”

“Why wouldn’t I, sister? I love him,” he said cheerfully.

“Where is he?”

“Probably asleep. Service doesn’t start for another hour and a half.”

“I’m very much awake,” his voice boomed from down the hall.

He stepped out of his room clothes in only a tiny pair of grey underwear that left little to the imagination. His back was covered in spindly welts. He had no shame, not an inkling of it. He sauntered into the room and took a seat next to Eren. He glanced back and forth at the two of you. A skimpy joint was tucked behind his ear.

“What’s she doing here?” He asked Eren.

“You can ask her yourself. She’s right there.”

Zeke turned his attention towards you. “Who invited you?”

Eren groaned. “I did. I wanted to hang out with her.”

“Oh yeah, I’m sure you’re just ‘hanging out.’” He said, laughing.

“I have no one to talk to! Dad's on the path to being one of those embarrassing street preachers that scream about the end of days. And you never wear clothes and only ever talk to me when you want weed!”

“Do you need a hug?” Zeke asked, his tone comically serious.

“What?! No. Go put pants on.”

“Fine. I’ll conform, if that’ll calm your ass down,” he said.

“Is he high?” You asked.

“Terminally.”

You mouthed a “wow”.

“I can’t decide what pants,” he yelled down the hall. “Come help me.”

Eren sighed. “Let’s humor him.”

The two of you made your way to Zeke’s room. It was rather barren. He had a nice sized bed, with crisp white sheets and a turmeric colored quilt folded at the foot of it. He had a small desk made from birch wood stained a muted black. The chair was the same, though a small pillow softened the seat. His closet door rested on the ground. Zeke explained it fell off the hinges and didn’t care enough to fix it. His room looked like something out of the past. The only modern thing in it was the camera equipment.

Eren frowned and lightly kicked Zeke’s broken door.

“I said I would fix this for you, dumb ass.”

“You’re so cruel. Now! Let’s get down to business.”

He grabbed a lighter off his desk and lit the joint he had behind his ear.

“What about the pants?” You asked, trying not to stare at his cock.

“The what?” He waved his hand as if that made the previous conversation disappear. “Who cares? Here, take a hit.”

“I’m okay,” you demurred.

“Aw, come on? Do you not like me anymore?”

You rolled your eyes. “No. I just feel like getting high in a parsonage goes against God’s will.”

He patted your head and passed the joint to Eren. Zeke sat down on his bed and gestured for you to join him. Briefly you resisted but he was too handsome and too willing. Maybe it was God’s will for you to merely sit beside him.

Eren took a seat next to you while puffing on the joint hanging from his lips. He passed it back to Zeke.

“I’m good for now,” he relayed.

Zeke stubbed the joint out in an ashtray and opened a window to let the smoke air out. The haze that had once permeated the room slowly ebbed out into the cold wind. You tried to focus on that instead of Zeke’s cock which appeared to be a little stiff.

“I know you’re looking, sister.”

“I am not!”

Eren laughed. “If you want I can, uh, leave you two alone.”

“No way. I’m here to see you, remember?”

Zeke rested his head on your shoulder.

“What are you saying? You don’t want to see me?”

You rustled his hair. “No. That’s hardly what I meant.”

Eren wrapped his arm around you, pulling you close to him. There was a territorial tinge to his eyes. You struggled to stifle your laughter. All of the men in this family seemed to be desperate for your attention, even Eren who on occasion seemed like a normal guy.

Zeke looked over at Eren and narrowed his eyes.

“Are you jealous I found my way to her before you?”

“Are you jealous that dad fucked her first?”

Zeke scowled. You sighed deeply and tried to ignore your attraction to them. It was a thankless task.

“Do you want to lay with me, brother?” You asked on the verge of hysterics, playing up the religious pleasantries.

Eren blushed.

“He does,” Zeke said as he sprawled out across your lap. “He told me.”

Eren was staring out across the room, desperately trying to ignore Zeke and you.

“Is that true?”

He ran his hands through his long, dark hair, the silky tendrils finding their way between his fingers.

“Yeah. Happy?”

You gazed at Eren. Your vision blurred around him; he was all you could focus on. You carefully slipped your hand under his suspenders and ran it down one of his pecs. He shivered at your touch. You rubbed his delicate nipple with your thumb.

“Get on top of him,” Zeke suggested, his head in your lap. “I’ll eat your ass if you do it, sister.”

Eren’s eyes widened. The prospect of Zeke eating your ass was very appealing. As you went to straddle Eren, Zeke grabbed your shoulder.

“Not here. The office.”

“What?! No,” you exclaimed.

“Would it make you feel dirty because that’s where you fucked our father?”

“What if he catches us?” You panicked.

“Don’t worry about it. Your brother isn’t going to let anything bad happen to you, okay?” Zeke cooed.

Eren fake gagged and corralled you into Grisha’s office. Zeke’s words did not set you at ease.

You and Zeke took a seat on the couch. He rambled on about how Pastor Grisha now ended every sermon with “Jesus wept.” Eren took off his suspenders and his pants, folding them up neatly. He stood still for a moment, caught up in his own thoughts. You were getting impatient listening to Zeke ramble on. Your desire to fuck Eren was unbearable. All your attention was focused on him.

“Alright. I’m rea—Jesus Christ! Show some restraint!” Eren shouted.

You looked over at Zeke who at some point took off his underwear. He had a smug grin on his face. His cock was standing straight up, veiny and thick as ever. He was raring to go and you hadn’t even noticed.

“I don’t like to waste time,” he responded.

You and Eren both were a little perturbed, but not enough to turn back. Lust flooded your core; you could feel it bubbling up your throat. Zeke’s cock demanded your attention, the tip of it like a red beacon. You leaned in a little closer to him and cupped his balls, squeezing them with your gentle touch. You rubbed them, your grip tightening. Zeke exhaled and lazily threw his head back, eyes shut with pleasure. He beamed; you didn’t realize he was capable of such contentment.

“I’ll let Eren fuck you first, considering I already blessed you with my seed.”

“More like you filled her with your dirt,” Eren groused.

“Just let me have this,” Zeke complained.

If you weren’t so turned on, you would have stood up and walked out the door. But you were hopelessly tethered to them, your body devoted to their light. The holiness you perceived in them made it okay.

Eren gazed at you, his eyes as fertile as a verdant field. He held out his hand which you took and walked to his father’s desk. He kicked his father’s belongings off and gestured for you to sit on it. You happily obeyed. Your total willingness made him nervous. His hands quaked as he lifted your dress and peeled off your underwear.

“Over here,” Zeke said, holding his hand up.

Eren balled up your underwear and beaned them at Zeke’s face. Zeke didn’t seem to care and took an audible whiff. Eren gripped your hips and pulled you closer to the edge of the desk. He swiped his fingers against your cunt, coating them with your fluids.

“Open wide.”

You parted your lips and sucked them clean, running your tongue along the pads of his fingers. Your cunt throbbed, aching for his touch. He spread apart your labia and ran his cock down your slit. You whimpered as he slowly plunged it inside you.

“You guys are boring,” Zeke heckled. “She’d be ruined by now if I was fucking her.”

Eren let out an annoyed groan and started to thrust. Zeke reclined on the couch, happily watching the two of you. Eren grunted as your cunt hugged around him. His movements were slow and precise, lacking any of the urgency Zeke or Grisha’s had. You wondered if he was more experienced. You thought about him fucking his way through town, not a person untouched. He was certainly handsome enough.

“Pick up the pace,” Zeke said, stroking his cock.

Eren gritted his teeth. “For the love of God, please shut up. I’m begging you.”

“I’m getting bored though. I want to hear her squeal.”

“It’s not about what you want.” Eren turned his attention towards you. “Right?”

You nodded. Zeke sighed audibly and absent mindedly stroked his cock. You couldn’t help but stare; you wanted it in your mouth.

Eren took notice and began to fuck you harder, the length of his cock consuming your cunt.

“Don’t look at him,” he sneered, grabbing a hold of your face with his free hand. “Open your mouth again.”

You did as you were told. Eren spat directly in your mouth, the action full of derision. His saliva was sweet, tinged with coffee and citrus. He glared down at you and held you by the neck, his palm barely grazing your throat. His touch was gentle unlike his gaze. He clenched his jaw and thrust into you, groaning as he bottomed out. He erupted into a symphony of grunts and moans. His long hair hung in his face and he tried to tuck it behind his ear with no luck.

You heard Zeke laugh and get up off the couch, walking over. Zeke positioned himself behind Eren and reached over his shoulders to tuck his hair behind his ear.

“You looked like you were struggling,” Zeke cooed.

Eren let go of your throat and looked over his shoulder, mildly perturbed, and nodded.

“Why do you still have your shirt on, puritan?” Zeke coyly asked, as he started to unbutton it.

“You’re pushing your luck,” Eren grunted as he drove his cock into you.

Zeke snickered and helped Eren take off his button-down.

“Now it’s a party!” He cheered, resting his head on his brother’s shoulder.

Zeke gazed down at you, the weight of his body pressed up against Eren. You were a panting mess and tried to cover your face. Your shame always got the best of you. After all, you were a Christian. The brothers loved every second of it. Your whines and sighs were their favorite hymns. Zeke grabbed your hips and pulled you closer to Eren.

“Ow!” You yelped as Eren’s cock collided into your cervix.

You gazed up at the men lording over you, their eyes devouring every inch of you like a couple of jackals.

“I’m having a hard time focusing with your cock wedged between my ass,” Eren mumbled.

“Is it too weird?” Zeke asked, backing away.

“I have an idea,” you said, pulling Eren’s cock out of you.

You sat up and gestured for Zeke to sit behind you. He happily got up on the desk and sat behind you. You nestled in between his legs, letting his cock rest up against the small of your back.

“Why do you still have this on?” Zeke murmured in your ear.

His dexterity was impressive; he managed to quickly undo all the little buttons on your dress and pulled it over your head. You could feel his heaving chest up against your back, the hair tickling your spine. Eren unhooked your bra and tossed it to the side. He guided his cock back inside your weeping cunt and began to thrust.

“That feel good?” Eren grunted.

“Y—yes,” you choked out. “So good.”

Zeke groped your breasts, tweaking your nipples in between his rough fingers. Eren gave a smoldering glare to Zeke.

“What is it, brother?” Zeke asked sarcastically. “Did you want her all to yourself?”

Eren continued to force his length into your tormented cunt. He was blushing, still glaring at Zeke. His lush brown locks hung in his face. He almost looked like Jesus. Zeke went to speak, his eyebrows knitted with concern, but Eren interrupted him with a rough kiss, ripe with insatiable yearning. He continued to thrust wildly, delving his cock into your dripping cunt. Eren was close. His moans obscured by the kiss. Zeke pulled away and cleared his throat. You managed to catch a glimpse of his beet red face as you felt a spurt of warm fluid on your back.

“Sorry, sister,” he murmured.

Eren’s balls clapped up against your taint as he pounded away. Your body tensed up in anticipation of your orgasm. Eren’s cock filled every inch of your cunt, stretching it out as his hips grinded up against you. Your skin felt like it had electricity running through it, the Holy Spirit imbuing you with its light. Your body contorted in rapture as your vision faded. All you saw was light. You felt like God Himself.

Zeke lazily started to rub your clit, lubricating his finger with your fluids, which sent you to the brink. You were entrenched in ecstasy as your orgasm crashed over you. You tried to speak but all you could do was babble, the only coherent sound being you sputtering out Eren’s name.

Eren smirked and slowed down his pace, becoming more deliberate with his thrusts.

“You’re so fuckin’ tight,” he moaned.

He tossed his head back and filled you with his warm, milky cum. His hips bucked a few more times before he slumped forward, resting his head on your shoulder. You kissed the top of his head.

“I wanna worship you both,” you said breathily.

“Oh yeah?” Zeke asked.

Eren chuckled. “How do you plan on doing such a thing, sister?”

“Come down my throat.”

Zeke tumbled off the desk and quickly got to his feet. Eren helped you off and stood next to his brother. You got on your knees and gazed up at them. They were regal and beautiful, painfully so. You could bask in their presence for ages and never tire of it. Eren met your gaze and smiled. He stroked your cheek.

“Need some help?” Zeke asked Eren, pointing at his semi-hard cock.

Eren’s eyes widened.

“It’s cool if you don’t! I just thought since… You do realize you kissed me, right?”

Eren huffed. “Yes! I was hoping dad would walk in.”

“It’d really ruin him if he caught me jerking you off, especially so close to his precious, little lamb.”

Zeke had the mind of a demon. It disturbed you to no end, but it was just as alluring. Both of the brothers were blushing, their chests as pink as their cheeks. Eren looked down at you for guidance.

“Let him help,” you replied.

Your tone was marred with shame. You were still scared by the sin of it all, but traumatizing Pastor Grisha had its appeal after everything he had done. You needed your wanton desires to triumph, to horrify the holy man.

Eren let out a muted moan as Zeke gripped his cock. You eagerly watched as Zeke squeezed the length of it. Eren’s expression exuded an alluring agony. You lapped at his balls as Zeke hesitantly jerked him off. You rolled your tongue along the raphe, relishing in his rapturous groans. You flicked Eren’s aching cock with your tongue like a serpent.

Eren’s body relaxed a little, his shoulders not held as high. You sucked on his cock, savoring the precum dribbling from it. You worked in tandem with Zeke until Eren’s cock was throbbing and glistening with precum and spit.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Zeke asked. “I’m not playing coy. Was that okay?”

“I guess,” Eren mumbled. “Yeah.”

“Let’s just think of it as a really fun Eucharist,” Zeke replied, hip checking his brother.

You stared up at Eren and Zeke, eager to service them. You took Zeke’s cock in your mouth and swirled your tongue around the tip. He patted your head as you sucked. Drool trickled from the corners of your mouth. Eren watched intently and stepped closer to you, his erection demanding your attention. You caressed it with a tender touch. His verdant gaze fixed on you, heavy with ardor. No one had ever looked at you like that before.

You released Zeke’s cock from your mouth and masturbated him using your free hand. Zeke’s gaze matched Eren’s, his grey eyes boring holes through yours. You beckoned them to stand closer together and frotted their cocks, suckling on the tips in between jerking them off.

The sound of heavy footsteps ripped you from your debauched trance.

“Did you hear that? I think I heard—”

“Suck us off at the same time,” Zeke pleaded.

Eren nervously looked to the side, but gave you a nod. You resumed holding their cocks together and eased them into your mouth. You felt like the corners of your mouth were going to tear as you struggled to fit them in.

“Atta girl,” Zeke purred.

The footsteps grew nearer.

“Boys? We ought to start service,” you heard Grisha call out.

“Zeke,” Eren muttered.

“Hm?” He said as he watched as tears ran down your cheeks.

Eren cupped Zeke’s face in his hands and kissed him as the knob of the door jiggled. It was ripe with desperation like the previous one. Eren bit down on Zeke’s bottom lip. Your cunt throbbed at the sight. You gagged and took their cocks out of your mouth, opting instead to jerk them off.

Grisha opened the door and stepped inside. He let out a little sigh before he noticed the depravity taking place.

“Oh God, no!”.

Eren laughed, breaking the kiss.

“Why? Why would you do this?!”

You lapped at Eren and Zeke’s cock, relishing in the pained shouts coming from the pastor. Zeke bucked his hips against your fist, fucking it furiously.

“Give me an answer! What did I do to either of you to deserve this?!”

The brothers ignored his cries. Zeke nuzzled his face into Eren’s neck and rubbed the back of your head.

“I’m close,” he whimpered. “Can I come on your face, sister?”

You nodded with a big smile on your face.

“How could you do this?” Grisha asked dejectedly, holding your gaze.

You didn’t answer. Grisha was of little importance. All you cared about were his sons.

“Sorry, father,” Zeke moaned as ropes of cum splattered across your cheeks.

“I—I raised you better than this!”

Eren clenched his fist while his erection dwindled.

“I don’t think you did,” Eren replied.

Grisha was stunned. “Excuse me?”

You let go of Eren’s cock and tried to wipe away Zeke’s cum with the back of your hand. You only proceeded to make a bigger mess. Zeke got to his knees and licked the remnants off your face.

“Look at us,” Eren said. “Zeke’s been convinced he’s going to Hell since he was four years old.”

“That has nothing to do with me! I never once told him such a thing.”

“It was implied,” Zeke whispered.

Eren was undeterred. “Did you know he flagellates himself? Or do you just not pay attention to the blood stains on the backs of his shirts?”

“I can’t be aware of every little thing that goes on, Eren. You… You could have told me!”

“And what good would that have done? Would you’ve cleaned his wounds at two in the morning? Let him sob in bed with you until sunrise?”

Zeke’s eyes had glazed over, not a hint of light to them.

“I… I d—don’t know,” the pastor sputtered.

“Exactly,” Eren laughed. “See, I didn’t even have to think about it. And you know what’s really fucked up? I didn’t learn that from you.”

“Eren, I…”

“And it’s not like I came out of this unscathed! Why do you think I’m high all the fucking time? I can’t deal with the overwhelming guilt an—and shame for not being whatever it is you wanted me to be.”

You wanted to run out of the office and leave everything behind. The situation was too much to bear. Eren’s rage, Zeke’s dissociation, the fact the three of you were still naked.

“I’m… going to go,” Zeke said suddenly.

He stood up and breezed past his father like he wasn’t even there. You remained a distressed heap on the floor.

“Eren, I’m sorry,” Grisha whispered.

“Oh my God,” Eren laughed again. “No. No, you’re not.”

Grisha’s face fell and he turned his attention towards you. You were to bear the brunt of his discontent.

“This is your doing, isn’t it?”

“Don’t try to pin this on her. She was just a catalyst.”

Grisha shook his head, resuming his previous pathetic visage. “My son, what can I do to make this right?”

Eren held out his hand to you and helped you up. You quickly found your dress and yanked it over your head.

“Nothing. You fucked up,” he responded, getting dressed. “You might as well find some poor woman to bear you a new son. Maybe you won’t fuck him up though you never seemed like the learning type.”

Eren led you past Grisha and out of the office.

“I know this is asking a lot, but could I stay with you for a bit?” Eren asked matter-of-factly.

You tried to shake yourself from your daze. Grisha’s words still haunted you.

“My apartment’s kinda small, but sure?”

“Thank you. I’m gonna go grab some stuff and then we can head out.”

Eren left you in the foyer to grab his keys from his room. Grisha approached you, desperate to convince you to stay with him.

“My precious lamb—”

“Don’t.”

“Please, I want to explain.”

“Stop talking to her,” Eren called out, pulling on a jacket.

Grisha glared at him momentarily before sighing and walking off. You didn’t think he’d give up on you so quickly. It was strange to see him so subdued and broken. You felt a twinge of sympathy, but it was gone as fast as it came. Grisha didn’t deserve any goodwill.

“You’ll be back,” he murmured, stepping into his office and slamming the door shut.

Eren and you set off for his car and hopped inside. It was a boring sedan, an older model from the early 90s, and it reeked of marijuana. He put his keys in the ignition as a smile crossed his face.

“You alright?” You asked.

He started the car and drove away from the parsonage, a few tears fell from his eyes.

“Yeah. It… It was a long time coming, but honestly I have no idea what I’m gonna do now.”

“We carry similar burdens. We can figure it out together.”

You liked the idea of healing with Eren, growing past your oppressive Christian upbringings and seeing the world anew. He rested his hand on your thigh and looked in his rear-view mirror.

“Is that?” He said, his green eyes popping out of his head.

It was Zeke, hauling ass after the car. He was sprinting like he was competing for a spot in the Summer Olympics. His form was astounding. He always looked like an athlete.

“Oh shit,” Eren said, stifling a laugh. “Hold on.”

He pulled over and waited until Zeke tapped on the window. Eren unlocked the car and Zeke crawled into the backseat. His shirt was barely buttoned and his fly was down. His flaxen hair was more askew than usual.

“I can’t believe you were going to leave me,” he said, catching his breath.

“You wandered off! I didn’t know where you went.” Eren scrambled for the right words. “I—I would’ve called you.”

“How? I don’t have a phone and neither do you.”

“Well, you’re here with us now and that’s all that matters,” you said, trying to settle the brothers down.

It seemed to work. Zeke exhaled and rested his head on the window, gazing out into the ocean. You weren’t sure how you’d make this all work. Your apartment had a single bedroom and not much space for two grown men, but you were determined to make it work. After everything you all had been through it was crucial you remained together, at least until the wounds healed. And the stinging guilt of turning your back on Pastor Grisha and God subsided.

“This is gonna sound kinda stupid, but… I don’t know what I would have done without you guys. I felt lost for so long. Going to church and hating myself for not being the most pious person. Getting wrapped up in your father’s crap. But you, uh, you both changed that. You saved me.” You tacked on a nervous laugh. “Somehow.”

The car fell silent and you felt silly for making such a claim.

Eren broke the silence. “We saved each other.”

#zeke yeager x reader #eren yeager x reader #grisha yeager x reader #zeke jaeger x reader #eren jaeger x reader #grisha jaeger x reader #snk smut #aot smut #attack on titan smut #shingeki no kyojin smut #aot x reader #snk x reader #x reader #reader insert #.fics #.aot #.zeke #.eren #.grisha

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haliyam · 2 years

Text

interim (vii)

zeke x reader/oc

summary: You return to Liberio not long after the Warriors arrive home from their failed mission in Paradis and discover that things have changed. (Or they will, and maybe a little more with Zeke than you expect.) [Season 4 and manga spoilers ahead]

AO3 link | Ch 1 | Ch 6

As usual, Reader default name Lucy is a cis-female Eldian character with a set background and family name. But feel free to set the substitution for Lucy to your chosen First Name using the InteractiveFics browser extension!

Chapter 7

“Zeke?”

Zeke’s door creaks as you gently push it open. It makes more noise than it would if you simply kicked it open, but his eyes are still glued to his book as he leans against his bed’s headboard.

“Zeke,” you whisper insistently.

You think you see the slightest smirk pull at his mouth, but exasperation is all you find when he finally pries his eyes from the pages in his hand. “What?”

You know well enough now to ignore or really see through his obvious irritation. It’s been a month, or months? since Zeke first started teaching you how to deal with the consequences of your own pride at Magath’s hands using trusty warm compresses and even trustier pain ointment. Unfortunately, Mrs. Yeager caught the scent of the latter on your bedsheets during laundry—and in a bid not to worry her, you asked Zeke if you could stay in his bed instead.

He didn’t like that at all. As a growing boy, he needed all the space he could get, and adding a demanding little six year old and a pillow between you diminished that greatly. Being the greatest advocate of removing any cause for his grandparents to worry, however, he had no choice but to agree. (Especially since, as a twelve year old, the sole Warrior candidate, and having much more time on his hands, he does his own laundry.)

Of course, Finger—Pieck—has taught you how to swallow that pride since. But that is a recent development. And you’ve grown to like having somebody to chat with before you sleep at night. Zeke’s room feels warmer than yours, and less lonely.

“You know what,” you say.

He sighs. And then he sighs again, before setting aside his book. Turning to face you, he crosses his arms, looking like someone who clearly has the advantage in this situation.

“Fine. But tell me a story first.”

Your pride, still in full force at home, makes you make a face at him. Still, you quietly shut the door behind you and ask, “About what?”

“Lara.”

Your sharp intake of breath is audible. “How do you know that name?”

“And Willy,” he adds. With a shrug, he explains, “you said his name once. But Lara—you say that a lot in your sleep when you cry.”

You find your eyes glued to your feet. Those names are a secret. Even more secret than Mila’s, who has visited you here in their place. You aren’t to tell anybody about them, least of all the Eldian family you’re staying with. Father was very clear about that.

But it seems a small price to pay for company at this moment. If you return to your room alone, you’ll just remember how much you miss them. And isn’t that worse?

Besides, Zeke can keep a secret. You already have one together. What’s another?

You glance up, feet shuffling a bit. “Lara is my sister. Willy is my brother—Mila’s husband.”

Zeke draws his knees up, one arm on top of the other on them, and rests his chin there so he can comfortably quirk a brow at you. “Why don’t they visit you instead of her?”

“They’re—” not allowed to, you almost say. But what you say next isn’t entirely wrong, either. “They don’t live nearby.”

“But Mila does? Eldians who live in the mainland are all supposed to live in Liberio. That makes no sense.”

You open your mouth to protest, trying to come up with the lie. This was why father told you not to tell anybody anything about your family. Because they would wonder at once about your circumstances.

But Zeke is quicker than you yet, and he speaks before you can even stammer a reply. “Unless… does your family work for the Tyburs?”

Your eyes widen at him. “H-huh?”

“That’s it, isn’t it?” Your startled expression makes Zeke even more smug. “Outside of Liberio, the Tybur family estate is the only place Eldians can work in the mainland. That explains your attitude, too.”

“Hey,” you frown, but you’ve given yourself away. In a fashion. “...Don’t tell anybody.”

“I won’t,” Zeke says easily. You don’t know yet that it’s because he wouldn’t have anyone to tell anyway, besides the fact that he wouldn’t. “What are the Tyburs like?” he asks.

If Zeke were his usual self tonight, he would point out that your mouth’s been open long enough to let a fly settle in. But he’s as deep in thought as you are scrambling for a response, and again he continues ahead of you. “They’re the only Eldians who have the right to live… to be happy.”

A sentiment that echoes all father has told you all your life, you think, even if you know they’ve never met. You suppose it only makes sense that other Eldians would feel the same, since any Marleyan would know the history of the motherland. Even you still feel the same.

Don’t you?

Shouldn’t you?

“...That’s not what you asked me for a story about,” you murmur.

“Oh, right,” Zeke remembers, like he’s waking from a dream. Jerking his head in the direction of the foot of the bed, he says, “Lara and Willy. Tell me a story.”

Squeezing your fists behind your back, shaking the nerves out of them—how much closer could he have gotten to the truth, if he didn’t agree to change the subject? Or not change it, unknowingly?—you push yourself up to his bed.

He stares at you expectantly, and for once, you look entirely unsure before him. Where do you begin? “Willy is the eldest. He used to spend all his time with me and Lara, until he married Mila,” you say, trying not to let an edge touch your voice as you speak of your sister-in-law. “But Lara…”

Now you smile. You can’t help it. “Lara is—wonderful,” you beam, until your face falls. “But she’s always been sickly. Before I was born, she and mother fell very ill… but she never got better. It’s why she never really leaves home.”

“Oh.”

You nod, and Zeke is quiet. He usually is, especially when he’s reading, except now he looks like he wants to say something.

When he doesn’t, you wonder if that’s your fault. “...So can I stay?”

Zeke’s eyes snap to yours. The hesitation on his face vanishes for his exasperation again. “Fine,” he sighs, “but don’t hog the blanket. Or kick me. I don’t know how you do that past the pillow with those stubby legs, anyway.”

“Want me to show you?”

“…Go to bed.”

You pull the curtains over the carriage window further closed, if that’s at all possible.

Willette sits across you, peeking out of her end with a small smile. You have no idea why she’s so excited, but you don’t resent her for it. There’s something familiar about her demeanor that makes it impossible.

You should leave it alone. Just be silent the rest of the way, get it over with—after all, you’ll get to see Lara—but your curiosity gets the better of you. You never really thought of what happened to everyone else not chosen to become a Warrior candidate; you figured they all returned to their regular lives.

“How did you come to work for the family?”

Willette blinks when she realizes you’re addressing her. Still pleasant, she says, “I don’t know if you remember me from training, but… I wasn’t very good at all the physical work. But even Eldians are paid better if we serve, even among the regular corps. Sometimes they let us do paperwork. The grunt work of it, really,” she laughs a little. “Eventually, somehow, I—”

Willette clears her throat, trying not to look too proud, but she looks pleased with herself. “I was recruited into intelligence. My recruiting, now superior officer, he… saw my potential. It was still just paperwork, but I did well. And that was when Miss Rose saw me.”

“Miss Rose? …Oh,” you drag on, because you always forget the family’s excuse for Lara’s constant presence outside the estate, “Willy’s, ah… secretary?”

“That’s all right,” Willette nods at your slightly sheepish expression, clearly assuming you’ve simply never noticed her is all. “Miss Rose thought I was someone she knew, but—well, she talked to me one day and asked about my work, and… I’ve been part of the regime’s liaison to the family ever since.”

You forcibly stop your jaw from falling. Lara, talking to anyone else? You only know her as your reclusive sister. A silent shadow to Willy. It does please you to know someone else outside the family knows her as more than that, because she is, but it’s odd nonetheless.

“…and you like the work?” you eventually ask.

“I do. And Miss Rose - and Lord Tybur, of course - they’ve been very kind to me, whenever I have the honor of meeting them. I was happy to take on the small task of bringing you to see Lord Tybur.”

“I see.” You simply can’t imagine anyone from your life in Liberio interacting with your siblings. It takes you a moment to realize you might come off as rude, or even jealous, so you give her a small smile. “I’m glad things have worked out for you. It’s the least I can hope for - for anyone who was in Warrior training especially.”

Willette eyes you with a warm one herself. “You’re kind, Miss Lucy. It’s no wonder Lord Tybur is so eager to see you again.”

Any flattery at her words in the beginning falls flat to your ears at the mention of Willy. Given the choice, you would see only Lara…

“We’re here,” Willette beams, drawing the curtain open now that you’re safely inside the estate. As the carriage rumbles to a stop, you take a deep breath.

But not even a Tybur can have everything.

Like all Tybur mansions across Marley, the one in Liberio is considerably smaller than the main estate near the capital, but it’s still large enough to fit an entire clan built on lies if the situation calls for it. Wandering the wide hallways and ceilings too high even for three of you to reach, you realize you’ve never really stayed here—no reason to, when Lucy Blanchard was restricted to the internment zone—but the general layout is familiar enough that you know Willette is taking you to the drawing room.

You’re still thinking about how you feel about all this when you find that you’ve passed another large door and are walking along a line of red-clad soldiers. Tybur guards, at the center of whom stands the tallest of them. He’s just emerged, ducked out from the drawing room, and he closes the door behind him.

“Miss Tybur, to see Lord Tybur,” says Willette, in a very formal voice.

You peer up at a familiar face. In spite of his much sterner features, you recognize him—Markus, one of your brother’s childhood friends whose family has served yours for generations. He was already training to be Willy’s personal bodyguard by the time you were born.

A flicker of a smile flashes across his natural frown, and he nods. “Lord Tybur will be pleased to see you, Miss Lucy.”

You feel as small as ever before him, but you tell yourself it’s just his height. “Thank you, Markus.” You turn to Willette next to you. “And thank you, Willette. If you go now, you might be able to catch up with the others for lunch.”

“That’s okay,” Willette shakes her head. “I think Pieck was just being polite. Besides, I should wait to see if anything else is needed of me here. But you go inside—everyone is excited to see you.”

“Everyone?” you repeat, but Markus has already opened the door. He ignores your questioning glance at him too, so you have no choice but to enter.

This drawing room is comparably small (it’s one of many, if the mansion is to standard), but it’s built that way. With a wide window facing the city, sofas turned to one another crowd most of the space, facing a fireplace on one long end of the room while built-in bookshelves line the rest of the walls. They’re filled with plants and vases and old family photos, though one painting holds a special place above the fireplace mantle.

Father. His likeness has been captured perfectly; as intimidating as when he still lived.

But you’re distracted by a most familiar sight—Willy, sitting up straight as he drinks tea on the chaise longue, while Lara stands across him, never too far, a smile on her face as they chatter softly. You were only home not that long ago, but they’d been away then.

It wasn’t Markus’s height at all. You feel small again, watching them like this. Like it’s still just the three of you, and you don’t know anything about the Warrior program yet, or Mila, or…

“Lucy,” says Lara, the calm expression on her face lighting up. Her voice remains soft, but her joy is unmistakable.

“Lucy!” Willy beams at you before setting his tea down on the side table. “I see Miss Weiss found you after all.”

His tone reminds you of the last time he scolded you, even if he’s clearly aiming for humor this time, and the homely air about the warm drawing room dissipates, at least on your part. Hackles already raised, you fight down a frown. You don’t notice yourself standing at attention in an attempt to make yourself feel bigger.

“How did she know where to find me?”

Willy’s smile remains, as though he doesn’t notice either. “You know we leave those little details to intelligence for a reason. But how do you like her?”

It takes you a second to realize he means Willette. Strange shift in topic, but you humor him. “She’s all right. She was in my Warrior class.”

“It was difficult to believe back then, but now I understand what they meant… even Lara and Markus mistook her for you at first glance.”

You blink. “Willette?” You suppose you’re of the same stature. With a similar hairstyle, similar features… but you don’t think you look all that much alike. The fact that this is even in question is starting to frustrate you now. “Wait—” What kind of ridiculous diversion is this? For Lara’s sake, you restrain the emotion with confusion. “How… how is this relevant?”

Lara turns to Willy, who nods and begins, “I believe she would make a—”

“Aunt Lucy!”

The drawing room door opens ever so slightly again, and the illustrious Lord Tybur is interrupted by the one of the few who can afford to do it—his eldest daughter. Fine scurries into the room and practically leaps into your arms as soon as you turn in surprise.

“Fine!” you gasp, barely just catching your suddenly excitable niece—you set her down and fall to a crouch instead, wrapping your arms around her as you chuckle. “What are you doing here?”

Fine is the spitting image of her mother—her eyes, her nose, her mouth—all she really has of Willy are his hair and his eyes. But she must also be the happiest eight year old you’ve ever seen in spite of her natural shyness, so even the sight of Mila on her face can’t tarnish your fondness for her.

By now Fine has remembered herself, and her timid nature returns in full force. She stammers as a flush fills her cheeks. “Oh! I - I just thought—”

“When Fine heard we were coming to visit Liberio where her Auntie Lucy was studying, she nearly begged me to let her join us,” Willy chuckles.

Fine shoots her father a little pout. “Papa…”

“Well, I’m glad you came,” you squeeze her small hands in yours, regaining her attention.

Encouraged now, Fine nods quickly. “We’re staying here until after Papa’s birthday, so I wanted to come. Besides,” she wrinkles her nose, the way only an older sister can, “Alois and the twins are too noisy back home.”

You laugh, only for your mind to go over her words again. “Ah—until Willy’s birthday?” Your eyes snap to Willy, and then to Lara. “You’re staying for that long?”

That’s a week from now. You’ve never known the new Lord Tybur to dwell far from home for so long in one place. At least, not in an old city to no one’s advantage like Liberio.

“I hope you don’t mind too much, Lucy,” says Willy, a small smile on his mouth.

You want to roll your eyes. He knows you can’t complain in front of your niece.

“Of course not,” you say, mirroring his mirth, but it only reaches your eyes when you look to Fine again, and then up at Lara. “You’re all here so early. Were you able to rest during the trip?”

Fine nods. “I slept the whole train ride, Aunt Lucy.” She takes a deep breath, and then nods with a sudden determination. “Do you want to play hopscotch in the courtyard?”

“Hopscotch?” you repeat. You remember hopscotch. Father in particular liked calling them hop squats. Sometimes hop snaps. A snap of father’s finger was a jump and no slower, and every time there were boxes where you could land on both feet, you were to immediately fall to a squat before launching yourself into the next box. It was mostly to test your agility, you realize as you look back now; but then hop squats never lasted long, and father soon graduated you into obstacle courses of his Titan’s making.

As quickly as the thought comes to you, you realize she must mean proper hopscotch. The kind you saw younger children at boarding school play outside.

Mistaking your confusion for hesitation, Fine quickly says, “P-Papa said you were the best. I’m not very good… but I’ve been practicing.”

“No, no—of course I’ll play with you,” you say, heart breaking at her hopeful expression. You reach out to take her hand, but Willy has approached and places his on her hair instead, gently patting her.

“Fine, why don’t you get your chalk from your room? Auntie Lucy will meet you in the courtyard.”

“Okay, Papa,” she says, though she’s smiling at you. She takes your smile in return as your leave, and walks out of the room as calmly as she can, as you suppose her mother has told her a little lady of eight should, but her near-skips of excitement are difficult to conceal.

Willy is laughing the moment Markus closes the door behind her. “I know what you’re thinking. Father would turn in his grave if he knew I was letting the children taint his precious courtyard with colored chalk.”

He would, but you simply shrug. “Was it really that much better than using his own flesh?”

You purse your lips as soon as you say it. You suppose that’s Lara’s flesh now, and your eyes are wide and apologetic in her direction—but she only stifles a soft chuckle. “Father was never much concerned about this particular estate. I believe he will forgive us.”

You know that’s a lie and so does Willy, but neither of you contests her. Willy only shakes his head. “Thank you for humoring her. She really has been practicing.”

“When she’s come all this way? How couldn’t I?”

Willy’s eyes crinkle in half-amusement. “Does the same logic apply to your…” he pauses, and then motions to himself with a flourish meant to annoy, “dear brother?”

What remains of your smile falls, hanging by a thread thanks only to Lara’s presence. But it’s not entirely Willy’s fault. Now that you’re here before Lord Tybur, all you’ve managed to set aside since your meeting with List at HQ comes back to you.

You ignore the urge to roll your eyes and purse your lips instead. “Willy, there’s something we need to discuss.”

He pauses at that; considers your expression. Glances at Lara before he looks at you again.

Sighs.

“And it can’t wait for lunch, Lucy? We’ve only just said hello.”

You were only irritated before, but now you’re upset. You scoff. “You don’t even know what it’s about—or did your intelligence man tell you?”

“My intelligence—what would Arnack know of it?” In spite of his question, he relaxes somewhat. “This concerns the military, then?”

The military and not Mila, not the family is what he means.

You cross your arms, glaring to the side almost petulantly—now it annoys you to even speak—when Lara’s hand finds yours. Your gaze softens, shoulders relax when she squeezes your fingers, and you have no choice but to look at her.

“Fine is waiting in the courtyard. But you’ll tell us when you’re all done playing, won’t you, Lucy?”

Your will to sulk dissipates into embarrassment. You don’t want to give Lara any trouble. “All right.”

Lara smiles.

Sometimes, putting up with Willy is worth it.

You soon learn that maybe regular hopscotch isn’t so different from yours after all; besides the fact that there is no father around to insist you can move faster than you are now, the hopscotch Fine knows has 40 squares as well—you both dirty your dresses drawing the blocks and circles together, but you doubt Willy will chastise Fine for it—and she goes forward and backward too.

Hopscotch goes better than you hope. Fine is very good at it, especially when she stops looking at you to see if you’re watching every few steps so she can focus on the pattern on the ground instead. She’s agile herself, and she lasts several rounds of this, which makes you wonder if Willy had her trained, however silly the notion may be…

But surely he hasn’t. You remember him angrily protesting the decision to send you away to father when you were little, though you hadn’t understood why until you were older. You know you can at least trust him not to do to his children what father did to you, even though he continues to permit the Warrior program.

“Aunt Lucy?”

Still catching your breath, you sit upright from the courtyard bench you laid back on, all sweaty and tired—but a good tired—and glance over at Fine. She’s sitting up too, her dress as much covered in chalk as yours. A stray strip of powder green that matches the color of her fingers is spread over her cheek.

Before she can say anything, you give her a look of apology. “I don’t think I can go again, Fine. I haven’t moved that much in weeks.”

“Not that,” Fine lets out a little giggle as she shakes her head, though her face grows somber rather quickly afterward. “May I ask you something, auntie?”

You feel your hackles raise again, and you wonder if it’s the Mila or the Willy in her that does it. “Of course.”

She pulls her lips to one side, and then another as she considers her words. “Will I get the War Hammer after you do?”

Absolutely nothing is what runs through your mind as you hear her question. Nothing but terror and alarm, and the feeling of your stomach sinking again. A child shouldn’t have to think of these things. Not the new Warrior candidates, and not your little niece. You feel your mouth open and close just as it did with her mother, and you must somehow get to your feet and approach the bench next to yours. Fine draws her knees to her chest under her dress to give you space.

It takes you even longer to look at her. “What makes you think I’ll get it?” When she only stares at you again, you tilt your head. “Fine?”

Fine presses her lips together, suddenly she seems as reluctant to speak as you do. She smiles now, glancing around as if to find something else to talk about.

You sigh. Like father, like daughter.

“Fine,” you insist.

Her eyes quickly fall to her knees. “It’s supposed to be a secret.”

“Then it’ll be our secret.”

“Promise?” When you give her an earnest nod, she bites the inside of her cheek, and then nods herself. “Mother said you must have it one day.”

Of course Mila would say that. Though you do your level best not to scoff, that is something on which you both agree, even if she thinks otherwise. “That’s Willy’s decision to make in the end,” you say, a small rebellion of your own, even if Willy’s wife isn’t here to hear it, and Fine is too innocent to know what it is. “Now, to answer your question—” you scoot a little closer. “It’s unlikely, you know. This is another secret,” and Fine nods quickly, “but the head of the Tybur family rarely receives the War Hammer. Not since the early days, from well over a hundred years ago, back in the time of the Eldian Empire. And since you’ll be the head one day, after Willy…”

Fine does not look comforted as you expect. “But grandfather had it.”

You blink.

For all her shyness, your niece watches you with the expectation of any precocious child her age.

She isn’t wrong—you simply never questioned it because father had it for as long as you can remember. The head of the Tybur Family must always, at the very least, bear an heir and a spare (for the War Hammer)... a policy father himself flouted over nineteen years ago.

You don’t really have an answer for her. Lara was terribly ill at the time, as she always was before the War Hammer, and so you never considered her a candidate, but father did have a cousin or two remaining.

…Who can say? Father was enigmatic to you the day he sent you away, and was just as much so on the day you returned home from Liberio to learn you had failed his expectations and to bid him goodbye in a flurry that felt like the same breath. Lara certainly never speaks of him or of his memories to you. Not even when she told you the truth about the family.

“Father…” you decide to guess, “always liked to take matters into his own hands. He was Lord Tybur when he took the War Hammer. You would have to decide yourself to do it one day—I’m sure Willy would never break with tradition and have the future Lady Tybur inherit it.”

You prefer not to tell her that it’s so unlikely because she has so many little brothers and sisters from among whom Lord Tybur may one day choose instead.

Fine has no protest this time as she considers your answer, and you realize you don’t even know whether this news is good or bad to her ears. After all, you once wept with disappointment when you learned you wouldn’t inherit the War Hammer months before your thirteenth birthday.

“Did you want it?” you ask, taking your handkerchief and wiping the chalk from her face.

Fine presses her lips together again.

“I don’t know.”

That answer alone heartens you somewhat. If nothing else, you suppose, Willy is a man who loves his children.

Fine is as ladylike as a little girl can be as she devours her food as quick as she can. Willy had promised Mila that their eldest wouldn’t lose too much time for lessons simply because of the trip, so she is ushered back to her room for her studies not long after lunch begins.

That leaves you alone with Willy and Lara.

Even in the early afternoon, the chandelier high above shines starkly over the room. You sit at a long table, fit for several family members, you imagine, as you do in every Tybur estate dining room you’ve visited. The three of you occupy the tail end of the table, a little far from the fireplace with your back to the window. This room is filled with portraits of a select few former heads of the Tybur family, lords and ladies both. From where you sit, the earliest known Lord Tybur stares down at you with his head tilted aside.

You’re wondering what he might have been like through the eyes of his War Hammer when Willy starts.

“I’m so pleased to see your clothes still fit.”

Eyes turning away from the portrait, you glance down at the dress the staff had prepared for you. You didn’t bring your entire wardrobe to the Yeagers, of course, leaving much of it back at the Tybur estate. Especially the prettier dresses Willy bought you which have no place in the internment zone.

The funny look on your face is too quick to stifle. “You bought me this only two months ago, before the two of you left.”

“I know. But it always surprises me how much you’ve grown up each time I see you again.”

At least Lara looks amused. “Only newborns will change so much in the span of two months, Willy.”

The little chuckle that escapes her throat makes Willy laugh. “I certainly know it now.”

“Now?” you ask with some curiosity.

“Oh, yes. He learned his lesson when you were born,” says Lara, fingers over her mouth as she continues to laugh.

“I’d insisted,” he tells the story, “that our baby clothes were too old for you, and that we needed an entire wardrobe of new baby pajamas despite father’s protests.”

You can’t help but lean in. “Really? What did mother say?”

The two exchange glances. Lara opens her mouth, and then Willy—saves the moment with another smile. Or he would, if it weren’t so familiar to you. “She was ill,” he says.

Mother always was. A little too often, even to the ears of a child no older than six, but you let it pass without comment as you always have.

Lara clears her throat. Her smile leads you both away from the thought of her. “Imagine our chagrin when father was right, and you outgrew your clothes within your first month.”

“Father must have been so upset,” you gasp, grinning without knowing it.

“He understood,” Willy laughs. Even Lara’s mirth is hearty, and they both watch you as they settle down. There’s something in their gazes you recognize, but don’t, and you’re about to ask what when brother speaks again.

“Don’t you miss home, Lucy? Just us at the fireplace, reading together? Laughing at the dining table just like this?”

The question surprises you just as much as the immediate answer in your mind does. His question is honest enough, without the underlying needling that you often feel accompanies his others. For once, you set aside the instinct to sneer at him.

But you can’t respond just yet.

“That’s not why I’m here.”

The hope in Willy’s gaze fades, and what remains of his smile is the kind he has always presented to the public. Lord Tybur and annoying brother all at once.

“Of course not. You came because I summoned you. You would never join us at the estate otherwise.”

“No,” you say carefully, and remind him, “I came because the military summoned me almost as soon as I arrived here two weeks ago.”

Lord Tybur’s face quickly sours. “They did what? Under whose command?”

“General List,” you supply. Willy’s expression gives nothing away, so you continue. “They want… a better foothold in the Mid East peninsula, and they want to start with surrounding territories. They think they could accomplish this if the head of the Tybur Foundation denounced the regime’s policies to curry favor abroad, and then used the Foundation to ferry in Marleyan spies.”

Willy’s brow, quirked all this time, softens as he scoffs. “And they think my wife would agree to this.”

You brace yourself. “They think your sister would.”

Willy’s eyes fly to Lara—until, after a moment of confusion, they land on you.

“You?” he asks after a long pause. “You would chair the Foundation?”

Your gulp is practically involuntary. Your mouth is dry without warning and your mind buzzes to life with anger and self-doubt. Willy has never been outwardly so… so like Mila.

You square your shoulders and lift your chin. “Why not? I’m a Tybur, too. And by blood, at that.”

“Running the Foundation takes more than blood, Lucy,” Willy says, setting down his utensils. “What did List promise you in exchange for this?”

You lick your lips in apprehension, but you answer. “I would fulfill the Foundation’s purpose, of course. The Tybur Foundation can show other nations that Eldians are no monsters. Just - just people. And I’m not stupid. I know it’s a carrot List dangles over my nose, but—but why not take this chance? People can learn. The Tyburs have a voice. We can teach them.”

Willy’s flippant expression slips into neutrality as you speak. You don’t know that he’s holding his temper. “Teach them what?” he asks quietly. “That the Tyburs are hypocrites, maintaining their status in the Empire that suffocates the rest of the world with Eldian might while claiming that Eldians are innocent?”

“I - I would distance the Foundation from the regime and the family.”

“And endanger the family?”

“The Tyburs are the furthest from any danger in this world and you know it,” you snap, fists clenched at your lap before you know it. “Are you saying you won’t permit me to do this?”

“I’m saying that this is a fool’s errand,” Willy says, head tilting up, his patience clearly wearing thin. After a pause, he rears his head to you. “You’ve begged me to let you remain Lucy Blanchard ever since you returned from this city. Pleaded with me only a year past to let you take the entrance exams here. Now you want this? Help me understand, Lucy. You’ve never been one for caprice.”

He’s right. You have to answer him quickly before he realizes he is.

“I never said—” you stammer, “I don’t even want—I mean—”

Willy catches your mistake and latches on. “You don’t even want this,” he repeats slowly. “And yet you persist. What is the meaning of this? Is this - is this about going against my wishes? You would put yourself at risk just to—?”

“No!” you insist. “I—I just want the Tybur family to do something! And if,” you venture, the momentum in your voice losing its edge, “if it has to be me,” your hands wring at your skirt, “then…”

“Please, Lucy.” Willy is too dignified to groan, but you hear it in his voice. Exasperation. “You don’t know the first thing about leading the Foundation!”

“And Mila, raised in all her riches here, did?” you challenge. “I can learn! That’s all I’ve done my whole life—learn!” You can’t help but slam a fist against the dining table. The silver all do a little leap and clatter back against themselves in support. “Learn that Marleyans are no better than Eldians. Learn that I’m nothing but a failure after a childhood spent training to kill. Learn that everything this family ever taught me is a lie!”

“Lucy!” Lara says your name so sharply that it hurts. Not hisses, but almost. She watches you with an expression you don’t recognize, wide-eyed and almost furious, except you’ve never even seen her upset before. You would recognize it as danger, if you knew what it looked like on her face.

You don’t. You at least lower your gaze, but the summer after father died is burned into your memory, and sometimes you remember the Warriors’ first foray into war better than you can recall mother’s smile. Your fire may be doused, but you aren’t finished.

“Please,” you murmur, eyes still on your plate. Your food is unfinished, and your appetite is lost. “It doesn’t have to be me. It could be you, Willy. …Everyone loves you. You could make peace with Paradis. They think they’re the last of humanity. If that king’s will lives on in the Founding Titan as sister remembers it, as our family tells it, then they would find relief in the return of the world.”

“Lucy—”

You interrupt Lord Tybur with more. “We would regain not only the Founding Titan, but the glory of removing what the world believes is the last threat of the old Eldian Empire. And then you could… you could change things. Ease the world into a period away from Marleyan hegemony.”

Willy scoffs, this time with pity. “Naïveté at its finest. Peace is easy to speak of, but all the world wants Paradis for its resources. They would view Marley as competition at best.”

His softer tone is the only thing that helps you maintain yours, though your hands continue crumple at your skirt under the table. “But the world is terrified of Paradis,” you reason. “Marley is the only superpower at present that can hold the ‘threat’ of that island at bay. And then—and then, before the world develops weapons enough to defeat Titan might, we could show them that the remaining Eldians on the island, in the world, can be just as good as the family that bears the War Hammer. If the world might listen to anyone, it would listen to the head of the Tybur family.”

“A century of Eldian suffering cannot make up for the millennia of Eldian tyranny,” Willy says gravely. “The world still cries out for blood. No goodwill for the family will surpass it.”

“You don’t know that,” you frown. “There have to be people out there willing to learn better.”

Willy rises to his feet. Looks down at you to remind you that though he suffers your candor, you are still a Tybur under his authority. “The Tybur family has survived because we have known when and where to pull the strings. I will not change this policy.”

You glare up at him from your seat. You feel your grip on this argument slipping, and your patience, too. “Of course not.” You never did learn to bite your tongue with him the way you did in the military. “You’ve changed nothing since you became Lord Tybur.”

Willy’s lip curls. You look incredibly alike in that moment, Lara will tell you before you go later—but he reins in his own anger. “We can only do so much to restore the Eldian name, Lucy.”

“The words of a coward,” you spit powerlessly.

“Lucy,” Lara reprimands, but not with the same expression as before. This one is less harsh, but still reproving. Disappointed more than angry.

Willy sends her a grateful look. His shoulders relax somewhat, and you seize the opportunity to speak.

“Then—then can’t you give the Mid East peninsula something for the sake of peace?” you plead. “Our forces are weakened without the Colossal Titan, and if the weapons abroad really are becoming as powerful as they say…”

“I’ve read the reports.” Willy sounds exhausted. “This… anti-Titan weaponry will take much longer than List would have you believe. But the Mid East desires freedom above all else, in any case, and the regime would never agree.”

“The regime would listen to Lord Tybur.”

“The answer is no, Lucy.”

You feel petulant staring at Willy’s plate in dismay. You have nothing else you can say. If he won’t give you the Foundation, then List’s plan is dust. The Warriors will go on as they have until they pass their Titans to their successors, and so on. Eldians will remain fodder.

You can only turn to Lara.

“How could you agree with him?” you ask. Before father died, after you came home from Warrior training, she agreed with you. She thought the world could do better.

She takes a moment to think. And then, as though recalling an old memory, she says, “It’s all well and good to care for other Eldians, Lucy. But the family is where our loyalties lie, and we - I trust the decisions of Lord Tybur. I’m sorry… but you ask too much.”

“So what you mean to say,” you mutter in resignation, “is that our choices are to obliterate the enemy in their entirety or to doom our race forever.”

Willy shakes his head. His expression is closed. Isn’t this how each of your fights ends, anyway?

“What Lara meant is she will not risk your life, or the Tybur family, for a chance at peace. Neither will I.”

The dining table is far too quiet for any more eating after that, and Willy claims to have some appointment after lunch soon after. He always happens to be busy after any fight you have with him, so you aren’t too surprised. When Willette promises it’s true, you don’t bother to disagree. Everyone loves Willy too much to imagine he might tell lies.

You don’t return to the zone just yet, even after Lara quietly embraces you goodbye as they go. Fine is still around, after all, and she’s all too quick to ask you to stay and read while she studies in her room. You aren’t inclined to disappoint her, and you’re almost sorry to find that Willy brought a selection of books from your room back at the estate with the hope that you might stay with them a while.

The answer is no, you think with a little frustration, but also with a little regret that you set aside. It would be far too strange for anyone who knows you only as Lucy Blanchard for you to come from anywhere but the zone every day.

You’re brought back close to the zone in the late afternoon, once Fine is tired enough to need a nap, with a permit that explains away your disappearance. You’re heading down a block toward the zone gates when you catch a familiar face coming your way.

“Kellan?”

You’ve noticed that Kellan’s eyes always look ahead outside of the zone. Around, over, aside Marleyans and never on them, so as not to attract attention. So your voice clearly surprises him, and he double takes before blinking at you.

“Lucy. What are you doing here?” He looks you over politely. “That’s a pretty dress.”

“Thanks. I was on an errand,” you answer, waving your permit in an effort to distract him from your clothes, and then folding it before he can try to take a look. “You?”

“Errand,” he smiles, freely showing you his. You don’t take a look, nodding instead as he glances around. “Do you want to come? My cousins were supposed to join me, but they… well, they’re afraid to leave the zone. The permit was for a few of us.”

You look around too. Marleyans don’t go by this area so close to the internment zone, but you’re not entirely sure where Kellan’s going. Despite everything, there’s safety in numbers, right?

“Sure.”

A few blocks later, and you know you were right to join Kellan for this errand. You always walk among non-Eldians going to and from and in the university, but this area is particularly thick with them. It’s only when you turn right toward a smaller street that there’s any room to breathe.

“It’s not that much different from the zone sometimes,” Kellan murmurs once anyone nearby is too far off to hear him. “Whenever I see it, it’s… odd to think we’re not welcome here.”

You look up at him. “I hope one day we will be.”

His sullen expression lights up just a little. “That’s - that’s what I want to happen by becoming a doctor. I know we’re only allowed to have patients from the zone, but… At least the world will see that there are Eldian hands that heal. Destruction isn’t all we’re good for.”

Pleased by his optimism, you miss the spite in his last sentence. “That’s admirable. Really,” you add, when he measures the truth of your words with a glance.

He smiles now. “What made you want to become a doctor?”

The answer is easy. “Dr. Yeager did. He used to receive patients next door when I was little.”

“Dr. Yeager,” Kellan repeats. “I almost forgot you live with them. …If you don’t mind me asking, why do you? Are they family?”

“No,” you laugh. “I came here from… far away,” you wave your hand at the general distance. “For Warrior selection. I made it as a cadet, but—” you shrug. “No further.”

“You were chosen,” he realizes, clearly shocked. “That’s why you know them so well.”

Some pride goes into your nod. “I spend time with them at HQ most mornings before I return home so we can go to campus.”

“With them,” says Kellan, unable not to repeat your words. “With the Cart, with the new Jaw…”

You nod slowly. You’re starting to wonder where this is going.

“With the Beast,” he rattles off, “and the Armor, right?”

A small pause overtakes your desire to speak when you remember they’re all that’s left. For now, you hope. Only Marcel has really been confirmed dead.

“I… work at the market sometimes,” Kellan says like an admission. “Everyone knows Mr. Hoover’s kid didn’t come back. That girl, too.”

You exhale. You weren’t even close with Bertholdt and Annie, but the reminder still makes you bite your tongue. “Yeah.”

“Doesn’t it bother you, knowing what they do?” he continues. “They make us Eldians even more hated in the world—all in the name of getting to be honorary Marleyans.”

You don’t know if it’s his scoff, so uncharacteristic of how you’ve seen him thus far, or the fact that you’ve had the same thought that silences you again.

“But,” you can’t help but respond, “that would have been me if I’d succeeded. A Warrior.”

“But it’s not you,” he says reassuringly, guiding you across another small street. “You’re studying to be a doctor, Lucy. To help. The antithesis of what they do.”

You know he’s not wrong. He’s absolutely right. And yet… you frown at him, brows all furrowed, gaze almost prickly. He hasn’t seen you this way, either.

His eyes widen again, this time with apology. “...Forget I said that. It’s just… been a long day. And, uh—we’re here.”

You don’t want to think about this right now. You give him, and yourself, the out. You put on a smile.

“Right,” you say, but it’s still all wrong when you follow his gaze. The alley spills out into a bigger street again, though it’s not wide enough for an avenue. Across the street—

Kellan’s errand was a pharmacy visit?

“Ow,” he yelps when you grab his arm tight and pull him back, just before you enter the main road. Across the street, a line stretches outside the pharmacy. None of the customers are wearing Eldian armbands.

“We’re not allowed at Marleyan pharmacies,” you say. “We have to go.”

He looks at you almost like you’re a stranger until he pats your hand around his arm. When your grip loosens, he reminds you, “They allowed it around five years ago. It was a…” he shrugs noncommittally. “A gift to the Eldians, because the Warriors had gone on their mission to that island. A few months late, but… I would never complain.”

A few months after the Warriors left. After father had already passed.

You lower your gaze as you head across the street together toward the pharmacy. But just as the regret for your words earlier starts to sink in, a gruff Ha! distracts you.

At the end of the line heading for the pharmacy, two city guards have accosted a boy wearing an armband. His bangs are all over his eyes as he stupidly tries to break free of the hold one of the guards has on him.

“I—please, I got a permit! See?” he cries out. The Marleyans ahead of the line shuffle a little closer to each other and further away from the scene.

The guard that isn’t holding him looks at a now crinkled piece of paper. “Don’t they teach you anything in that zone? A permit to run errands for select shops is a separate permit from entering a pharmacy.”

“B-but I, I have a - a permit, it’s still a permit,” the boy stammers. He’s only a few years older than Fine and the new Warrior cadets. Certainly not even Colt’s age.

The guard holding him chuckles darkly. He says something else, but—it’s the boy you’re watching. You can already see his face, nose all bloody with his eye swollen and purple. On the ground. An adult’s boot still digging into his side when he’s already curled up in agony.

The guard with the permit raises a straightened hand when you feel your feet move.

“Ah—Grisha,” you call out, grabbing his free hand to the surprise of the guard holding his other. “This is where you’ve been, you little snot-nosed brat!”

He looks up at you in fear and utter confusion, but you can give it no more thought as you turn to the guards in dismay. “I’m so - so sorry, sirs,” you try. You wish the tremble in your voice were an act. “I—we told him to get the,” you glance at the small bag dangling from his elbow, “the bottles, and go straight home. I knew when he wasn’t at the gate that he must’ve done something completely idiotic.”

The guards are both sizing you up and glaring at you.

“I’m his—sister,” you explain hurriedly. “We - we have a permit. Don’t we?”

You glance around for Kellan, who is where you left him, still watching you with his mouth agape. When you give him an urgent look, he rushes over to you with a nod. His hands are shaking when he presents the permit, which the guards snatch with a grunt.

Their eyes flit between you, Kellan, the permit, and the boy.

“Much better dressed than the brat here,” one says suspiciously.

You curse under your breath as you look down at the clothes Willy bought. “I…” you do your best to smile, “I just put on my best dress when I leave the zone.”

The guard eyes you from head to toe and back. Slowly.

Kellan clears his throat unsurely, taking a step forward in some attempt to get in your way. “Um, sir—”

“You’re a pretty little thing,” the guard says, coming close before he can. “But it don’t matter what you look like. Still got pig’s blood underneath.”

Relief and fury fill you at his words. All this time, your instinct is still to raise your eyes to him in defiance, but you see the messy mop of hair on the child as he watches you from the corner of your eye, and you hear Kellan’s trembling breath not far to your side.

You’re Lucy Blanchard, and you know better.

You release your tongue from between your teeth and set your eyes to the man’s boots, head bowed. “I understand, sir. Please forgive us for the trouble.”

“Bust,” the other guard mutters with disappointment, dropping Kellan’s permit to the ground. “Let’s find another one.”

The guard still has his eye on you when he nods at his friend. “Right. Well. You three make sure you head back to the zone once you’re done here. We don’t need more of you running around where it should be safe for the rest of us.”

“Yes, sir,” Kellan quickly says. You murmur it in suit, and the guards walk away.

When they’re finally out of sight, you let out the biggest sigh of relief you’ve given—probably the biggest since you were selected as a Warrior cadet. Or maybe when Zeke first successfully transformed.

“Don’t,” you say, looking to the boy, “ever wander around here without a proper permit again. You could’ve died. You hear me?” When the boy squeaks out a yes, you hold a hand out for the list of medicine he came for.

Next to you, Kellan smooths out his permit. “That was dangerous,” he frowns, though it soon softens into wonder. “But—amazing, too. Quick thinking.” Drawing closer, he gently takes your hand and looks the boy, and then you in the eye. “Are you all right?”

You put on a brave face. “At least they’re gone, right? No one - no one was hurt.”

The boy nods meekly next to you, and Kellan smiles, squeezing your hand. “Yeah.”

You smile back, ignoring the looks you receive from the Marleyans. “Can I see your prescriptions, too?”

“Of course,” Kellan nods, letting you go to take it from his messenger bag.

When he hands it to you, you hold the lists with both hands and fall in line.

Your fingers are still shaking.

It feels like months have passed by the time you get home. You parted ways with Kellan and Ben—the boy—not long after you arrived back at the zone. Kellan offered to walk you home, but his house is the opposite direction from the Fingers’, and you didn’t want to trouble him.

The truth is his words before you arrived at the pharmacy were still ringing in your mind, and the idea of him taking you to Pieck’s didn’t sit well with you. She’s still out when you visit, so you end up helping Mr. Finger dust their living room and bookshelf that afternoon—and resist his desired reordering of it, expressing your misgivings about how Pieck might not like that very much. You manage to distract him by pointing out that the laundry still needs folding, and he had better start with dinner in the meantime.

Pieck is none the wiser about how you saved her system when she comes home, and you enjoy a quiet dinner with them. She tells you all about their lunch - the cadets took over the entire conversation during meal, given how excited they were to have Reiner there, especially Gabi. Mr. Finger is all too happy to listen, and thankfully doesn’t press you about your own affairs that night when you decline the first instance. You and Pieck share a look then—an understanding that you’ll talk about your own day another time, away from her father’s ears.

The Yeagers are in bed when you come home. Of course they have leftovers for you, even when they know you were meant to have dinner with the Fingers today. You resolve to eat it for breakfast tomorrow. You decide you’re too tired to even bathe when you finally get to the stairs.

You know the upstairs hallway well enough that you don’t turn the lights on when you get there, so it’s impossible to miss that Zeke’s door is ajar, the lamp at his bedside table spilling warmth onto the floorboards outside.

His door creaks as you nudge it further open. Zeke is in bed, a book splayed open on his chest while his head is laid against his headboard. Eyes closed, lips parted, Mr. Ksaver’s glasses still on his nose—he must have fallen asleep reading again.

“Zeke,” you sigh, shaking your head.

You approach his bed and lift one knee over it, reaching over to take the glasses off—when he grabs your wrist out of the air, eyes flying open with suspicion and fear.

“Easy,” you grunt.

His gaze and his body relax with a slouch at the sight and sound of you, and you release each other as he lays back. “Hey,” he says, blinking dry eyes up at you as he briefly lifts his elbow to his mouth for a yawn. His free hand motions to the space by the foot of the bed, though it stiffens somewhat as he takes a good look at you.

“What’s wrong?”

You blink yourself, trying not to look too obvious about the answer. You don’t feel like talking about it right now anyway. “Nothing, I’m just… tired.”

After a scrutinizing pause, he pats his bed again instead of insisting. When you take a seat at the very edge of his mattress - you’re still in your out clothes, after all - he asks, “How was the family reunion?”

You shrug. “I guess… The way we’d expect. They want me to stay with them while they’re in the city.”

Zeke sits up. “Really?”

“I’m not doing that,” you mutter, glaring aside as you think of lunch earlier today. “I don’t know how Willy expects me to play nice after everything. And Lara… she’s no better nowadays.”

Zeke scratches the back of his ear. “But you love Lara.”

The certainty in his voice makes you remember it despite your disappointment. “I - well, I’m having dinner with them, anyway. For Willy’s birthday.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Zeke says dismissively. He’s leaned over a little closer to watch for your expression.

You whip your head at him in a frown, and he almost laughs. “You know you don’t have to pretend you don’t miss them to me.”

You continue to glare at him, but this time he shoots you a look, straightening somehow to remind you how much taller he is, even when he’s leaned back against his headboard again. He knows you well enough now to see through this. With a sigh, you draw your knees up to your chest under your dress, still sitting as close to the mattress’s edge as possible, and cross your arms over them.

“I do miss them,” you sigh. “But things will never go back to the way they were. They’re just so - so - they’re so—”

Zeke helps you along with a, “So…”

“So different!” you groan, and bury your nose and mouth under your arms in embarrassment for the little outburst. “I know it. I’ve known it for a while. Especially since father died. But…”

Head against your arms, you look to him as though he can change anything for you. “Why can’t things just stay the same? I know why, but… why?”

Zeke is quiet as he listens to you, lips pursed slightly as if in thought. Suddenly you feel guilt. You’re whining about the good old days when you were happy, knowing full well what he went through as a boy. Knowing your childhood, so carefree, was worlds different from his own.

“Sorry,” you say, wincing at your stupidity again. “I know I’m being selfish.”

Zeke shrugs. “I didn’t say that. I was going to say—” His chest shudders a little as he inhales, but his voice is steady when he opens his arms to you. A promise in a single motion. “Some things can stay the same.”

You hold each other’s gazes, his with the offer and yours unsure of the truth of it. There’s still so much you don’t know, still want to know about these past six years, but you can save that for later. You’ve done it before.

“I’m in my out clothes,” you confess.

“That sounds like a Lucy problem,” he admits in turn.

You smile as he does, and with a grateful huff, you lean closer and dip into his arms, burying your face into his chest. He still smells like—like every good memory you had in the past in spite of every horror you’ve learned since leaving the Tybur estate almost a decade and a half ago. Like Zeke, and like a little more that you refuse to acknowledge.

“You’re not gonna kick me again if I let you sleep in my room tonight, are you?” he asks. Your muffled laugh makes him do the same.

Even then, as his arms tighten around you and you breathe in the scent of him, you both know his promise is a lie. But neither of you cares to pull away just yet, either.

When you finally do, Zeke sets a pillow between you, just like before, and you lay with your head in your arms again, looking up at him as he settles down himself.

“Do you... want to tell me a story?” you ask. You had a family reunion. So had he, weeks ago.

His gaze shifts to you almost sharply, but the surprise blunts it. You can feel it—that he knows Pieck told you something, and that he knows you know he knows. You expect him to reply with sarcasm, the way he always has when you prod too quickly before he’s ready, but he only shakes his head.

“Another time,” he says, though it’s more of a question between you.

“Okay,” you agree with a small smile.

He returns it… until yours starts to slip. And then he smirks. “Can’t stand being in those clothes, can you?”

The disgust finally makes its way to your face. “It’s awful.”

Zeke lets out a knowing snicker and groans as he crawls off the bed. “I’ll get your pajamas. Think I still have some of your old ones here—you can’t have grown that much, right?”

You rear your foot back in preparation.

////////

I’ve been excited to write this chapter showing the Tybur dynamic forever! I know people might disagree with my interpretation of them, but let’s just say - Lara has a lot going on. As for Willy, for all that he does in the canon story and for all his charisma, my view of him is he very much assists in perpetuating a certain cycle, and that he would have a hard time with Lucy even if he means well.

Yes, Lucy = indecisive hypocrite, but what Tybur isn't? JK I love the Tyburs but I hope you can stick this out to see how things go.

Thank you for reading despite the wait!

#zeke x reader #zeke x oc #zeke yeager x reader #zeke jaeger x reader #zeke yeager x oc #zeke jaeger x oc #zeke yeager #zeke jaeger #attack on titan #aot #shingeki no kyojin #snk #fanfic #fic #fanfiction #haliyam #interim #interim vii

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dejwritesarchived · 3 years

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✦ — • my boy an ugly crier, but he's such a pretty liar. • my boy, an attack on titan mini series • ( zeke yeager x black fem reader )

TAGS — @warmchick @fairiechuu @gabzlovesu @itzgabz22 @etherealluvrr @caribbeanwifey19

TABLE OF CONTENTS —

PART ONE. PART TWO. PART THREE. PART FOUR. PART FIVE.

COMING SOON 2022.

NEW YORK CITY'S BEST MARRIAGE THERAPIST DR. STEWART STARED AT THE COUPLE IN FRONT OF HER. Her mouth gasped open at the news she was hearing and her perfectly arched eyebrows raised in confusion. In front of her were two of the most successful people in the world designed to tie the knot in two months. In just two months they were about to combine two of the most successful families and rack up a combined net worth that could have Elon Musk pissing his pants. She was beyond confused on how they needed marriage counseling and they haven't even said 'I do' yet. But here the therapist was listening to their problems that shook her to the core.

"(Y/N), you punched him in the nose?" Dr. Stewart asked.

"She did Dr. Stewart, almost broke it too. She doesn't care the fact that we are in the spotlight majority of the time. What if someone saw what she did and sent it to fuckin' TMZ or something."

"He fucked his assistant and then had the audacity to try to kiss me thirty minutes later, Dr. Stewart." (Y/N) huffed as she leaned back into the grey-colored chair.

"And you guys are sure it's no way to end this arranged marriage?" Dr. Stewart asked.

"Nope." The two said in unison.

#zeke yeager x reader #zeke yeager x black reader #aot x reader #anime x reader #anime smut #aot x black reader #anime x black reader #black reader #black y/n #zeke x black reader #char: zeke yeager #series: my boy #reader is onyankopon older sister btw !!

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une-femme-de-lettres · 3 years

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Rings a Bell

Summary: You recently had the single best hook up of your life. And for once, you actually remembered his name. You simply didn’t plan on ever meeting him again, especially not under these circumstances…

Characters: Zeke Yeager, Female!Reader, Yeager family, Reader’s family Parings: Zeke Yeager x Reader Word count: 4900, fuck Warnings: Explicit sexual content, dirty talk, protected penetrative sex, afab reader

A/N: Partly based on something that happened to me recently, almost outed myself but we’re fine!

The fresh smell of the floor detergent met you nostrils as you quickly made you way downstairs. You gripped the laundry basket tightly, holding it steady on your hip. You walked into the living room, stumbling upon your mother on the way to the laundry room. She was dusting the furniture with care. She was even reorganizing the content of the glass cabinets, that you usually only touched once or twice a year at most, for major events.

“Are we deep-cleaning?” you asked her, stopping in your tracks. She nodded, continuing to work.

“I better start this weekend if I want to be done soon enough,” she said. While you were not a particularly messy family, it was true that you didn’t thoroughly clean this house all that often. You wondered what prompted this cleaning session. Your mother was quick to answer your question, though.

“Dr. Yeager is coming over next Saturday, your father invited him and his family for dinner,” she said, making you tilt your head a little as the name definitely rang a bell. Where did you know it from?

“Oh, funny, I know someone with that name…” you said, before you could even think of the answer. You took a second to rummage through your memories, trying to put a face on the name. Yeager… Yeager…?

“You do? Where do you know them from?” your mother asked with curiosity.

“We met-” you started talking, immediately stopping as images of said face started flooding your brain. Blond hair falling over a stern face, bright blue eyes darkened with desire, powerful hips thrusting into yours, making you writhe and squirm under him. Realizing where you’d met him, you quickly thought of something else, swallowing a lump in your throat as you felt yourself light up with desire at the mere memory.

“Through a friend,” you finished, earning a satisfied nod from your mother, gladly. She didn’t seem to want to know more but you still tried not to linger for too long. “I’ll- I’ll go and start on the laundry,” you announced, making your way to the laundry room near the kitchen.

“Thank you, Love.” You heard your mother say behind you, grateful for your participation in the weekly chores.

__________

The night of the dinner came quickly. You had a busy week at school and you were glad you could still live with your parents while attending college, it saved you a lot of time in cooking and housework. You would gladly take advantage of this night to study for your next exam but you sort of had a duty to your family to attend this gathering.

You could hear them getting busy downstairs. Your mother was finishing tidying everything up. Your sister was probably trying to make herself look her best since you learned Dr. Yeager had a son about her age. And your father was apparently having a great time in the kitchen, cooking up something delicious and filling, you could tell by the enticing smell of it. You were simply trying to make yourself presentable before the Yeagers arrived.

This gathering looked more like a business meeting than a friendly event. Your father worked in the medical field and you knew he was currently trying to build some sort of business. His project was ambitious and innovative, but it wasn’t a one-man job. You could tell he was trying to make Dr. Yeager into his associate or something.

Yeager. Still that name resonated in your mind, and with it the images of the night you’d spent with him… Zeke Yeager. You didn’t usually bother to learn, let alone remember, the names of the one night stands you met over dating apps, but this one was something else. It must have been a few weeks already since you’d hooked up but you could still remember very vividly how he’d fucked you nice and rough that night.

You stopped in front of your mirror, zipping up your dress. It must be someone else. Surely… you told yourself while checking out your outfit, making sure everything was how you wanted it to be. Surely… But your little moment came to an end when your mother called your name from downstairs, urging you to come as the Yeagers were apparently pulling up in the drive way.

Your mind was still racing with thoughts of your past hook up, which was also the most recent one since you apparently couldn’t bring yourself to see anyone else since, as you hurtled down the stairs, your heart beating faster and faster with each passing second. You found yourself to your mother’s side as she opened the door for your guests. You were quickly zoning out, trying to catch your breath as your heart didn’t seem to slow down, your legs even starting to feel lighter underneath you.

It must be someone else, you thought to yourself again. A lot of people had this name… right?You tried to rationalize as you held out a hand to greet one of the members of the family, yet not even looking at them.It can’t be… No, that must be someone-

“-else,” you let out under your breath as your eyes bore into bright blue ones through small silver framed glasses. You remained in shock for a second in front of your guest. Blond hair framing a stern face, bright blue eyes…

Those memories again, betraying you at the worst possible moment. You moaning loudly as he buried himself deep inside you, making you nice and full of his cock. His hands roaming your body, gripping the flesh of your hips as he took you from behind, slapping your ass and abusing your sensitive skin for your own pleasure.

“Pardon?” he said, making you snap out of your trance. Your eyes widened as you quickly composed yourself, trying to ignore the heat gathering into your core.

“Sorry, pleasure to meet you…” you said, shaking his hand and looking at him. It was really him, you couldn’t believe it right away, especially considering the straight face he seemed to be able to keep when put in front of the woman he’d had passionate, rough sex with, only a few weeks ago. You could’ve believe he didn’t have any memory of it. But you knew better, you could still see a glint of smugness and playfulness in his eyes.

“Zeke,” he introduced himself politely. You gave a friendly smile, trying to observe the rules of basic decorum even as your brain continued to play the same images in your mind.

“Zeke…” you repeated with a nod.

“Yes, Zeke, I think you can let go of my hand now,” he whispered, leaning in slightly with a smirk. You noticed only now that you’d been shaking his hand the whole time and quickly let go.

“Yes, absolutely,” you said, swallowing a lump in your throat. The feeling immediately reminded you of the sensation of something else inside your throat. Getting rid of the thought, you turned to the other young man at Zeke’s left and held out your hand for him to shake.

“Eren,” he said with a nod, looking unfazed by the whole meeting and greeting ceremony, his eyes ignoring you to nonchalantly land on your sister’s figure.

“Pleasure,” you said politely, quickly letting go of his hand this time.

You turned to your father, who was already conversing with Dr. Yeager, laughing in a friendly manner and patting him on the back as they made their way to the living room. The front door was finally closed after a couple of minutes and you were left slightly behind as everyone followed the movement to the next room.

You let out a long sigh when everyone was out of hearing distance. This was going to be a long night…

__________

With the looks Zeke was sending your way, there was now no doubt that he remembered your night together. That smug bastard was toying with you from the other side of the dinner table and he was quickly coming to his goal. You could no longer ignore the thoughts coming to your head and the heat rising to your core. Every time your eyes met with his piercing stare, you found yourself drifting back to that night. And every time, you found yourself yearning for more. More of him, all of him.

“Y/N.” Your mother’s voice brought you back again and you turned to her with wide eyes. “You and Zeke seem to already know each other,” she pointed out after surely catching a glimpse of the looks he was sending your way. “Is he the friend you told me about earlier this week?” she asked, making you briefly choke on your food.

“Yes, actually,” you replied, casting a glance in his direction, finding him again at the other side of the table. The bastard didn’t even bother to hide his laugh. He really was making the most of this situation. “We met through Sophia. Funnily enough, I didn’t recognize him earlier since we only saw each other for a few minutes when we met,” you explained, faking a giggle. You praised yourself for your self-control, even if your improvisation lacked a bit of imagination and coherence.

Your mother didn’t press the matter further as the guests only nodded in response. Your father was quick to change the subject of the conversation again. You tried to remain as calm and composed as you could, finishing the remaining of your plate quickly as him and Dr. Yeager started talking business again.

All this was a little too much for you. You weren’t one for big social interactions to start off, but this situation was even worse. You quickly excused yourself from the table, bunching up your cotton napkin and setting it on the table as you got up. You walked away, leaving the room as quickly as possible without looking suspicious. Behind you, you could still hear Zeke’s voice when he spoke.

“If you’ll excuse me too,” he said politely, getting up. “May I ask where the restroom is,” he finished. You heard your mother giving him directions to the downstairs bathroom. His footsteps echoed in the hallway as you made your way upstairs. You briefly looked back, seeing him enter the bathroom.

Your heart started racing again and you decided you’d better not stay where you were for long. It’s not that you wanted to avoid him. You simply didn’t know what could happen if you didn’t...

You managed to remain in your room for a little while. You tried to distract yourself by scrolling on your phone. The attempt was unfruitful as you were brought back to the dating app you’d met Zeke on. You opened the conversation tab and reread the messages mindlessly.

You and Zeke matched! Send a message to start a conversation! You – Hey! I’m not one for small talk, would you like to meet in person and get things going? Zeke – Hey! That’s bold, I like it! – Sure, why not! I don’t really like small talk either to be honest… You – Are you free tonight? Can we meet at the Garrison on East Av, for example? Zeke – Sounds great! I’ll be there at 7, I can’t wait to meet you, see you there!

“A friend?” An amused, muffled voice came from the other side of your bedroom door. You jumped slightly and locked your phone. You didn’t expect him to come all the way upstairs to talk to you. You started breathing heavily at the thought of him inside your room. You’d already been to his house, in his own bedroom. You’d already entered his privacy, but this felt different.

He was supposed to be a one night stand, a quick fuck… Or so you tried to convince yourself, getting up from your bed and walking to the door. You gripped the door handle and pondered your options slowly. Did you really want to invite him inside your room, knowing full well you wouldn’t be able to control yourself, wanting to relive your memories from a few weeks ago? But did you really want to let him wait outside your door, visible and exposed for anyone to wonder what he might want to do in your room?

You took in a deep, calming breath and opened your door, letting him in. He looked down at you with that signature smile of his and you lowered your eyes out of habit. Habit? How does one develop a habit over one night? You wondered. But this felt natural, this felt right as he towered over you, his imposing figure getting impossibly close to you, making you back up into the room.

You closed the door and turned to him as he looked around the room, curious about all the stuff he could find.

“Sorry, I had to improvise,” you start explaining, “my parents can’t know I’m having one night stands with guys I’ve never met…” you finish, walking over to your desk an leaning on it, trying to look as unbothered as you could, crossing your arms over your chest. He approached your dresser on the other side of the room, holding out a hand to touch a plushy you kept as decoration. He smiled, turning slightly to you.

“Your parents would be disappointed to know their daughter is a dirty little slut, uh?” he asked, letting go of the soft material he was pinching between his fingers. You looked at his hand, unable to keep out of your mind the memory of the same fingers pinching your sensitive nipples.

“Stop…” you sighed, uncrossing your arms and rolling your eyes. Here we go again... you thought. The night you met, he’d only needed a few minutes to understand you. He seemed to know everything about you, what you liked, what you wanted, what you craved… And you were well aware of his knowledge and the power he had over you. As was he, apparently.

He smirked, letting go of the plushy and slowly walking towards you. His eyes looked around on his way to you, still curious about his surroundings as he slowly removed his suit jacket, leaving him in his pristine white shirt. He then draped it over the edge of your bed on his way. He was deliberately slow in his steps, turning this into his little show, rolling up his sleeves until his forearms were exposed. The sight of them and his fingers working the fabric made you go wild and he knew it.

He finally reached you, stopping in front of you and looking down. His eyes first met yours before diving right into the cleavage of your dress. You felt yourself ignite again. You shifted slightly in your place, straightening up on your legs. He leaned in slowly, until you could feel the heat radiating from his body.

“Come on,” he whispered, making your ear tingle as his breath rolled on your skin, “I’ve buried my cock in three of your holes already, now is not exactly the time to go all shy and prudish on me, is it?” he asked, staring into space over your shoulder. You looked at him in time to see his eyes move to look at your intently.

“Fuck,” you sighed again. He was definitely winning at his little game. The memories were playing inside your head again. You could feel him inside your tight throat, inside your throbbing pussy, inside your-

“One night was enough for me to know exactly what you wanted, Baby,” he said matter-of-factly. “Isn’t that right?” he asked, leaning in close enough to graze the shell of your ear with his lips. “You dirty little girl.”

“Shit…” you let out under a trembling breath. You wanted to play into his little game. You wanted him so bad. But you had to remind yourself of the situation you were in, both of your families were waiting downstairs.

“Will you let me fuck you again?” his soft voice sounded in your ear again. The crude words he used seemed to perfectly roll off his tongue, as if he was made to speak them. And you were made to hear them.

“I don’t know…” you said. You knew. You knew how bad you wanted him. You were just trying to ignore the beast roaring inside you, begging him to fuck you.

“I love the feeling of your tight cunt wrapped around my cock,” he added, making you close your eyes and enjoy just a little longer his voice echoing in your head. This was your last chance, you knew it. It was his last offer before stepping back and letting you go. You so desperately wanted to say yes, but you were mortified, what if someone noticed, what if they found out?

What an irony that your body ignited at this precise thought. So what if they find out? The risk is thrilling. You opened your eyes again as you felt Zeke’s warmth fade around you.

“I’ll take this as a no, then,” he said with a gentle smile. One that pierced through your heart and made you draw in a shaky breath. You watched him turn around and slowly head towards the door. You were seized with a sudden regret and your heart sank inside your chest. What if-

Fuck it.

“Wait,” you said, stepping forward and grabbing his hand, stopping him in his tracks. He didn’t have time to turn around to look at you, your arms were already wrapped around his own, your hands gripping the smooth fabric of his shirt.

“I want you to fuck me so bad,” you whispered, pressing your face into the soft material and inhaling his scent and suddenly traveling back to that night in his room. “I loved what you made of me that night. I haven’t stopped thinking about you, your body on mine, your hands on me, your cock inside me…” you let out. A deep chuckle rose inside his chest.

“That’s what I like to hear,” he said, turning around as you let go of him, letting him lean into you and press his lips to yours. You opened your mouth eagerly to welcome his tongue. His hands cupped either side of your face and you continued to let yourself drown in this passionate embrace.

You mindlessly kicked off your shoes as you pulled his body closer to you, relishing in the feeling of his warmth enveloping you. Your hands went down a little further to find his belt and started unfastening it at a frantic pace. You felt him smile into the kiss, pausing from time to time to catch a breath. He held your face a mere inch away from his, looking into your eyes.

“Will you be a good girl for me?” he asked. You were quick to respond with a strong nod, feeling your face heat up even more at the thought of what he wanted you to do. You kissed him again, starting to dip down slowly. But before you could go any further, he pulled you up gently again.

“Hold on, Baby,” he said, reaching under your dress and hooking two fingers into your underwear to pull it down your legs. You gasped as the cool air brushed against your wet folds. A deep chuckle echoed in his throat and he let you fall to your knees slowly, bringing your underwear to his nose and inhaling your scent. You watched him from your position, as aroused as you were embarrassed at the sight.

This little show made him impossibly hard in his pants. A sigh of relief left his lips as you quickly pulled him free of his clothing. You immediately squeezed his length in your hand, moaning at the feeling of the hot flesh against your fingers. He was a sight to behold, towering over you, his cock so hard for you, twitching and begging you to wrap your soft lips around it. Kneeling before him felt just right, you closed your eyes when he laid a gentle hand on the crown of your head, barely applying pressure. You couldn’t wait to see him unravel under your touch.

You dived in, opening your mouth and taking him. You went slowly, taking the time to get used to his anatomy again. You wrapped your lips around the head, letting your tongue flick over the tip, tasting the slightly salty precum that leaked from it. He moaned from above you, he was begging for more.

Still, he let you work at your own pace, content with watching you take more and more of his length until he reached the back of your throat.

“Fuck,” he growled, his hips twitching when he felt himself bottom out. You let him out and back into your mouth several times, making sure to stroke the underside of his cock with your tongue.

Finally, the hand on your head took over to pull you off of him. You let his cock pop out of your mouth with a sloppy noise, a string of spit falling to your chin. You looked up at him, he already looked disheveled, trying to catch his breath. He was close. You smiled softly, feeling your own core pulse and throb with arousal.

“Good girl,” he breathed out, wiping the spit off of your chin with his thumb. You practically moaned at the praise and smiled to him. You closed your eyes for moment, enjoying the feeling of his strong hands gripping your upper arm as he helped you back up. He captured you into another heated kiss, letting his hands fall to your ass to squeeze the soft flesh, making your dress ride up slightly.

Not breaking the kiss, he slowly backed you up against your dresser. He turned you around, finally letting go of your mouth to use his lips on the crook of your neck, kissing and sucking on your skin gently. You sighed in pleasure, arching your back to press your ass into his hard, slick flesh.

He pulled the hem of your dress all the way up to your waist, exposing you ass to his eyes and his touch. You held onto the edge of the dresser for dear life as you felt your legs falter under you. He bared his teeth to bite your ear lobe when his hand loudly came crashing onto the skin of your ass.

You gasped at the feeling and smiled, looking straight in front of you and catching his gaze in the mirror above your dresser. His eyes were burning with desire, his fingers quickly working their way between your legs and finding your wet folds.

“Such a good girl,” he moaned in your ear, making you close your eyes and tilt your head to expose your neck more. “So wet for me, look at this,” he said, letting his fingers rub at your entrance before bringing his hand back up. He made you open your eyes to find his hand in front of you, two fingers coated in slick spreading and stretching small transparent strings between them.

You licked your lips and dived forwards, engulfing his fingers in your mouth, suckling on them slowly. You caught his eyes in the mirror again. He almost looked surprised for second. He smiled and pressed his twitching erection harder against you.

“Do you want me to stretch you out with my fingers first?” he asked in your ear as he freed his fingers from your plump lips.

“I want your cock,” you moaned, trying to be as quiet as possible though, still aware of the presence of other people in the house. “Please,” you begged and he chuckled. You pulled slightly away from the dresser and quickly opened the top drawer to grab a foil wrapper from it. You heard Zeke practically laugh out loud.

“How convenient,” he said with a smile while opening the wrapper and rolling the condom over his cock slowly. You reached behind you to take his cock in your hand, stroking gently and guiding it to your entrance.

The feeling was still unmatched. The way he fit inside you was exhilarating. He was stretching your walls just right, not too much to hurt, but just enough to make you feel full as he buried himself deep inside you. You moaned when the tip of his cock pressed against your sensitive spot.

“Better be quiet,” he said with a laugh, “wouldn’t want your parents hearing their daughter scream my name, now, would we?” he finished with a smirk, looking at you in the mirror.

You shook your head no slowly, whining as he pulled out of you and pushed back in. You watched him thrust his hips against yours over and over in the mirror. His hair, damp with sweat, was sticking to his forehead, his hands were gripping your hips impossibly tight. His cock was pumping into you, hitting all the perfect spots inside, making your pleasure coil up inside your belly.

“Zeke,” you whispered through the obscene sounds you were both making with your bodies. “I want to cum,” you finished, the end of your sentence coming out of your mouth a bit louder as he hit your spot again, making your eyes roll back.

He nodded slightly and pulled out of you, leaving you empty, clenching around nothing and whining in displeasure. You let yourself fall in his grasp as he turned you around, making you face him and pressing you back against the dresser. He gripped one of your thighs, hooking your leg around his waist to line himself up with your entrance again.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, holding on tight. He pushed into you again, filling you up again and you trembled around him, you were so close. Your flesh was on fire, so sensitive you were losing yourself more and more with each thrust.

He felt you clenching around him as your orgasm took over your whole body. He laid a hand on the back of your head, pressing your face to the crook of his neck to muffle your cries of pure, burning pleasure. He let you ride your own release before letting himself go inside of you, his hips twitching to try and bury his cock as far into you as he physically could.

You both stayed there for a moment, messy and sweaty, panting and trembling. He pulled out of you slowly, making sure you were okay and stepped away for a second, getting rid of the filled condom. He tucked himself back into his underwear and came back to you quickly, scooping you up.

He helped you to your bed and you let yourself fall onto the soft mattress, completely spent. He laid beside you, taking you into a warm embrace, wrapping his strong arms around you. You let your head rest against his chest, enjoying the sound of his heart beating fast.

“We don’t have much time, we’d better get back,” you mumbled without real determination. He laid a hand onto your head again, stroking gently and making you let out a peaceful sigh.

“There’s always time for cuddling after sex,” he said matter-of-factly, making you remember the same words he spoke the night you met. “It’s the best part,” he added with a smile in his voice. You pressed your face closer to him, inhaling his scent.

You remained there, in silence for a little while, eventually finding the strength to get up and sort yourselves out. You sat on the edge of your bed, putting your shoes back on. He seemed interested by something laid out on your bed, his eyes laid on it as he was casually standing there, hands in the pockets of his dress pants. When turning your head, you got a glimpse of your discarded underwear.

You’d pulled a new pair on for the rest of the night. You mind flashed back to when he’d pulled these from you, had smelledthem. You felt yourself heat up again, out of shame or arousal, you didn’t know any more. You quickly stood up and reached your bedroom door, stopping as you opened it.

“You can take them if you like them so much,” you said back with a giggle before slipping out of the room and closing the door. You quickly got back to the living room, where dessert was being served. You sat quietly, excusing yourself again for your absence.

A few minutes later, Zeke entered the room in turn, his hands still casually shoved inside his pockets. As he took them out to sit down on the couch, you caught a glimpse of a small bulge seemingly made by some bunched up fabric in one of his pockets. You suppressed a smirk and thanked your mother as she handed you a piece of apricot Bavarian cream on a small plate.

“Sorry,” Zeke started apologizing for his own absence, “I got curious, I took a glance at the pictures over the stairs,” he said with a smile, thanking your mother for his own serving of dessert with a nod. She smiled at the mention of the family photos and you wondered for a second if he’d really looked at them. Whether he did or not, you weren’t sure.

But one thing you were certain of; he lied way better than you did.

#aot #snk #aot fanfiction #snk fanfiction #zeke yaeger #zeke x you #zeke yaeger smut #zeke yaeger x reader #reader insert #attack on titan #shingeki no kyoujin #snk zeke #ufdlanime

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dumbhaikyuusimp · 3 years

Text

don’t. it’ll just hurt more.

eren yeager x fem!reader

words: 2326

synopsis: you go to find eren to get any details about what’s to come next.

warnings: NSFW, smut, rough sex, anger sex, shouting, dom!eren, just the smallest amount of fluff, spain without the s, heartbreak.

Live bait. That’s what you were sent as, basically. Sure, they called it “recon”. Find the camp of the Yeagerists, find Eren, and report back to the Survey Corps about what they had planned beyond the Rumbling. When it would happen, how they would start, things like that. But as the only member of the 104th who wasn’t dead, pregnant, or traitorous, you were the pick to go. Armin and Mikasa were deemed “too close” to Eren to complete this mission, despite the four of you being as thick as thieves from before you could remember. Eren saw Mikasa as a sister. Armin, a best friend. But he always had a softer spot for you. A crush, maybe?

That’s what Jean called it anyways. He was juvenile.

Hanji sent you because of anyone, you could get him to talk. Or at least, if you were caught, you were less likely to be killed. Hence why you were sure that you were simply live bait.

A lot of the searching was done by yourself on horseback, taking out the occasional straggler titan here and there whenever one approached, since no one really knew where the Yeagerists’ camp was. You searched in and around the forest, but something in you knew that Levi wouldn’t risk putting his own camp with Zeke anywhere near Eren’s. You soon approached an abandoned town, which looked like it had been abandoned for many years despite being within the walls and titan free. And there just so happened to be the faint glow of a fire and smoke within the town. It was a fair distance anyway from any Scout posts, and well off the beaten path, so they were well hidden. But you knew Eren enough to find him nonetheless.

You slid off the back of your horse just outside of the town limits, feeding her an apple from your pack before tying her reins to a small tree next to a small pond so she could drink.

“Good girl, Scooter,” you praised her gently, petting her mane gently before tugging your cloak around your shoulders a bit tighter. It was a breezy, cool night and the nerves didn’t help with the chills either. You were stepping into enemy territory, despite many of the Yeagerists having once been your teammates and friends. Including your childhood best friend. You then stepped into the town limits, the gravel under your feet crunching with every step as you tried to be as quiet as possible. You didn’t want to be seen, just wanting to get in and out with as much information as you could possibly get.

However, you were only one person. And while that would normally cater to your stealthy needs, a random straggler would be easily caught.

“Now, what do we have here?” a familiar voice mused from behind you as you got closer to what you assumed to be their main base in the town square. You groaned externally, and not quietly either. You were already caught so why bother?

“Hi, Floch,” you greeted him as you turned around, a sour smile on your face as you saw his cocky expression like he caught the crime of the entire century. What did piss you off is that he knew it was you, like they’d either been watching you or knew that the Scouts would send you. “Alright, I’ll cut right to the chase. Where’s Eren? I need to talk to him.”

“Yeah, no, I’m not gonna do that,” Floch replied as he approached you, backing you into a wall. After all, he was armed and you were not. Your ODM gear was back in a pack and sheath on your horse, not wanting to deter any talks or negotiations with the presence of weapons. However, you would have loved your ODM gear to leave right about now.

“If you don’t get the fuck out of my face and take me to Eren right now, I’m gonna kick the shit out of you,” you warned the kid, eyes narrow as you stared daggers into him. Floch let out a chuckle before pulling out one of his swords, holding it to your neck. However, before he could say anything else, you heard someone approaching the two of you quickly.

“Floch,” a stern yet calm voice spoke up from beside you, and Floch immediately backed up and put away his sword. “Fuck off, will you?”

Floch nodded without a single word and hurried back to the town square, leaving just you and Eren standing alone in the dark street. The breeze picked up a bit, the sound contrast of your Scouts cloak and his baggy cardigan filling your ears as they blew wildly against the wind.

“Hey buddy,” you finally spoke, nodding at him. His hands were nonchalantly in his pockets, eyes devoid of any emotion as he just looked at you. “How have you been?”

“Cut the shit, Y/N,” he replied coldly, shaking his head almost in disbelief. “Why are you here? You’re not gonna get anything from me, so you might as well leave.”

“And why do you say that? What if I wanted to join your cause?” you shrugged. “I have intel your guys don’t know now that you’ve completely left the Scouts.”

He stared at you a little while longer before shaking his head again, approaching you and taking your hand a little bit roughly. “We’re not having a conversation like this out here,” he told you sternly, leading you into the building that you had been pressed against.

“Why not?” you questioned him once more. Seeing him face to face after so long made a bunch of unknown emotions bubble to the surface. “You don’t want your men to hear me chew you out? Yell at you for abandoning us, your best fucking friends? Huh, is that it?”

Eren slammed the door behind you as you continued to rant. The building you had been led into had once been a home, and the decorative plates still perched on some shelves shook as he did so. “You don’t want me to yell at you for laughing when Sasha died? Or for breaking out before we even had a chance to talk? Talk to me, Eren! Why?”

“Because I can’t fucking lose you!” he finally turned to you, screaming in your face. You stood your ground, not flinching as you were more than used to his anger. “I want to get as far away from you as possible so it doesn’t fucking hurt when either of us die because it’s fucking inevitable!”

You were silent for a little bit as he huffed, his face red and angry as he looked at you. His eyes were furious, but you were unsure if the fury was directed at you, or himself.

“You done?” you asked as if you were scolding a tantruming child, which is almost what he was right at that moment. “We can still help you, Eren. Trust me.”

He shook his head, the ponytail holder in his hair becoming loose. “You can’t fucking help me anymore. No one in the Scouts would take me back, not even Mikasa or Armin. And Mikasa is basically obsessed with me. I need to stick with this plan.”

“God, is everything about you? Always? You’re a fucking joke,” you snorted, moving around him to leave the house. You weren’t going to get anything from him at this point so you just wanted to cut your losses and go back home. He suddenly grabbed your wrist and pulled you back to face him, just so he could press you against the wall. He towered over you, placing one of his hands by your face and leaning close.

“You’re one to fucking talk. Eren, why did you leave me? Talk to me, Eren,” he mocked you.

“Fuck you,” you spat in his face, and he grabbed your jaw to make you look at him in the eyes before locking your lips together almost furiously. You weren’t sure how you got to this point, since you were at each other’s throats not even two seconds before that.

But you weren’t complaining.

You forced your lips against his with equal force, the kiss filled with lust, fury, and longing. You could tell he had been wanting to kiss you since you were kids, had wanted to hold your hand and call you his, but all of that was gone now. There was no hope for your future. Or anyone’s futures. Not with his plan.

He unbuttoned your cloak, letting it drop to the floor as you shoved his cardigan onto the floor as well. His hands moved to around your waist, pulling you close as he tried to get your shirt unbuttoned. His hands were trembling, either from nerves or fury, so he resulted in ripping off your shirt instead. The buttons popped off, flying everywhere. You even heard one knock into a decorative plate, causing it to fall to the floor and smash at your feet. Eren’s hands then moved to your butt, picking you up with ease as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

“What are we doing?” you whispered breathily as you finally broke the heated kiss, Eren now moving to the stairs and walking up them with you still in his arms. He was leaving kisses and marks down your neck now as you did so.

“Something we’ve always wanted to do,” he growled back to you, kicking a bedroom door open and practically throwing you on the bed. It was well slept in, the sheets clean and the blankets ruffled, and it was now clear to you that this was the house Eren had been staying in. “Our last chance.”

“You’re a fucking prick,” you told him, but he quickly shut you up with another rough kiss. He began working on taking off your pants, throwing them across the room. There was no getting either of you ready, the both of you were just too needy for that. Eren then got up, staring directly at you as he lifted off his shirt and tossed it aside.

“Keep talking like that and I’ll give you an actual reason to hate me. Shirt off, now,” he commanded, to which you easily complied. Eren pulled off his slacks, kicking them away before rejoining you on the bed. He, however, didn’t touch you for a solid ten seconds. He just...stared at you. Drinking in all he could of you in that moment, not wanting it to end before it even began. He then grabbed your thighs, pushing your legs back and moving the fabric of your soaked panties aside.

You didn’t say a word as you watched him, but simply reached for his hand and held it as tightly as possible as he slid into you. The two of you didn’t waste any time. Eren gripped the back of your head with one hand, your hand still tightly held in his other, as he began to thrust desperately and roughly into you. You were sure that his crew outside could hear your moans, but you didn’t care. This is something that you had been wanting for a while, ever since you realized your feelings a couple of years prior, and this was truly the last time you would get the chance to do this with him. Be close, pressed together with your lips against his.

“Y/N,” he grunted breathlessly, head buried in your neck as his thrusts became sloppy. “Y/N, I love y--”

“Don’t,” you whined, holding his hand tighter and now placing your joined hands between your sweaty bodies. “Please, don’t make it hurt more th...that this is our first and last time together…”

Eren just nodded, kissing your forehead as he continued to fuck you with everything he had. You wanted this moment to last forever, but of course, nothing did.

You watched Eren sleep soundly next to you as you sat up on the bed. You gently brushed his hair from his face, smiling gently at him. You wanted to stay with him. Every fibre of your being longed to just run away with him, leave all of this behind. But nothing could convince him to stop his plans. Not even your love. You leaned down, kissing his forehead before standing up. You got dressed once more, in all but your cloak. It was still downstairs along with his cardigan. You made your way there, picking up Eren’s ODM gear that he had and putting it on along the way so you could make a clean escape. You picked up your cloak, folding it nicely so the Scouts logo was front and centre as you placed it on the table. You then took his cardigan and shrugged it over your shoulders before leaving the house and Eren behind forever. As you made your way down the streets, zipping between the few buildings back to your horse, you couldn’t help but let out a harsh sob.

You had failed your entire mission to begin with, and also got your heart broken in the meantime. When you got back to your horse, you dropped Eren’s ODM gear there at the tree before untying your horse and getting on. You then dug into the pockets of Eren’s cardigan to warm your hands. Your eyebrows knit together in curiosity as you pulled out a little piece of paper, and the curiosity persisted as you opened it to read what was there. You smiled a little bit upon seeing Eren’s handwriting, but also in amazement at what was there. A note to who you assumed was Zeke, to be passed through many hands to somehow get to him. A small snippet of the plan, enough to make Hanji ecstatic. With one final look at the town, you clicked your tongue as a signal for your horse. And just like that, you were gone.

#attack on titan #eren yeager #eren yeager x reader #eren yeager x y/n #eren yeager x you #eren x reader #eren x y/n #eren x you #eren yeager fanfic #eren #aot #attack on titan fanfiction #aot fanfiction #armin arlert #mikasa ackerman #snk #shingeki no kyojin #jean kirschtein #levi ackerman

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justxright · 4 years

Text

Zeke Yeager x Reader - “Traitor”

Chapter 2 - “You are Never Leaving My Grasp”

Warnings : Spoilers for season 3, physical violence and a bit of Stockholm syndrome. MINOR SMUT, involving stripping of clothing.

As the night began to creep in slowly, the more scared you became. Zeke kept staring at you as if you were a meal. As if any minute he would jump out at you and start tearing you apart like a predator would rip open its prey. The glow of the fire also didn’t help. He looked like a demon, despite you and your race technically being the “devils”.

You tried to break eye contact and just stared at the fire pit. It was beyond awkward and you peaked here and there to get a glimpse of him. You’d have to admit though he was oddly handsome, and not to mention this guy was ripped. Was he not cold?

He continued stirring around the substance in the pot before he spoke. “Hm? Like what you see?” You made the mistake of looking into his eyes again before he let out a cocky smile and pointed his finger at you.

“No-! I just, it’s cold... sorry. You’re not wearing a jacket or anything so...” you trailed off and turned away to face the dusky horizon, avoiding the rest of the conversation.

“Well I just came out of a titan, and I’ll have you know it gets quite warm in there. But I’d hate to be distracting, so if it helps...” he left for a moment to walk into one of the tents before coming out moments later with a jacket on.

You puffed up her cheeks and just looked away. So annoying and cocky ...

Zeke could only sit back and admire how cute and flustered you were. You’ve just been captured and now you’re flustered while trying desperately to survive. He’ll admit you’re holding up quite well.

“You know, out of everyone else you’re the only one that’s been cooperative.” He then shook his head and let out a sigh of exhaustion. “Poor guys, if only they had been as helpful as you I wouldn’t have pushed them off the wall.” Zeke then poured you a cup of what seemed to be tea. “But in order for you to tell me everything, I need you to stay alive.”

You took the cup into your hands as best as you could and nodded slowly. “Thank you. I’ll tell you as much as I know, and the theories us scouts currently have.” Then you slowly took a sip of the tea. It was delicious, perhaps black tea? You also tasted a hint of honey.

“Oh! And she’s polite!” Zeke applauded and let out the biggest smile on his face. “I guess not all Eldians on Paradis Island are devils.” He reached down into the box next to him and took out a small loaf of bread before placing it next to you. “What a shame some angels are born here in hell. Perhaps if you behave yourself I can take you back to my hometown across the sea where the Titans will never reach you again.”

Your eyes widened and you nearly dropped your cup of tea. So many questions ran through your mind at once. Wait take you? Hold on, did he just call you an Angel? There’s a world beyond the sea? If felt as if you lost all of your breath and the only thing you could mumble was “The sea?...”

Zeke poured himself another cup of tea and swished it around in the cup for a moment. “Yes the sea. Surely you’ve seen it. You’re a scout aren’t you?”

You shook your head in disagreement. “Well yes, but I’ve only ever seen the sea in history books. That’s if I can get my hands on one without getting arrested.”

Zeke took a sip of his now warmer tea. “Ah I see. What a shame that the world’s memories are not only stolen, but the physical copies that remain are hunted down to be destroyed.”

Memories? What memories? Taking a deep breath, you chose your next words carefully. “Yes I know. It’s a shame... I just want to know the truth.”

Zeke leaned his head onto his hand for support, his eyes never left your face. “Well, I am a man of my word. If you behave I’ll take you back to my hometown and from there you’ll know the whole truth. Plus, the Titans will never reach you again.”

Suddenly the air grew colder than it was before and chills began to dig up your spine. You took in a huge gulp of pride and swallowed it. “Yes, I’d like that very much, but please don’t hur-“ but before you could finish, Zeke interrupted. “What? Hurt you?” He scoffed and put his cup of tea down before walking over to you slowly.

He kneeled down in front of you, his dull grey eyes felt like they were staring daggers into yours, when suddenly he took both of his hands and began to pinch your cheeks, but not in a cute way. It was painful and you whimpered at the pain as your eyes began to tear up. “Then don’t give me a reason to...” he whispered coldly. “Don’t you think I know you’re saying all this bullshit just to sway me?” He growled and pinched harder. “And don’t you think I know that you’ll try and escape when you get the chance?”

It hurt so bad. It felt as if Zeke had taken two hot knifes and began digging into your cheeks.

“Please, please! Stop it hurts!” You mumbled and cried, squirming around to get away from his grasp. This only made Zeke pinch even harder. He knew for sure these would leave bruises and you knew it too. “Please what? What’s my name? Please what?” He brought you forehead right against his and looked you straight in the eyes, waiting for your response. “Please Zeke. Please stop, it hurts really bad...” you said a little more gently as your face began to litter itself with your tears.

Absolutely pathetic. You felt pathetic and ashamed. Humanity’s strongest soilders has a helpless pathetic little sister. The potential wasted away, all because she doesn’t have the guts to be brave.

“There we go... just like that.” Zeke smiled and let go of both of your cheeks, staring at your puffy face while he wipped away your tears. “Hush now, don’t cry.” He suddenly grabbed your chin and forced you to look at the edge of the wall that faced the wilderness. “You know, out of everyone I’ve captured, you’re the only one that’s been so polite. All these other girls just gave me a hard time, so I had no choice but to throw them over the wall. They wouldn’t be suitable anyways if I had taken them back home with me.”

Icy cold sweat ran down your back while your voice shivered. “I-I swear I won’t run off! Please don’t throw me off the wall!” But you wanted him to throw you off the wall and you wanted to die right then and there. You did not want to go back with him to his hometown as some sort of prize, no matter how far away you were from the Titans.

While you whimpered and cried, Zeke still admired your pretty face. The bruises on your cheeks almost immediately started showing up on your face while it also showed itself to be red and irritated. All you could wonder is why. Why you? And why had you made the stupid decision to go with him? The chances of getting to back Levi became very slim, and you began to lose hope. Sure, you were an Ackerman by name, but not by blood. You weren’t naturally skilled like Levi, you had to earn it through lots of training. And for crying out loud, you were with the beast titan. There was no way you would make it out alive without his help, not to mention you were stuck on top of the wall with this guy.

Zeke pulled your face back to him and had rested your head against his forehead. The intense eye contact was beyond horrific but it only got worse when he had leaned in and kissed your cheeks. “Don’t you worry now, I won’t throw you off these walls because I’ve made a decision.”

Paralyzed, you dared yourself to ask what that decision was with wide eyes. Zeke stared for a moment before caressing your face. “Darling, you are never leaving my grasp.”

And your heart nearly stopped as all the left over hope you had shattered into a million pieces. Everything after that became a blur and the next thing you knew is that you were in a tent right next to him. He had removed the rope around your wrist and forced you to change into a little brown sweater of his. You slipped off the belts and suspenders off of your waist and felt his eyes look you up and down. Especially after you had pulled off your uniform’s button down long sleeve. His eyes stared you up and down, and what he wanted so badly was to take you right there and claim you as his. Zeke had taken your scout cloak, brown jacket, and shirt before folding it into a corner of the tent. The only thing you had left was your white pants and brown boots.

Zeke then grabbed both of your hands and began to tie them up again, this time a little more gently. You could bet that this man was either bipolar or really harsh when it came to discipline and precautions. He held your hand in his for a moment before turning over and unzipped a sleeping bag. “Well now, I know today was harsh, but I promise you it will get better.” Zeke leaned into your legs and began to remove your boots.

You had to admit, it felt nice to have them removed. Your foot ached and so did your back. It felt like this day had gone on for years and all you wanted was to sleep. Zeke then gestured for you to crawl in the sleeping bag and you did as commanded. He then zipped you up and stared at you with the a soft smile. The first smile that you’d seen from him that wasn’t all at sinister, but genuinely kind. “Goodnight Y/n, get some rest. We have a big day tomorrow.”

Unknowingly, you smiled back and spoke softly with half of your face covered by the sleeping bag. “Goodnight Zeke...”

Zeke was beyond ecstatic that you seemed to finally obey him. The view of you comfortably relaxing in the sleeping bag seemed to make his heart race. Not only that, but the way you said his name made him want to curl up next to you and kiss you all over. But he knew it wouldn’t be a good idea after all the shock it had just put you through.

He brought out a sleeping bag next to you and crawled it. You laid on your side and faced away from him, your heart racing at a hundred miles per hour. You couldn’t even escape his scent. It was on you and he was right next to you. The smell of cigarettes and sweet honey tea filled your nose as you secretly took a whiff of the smell from his sweater. While sleepless for hours, you’ll have to admit that you were becoming accustomed to his scent.

Slowly but surely, he was getting there to make you his.

•

Meanwhile back at the inner walls, Levi panicked and furiously went through every group of soilders to find were you had gone. During the aftermath of everything the only thing he could assume was the worst. He swore to Miche that if anything were to ever happen to you, he’d rip him apart the same way he does with the Titans. Even after all of that, Levi wish he had begged you to stay instead of letting you go beyond the walls.

It wasn’t until he had snapped out of his thoughts when he had heard the man next him preaching some irrating shit he didn’t like to hear. Levi pointed a gun at the man beneath his coat and finally reminded himself of what was going on. Right, the titan in the walls Pastor Nick knew about. “There can be other ways to get information out of him...”

Hange assured him that threats and torture didn’t work on this man. Levi grew even more pissed and so badly wanted to shoot the man. Perhaps due to this inner anger that he didn’t know where you were and so badly wanted to take out his frustrations on the preacher. Eren threw a fit about how everything was backwards and so badly wanted to know how he knew about the Titans in the wall. Just like how Levi wanted to know so badly about why you hadn’t returned to him yet.

Honestly he was in no position to focus on what was going on since you had gone missing. Levi had once lost two of his closest friends and he was no where near ready to lose you. Never once had you ever came back to him late, and before Levi knew it you were gone that entire night. Until finally his worst fear came true, that the nights had suddenly become days. Days where reports of Titans were spotted within wall Rose, but there was no breach. Throughout those days of endless exploration he never found you, but he never gave you up for dead.

“Y/n... where did you go?”

Note : Thank you all so much! I’m surprised that this series had more of a demand, especially since it’s my first Attack on Titan fic. ~

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #zeke yeager #attack on titan zeke #zeke x reader #zeke x you #levi ackerman #armin alert #eren yeager #mikasa ackerman #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan zeke x reader #x reader

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freya-fallen · 2 years

Text

Beastly 5/17

CWs: Manipulative Zeke Yeager, talk about eating people and death

Word count: 3674

Part 1 Part 4 Part 6

Zeke spends a lot of time working. Training, mostly, he says. However, since he’s also the leader of the Warriors, he has paperwork and other responsibilities. Once a week, he checks the quarters of each of the youths under his charge to make sure they’re keeping everything tidy, and so he knows they’re taking care of themselves.

They’re all teenagers aside from him, so he’s the one who has to keep them accountable. It’s how he keeps the Marleyans who run the military from interfering too much.

“The boys have been asking about you.”

A lance of bitterness spurs through you and you set down your fork. Breakfast is suddenly less appealing when thinking about the two boys whom you’d counted as allies so recently.

Zeke is watching you, waiting, so you say, “Oh?”

He nods. He’s shaved off his beard since returning to Liberio, and his hair is shorter. You liked him scruffy, but he’s handsome like this, too. “Would you like to have lunch with us?”

It’s the one meal a day you have to fend for yourself, though Zeke reminds you what’s there before he leaves everyday.

You don’t want to see Reiner and Bertholdt.

One large hand lands on your thigh, imparting a squeeze. “I know you feel betrayed, sweetheart,” your brother implores, “but you have to understand that they were doing what they were taught was their duty.”

Your throat tightens and your eyes grow warm. “They killed my mom, Zeke.”

“Oh, honey. I know, but they were younger than you are now when they did it. I know they regret it, and that they’d give anything for the world to be a different place.”

He cares so much about the teens under his charge, just like he cares about you. He’s known them since they were both small children. You’ve learned Marleyan Warrior candidates start training as young as five.

Even with the horrors of titan invasion, the military in Paradis doesn’t allow kids to join until they are twelve. You can’t imagine being that little, and getting inundated with all the messages about good order and discipline.

“Why did they become Warriors?” you ask after dwelling on the image of chubby-cheeked children standing at attention.

“Well, Reiner’s father is Marleyan. He always hoped becoming a Warrior would unite his family.” He rubs his chin thoughtfully as he recalls.

“Did it?��

“Well, no,” Zeke says sadly. “Marleyans see us all as a blight on the earth, and I can’t rightly blame them.”

You know that your people, Eldians, can become titans, and that’s something unique to your blood, but you have to ask, “Why do they hate us?”

“Our people used our ability to conquer other nations and rule over them.”

“Oh.” That certainly explains it. “And they all feel this way?”

“To most, the potential to turn into a titan is evidence of an ancient deal with a devil. They even call Paradis Eldians ‘Island Devils.’ And—” he hesitates before the next part, “many would rather die than claim an Eldian in their family.”

“That’s horrible.”

He nods. “It is. You have to understand, this is the mindset with which they rule over us. We serve in their military and live as less to atone for the actions of our ancestors. Eldians and Marleyans alike are raised with this knowledge. Those of us who choose to take on the mantle of titan shifters are elevated because we are sacrificing thirteen years of our life to serve as their weapons— and then die to pass that ability forward.”

You stare at Zeke as he finishes this little explanation, wide eyes filling with tears that tremble across your vision, already cool when they finally spill over. “What—” You blink away the tears and try to clear your throat. “What do you mean?”

Your brother leans forward and takes one of your hands in both of his. Those silver eyes bore into you from behind gleaming glass. “I mean that those of us who become titan shifters only have thirteen years to live. Once that time comes to an end, we will die. If we die without being consumed by another titan, then our titan form will go to a child born after that time. To avoid that, we train our successors to be ready to inherit our titans.”

“How long ago did you inherit your titan?” Your voice wavers, catches halfway through, but you manage to get it all out.

“Eight years,” he tells you, his sad smile saying it all.

Your eyes go wide as you realize that you have five years with him. Five years, and then your brother will be gobbled up by someone who wants to take his place.

And then your blood freezes in your veins.

Eren.

“Eren doesn’t know,” you whisper.

Zeke moves one hand to your cheek to brush away your tears. You hadn’t realized you were crying. The streams down your face are a continuous deluge, but he doesn’t stop trying to clear them for you. “I’m not surprised. I didn’t want to believe it when I heard, but our father was not a good man when I knew him.”

“Why? Why was he exiled?”

“I— It’s complicated.” For the first time since you’ve known him, your brother looks torn.

Your hands wrap around his this time, and you look up at him pleadingly. “Please. I need to know.”

“I’ll tell you,” he promises, and you nod. “But not right now. You’ve already learned Eren and I have our days numbered. Let’s not add to that burden today, hm?”

“When?”

He leans forward and kisses your cheek. “Soon.”

When he stands from the table, you belatedly remember that this all started with a question. “Zeke?” He pauses and waits for you to continue. “I think I’d like to have lunch with you and the others.”

“Good. I’ll see you then, sweetheart.”

His gentle smile remains with you after he’s left, a comfort against the doom looming over the two boys bound to you by blood.

You spend the rest of the morning reading and slowly getting ready for the day. You decide to wear a long cream skirt and a white blouse. There’s a hat that matches rather well, though you feel weird wearing a hat all the time. Apparently it’s normal in Marley.

Everything is so nicely made, soft and smooth under your fingers. You don't think you’re familiar with the material, but you like how it hangs and breathes.

“Don’t you look pretty,” Zeke comments when he comes home to get you. There’s a tall young man behind him. At first, you assume it’s Reiner, but the color is more dull, and he’s not quite as broad.

He wears a yellow armband.

“This is Colt Grice, the front runner for my chosen successor.” Zeke pats the boy’s shoulder before leaning down to kiss your cheek. You’re surprised he’s so affectionate in front of one of his juniors, but you’re happy to accept the gesture. “Colt, this is my sister.”

Whether he’s surprised, you can’t tell. You think there’s a flicker of something behind Colt’s hazel eyes, but it’s swiftly suppressed.

“Nice to meet you,” you say, to which he responds in kind.

You take your brother’s arm and let him guide you from the building. They have a private dining mess, somewhere the Warriors can talk about whatever they want without having to worry about others, Zeke informs her. He gives a little inane commentary about their surroundings as they walk, and Colt occasionally chimes in, but none of it matters in the scheme of things.

“And here we have my own little study.” It’s nice. There are couches and chairs, all padded with matching pale blue cushioning, a huge desk, and a modest sized table. Tall shelves are full of mementos and books alike, and there are pictures on the yellow walls.

Sitting around the table, you find Reiner and Bertholdt seated on one of the long sides of the table, in twin chairs. On the other sprawls a pale, dainty young woman, her dark hair fanned over one arm. An unfamiliar blond boy stares out the window, leaning against Zeke’s desk.

“Oh, hello, there.” The woman rises to all fours on the couch. “Faye?” When you nod, she beams. “Oh, you’re so cute. You didn’t tell me she was so cute.”

You blush as Zeke guides you into the room. “Pieck, move over, will ya?”

The young woman pouts, but slides over to allow space for you and your brother to join her. “Pieck Finger, the Cart,” she says, as though that explains everything. With the red band around her arm, you figure it’s the name of her titan.

“Porco Galliard, the Jaw.” The blond boy has turned to face you, but remains behind the desk.

Zeke tuts. “Get over here, Pock. It’s impolite to introduce yourself from so far away.”

The boy, who looks to be around your age, sneers as he rounds the desk. “Don’t call me that.”

It has the sound of something he’s had to say multiple times, and no one bats an eye in response.

Reiner and Bertholdt are both studying your. You’ve felt their gazes since you stepped into the room, though at least Bertholdt has the grace to seem embarrassed when you catch them. Reiner’s eyes narrow and flit over you the little skin that shows. You’re glad the blouse is covering, because the bite mark Zeke left is still healing.

“I’m surprised you’re allowed out.” Your attention diverts back to Porco. He takes a seat at the end of the table, though he’s not sitting in it properly. “Being an enemy combatant and all.”

You blink at his boldness, but before you can say anything, Bertholdt speaks. “Leave it alone, Porco. You know she’s not a threat.”

“I don’t know. She seemed good enough at killing titans.” His pretty grey eyes survey you sharply. “It’s not like she’s a civilian.”

You tense, and Zeke wraps an arm around you. “I got permission from the old man. She didn’t know what was going on. Surely you saw that, too. None of those scouts knew the truth.”

“I also know she handled herself on those little missions. What’s to stop her from—”

“She doesn’t have access to weapons or—

“— slashing our necks—”

“— ODM gear, so how would she—”

“Excuse me.” At your slightly raised voice, Reiner and Porco both fall silent. “I’m really not a threat. I don’t know what you’ve heard about me, but I’m a terrible scout. I can ride, and kill unintelligent titans easily enough, and take orders, but I’m miserable fighting people. And I’m—” You grimace at the truth of what you’re about to say. “Well, I’m soft. I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

The blond runs a hand through the longer strands of his undercut and considers you keenly for a moment. “Yeah, you are pretty shitty at ground fighting, huh?”

Despite saying as much, you flash hot with irritation and embarrassment. “I’m not that bad.”

“Nah, you are.” Porco flashes a grin, one nice enough to make you hot for an entirely different reason, and you feel Zeke’s arm tighten around you. “I saw it myself. Got it all up here.” He taps his temple.

Seeing your confusion, Zeke clarifies, “We inherit memories from those whose titan we inherit.”

You have no idea how that’s relevant until Porco reveals, “Your friend Ymir, she took my brother’s titan. He was the Jaw when they left Marley five years ago.”

Your face falls. Your memory surrounding the day you met Zeke on the Wall is a little fuzzy, but you vaguely recall something about Ymir needing to come with across the sea, how she had something that was missing.

“You ate Ymir.”

The teen shrugs, the lines of his face unaffected by your horror. “Yeah, that’s how it works.” Your expression twists, and Porco scoffs at it. “Look, she ate my brother first, and she knew what she was getting into when she came back with us. Don’t get all up in arms about it.”

How can you not have strong feelings about it when Ymir is someone you’ve known and trained with for years? You know her as well as you know Reiner and Bertholdt, who are still watching you with rapt attention.

“How can you all think this is okay?”

“It’s normal for us,” says Pieck. She leans over Zeke to meet your gaze. “This is just the way things work. Just like, where you’re from, it’s normal to go out and kill titans.”

You turn your sight to a scenic painting on the wall, staring into it as though you can climb through it and disappear. “And all those titans were once people like us.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Zeke pulls you against his side. “I know it’s all a lot to take in. How about we just focus on eating lunch right now, hm?”

You look up at him, into those pale eyes that are so searing and so comforting all at once, and nod.

He smiles and strokes your cheek. “That’s my girl.”

There are boxes on the table, and you didn’t even pay attention to them when you came in because you were too focused on your company. Now, Bertholdt is opening them up to reveal food. There are sandwiches sliced from long loaves of bread, the halves nearly dripping their insides with how full they are. You recognize leafy greens, meat, cheese, and probably vegetables. There are shiny green apples in another box, and some strange crisps you’ve never seen before, but find out are from fried potatoes.

You don’t try those; you know you won’t be able to keep yourself from dwelling on Sasha’s probable reaction to them.

Zeke hands you a plat with a segment of sandwich on it, then adds an apple to the meal. There’s already a glass of water poured from a pitcher in front of you. “Eat up,” he orders, and you comply by taking a bite of the tart fruit.

You eat in silence while the others chatter around you, then there’s a knock on the door.

“Come in.”

At your brother’s permission, the door opens to reveal a young man in a sharp military uniform. “The general wants a word with you, chief.”

Zeke nods. “I’ll be right there.” He sets aside his food and pats your head. “I’ll be right back. Stay here, okay?”

“Yes, Zeke.”

All eyes seem like they follow him to the door, and the second it shuts, Reiner’s attention snaps back to you. “How is he treating you? Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Your brows furrow and you set your plate on the table; you don’t have much of an appetite now that you’re without your brother and facing his Warriors alone. Never have you been more aware you’re in enemy territory than this moment.

“Because the last time we saw you, Zeke—”

“Reiner,” Bertholdt interrupts sharply. It’s a warning, though the blond waves it off.

“I just want to know he’s not being inappropriate.”

You don’t like this line of questioning. “He’s my brother,” you retort. “He’s making sure I eat and bathe and take care of myself.”

Reiner’s eyes narrow. “He was your brother before, too.”

“I didn’t know that,” you snarl. You want him to shut his traitor mouth, but you also worry about saying too much, giving away what transpired to the other three in the room.

Those others are watching everything without even trying to hide it.

“He knew it.” It’s Bertholdt who speaks this time, his voice evenly measured. “I told him your name myself.”

You and Zeke have talked about this a little. You know how complicated the situation really is, though for an outsider it might seem like he’d taken advantage of you or that you were a naive little girl or something. You sigh, wondering what you can say to make them stop interrogating you.

“What are you guys talking about?” Porco finally sits properly in the chair, though he leans so his elbows are on his knees. “What happened?”

The two former scouts exchange a glance, one you resent.

“It’s none of your business,” you say. “It’s between me and Zeke. We’ve dealt with it, and it’s done.” That last is toward Bertholdt and Reiner. Neither looks convinced, but one nods, then the other, and you settle back in your seat.

Pieck stretches across the couch to inspect your face. Her eyes are dark and pretty, and her nose adds a sense of strength to her otherwise fragile beauty. “Did they find you kissing or something?”

She’s matter-of-fact about it that you choke in disbelief. Your cheeks flush, your ears grow hot, your throat swelters behind your collar.

Porco laughs and slaps his thigh. “Holy shit, that’s fucked up.”

Your panicked gaze flits to him. “No, it’s not like that—”

“You had a crush on him, huh?” The boy’s grin is sharp as a wolf’s growl.

“He is goodlooking,” Pieck remarks with a non judgemental shrug. “I’ve always thought so.

“Yeah, if you like giant monkeys.”

You glare at the Jaw titan. You know it’s a reference to Zeke’s titan form, but you haven’t actually seen it yet. You just know the name, and that it’s appropriately hairy.

“Can we not talk about this?” you ask into your water cup, having taken it to try and draw its coolness into yourself.

He chuckles again, shaking his head. “You could do better, you know. If you don’t exclusively like guys a lot older, I’d be happy to take you out.”

Is he flirting with you?

“Pock, back off.”

His genial smile morphs as he sneers, “Shut it, Braun.”

“Boys, behave. You’re setting a bad example.” Pieck pointedly looks at you, then Colt.

It dawns on you then that Colt is technically a bit of an outsider, too. He’s the only other person without a titan form in this room, though he’s hoping to have Zeke’s someday—

He’s going to eat Ze—

You don’t want to think about that right now, how your brother is training this boy to take his place someday, and seems content to do so despite the ramifications.

“Besides, the War Chief will be back any minute,” she continues. “We don’t wanna upset him, do we? You know he’ll have no problems making us run laps for upsetting his sweet li’l sis.”

Porco rolls his eyes, but deflates. “Yeah, yeah.”

The room falls quiet, everyone electing to focus on their food. You pick at yours, but finally manage to finish the whole apple and half your sandwich. You even accept a few chips at Pieck’s insistence, and they’re almost too salty and crunchy. Sasha would love them.

It’s quiet when Zeke returns. He steps behind you, rubbing a large hand down your back, and surveys the group. “Well, chow time is just about done. I’m gonna take my sister back now.”

“It was great meeting you, sweetie,” Pieck pipes up. Porco nods, Bertholdt waves, Reiner doesn’t say anything, but he watches as you go.

When Colt gets up, Zeke raises a hand to halt him. “Head back to the other candidates, Colt.”

The trip is much quieter this time, since Zeke feels no need to fill the space between you. He seems contemplative. When you arrive back at his quarters, he turns to hold you in his arms, tipping your chin up to gaze down at you. “Wanna tell me what all that was about?”

“What do you mean?” you reply innocently.

He chuckles. “I saw how awkward the room was when I came in. What, did Reiner and Bertholdt interrogate you?” He sighs at your answering flush.

Before he can extrapolate the wrong conclusion, you say, “No, it wasn’t like that.”

“So what was it like, sweetheart?”

“It’s.” You swallow and frown, thinking of the least offensive way to word everything. “They asked questions, but didn’t say anything too bad. Porco thought maybe they saw us kiss. When I blushed, he figured it’s because I had a crush on you before. That’s all.”

Sometimes you believe Zeke is far smarter than he appears, which is already a fair amount. But when he stares at you with gleaming silver eyes that pierce to the heart of the matter, as precise as a surgeon’s blade, you feel fully exposed to him. You have no secrets, not if he wants them bared.

Then he blinks, shakes his head, and gives a laughing huff. “Oh, honey, is that all? Pock just figured out you like me? That’s adorable.” He dips down to kiss you, a tender action that warms you completely until you remember the conversation you just had.

When you part, you’re flustered and confused. Zeke thinks it’s all your usual embarrassment.

“Say, sweetheart. There’s an event this weekend. It’s a state affair, kinda stuffy, but I’d love to have you come along to keep me company.”

He trails his hands along your arms to intertwine them with yours. “I’d like that.” You know those kinds of things happened in the Walls, too. The military higher ups sometimes had to hobnob with the nobility, which was especially important to Commander Erwin, since the Scouts had the worst budget of all the branches. You’ve never been to one, though. You’re just a random lower-ranked scout.

Zeke gently squeezes your hands. “First time I’ve ever had a date to one of these. I’m looking forward to showing you off.”

It’s another reminder; after all, you’re hardly a proper date. It feels good to know he doesn’t usually bring women, though.

He favors you with another kiss, this one short and chaste, then heads back to the grind.

You grab the book you’ve been perusing, a grade-school level story for Marleyans to help you get better with their writing system, but your thoughts are back with your brother.

#zeke yeager x reader #zeke yeager x sister reader #manipulative zeke yeager #aot attack on titan #darkfic #aot darkfic #marley warriors #porco galliard #pieck finger #reiner braun #bertolt hoover #bertholdt hoover #colt grice

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lostinwildflowers · 4 years

Text

If Only In My Dreams

Zeke Yeager x Reader

Summary:

Word Count: 3.4K

Warnings: canon-divergence, vets are still alive, slight angst(?)

A/N: Everyone is alive pre-time skip of season 4, so Mike, Nanaba, Erwin, ect. are all alive. Also, all 9 different titan shifters are known at this point in time, along with the ~new one~. This does diverge from canon, lots of things are still true and applicable, it’s just the whole plot of season 4 is in like season 2 now.

Y/n/n = Your nickname

I hope you enjoy this @dinama and I’m sorry it took so long to write! I really hope this is what you wanted, I tried! Enjoy everyone!! - Birch <3

“Hold on Y/n!” The shrill shout comes, a short blonde boy running over to the little girl who was rubbing her arm, a baseball rolling away at her feet. Tears well in her eyes, small locks of hair dangling in her face. “Zee Zee, it hurts,” she whimpers, and the young boy, only slightly taller than her, pulls on her arm to look at it.

“I’m really sorry, Y/n/n, I really need to work on my aim,” Zeke says to her, pulling her in for a gentle hug, stubby arms wrapping around her back. The girl’s little arms reach around his waist, tears still in her eyes, but she was no longer crying.

Zeke pulled away from the hug, reaching down to pick up the baseball. “Maybe we should stay a little closer together so I can practice on aiming.” The little girl sniffles and then nods, wiping her tears away with the back of her sleeve.

“Okay, Zee Zee. But can you toss underhand to me first?”, she asks with a pout on her lips, chubby cheeks puffing out. Zeke gives her a nod before running a few meters away.

“Wait Zee Zee...”, the little girl’s voice fades as her arm reaches out for him.

A firm knock on your door makes you jolt awake from your dream, and a stern voice calls out from the other side, “Y/n? Are you awake? Erwin’s meeting is in 10 minutes.” Your eyes widen and you scramble out of your bed. You dive for new clothes in your dresser and then realize you haven’t responded to whoever was on the other side.

“Good morning! I’ll be out in just a minute,” you shout back, fingers struggling to button your white shirt. You reach for your ODM gear straps, struggling the get the thin leather situated before grabbing your tall riding boots and slipping them on.

You run to your bathroom, combing through your hair quickly before tossing it into a quick braid as your toothbrush hangs out of your mouth. You quickly glance at the clock, 4 minutes until the start of Erwin’s meeting.

You finish getting ready, and scramble out of your room and down the hall, seeing the tall figure of Mike in front of you. “Mike! Wait up!”, you call as you jog to catch up to him.

Mike turns to see you, and a smile easily glides across his face as he says, “Hey! Good morning Y/n, how’d you sleep?”

You shrug as you keep up with him, short legs working double to match his own huge stride. “Alright I guess, I had a sort of weird dream, it was almost like a memory,” you explain, (colored) orbs glancing up to gauge Mike’s reaction.

His eyebrows furrow in thought as he states, “Actually, I had a dream sort of like that too. I was back in Shiganshina, helping my sister chop wood in the evening. I was a teen back then, it was right before I joined the cadets. It was a memory that I had though, which is kind of weird.”

You both walk in silence, pondering each other’s stories until you reach the meeting room, where Erwin, Levi, Hange, and Moblit were waiting.

“Ah! There you both are, right on time,” Erwin states as he shuts the door behind you and Mike. “Now that everyone is here, we can start discussing this urgent and new information we have discovered.”

You take a seat next to Hange, who is leaning on the desk, eyes narrowed in wait to hear what Erwin had to say.

“There is a new titan shifter among the nine that we know of,” Erwin states blankly. He rests his fists against the table, eyes scanning the five of you around him. “It’s called the Dream Titan.”

You and Mike shoot each other concerned glances before you ask, “What are the powers of this titan exactly?”

Erwin looks you dead in the eyes and says, “We don’t know the full extent yet, but many Scouts have reported having dreams that seemed like memories, and flashes of a titan the color of midnight.”

Mike butts in and says, “Both me and Y/n had dreams like that last night, memories from our childhood.”

Erwin nods and then replies as he starts to pace, “Many of us have, and we don’t know what the goal is behind this Dream Titan. They could be working with Marley to get at us from within. We don’t know who the titan shifter is yet, so be on the lookout for whoever it might be, they could be a Corps member.”

Everyone nods and salutes to Erwin as he dismisses you to train your squads. No one could really focus that day, thoughts still hanging on the dreams from the night before. Punches and kicks weren’t landing as hard or true as they should have, people were falling off of horses when they tried to engage in ODM gear.

You did your best to keep your squad focused, having them run laps while you did crunches and pushups. Your thoughts drifted to the young boy in your dream. Zeke.

No one from Paradis knew that you were from Marley except for Erwin. He trusted you, as you were an Eldian, and knew how the city of Marley worked. You had only lived across the ocean until you were eight before you were sent to become a pure titan. You had accidentally heard a conversation between two Marleyan guards not meant for your ears.

But when they went to inject you, you got knocked forward and slid down the wall away from them. No one else had gotten injected with the serum yet, so you had taken off sprinting away from them. You had run as far as you could without stopping, fearful of whatever was going to follow you.

You had ended up at a small hunting village, and they took you in as their own. Over your teen years, you worked hard at helping those who raised you, and when the time came for you to pick if you wanted to work in the fields or become a cadet, you realized you wanted to join the Survey Corps to search for answers.

Erwin had questioned you once you graduated at the top of your class, asking about your background and why there were no files on your birth. You explained to him your situation and story, and he listened with open ears.

That day you told him everything you knew about Marley. From how grocery stores worked, to how Eldians were persecuted. To how there were “titan shifters” that could willingly control titans that had certain abilities.

Erwin accepted you into the Corps no problem after that, you were deadly when it came to butchering the pure titans that harmed your squad and friends. He kept you close as an advisor like Hange, Levi, and Mike, as you had an outsider’s perspective on things.

Your squad comes running up to you puffing, and you are pulled out of your thoughts as you realize your body ached from the mindless plank you had held yourself in. You get up and dismiss them for lunch, mind still full of thoughts of the boy who had been your childhood best friend.

The day drags on slowly, after training you completed paperwork in your office for a few hours. When the bell from the cantina finally rang for dinner, you set your pen down and left your office with a purpose in your step.

You grabbed a plate of whatever the chefs were cooking that night before joining Mike and Nanaba at a table. They were deep into a conversation about the Dream Titan when you sat down.

“I’m telling you, Mike, it’s got to be someone within the Corps, how else could they affect all of us like that?”, Nanaba asks before she takes a bite of her bread. You ponder what she says as you eat, thoughts of this mysterious Dream Titan floating through your mind.

You, Mike, and Nanaba discuss the Dream Titan for an hour before you excuse yourself. You walk back to your bedroom slowly, thinking about what you were going to dream that night, and if it was going to be another memory.

Deep in the woods, Zeke sat on a log around a small campfire, a book held in his lap. A dark-haired male sat in front of him, meditating.

“You know, you should try this out before we begin our first attempt tonight,” the man said, eyes remaining shut as he folded his legs.

Zeke just huffed and said, “I think I’ll stick to my book, thanks.” The dark-haired man just smiled grimly before muttering soft phrases under his breath.

The words were of an ancient language, one that only the Dream Titan could know. The knowledge of these chants was passed down from one Dream Titan to the next, and to any outsider, the words sounded like gibberish.

Zeke sets down his book reluctantly before joining the man on the forest floor. He crossed his legs before placing his hands in his lap, grey eyes fluttering closed.

Remember your goal, the man’s voice rings inside of Zeke’s head. You need to kill the girl because she holds valued information regarding the titan shifters.

Zeke allows himself to be swept into a dark place, a holding chamber in someone’s mind. The man’s voice sounds again, She is not asleep yet, so you are in her subconscious right now. Whenever she falls asleep, the darkness will become light. I must leave you now so I can conserve my energy long enough for you to kill her.

Zeke sighs and sits down in the darkness, allowing himself to remember the girl he was ordered to murder.

Y/n. His childhood best friend. The girl he would play ball with in the streets every day for an hour before his mother would scold him for tiring you out. The one who would help him study for a hard test in school when he was struggling to remember every detail from his workbook.

You were always there for him, and now he had to kill you. He couldn’t even imagine what you looked like now. You had been pretty as a young girl, but you would be a grown woman now.

Suddenly, light starts to pour in from in front of where Zeke was sitting. A scene he was all too familiar with plays out in front of him. It was a memory, one he remembers vividly because it was the last day he saw you before you disappeared forever.

A younger version of himself sat on the riverbed with a younger version of you next to him. You both had your feet dipped in the cool water, the hot summer day in Marley pounding down on the two younger silhouettes.

Young Zeke had an arm wrapped around the shoulders of the young version of you, holding you close so you wouldn’t fall in. Zeke smiled at the two kids softly before realizing someone was near him.

There you were, the older and present version of you. You were sitting next to a tree behind the two kids, watching them fondly as you remembered the memory. Zeke realizes this is the moment to strike, and he lifts his hand to bite down when he hears the older version of you’s thoughts in his head.

I remember this. Poor Zeke, I probably left him with so many questions following that day. Gosh, I hope he’s doing well. He probably found a nice girl to settle down with, probably has a kid or two. Who knows, maybe he’s a baseball player now. He always talked about it back then.

His hand slowly lowers from his mouth as he listens, his lips staying parted open at your thoughts. Zeke doesn’t hear any more thoughts in his head, but the younger version of you begins to talk.

“You know, Zee Zee, you are my best friend,” the younger you says. “No one else wants to be my friend, but you’ve always stuck by my side. Thank you, Zee Zee.”

The younger him turns to look at the younger you, and then wraps his second arm around the little girl’s torso. “Of course, Y/n/n, who else would I play catch with?” young Zeke asks as young you hugs him back, little arms holding onto him tight so she didn’t fall into the water.

He chuckles silently to himself as he remembers the awful nicknames you had for each other.

Oh, if I could be Zee Zee again for one day. I would have told her how I really felt, even if it was just a school crush.

The older version of you freezes as you hear a male’s voice in your head, the tempo of the words familiar, although you didn’t recognize the deep tone of it. You glance to your left and right, but you don’t see anyone but the two kids in front of you.

Zeke ducks behind the nearest tree to him, back pressing up against the rough bark as he realizes you could hear him.

Wait, can you hear me? Zeke thinks as he tries to calm his breathing down. He brings one hand up near his mouth to get ready to transform if he needs to.

Your eyes continue to look around when you hear his voice again. Yes, you think as you stand up, I can hear you. And you can hear me?

Zeke takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. He couldn’t believe it. He was in your dream, talking to you. Thinking to you? It didn’t matter. After all of these years, he was communicating with you.

Yes, I can hear you. What are you doing here? he asks, eyes reopening to look around the tree to see if you could spot him.

I could ask you the same thing, this is my dream, after all, you think before smirking. Zeke? Is it really you?

Zeke’s eyes widen as he hears footsteps approaching him, but they weren’t loud. A short, (color) haired girl appears beside him, large (colored) eyes blinking up at him slowly.

“Zee Zee, when did you get so tall?” the little girl asks, a small hand reaching out toward him. Zeke’s mind flashes to the memory you had dreamt of the night before when you had played ball with him as a kid.

“Are you Y/n/n?” he asks back as he crouches down, still on guard for your adult figure to appear any second. The little girl grabs a hold of Zeke’s hand from in front of his face and nods, hair tousling at her sharp movements.

Zeke’s breath catches in his throat as he gazes upon the girl in front of him. His eyes blink rapidly a few times to make sure he was seeing things correctly.

“You look just like you did on the day before you left me,” he whispers, his larger hand tightening its grip on the smaller girls. The young girl smiles and gives him a confused look before saying, “What are you talking about Zee Zee? I’m not going anywhere.”

The little girl suddenly disappears, and Zeke rocks forward with the absence of younger you. He glances around wildly, trying to find the frame of the young girl.

“Y/n?! Where are you? Where did you go?” he shouts, and this catches the attention of adult you. The shout came from just behind you, and as your eyes return to the riverbed one last time, you are met with the still image of young Zeke hugging young you.

A wistful smile graces your lips as you turn back to the shouts you had heard from the male voice. You scan the small meadow and forest around you, you could faintly hear the sounds from the busy city, but your focus was on the deep call you had heard.

Where are you at, Zeke? You think as you start to wander around, hands brushing the small bits of dirt from your legs.

Zeke’s calls cease at the sound of your voice again, your soft tone echoing through the confines of his head. He opens his mouth to call out again, but right as he goes to speak, he sees you.

Your figure becomes hidden by a tree as you pass it, but you soon reappear, (colored) eyes searching around you assertively.

Look straight ahead, Zeke thinks, and he draws himself up to his full height as your eyes wander around. After a moment of searching, your eyes lock onto his muscular figure and your feet stop moving.

Neither of you says anything while you gaze at the other, taking in your adult forms with shock lacing your features. Your feet start moving again as you whisper, “Zeke, is that really you? What are you doing here? How am I talking to you?”

Zeke could barely think as he gazed upon you. You had grown up and filled out so much, you were stunning. You were talking to him, after all this time.

“I- it is me, Y/n,” he stutters out before regaining his cool, “I’m here under the influence of the Dream Titan. I am manifested into your subconscious while he guards over my physical body.”

Your eyes narrow in confusion at his words, and then you take a step back when you see the red armband around his arm. Betrayal and panic flush through your body as you shy away from him.

Zeke reaches out for you, but you flinch away and snap, “You’re here to hurt me, aren’t you? You’re a Warrior, you work for Marley.” Your eyes stay slanted toward him, distrust written all over your tense features.

Zeke lets a hefty sigh leave his lips before nodding, “I was sent here to kill you, Y/n. They wanted me to infiltrate your dream and take you out because of your knowledge of Marley. But that memory, us as kids. I couldn’t do it.”

He looks down at his feet and mumbles, “I never understood why you left me all those years ago, Y/n. I was so heartbroken when you disappeared without a trace. I loved you, you know.”

A gasp catches in your throat at his words, and you slowly start to lower your guard as you watch him. “That memory was the last day I had with you, Zeke. You were my best friend,” you whisper to him, suddenly feeling your years of built up emotion rising to the surface.

Zeke takes a small step toward you, not to be threatening, as his features soften when he sees a lone tear trail down your cheek. “I still love you, after all this time, Y/n/n,” he whispers back to you. “I will try to find you when you wake up, and explain to you everything that is happening.”

You give him an affirmative nod and then you allow a small smile to slide across your lips before you giggle, “You know, you turned out to be pretty cute. I can’t believe you managed to grow a beard though.”

Zeke chuckles along with you at your uplifting comment before letting his eyes scan your body quickly. He clears his throat and then says, “You know Y/n, you turned out even more gorgeous than I ever imagined. I can’t wait to see you in person.”

Your smile is the last thing Zeke sees before you start to fade into black. He’s left alone in the darkness for a minute before the forest surrounds his features again. The dark haired man says nothing as Zeke regains feeling in his hands and feet, fingers clenching as they tingle slightly.

“I knew you wouldn’t be able to do it. Not with the dream I sent her last night and the one I gifted her tonight,” the dark haired man said with a kind smile on his face.

Zeke looks at him in confusion and goes to ask him what he means, but the dark haired man stands up and transforms into his titan without a single word. Zeke is left sitting around the small campfire while the dark colored titan wanders away.

Zeke calls after him, “Where are you going? Will I ever see Y/n?!”

His only response is the soft rustling of leaves, the gentle crackling of the fire, and the sound of heavy footsteps fading away into the dark of the night.

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