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titan-fodder · 3 years

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Prima Vista Part III

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Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x fem!reader

Warnings: a lot of feelings, handcuffs, testosterone, quite a bit of sex, one surprise kiss (cause Erwin is a privileged dick), parents, domesticity A/N: I apparently did not write an author’s note for this originally, but uh, this is one of my favorite sections of the whole fic, so.

Mike uses the rest of the break to relax, to get his head on straight so that when he gets back on campus he won’t be overbearing. He knows that’s the last thing you want from him.

You text back and forth a few times a day, but most of it is dumb shit, and the conversation dies off pretty quickly—either Mike not knowing how to respond or you just growing bored.

He busies himself by spending time with his parents and playing with Scout who eats up all the attention. Family comes over for Christmas, and his mom and aunt get into an argument. It’s nothing new.

He’s happy to get back to the school and back in classes just to stimulate his brain. More than that, he’s happy to see you again. Even if it means the two of you go back to friend-only status.

Things are awkward between him and Erwin, though. It isn’t the first time they’ve had a hiccup in their friendship, but this one has really rubbed Mike the wrong way. Erwin tries to apologize a few more times, but every time he does, all Mike can manage is an unconvincing, “It’s fine,” which the other man obviously doesn’t buy.

He tries not to be possessive when you start coming to the house again, but it’s fucking hard whenever he has to watch you and Erwin talk and joke around. Mike figured you’d be at least a little annoyed that he’d just walked in on the two of you like that, but you act like it never happened.

Eventually, Mike has to ask about it, just can’t help himself. “Aren’t you, like, even a little mad that he did that? Don’t you think it was fucked up?”

You’re sitting on Mike’s bed, a controller in your hand as you play Mario Kart, sound a little distracted when you respond, “I mean, yeah, it was fucked up, but I never really expected anything more from him.”

“What do you mean?”

You look at him from the corner of your eyes before staring at the screen again. “Erwin is a cocky motherfucker. I’ve seen the way he gets the girls on campus, probably thinks he can charm all of them which means he probably thinks he’s entitled to all of them. Us.”

“Are you calling him a predator?”

You shrug your shoulders. “I don’t think he’d ever, like, rape anyone. He at least has enough class and common sense not to do that. But I think… He doesn’t care who he goes after. Single girls, girls in relationships, happy girls, damaged girls. He just has a one track mind when it comes to sex. That’s what I’ve gathered anyway.”

Laying back on his bed, Mike laces his fingers behind his head and thinks on what you’ve said. “That just sounds like a drawn out way of saying he’s a flirt.”

“A massive flirt. Without any real care about whose feelings he hurts in the process.”

“Sounds about right.”

“I don’t appreciate it,” you sigh, “But he’s your best friend, so I’m willing to put up with some shit from him.”

“Even him perving on you?”

“Not the first time it’s happened to me, probably won’t be the last. He’s curious, I can tell.”

Mike snorts and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, he is.”

You stay quiet for several seconds, toggling over to another track on the game, then ask, “That make you uncomfortable?”

Blinking up at the ceiling, Mike wonders what the right answer to this is. He doesn’t want to scare you away, but he doubts he’ll be able to act as aloof as you do.

“A little.”

You hum, nodding in a thoughtful manner before suggesting, “I think we can keep hooking up through this semester.”

Mike sits up on his elbow, looks at you with high eyebrows. “Wait, really?” He sounds too excited, he knows.

“Yeah. I have mostly easy classes, or really, I have interesting ones which makes studying for them easier. Plus, it might teach Erwin a lesson.”

He falls back flat, scoffing. “I don’t want you to fuck me to prove a point to Erwin. I want you to fuck me because you want to.”

The game music stops when you pause it, and then you’re straddling Mike, hands on his chest as you smirk at him.

“Don’t let this go to your head, Zacharias, but no one has ever fucked me the way you do.”

Mike tries not to grin, triumph blooming inside of him, and he grips your hips a little too tightly. “Oh, that’s definitely going to my head.”

You grind your covered pussy over his denim-clad cock, and Mike feels all his blood flow south.

Laughing, you lean down to ghost your lips over his and murmur, “Both heads, apparently.”

That day, the two of you start a routine that leaves Mike falling harder and harder with every passing day.

“Come on, please just be my date,” Mike begs, thinks about getting to his knees if it’ll help convince you.

“Why?” You ask, looking up from your textbook.

You and Mike are sitting in the library—you studying, him bothering you. “I’m honestly so tired of parties at this point.

“It’s not like the big parties we throw, though,” he tells you. “It’s just the brothers and their girlfriends.”

“That makes it even worse,” you push one little laugh through your nose. “What makes you think I wanna spend an entire night with a bunch of frat boys and their matching sorority girls?”

Mike rolls his eyes. “They’re not all sorority girls, just like, eighty-five percent of them.”

Your head lolls, an expression that reads nothing but apathy aimed at Mike, and he gives you a hopeful smile and adds, “On the bright side, we get to stay together all night…?”

“Oh god, it's a cuff party, isn't it?"

All he can do at this point is beg because the more he explains it, the more he realizes how not appealing this is to you. “Please.”

Sitting back in your chair, you cross your arms over your chest and puff your cheeks out as you exhale heavily. “What’s in it for me?”

Fuck yes. Half the battle is won.

“Uhh,” obviously sex is the first thing that comes to Mike’s mind, so the first offer he makes is, “I’ll go down on you ‘til you cry.”

You snort. “Try again.”

“Fuck you ‘til you pass out?”

“Jesus—why do you want to hurt me? Try again. Third time’s a charm.”

Mike brainstorms for a solid thirty seconds, thinks about what you’ve mentioned to him over the past couple of weeks, sex and school and—

“I’ll help you study for your geochemistry exam.”

You finally look interested. “I’d actually really appreciate that. You took the course?”

“Yeah, environmental geochemistry was sort of my jam last year. Final grade was a ninety-seven.”

“Holy shit.”

Mike shoots you a satisfied smile, but before you can tell him to wipe it from his face, he asks, “So, you’re in?”

“I guess.”

This is how you both end up in the frat house handcuffed together. No one seems to be surprised at the fact that you’ve come with him, all the brothers used to you hanging around the frat house.

Most couples are walking around holding hands just because it takes some of the pressure off of everyone's wrists, but Mike doesn't dare try it with you. Too cute. Too comfortable.

These types of get togethers are Mike's favorite, though, always more relaxed than the open parties. There’s still drinking and music, but the energy is different since it’s a tighter knit group.

It takes about an hour for Erwin and his date to approach the two of you, fingers laced together, drinks in their free hands.

“Looking good,” Erwin greets with a smile. "Very… trapped."

“Yeah, you too,” Mike says, trying to ignore the subtext of Erwin's comment.

Blue eyes flick to you, and you’re questioned, “How’d he end up talking you into this?”

You don’t miss a beat as you reply cooly, “Bribed me with sex and study help.”

“Ah, of course he did.”

Mike’s eyes narrow, but he doesn’t say anything, just reaches his pinky out to link with yours, a subtle claim. When you rest your head on his arm, he looks down at you and smirks.

“Anyway,” Erwin pushes on. “You remember Maddie, don’t you?”

Mike lies, “Yeah. How are you?”

The girl’s voice reminds him of who she is, “Well. How are you, Mike?” It’s a little high pitched and nasally with a northern accent. He especially remembers what she sounded like moaning for Erwin through the wall, obnoxious but Mike can’t really judge since he’s subjected the rest of the house to the same thing once or twice (or a dozen times) before.

“Glad to hear it.”

The group stands together for a few more awkward seconds before Erwin clears his throat and asks his date, “Another drink?” then makes his exit.

“You have got to get over this grudge, dude,” you take your head from his shoulder, and Mike immediately misses the warmth. “Like, it’s cute that you’re trying to defend my honor or whatever, but it’s time to move on. You guys are friends. Just talk it out.”

He sucks his teeth, almost tells you about the way he and Erwin had nearly thrown punches at the ranch house, the way the blond had basically admitted to wanting to try you out, but Mike decides against it, doesn’t want to talk too much shit only to end up making up with him.

“Guys don’t really talk it out. We usually fight it out.”

“That’s fucking primitive. You should learn to communicate like mature humans.”

“Probably,” Mike hums. “But not right now.”

Being connected to each other means every activity is a partner activity. The most interesting is playing beer pong against Nile and his on-again off-again girlfriend, Marie, house rule for the night being whoever is throwing has to use their cuffed hand. It’s like a twisted three-legged race and requires an amount of teamwork and coordination Mike has never had to deal with before.

It’s also the first time he manages to beat Nile. Mike had no doubt that the other man would have crushed you by himself, but it turns out the actual couple does not work together very well. All their shots are clumsy, and Nile gets frustrated right off the bat which only makes things worse. Meanwhile, you and Mike come up with a strategy after the first terrible throw and use it for the rest of the game.

You’re both challenged by a few other teams and end up winning every time which has Mike feeling smug about the victories and giddy at how in-tune the two of you are. Gelgar even tells you both, “You guys are good together,” which makes Mike cough as you wave him off.

You drink a little more, converse a little more, and then—as always—end up in Mike’s bedroom.

“You want me to get the key and take these off?” He asks between kisses.

You smile into him, let out a little laugh and play, “You don’t think it’d be kinda fun to fuck with ‘em on?”

“It’ll be harder,” Mike snorts. “But, we can. Won’t be able to take shirts off, though.”

“Good thing we just need to take our pants off.”

It’s clumsy and silly, and you both tug in opposite directions more than a few times. Mike laces his fingers with yours when he goes down on you, relishing in the way you arch off his bed and squeeze his hand. On the floor, you give him head in the same fashion, and fuck, Mike can hardly focus on you sucking him off while your fingers are woven together, even if it is just for the sake of convenience.

He fucks you from behind that night, your face buried in his pillow as he’s buried in you. Both of your arms are stretched behind your back, held at the wrists by Mike’s much, much larger hand. He uses his free one to grip your hip, pushing and pulling you on his cock to his heart’s desire.

You’re so pretty, damp with sweat and moaning his name when your head is turned only to shove it back into his pillow when he makes you scream. Your dripping cunt opens up for him perfectly, making Mike feel more inebriated than alcohol ever could, but as his balls tighten and that warmth spreads in his gut, he has a single moment of clarity, assess the position he has you in and pants, “Shit, I can’t pull out.” Not without ripping your god damn arm out of socket or fracturing his dick.

“Mmm—fuck, just come inside, come inside me, Mike.”

That alone makes him lose it, shooting a fucking copious amount of cum into your pussy, so much that it drips from your hole and runs down your thighs.

“Fucking C-Christ,” he laughs a little hysterically, gathering thick white and slipping it back inside you. Transfixed by the way his added finger pushes more of his cum out of you, he asks in a daze, “You on birth control?”

“Yeah,” you answer in a breathy voice.

Mike hums. “Good. Just gonna sit here for a while then.”

You let out a whimper that turns to a whine when he rubs his slick finger over your clit. Twitching around him, you tease, “F-finger painting again?”

He chuckles, “You know it.”

Honestly, if he could cover you in cum, he would—admire your body painted in white strings, watch it drip down your ribs and thighs. If Mike hadn’t just gotten off, he would be hard again at the mere thought, but for now his focus is rubbing your little clit. Still face down, you spread your legs more and more, and Mike has to curl over you, breathing heavily on your neck as you wriggle and buck, overstimulating him as he keeps his cock nestled inside of you.

He groans just as loud as you do as you start pulsing around him, pussy clenching in a way that actually pulls a few more drops of cum from Mike, then you both pant for a little while until Mike straightens up and pulls you with him, your back to his chest as you hang your head.

“You good?” He questions, brushing his lips over your neck as lightly as possible.

“Yeah,” you tell him. “Just… Full.”

Mike’s body heats all over again as he rests his forehead on your uppermost vertebrae. “Can’t just say stuff like that,” he warns, sinking his teeth into your shoulder.

“Hmm.” He can see the little smile on your face without even looking up. “You did offer to fuck me until I pass out.”

“I have a refractory period, you know.”

You glance over your shoulder, and now Mike gets a good look at your smirk and twinkling eyes. “I can wait.”

Both of you emerge from the room in the early hours of the morning, still stuck together as you quietly make your way downstairs to find the key to the handcuffs. You’re wearing a pair of Mike’s gym shorts, the mesh falling far past your knees and barely staying up around your waist. He knows you’re still messy and can tell by the way you’re walking that you’re sore, but he has every intention of cleaning you up and taking care of all your aches and pains in the shower.

It’s party after god damn party with classes and studying and fucking in between. You have never had this much sex in your life, but you’re not complaining. It takes the edge off, and Mike isn’t the worst company. Far from it, actually. The more you get to know him, the more he falls into what you think is his real personality.

The brash frat boy is a front, you come to find out, a mask to fit in with everyone else, one he wears very well.

But, when it’s just the two of you in his room playing video games or watching TV, he actually relaxes, gets quieter and much more reflective. The pastels and khakis and Hawaiian shirts stay hung up in his closet, both of you lounging in t-shirts and joggers more often than not.

He more or less tutors you in geochemistry, and between that and all the nerd shit in his room, you realize… Mike is kind of extremely smart. And, it’s kind of extremely hot.

“I still don’t understand why you hide it,” you tell him one afternoon as you watch him play Ocarina of Time.

He shrugs, green eyes wide and focused on the screen, gives you the same answer he did last semester when you’d asked a similar question: “People are more interested in other things.”

“So you adopted the obnoxious frat boy persona?”

“I guess. It makes the college experience a lot easier.”

You cock your head to the side, genuinely curious when you ask, “Doesn’t it wear you out? Seems like you’re just an introvert in hiding.”

Mike laughs, pauses the game, and looks at you. “It used to. Some days it still does. But, it’s easier than taking shit from the guys.”

Squinting at him, you mumble, “I will beat up anyone who gives you shit about being a nerd.”

It makes him laugh. Loudly. And, you see a certain curiosity glimmering in his eyes, unasked questions—probably something along the lines of when you started caring and getting protective over him.

You’re not. Not exactly. You just don’t like the idea of anyone giving him a hard time.

“No offense, babe, but I don’t know how much damage you could inflict on anyone. You’re, like, two feet tall.”

You straighten up, chest puffing up as you pull your fists up to your chin and rock back and forth like a Street Fighter character. “You wanna fuckin’ go, Zacharias? I’ll show you how much damage I can inflict.”

He grins in that boyish way that always makes you look away. It’s too cute and too charming and makes you feel too many things.

Mike hangs his long legs over the side of the bed and pulls you on top of him with no problem whatsoever. You’re eye level with him now, heart beating too fast as you hold his shoulders, eyes flicking to his lips.

“We can go if you want. We can do whatever you want.”

He has feelings for you. You know he does, can see it in his eyes, can feel it in the way he fucks you, and you really should cut things off, but… You don’t want to. He’s the most tolerable person you’ve met on campus, much less annoying than Hitch. You have things in common and joke around until you’re both rolling in laughter. And, of course, the sex is incredible.

It’s just casual, you keep telling yourself. Mike is smart enough not to push things. He knows better, knows you’ll just turn him down, and though it’s hard to admit, that wouldn’t just hurt him; it’d hurt you too.

In his lap now, you don’t encourage him to take things further, mostly because you’re still sore from the night before, and he understands that. Instead, you lock your arms around his neck and change the subject to something that’s still bothering you even after several weeks.

“Have you and Erwin made up yet?”

Mike makes a face, answers, “Not exactly.”

“The hell does that mean?”

“It means we’re talking a little more, but it’s always short conversations and the problem still hasn’t been addressed.”

You let out a little, “Ugh,” then state, “You guys are impossible.”

It really doesn’t make sense that he’s so upset about it, especially since you’ve gotten over it. It was a shitty thing for Erwin to do—walking in like that—but you don’t think it’s anything to end a friendship over.

And, with that thought in mind, you spend the rest of the afternoon devising a plan. It’s not in your nature to meddle, but it seems, in this case, you’re gonna have to.

Mike is in his fancy ecology class when you walk into the Pike house, nodding at everyone in the den as you step further inside. You learned a few months ago that it’s much safer to keep your shoes on, less jarring to step on a sticky floor the first years didn’t do a good job cleaning.

Nile is reclining sideways on the couch with Marie between his legs, an action movie playing on the ridiculously big TV mounted on the wall.

“Is Erwin here?” You ask.

Nile looks at you with a frown, one that’s completely warranted since you’ve literally never asked this before.

“Uh, yeah.” He points up at the ceiling. “In his room.”

“Cool, thanks.”

“You know which one it is?”

Squeezing one eye shut, you’re honest when you tell him, “I think so.”

The way Marie is quick to pipe up, “Second furthest to the left, right next to the bathroom,” is very amusing, especially when Nile clicks his tongue, clearly irritated.

You make your way upstairs, following Marie’s directions, then take a deep breath before knocking on Erwin’s door, clueless as to what his lock code might be.

It takes a few seconds, but the door opens, revealing a very tired-looking Erwin. His eyes widen a bit when he sees you, craning his neck back like he’s shocked that you’re standing outside of his room. That’s fair.

“Uh, hey?”

“Hey,” you greet shortly. “Can we talk for a sec?”

Erwin blinks a few times then steps to the side, murmuring, “Yeah, of course.”

His space is very different from Mike’s, more organized, framed pictures, bed completely made. Even his desk is clean, papers and books all stacked neatly on one side of his open laptop.

“Studying?” You question.

“Yeah. Would you like to sit down?” His voice is deep—not as deep as Mike’s—and always so proper, like he spent his childhood in country clubs (he did).

“Not really,” you answer without any hesitation.

Unsurprisingly, Erwin leans against his desk instead of taking a seat himself, arms on either side, fingers hanging off the edge of the polished wood. It makes the muscles in his forearms become more prominent, veins popping against his skin. You have to give it to him, it’s a good move.

“So, what’s going on?”

Running your tongue over your teeth, you recall what you planned to say—cut to the chase, stay firm, don’t get caught up in any of his tricks.

“You need to make up with Mike.”

Erwin immediately snorts. “You don’t think I’ve tried?”

“Half-assed apologies aren’t gonna work, dude. Actually sit down with him and hash things out.”

“Yeeeah,” he drawls. “That didn’t work very well the first time.”

“Maybe try again? You guys are, like, best friends.”

“Levi is my best friend,” Erwin corrects, “And, I’m pretty sure that you’re Mike’s at this point.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true,” he smirks.

You wave him off, getting back to your original point. “At the very least, you guys should make up just because you have to live in the same house.”

Erwin crosses his arms over his chest, blue eyes deviating upward as if he’s thinking hard. You doubt he is.

“So, you’re not mad about what happened?” He asks after a few seconds.

You're blunt when you respond, “It was a shitty thing to do. Wouldn’t advise trying it with anyone else, but honestly, I’m not super surprised you’d pull something like that.”

His facial expression turns to one of true offense, blond eyebrows furrowing enough for a little wrinkle to form between them. “Excuse me?”

You take a step toward him, almost jab a finger in his chest but resist. “No no no. You don’t get to be pissed. You’re the one who fucked up here. I’m just telling you the truth.”

Eyes narrowing, he pushes himself off the desk, standing to his full height to loom over you. It’s obviously an intimidation tactic, one he’s probably used before on many people, and it makes your blood boil.

In a futile attempt to make yourself look bigger, you straighten your spine and tilt your head to look up at him, lips pursed, eyes narrow. You remember what Mike said about you being too small to hurt anyone, but you can be scrappy. You’re not above slapping a face or kneeing someone in the balls.

Erwin peers down at you, jaw setting for a moment as he really studies you, then breaks into an infuriating smile.

“You’re cute, you know that?” He moves to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, but you swat his hand away.

“Jesus, what is wrong with you?”

This close to him, seeing the way he acts behind closed doors, you wonder how Mike ever even got close with him. They’re so incredibly different. For the last semester and a half, you've only known Erwin as Mike's somewhat obnoxious, spoiled friend. Now, it seems he's showing his true colors.

“Nothing’s wrong. In fact, I’m feeling pretty great right now.”

Oh, you wanna hit him. You wanna hit him so badly, but honestly, Erwin kind of seems like the type to call the fucking police if you did.

“You don’t have any reason whatsoever to be feeling good.”

He’s still grinning, eyes bright and wide as his pupils dilate.

Are you calling him a predator?

He sure looks like one now, a lion with his sights set on an antelope, and as you stare at him, it dawns on you that this was a bad idea.

“You know what? Nevermind,” you shake your head. “You don’t deserve to be Mike’s friend anyway.”

The laugh that pours from his lips is not at all humorous. His voice drops when he challenges, “You think so?”

You need to leave, need to get out of here before this argument goes any further, but as you make a move toward the closed door, he slides in front of you. You shouldn’t have walked so far into his room.

“Erwin,” you grit through your teeth. “Don’t do this.”

“Just tell me—because I need to know—” he breathes, still staring down at you with that unnerving gaze. “What does Mike have that you like so much?”

Both your hands flex by your sides. There are so many ways to answer this question, all of which will evoke a different response.

But being who you are, you speak before you think, spitting the first thing that comes to mind: "You want me to make you a list, Smith? 'Cause I sure fucking can."

He makes a little circle with his hand, a 'go on' motion, and prompts, "Please, enlighten me."

And, so you do.

"Warmth, sincerity, class, depth, understanding—"

"So, it isn't just about the sex," he cuts you off, sounding more sure than curious.

You pinch the bridge of your nose, tired of these god damn frat boys and their obsession with getting their dicks wet.

"I mean, it started out that way—not that it's any of your business."

"I can give you more, you know. Satisfy you better—"

"Please shut the fuck up," you beg, getting madder by the second. The confidence, the entitlement, is making you sick.

"You don't believe me?" He steps toward you again, and you back up.

"No, I don't." Because how could he? Whether it's stimulating conversation or sex, there's no way Erwin could compare.

And now you realize just how much you appreciate Mike.

Erwin is closing the distance between you, moving slowly but purposefully. "This is how it started with you and him, right? You made him chase you?"

"Get out of my way," you demand, trying to shoulder past him—

And, you should have seen it coming, should have been prepared for the way he grabs you, strong hand closing around your upper arm to pull you to his body. Thick fingers tangle in your hair to pull your head back, face tilted up, and all you can really do is shove at his chest with your free hand, growling in your throat as Erwin crushes his lips against yours.

Adrenaline courses through your body. You try to shake the hand on your head, try to jerk your arm from his grip, but he's too fucking strong, and it terrifies you.

Your voice is muffled as you plead, "Er—mmf—shtp—"

You lift your hand higher and manage to hit him just beside his eye with the side of your palm, and it makes him break the "kiss" (you refuse to actually call it that).

He breathes a heavy, "Just let me—"

"No." You push his chest again, and he lets go of your arm. Quickly wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you tell him, "You're a shitty friend and a little fucked in the head, but you're not low enough to force yourself on someone," you pant, shaking with nerves and rage, "So don't."

Hopefully, you're not giving him too much credit. Despite the overflowing fury and fear, you still think there's a little hope for him. Not with you, of course, just in general.

He stares at you, expression changing from confusion to understanding to regret, and before you know it, he's scrubbing his hands down his face and muttering, "Fuck, I'm sorry. You're right I—I got carried away. I've been jealous of Mike and curious and—"

"Why?" You blurt because you do not get it. "Both of you are, like, top athletes and in a fraternity, could get literally anyone you wanted, so what is it? Is it because I'm a nobody? Because you're bored of the sorority girls? Am I the one chick on your list you haven't screwed?"

"I… I don't know. You just—"

"Is it because Mike has a toy he doesn't wanna share?"

"Maybe." Erwin is frowning again, like he's stumped. He doesn't even know what he's feeling. It's honestly a little pathetic.

"Well, pick someone else. I know you have Maddie wrapped around your finger, so take advantage of that or whatever. Just leave me out of it."

Ocean eyes are wide and troubled. He really does look remorseful, but that doesn't change what he just fucking did. God, you're disgusted. And a little hurt.

"Don't ever try that shit on me again—or anyone else—'cause I swear to God, I will break your fucking nose."

"Yeah, okay," he nods.

You go to walk past him again, voice loud and unforgiving when you tell him, "Move," and then you're out of his room, slamming the door, and getting as far from Pike house as possible.

That did not go the way you had planned it to, but you should have been ready for the worst case scenario. That's on you, you guess.

Because Erwin Smith may not be a predator by definition, but he's certainly something—something you want to stay away from.

"Why are you acting weird?" Mike's voice pulls you from your empty head, and you take your eyes off the loose string of your hoodie—his hoodie—and look up at him.

"What are you talking about? 'm not acting weird."

He moves from his place at the edge of his bed and crawls to prop himself up next to you on his pillows.

"Uh, yeah you are. Have been for the past week or so."

He isn't wrong. You've kept to yourself a little more since your "conversation" with Erwin. It had just been so uncomfortable and jarring, and you don't want to tell Mike because you know he'll just get pissed all over again which would be very annoying since he and Erwin finally made up. Just like you wanted them to.

Except now you know Erwin a little better, and you're not sure you want him having any more influence over Mike.

Rubbing your face, you shrug and easily lie, "I've just been tired."

And, of course, Mike is too smart for that.

"Tired? That's the go-to answer for anyone who actually feels shitty."

"I mean, yeah, but I'm actually tired in this case." It isn't a complete lie considering how fucking late he kept you up last night.

Mike hums. "Wanna take a nap before the party?"

The acid in your stomach churns. The party. The one you do not have any desire to go to. The one that will push you over the ledge of annoyance and into the realm of genuine discomfort. You don't want to go. You don't want to hang out. You don't want to see Erwin.

Sliding your legs under the covers, you lay down in Mike's bed, turning on your side so that your back is facing him. You've told him on numerous occasions that you don't have any interest in certain events, but he always talks you into going to them anyway. So, what'll be different this time? You're just gonna end up downstairs huddled in a corner refusing to drink as your eyes scan over everyone, ready to make a quick exit if you have to.

Mike settles in closer behind you, the heat of his chest pouring across your back, and you can feel the pillow dip when he rests his head on it. He waits for a while before letting his arm fall over your waist. It makes you squeeze your eyes shut, makes something crawl into your throat, trying to scratch its way out.

"I really don't wanna go tonight," you murmur.

You expect some form of protest, a convincing argument in the form of a well thought out fucking speech while he kisses down the back of your neck, but instead, a low rumble of, "Okay," spills from his mouth, and you hate how it makes you feel—how grateful you are for him.

He's getting to know you. Has gotten to know you after spending so much time together. He can read your ups and downs now, can tell when you're joking or serious, take the hint when you want him with a single look (that one might be the most irritating), but it just goes to show how perceptive he is, how much of himself he's been hiding while in college.

The shallow jock you thought you knew is no comparison for this.

"Spring break's coming up," he speaks into your hair, inhaling deeply and whispering to himself, "Citrus kills me," like you can't hear him.

You pretend not to because it's soft and personal and would probably make him adorably self-conscious, and you can't deal with Mike blushing.

"Yeah, it is. Couple more weeks."

"What're your plans?"

You shrug against him, trying not to get too wrapped up in the way his body feels over yours, longer legs tangling between yours, his draped hand nearly covering your entire stomach, his stubble scratching your neck and cheek.

When did you get this close? When did you decide it was okay to be this intimate? This is what couples do. This is comfort.

And, you didn't think you needed it, but fuck—

"Nothing, really. Go see Mom, I guess."

"Come stay with me," he says quickly. "Just for a few days."

You wriggle to turn on your back and frown up at him as a myriad of questions fill your mind.

Mike takes a deep breath, somehow reading every one of them.

"I know that sounds like a 'come meet my parents' thing, but I promise it's not. I just thought it'd be cool to hang out not at school and not at a party. Plus," he shows a broad grin. "You can meet Scout."

"Mm, tempting," you laugh. "I do like dogs."

"And, you'll love her! She's so sweet and so goofy and—"

"I'll think about it," you stop him.

Mike bites his lip, looking hopeful, but tries to play it off with a, "Okay, cool," then leans down to kiss you as if you've already said yes.

Honestly, you have, just not out loud. He had you at 'hanging out'.

Studying sucks. Midterms suck. Avoiding parties, however, does not suck. Mike still goes to most of them, kind of has to considering they're usually thrown at the PKA house, but sometimes he just shows his face then comes to your dorm. You try to convince him to stay, hang out with his friends, but he usually just shrugs and digs through your stash of movies until he finds something he wants to watch.

It's fine with you, makes passing geochem a lot fucking easier, but it also means little sleep and a perpetual soreness between your legs.

You just… Can't get enough of each other. And, you think that's how it's always been since that first party. Afterward, you had denied him in the courtyard and then broke as soon as he got into your room to get his stupid shirt. Denied him at the bar then broke as soon as he leaned over you at the pool table. Denied him at the after-game party and broke after… Seeing his room? Watching movies? Acting like friends for the first time? Whatever it is, you're always falling into bed together, some kind of unstoppable force against your obviously very movable object.

It's something you think about too much now, always somewhere in the back of your head. At this point, you should probably just be with him, don't know who you're kidding with that lie about focusing on school (your grades have never been better actually), but you're scared. That's really what's been hard to admit to yourself, not the fact that you're attracted to him or the fact that your irritation has bloomed into genuine fondness and admiration. It's that's you're fucking terrified. You can feel it in your bones.

Don't get too attached because people leave. All the time. People let you down. People disappoint.

You don't want Mike to disappoint you, so you won't give him the chance to.

Of course, all of that is easier said than done as you look over at him in the Wrangler, one huge hand pn the wheel as his other arm hangs out of the open window, catching the wind that batters against it like he's trying to push back. You hate it when he does that, too many horror stories of car crashes that end in traumatic amputations, but it's one of Mike's strange simple pleasures, makes him grin as if it's his head hanging out instead. At his core, Mike Zacharias is just a huge fucking puppy dog.

A dubstep song from too long ago is blasting through his speakers, the vibrations hitting you square in the chest as you bounce your leg and bob your head. It's beautiful outside, winter's bite melting away into sunny springtime days. Some of them still bring a chill to the air, but it doesn't matter since you basically live in one of Mike's hoodies, dark green with the school's lacrosse logo stamped in the middle. It's faded and worn out and far too big on you, but it's quite possibly the most comfortable article of clothing you've acquired.

The drive to his parents' house is a good three hours, but between the playlist he's made (stellar, not that you'd admit it), the road games you play, and the road head you give him ("Oh, Jesus Christ, this isn't safe—this isn't safe—fuck—") you make it there in one piece and in good spirits, though you have take a few drinks of the soda you got at the convenience store to wash the residue of cum out of your mouth before meeting his god damn family.

He grabs both your bags from the backseat, slinging them over his shoulders, then starts up the path to a… surprisingly small home. It isn't a shack by any means, but after what you saw of Erwin's stupid ranch house and some of the pictures and stories Nile and Gelgar have subjected you to, you just kind of figured all of them had ridiculous amounts of money.

Then again, you know Mike got a full ride to college with a sports scholarship, and he rarely talks about his family and their lifestyle aside from Scout and little tales from his childhood—trips to the zoo, the one time he rode a dirt bike and broke his collarbone, he and his dad rescuing an injured bunny from the park.

You should've known back then that you'd get in too deep.

The small garden that lines the house is well-kempt and full of blooming flowers, and the porch is home to a wire table and matching chairs with an unsavory gnome sitting on top.

"What in the world…"

Mike doesn't even glance to see what you're looking at, just opens the screen door and informs you, "That's Leonidas," so casually that it makes you snort and push him into his own house.

It opens up to a living room, long couch, recliner, coffee table and all. A TV sits right in the middle of a beige entertainment center, DVDs stacked on one side, blu-ray discs on the other. It smells clean—like the lemon wipes you use in your dorm—but even stronger than that is the smell of food.

"Must already be cooking," Mike muses, then calls out in a different fucking language that has you turning to him in confusion.

Before you can ask about it, a plump woman a couple inches taller than you comes rushing out of what you assume to be the kitchen. Her graying hair is tied into a loose bun, cheeks rosy from the heat, and she's still in her apron and a single oven mitt.

"Miche, γλυκό μου αγόρι!"

She stops in front of him and reaches up to grab his face, peppering it with little kisses and babbling words you do not understand in the slightest.

Mike is laughing, speaking to her in the same fashion, possibly answering questions or defending himself judging by the way he holds his hands up. You think you have an inkling about why when his mother turns to you, puts her hands on your shoulders to look at you, then pulls you into a tight hug.

You squeeze her right back, rocking to and fro as she does, then look up at Mike from the corner of your eyes in a panic.

What do you do, what is happening, what hasn't he told you?

It’s about this time that a large dog runs into the room and actually jumps into Mike’s arms. He grunts as he hoists Scout up, nuzzling into her beautiful coat as she tries to lick his face.

"Mamá, let her get settled first," Mike laughs from where he’s getting attacked. His mother lets go of you, but it’s only for Mike to set the dog back down, and Scout takes the opportunity to sniff and paw at you. “Be nice,” he warns her, pulling you in front of him and pushing you toward the hallway.

That need to snoop around is ever present as you enter his room, but the much more pressing issue is, "You could've prepared me, ya' know. Given me a little heads up that you're…"

"Greek?" He snorts, wiping his face with the bottom of his shirt. "My last name is Zacharias. That's a pretty good indicator."

"I—..." You pause, pout, then mumble, "I'm not a genealogy expert."

"Obviously not."

He dumps the bags on his bed, a queen size, thank god, because he had told you last week they didn't have a guest room (and had seemed pretty happy about it at the time).

"I'll get mom and dad to speak in English for the next few days."

"I mean," you shake your head. "It's their house. I don't wanna intrude on that. Let 'em do what they're most comfortable with."

He steps over to you, makes his classic move of staring down at you and smoothing his hand over your hair to make you tilt your head up. "That's sweet, but I know they're dying to talk with you, so actually being able to understand what they’re saying is kinda necessary."

Humming, you stand on your tip-toes just as he begins to stoop lower. Before you can meet in a kiss, though, you smirk, "And, just why do they wanna get to know me, Miche? Is that a secret Greek name too?”

He licks his lips, voice husky when he replies, "I've mentioned you a few times--”

“Uh huh,” you smirk, too close for him to actually see.

“And no, I think it’s Hebrew or something.”

You snicker before your mouths meet, breaths grow heavy, and the only time you break apart is so that you can look him in his light eyes and tell him, "By the way, the whole speaking a different language thing you can do?" He grunts, encouraging you to continue. "Very hot."

You feel him smile against you, a self-satisfied, "Yeah?" making you burn against him.

"Yeah."

It's hard to leave the room, but you both know you have to, hoping neither of you look too kiss-swollen when you walk back into the living room, and when Mike's mom is no longer there, he brings you to the kitchen instead.

"Smells good," he tells her, leaning over the stove and taking a whiff of the prepared dish that’s been set on top--stuffed tomatoes and peppers that make your mouth water.

She says something, and Mike lets her finish before asking, "Can we speak in English while she's here? It's kinda hard to add to a conversation when you, like, don't know what's being said."

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" She immediately gushes, turning to you with a worried look. Her accent is thick and charming, but she doesn't ever stutter, clearly fluent, just more comfortable in her apparently native language. "I just get so caught up when my Miche comes home, I—"

And, she's hugging you again.

"I'm Maia! Christopher—Miche's father—should be home soon."

You rub Maia's back until she lets go and turns back to the stove, but even as she does, she's asking you, "How is school? What are you studying? Miche's told me very few things."

He shouldn't have told you anything at all, you want to say.

"Um, it's good. I'm an earth sciences major, geology specifically, so Mike—uh—Miche's been helping me study a lot."

He leans down to speak so only you can hear, "Not necessary to call me that. She's gonna know who you're talking about when you say Mike."

Not that you'll tell him, but you kind of like the way 'Miche' feels, the way it rolls from your lips to the back of your mouth, and for just one second, you think about how you'd like to moan it in his ear.

"So, uh," you shake your head in an attempt to get it back on straight. "Yeah, it's going good, I think."

"It is nice that you study together," Maia hums, slicing into the dish to portion it out. "Miche probably enjoys the break from his fraternity life."

Mike makes an unsure noise, but you grin and lean on the counter, eyes shining as you look at the middle-aged woman, "You know, speaking of that, I need to know what he was like before the whole frat thing 'cause—"

"Uhh, we don't need to talk about that," Mike quickly cuts you off.

Maia, however, catches your eye and winks, a silent promise that she'll fill you in later.

Mike sees it, whines a dramatic, "Mamá, please."

You laugh, glancing over at him with a devious smile that makes him roll his eyes and grumble something.

The creak of a door opening followed by the sound of a screen slamming back against the frame signals the arrival of Mike's father. It takes him a couple minutes to join everyone in the kitchen, probably taking the time to get more comfortable after what you assume to be a long day.

When he does walk in, once styled hair fallen out of place, top two buttons of his shirt undone, you see exactly where Mike gets most of his looks. He may have gotten his fucking mane from his mother, but he definitely got his height and his eyes from his father.

"Oh!" He stops short when he sees you, looks at his wife, then at you, then at Mike. "Is this the girl?"

"Dad!"

Both of his parents snicker as he turns to you, pleading more than telling, "Just ignore them, they don't know what they're talking about."

You don't pay him any mind, join in on the fun when you lift an eyebrow and tease, "Am I, Mike? Am I the girl?"

"Oh my god, this is gonna be a nightmare," he groans, the tips of his ears growing red. Still, he tries to put on a stern face as he points at his parents, speaks in beautiful, rolling words that are beyond you, then turns his flashing gaze to you and commands, "And you, don't encourage them."

"Mm, no promises." You stick the tip of your tongue between your teeth and wink at his mom the way she had at you earlier.

All of you sit at an actual table for dinner, something you haven't done in at least a decade, as you talk and laugh between bites of food. Scout is laying underneath, waiting for someone to drop a piece of food, and every once in a while, you feel her wet nose nudge against your calf.

Maia and Chris are very kind and very funny, and it isn't just because they pick on their son all the time. Chris talks about his day in the office, complaining about coworkers the same way Mike complains about his brothers—"I just don't understand why you would eat sardines in the break room! Someone explain it to me!" Maia tells everyone about the three hour phone call with her mother—"My god that woman can talk. Every time we said goodbye, she would just start on something new!"

"Explains where you get it from," Chris says with a chuckle.

Maia scoffs then stabs a piece of his food with her fork, eating it with purpose as her husband watches.

You lean over to Mike and murmur, "They're cute. I like 'em."

He grunts. "That makes one of us."

Sucking your teeth, you mimic his mother's actions and dig your fork into the meat of his pepper, stealing a bite and scraping your teeth over the utensil in a way you know drives him crazy.

You immediately regret it when you realize how big the piece is, filling your mouth so that it's hard to chew, and you grab a napkin to cover yourself while Mike snorts and smugly says, "Yeah, bet you feel real smart right now. How does thievery taste?"

Shoving his arm, you manage to swallow down enough of the food to talk and tell him, "Tastes delicious."

When you look back across the table, you find Maia and Chris staring at you and Mike with shining eyes and matching grins.

You get along well with Mike's parents. A little too well in his opinion. There are a couple mornings you wake up earlier than he does and share coffee with his mother. He'll walk in to hear her sharing terrible stories about how, "He was such a sensitive little boy," and, "I miss the days he and his friends would spend afternoons here playing their little games."

She even breaks out the photo albums one evening after dinner, leaving Mike mortified as you laugh and 'aww' at the pictures of past birthdays, Boy Scout outings, and the horrors of middle and high school.

"Look how cute you are with braces!"

"Please stop."

"All dressed up for Easter, oh my god, are those bunny ears?"

"Mom made me."

"You were so skinny. What happened?"

"Are you calling me fat?"

"No, I'm calling you buff. Dummy."

Less embarrassing are the long walks the two of you take with Scout (who also loves you, of course). She stays close to your hip as you wander around the park, only leaving your side when you throw her favorite ball. At the house, she noses at you until you shift to let her lay either at your feet or on the couch with her big head in your lap.

It's the cutest fucking thing Mike has ever seen, and he hates it because he can't do anything about it. He can't tell you how much he likes seeing you walk around in his house. He can't tell you how much joy it brings him to hear your laugh ring out alongside his parents'. He can't tell you how much he loves seeing you slide into his old bed in nothing but one of his shirts, making yourself comfortable against his chest and weaving your legs between his.

He can't tell you, but he can do his best to show you.

Late at night when his parents are asleep, when the buzzing TV is the only thing lighting the room, Mike moves inside of you with deep, slow thrusts. He hikes your legs up to lock around his waist or pulls you up against himself if he's taking you from behind. No matter the position, it leaves you clawing at him, breathing heavily, jaw dropping open in a silent scream.

You feel so good, so tight around him even after he gets you ready for his cock. Your silken walls squeeze and milk him, pulling every drop of cum from him to soak into you. Fuck, he's so glad you're letting him do that now, fill you up until you can't take any more, until white is dribbling from your messy pussy. The way you look at him all fucked out is intoxicating, eyes droopy, smile lazy, body twitching with aftershocks as he sucks on your neck and kisses down your shoulders.

You have to know. You have to. Mike knows his feelings are written all over his face when he looks at you, may as well be carved into his skin. The words are on the tip of his tongue every night, but he muffles them with kisses, with burying his face between your legs, with sinking his teeth into your soft flesh.

He can't say it because saying it makes it real. Saying it will make it hurt more.

So Mike keeps his mouth shut, watches you every day as you converse with his parents and play with Scout. You poke around his bedroom in your usual nosy fashion, finding the rest of his Magic cards, old D&D books and privacy screens. The dusty record player he'd inherited from his grandfather interests you above all else, vinyls stacked around it, some old, some new, and as you flip through them now, cross-legged on the floor and swimming in his hoodie, you tell him the little things you talked about with his mom earlier in the day.

"She showed me your baby teeth," you say with a snort. "Why do parents keep those? My mom did too."

"Black Magic, obviously," Mike says seriously, but when you glance up at him, he chuckles. "I don't know, babe. It's fuckin' weird, though."

You grin and look back down at The Alan Parsons Project vinyl in your lap. You're quiet for a moment, but when you do speak up, it's in a quiet voice. "I'm pretty sure they think I'm your girlfriend."

Mike cringes on the bed, shutting his eyes and sighing. "Yeah, that's probably 'cause I told them you were."

"What?" You turn your whole body to face him, eyes wide and incredulous.

Sitting up, Mike holds his hands out and questions, "What was I supposed to tell them? Hey, mom and dad, I'm bringing home this girl I fuck at school all the time."

"We don't just fuck," you scoff. "You could've said friend or… Study buddy."

"Study buddies with benefits," he lets out a humorless laugh. "How many of those study sessions end with your mouth around my cock?"

"That's beside the point." You stand up and walk over to the bed, hands on your hips as you glare at him in an unconvincing manner. You're not actually upset, Mike realizes. A little annoyed maybe but more surprised than anything. "The point is they expect us to do couple-y things."

"We do do couple-y things." Mike reminds you, rolling his eyes when you snicker and murmur 'ha, do do'. "Oh my god, you're a dork."

"So are you. And, a dumb one. What happens when they find out we're not actually together? Are we gonna have to stage a break up somewhere down the line?"

"Stop worrying about it," Mike tries, reaching out for one of your arms to pull you on top of him. You must be very used to straddling him at this point. It seems like you're in his lap more often than you're not these days, even if the two of you are just talking. "Just chill and fake it for a little while longer."

You pout, glancing to the wall for a second before you mutter, "Might be tough. I've never had to fake anything for you before."

Mike groans and traces his fingers up your sides, stopping at your shoulders and using them to guide you closer to him. With your face only millimeters from his, he barely even has to whisper when he presses, "Fake it just this once."

You nod, lips brushing his, and from there you both devolve into sloppy kisses and desperate hands. As always.

[ next ]

#mike zacharias x reader #miche zacharias x reader #aot x reader #aot fanfic #snk x reader #mels prima vista

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julystorms · 7 years

Text

The Great Fandom Debate: Episode 29, Nanaba’s Death

Considering that April is National Child Abuse Prevention Month, it seems grotesquely fitting to talk about the anime-only reveal of Nanaba’s history as a survivor of it.

I’ve seen a lot of talk about the lines Nanaba speaks in her death throes. I’d like to add my two cents because I feel that I bring a valuable and relevant perspective to this discussion.

Here are the lines:

“Ahhh! No! No! Father, stop! Father! I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I won’t do it again! Father—no!” **

They are cried out as she’s being torn apart by titans. She’s already lost most of her right leg; her femoral artery is hemorrhaging blood. Even assuming the artery contracts to try and slow the flow of blood, she’ll lose consciousness in <40 seconds and she’ll die from blood loss in less than three minutes.

A few people have commented across various posts and reblogs claiming that they interpret these lines as Nanaba recognizing her father as one of the titans attacking her, or that she’s hallucinating and she’s apologizing to her father for having joined the military. I’ve also seen people try to claim she was calling out to a priest or to God.

However, in context these interpretations don’t work. Firstly, Nanaba, using polite language, is calling out to her familial father (お父さん)—though he could be either a step-father, biological father, or adoptive father. Secondly, if Nanaba’s family was from Ragako Village, she would have gone south with Mike and/or it would have come up in the Rooftop Conversation scene. It didn’t.

Finally, you can’t take chunks of what she says and interpret them separately. They come together. Everything she says is aimed at her father. Not just, “I’m sorry.” Not just, “I won’t do it again.” She says both of those things to him. She also begs him to stop. She cries out, “No! No!”

This is not a person apologizing to their father for joining the military.

This is a person in the middle of an overwhelming PTSD Flashback. She thinks she’s with her father. She believes she’s done something wrong and is being punished for it. She’s trying to get the punishment to stop by apologizing and promising not to commit the offense again.

Nanaba is not a person who did something wrong once and got hit for it. This kind of PTSD reaction is undoubtedly the result of something bigger. These lines exist to show us that Nanaba is a survivor of child abuse.

We’re not fully privy to the type(s) of abuse inflicted upon her (though there was undoubtedly a physical component). We’re not made aware of how long it went on for, either (it could have still been ongoing at the time of her death—via letters, on furlough). We don’t get the details. All we know is that Nanaba’s experiences with her father were so traumatic that the pain of her leg being ripped off triggered a PTSD flashback.

For a more detailed look: a broken femur is one of the most painful things you can experience, yet Nanaba’s femur being snapped off triggers a PTSD flashback to her father beating her. Rating this as just physical pain, it’s obvious here which event is more painful. Yet we know what pain Nanaba sees as worse, as the bigger evil; we know what experience she associates massive amounts of pain with and the aggressor of that painful experience. It’s her father.

Most people have accepted that Nanaba is a survivor of child abuse and they all have a lot of interesting things to say. I saw many comments and reblog additions by happy and angry people, not all of whom will receive credit with their mentions here (to protect those who may wish to remain anonymous). However, I’d still like to discuss and add my own opinions to this discussion because I believe there’s a lot to be said about this character and about the backstory that has been added for her.

First, my own thoughts. I’ve been writing Nanaba for a long time. I RP’d her for a while. I had a backstory chosen for her years ago, and had mentally, at least, fleshed out her character. To give you an idea of perspective: I’m coming at this as someone who has liked this character for a very long time.

I always wrote her as a fairly confident person, but then the “Shelter from the Rain” story came out and revealed that Nanaba feels that she is a burden to her teammates, which led me to believe she has some issues with feeling that she needs to be better/that she’s not trying hard enough. Lately I’ve been writing privately with @trash-god to try and get a really deep in-depth feel for Nanaba’s character, since I’d like Nanaba to be a big part of a story I’m planning.

This reveal didn’t ruin her character for me. It didn’t alienate me. It left me feeling a little shell-shocked, a little hollow, and …uncomfortably close to her. I have a lot of fears regarding this reveal. I’m afraid people will remember Nanaba primarily as an abuse victim instead of for her actions or her personality: her resolve, her smile, the way she fought, how she took control of the situation, her belief that once you’ve signed up as a soldier you must fulfill your duty no matter how dangerous it is.

And some of the things people are saying… Honestly, reading those things makes me feel like I’m slowly crumbling.

This reveal was manipulative. It existed to make an already tragic death worse. It’s…angst fodder. It will never matter or mean anything.

It says nothing about who she was as a person.

It’s there to shock the audience, and in that it did succeed. A lot of people were shaken. I’m still shaken. I’ve watched that scene now over 20 times. I can’t stop thinking about it. I was shaken to my core over just a few lines.

It’s not the implication of child abuse that bothers me so much as the way it’s portrayed, the perspective we’re given it from.

Abuse like that…

It needs to matter. It doesn’t float in a void. The reveal made it her character instead of allowing it to be a part of her history. We were given a woman’s most private fear, something I doubt she shared with just anyone, and we saw her completely overwhelmed by it—living it, even. She shared her last moments with the person who hurt her most while she was still alive. She couldn’t escape it, couldn’t overcome it—not even as she died.

I refuse to blame Nanaba for succumbing to a PTSD flashback because she can’t help it. It happened against her will. She was terrified and in a lot of pain and those feelings are things she associates with her father. This is a reality that survivors of abuse and trauma live with, often for the rest of their lives. Nanaba can’t control her PTSD any more than any of the rest of us can.

That said, I don’t like the message it sends to victims and survivors of abuse—that they won’t be able to move past it, that it will come back to them in the end, that there’s no escaping it.

That kind of abuse…in an environment like the military… Look, it would have had an impact on Nanaba. You can’t say she was able to hide something so traumatic from everyone: from her teammates, from her supervisor, from her friends, from the person who bunked with her. If pain is a trigger, she’s probably been triggered before—where? An expedition? Training? And then there’s the fact that her father was an Authority Figure who abused her. How did she feel about the people who had power over her in training? Did anyone ever try to abuse their power over her in any way? How does she feel about Mike who is not just an authority figure but a very tall very imposing-looking man? Was there anything to overcome in regards to his presence as her immediate supervisor? What about Erwin as the head of the entire Survey Corps?

I’d also like to address the gendered stink surrounding this. I’ve accepted it as part of Nanaba’s backstory (let’s not pretend this defines her, all right?), but I think it’s really, really important for everyone to acknowledge that the writers made a conscious choice to give this to Nanaba. Not to Henning who has no real personality at all, and not to Gelgar who was suffering head trauma at the time of his death.

We know that Gelgar already had a death scene planned out. It was in the manga. He wanted a drink, didn’t want to go out sober, and was thrown into a situation of cruel irony where he got his bottle of liquor but…it was empty. Nanaba was left a little high and dry in the manga: she died silently—but I liked it because it was something I associated with her line to Mike about not wanting the cadets to see her feeling discouraged. It was something I felt connected to, because man, I really identified with her line about not showing weakness to a bunch of kids she doesn’t know well. I thought (and wrote!) that she forced herself not to cry out at her death to keep from panicking the cadets whose helplessness she felt partially responsible for.

Nanaba didn’t need anything added to her death or to her character—and she certainly didn’t need something added more than Henning (who got the least attention of all the vets at Utgard) did. I realize that Henning died instantly and so was not a good candidate for cramming in a history like this, but I want you all to think about the fact that none of our male characters have a traumatic past of this nature given this little amount of attention. Those same lines could have gone to Gelgar and had a massive impact on the audience. Here’s a fairly strong character who has shown a lot of fear, who wanted a drink, who hit his head hard enough that he lost almost all his remaining strength… And who could have cried out just the same. It would have no doubt leant another angle to his desire for alcohol, to his fear of the titans and his coping mechanisms. To a home life that we know nothing about.

But no. These lines went to Nanaba.

Just like sex/human trafficking went to Mikasa.

Just like an abusive/manipulative mother and father went to Historia.

Just like poverty went to Sasha.

Abuse went to Ymir.

An implication of rape via abuse of military power went to Hitch.

Don’t fucking tell me this shit isn’t gendered in this series. Don’t. Don’t even try. This is trauma used for flavor text. Spice. Aimed specifically at female characters. Tidbits of shit that don’t mean anything overall and never come up again/seem to impact the characters or their relationships to others. Bullshit like that.

The writers weren’t thinking any deeper than “how can we make her death sadder?” And the answer was: “Her life was painful, too.”

You can say Levi had a pretty bad past, but we get chapters devoted to it. We get a two-volume spin-off dedicated to telling that story. We see his personality page after page, chapter after chapter, extra information interviews/stories/et cetera, one after another.

We don’t get that about these female characters.

We never will.

And look. Speaking as a person with a lot of mental issues and hang-ups brought on by various factors I’m not comfortable making public knowledge, I know how they affect my life. My daily life. Including the parts people close to me can and do and will inevitably pick up on. I know how hard it is to try to exist as a “regular” person in a world that is not meant for me. I see red when I see trauma dumped into a series like this just so it can exist as…a cute little…accessory.

That’s not what it is. It’s not a fun bit of trivia. It’s not something that tells us what kind of a person she was. It just exists to make an already terrible death harder to watch. Not because we see Nanaba is rooted in the middle of a PTSD flashback and not mentally present in the situation, but because that is literally all we know of her life. So her life becomes abuse to the audience and so does her death.

This isn’t character development because nothing develops. We’re not shown her working to overcome a history of abuse. We’re not given scenes other characters being gentle to her in ways to help her get through her daily life/cope with this trauma. There’s no progress (or lack thereof) with which to compare to even make a claim that we’re seeing development. For an example: Mikasa learning to let/trust Eren look after himself is development. The fact that she was almost sold into sex/human trafficking is not.

One last comment on this subject: I think the presentation of the scene of Nanaba’s death is especially disturbing in that it manages to victimize her in a distinctly gendered way. The imagery of this scene evokes thoughts of assault, in particular of a sexual nature. I don’t know how much of this was intended and how much of it was accidental. I don’t know if we’re meant to think that Nanaba suffered that kind of abuse at the hands of her father, or because of him (prostituted to other men, for example), or if it’s just a product of how the scene was laid out in the manga. (If one titan had a hold on her and had been chewing on her leg or shoulder and she was crying out in that same way, it would not have given me the same visceral reaction or mental image/connotation.)

There is hope for those who want to look closely at Nanaba’s character, but I refuse to believe the writer(s) looked this closely themselves or even intended it, so I’m just going to stop everyone at the door and say: this is MY interpretation and NOT something I give WIT or Isayama credit for having created intentionally.

In the context of Nanaba’s history as a survivor of abuse by a prominent authority figure, one she had to call “father” (not “dad”) and speak politely to, I think her relationship to Mike is extremely important. Let me explain.

Nanaba calls Gelgar by his first name: no honorifics. The implication is that they are close, or at least view each other as equals (he returns this favor by calling her by her first name without any honorifics). Hell, Lynne talks to Gelgar that way, too.

But Mike is an authority figure—one whom Gelgar (who is in general a casual speaker) refers to respectfully (he calls him Mike-san). Nanaba, on the other hand, just calls him Mike…and not only when she’s alone. Before the rooftop scene, she calls Mike by his first name with no honorific in front of Thomas. Mike is by far her superior, one of the highest-ranked members of the Survey Corps.

For someone who was forced to call her dad “father” and speak politely to him, I think that she calls another Big Imposing Authority Figure by his first name means a lot.

I’ve mentioned this a long time ago, of course, but in light of this new context it carries much more weight. It could be a sign that she’s not weighed down anymore in her everyday life by her shit old man.

Unfortunately we don’t get to see this develop. We don’t know what Mike and Nanaba’s relationship really was, though this implies a certain closeness that isn’t implied between her and anyone else. And we will never know what obstacles she’s overcome to get to a point where she could not only call Mike by his first name, but that she could also feel comfortable going to him when she felt afraid and in need of comfort.

But I like to think it was a long journey--one they went through very carefully together.

(And I’m going to write about it.)

Shipping aside, it’s a hopeful thought. That Nanaba was not saddled with constant fear of her father every single day of her life, and that she did take what she wanted and fought for it--not just toward the end of her life, but all the way through.

Now for the things various people said about this reveal and my opinions on them:

“wonderful character development”

It’s not character development.

“it makes her memorable”

I guess in the same way I’m memorable because I don’t have teeth? Fuck off.

“her character had no hook except ‘badass woman’ in the manga”

People don’t have ‘hooks’ all right. Like from a literary standpoint I get what this is saying but it irritates me. Nanaba was a long-time veteran of a high-casualty military branch who still lost hope when she thought Rose was breached, when she thought the world was about to end. But she was talked into fighting and she did so until the very end—and gave her life to protect the helpless cadets she felt partially responsible for. “Victim of abuse” isn’t a hook. It isn’t her character.

“a cool little detail” because it shows that “even characters you don’t see much have depth to them” and “she has a backstory even if we didn’t see it or a buildup”

It’s not a “cool” “little” detail anymore than my trauma is a “cool” “little” detail of my life. Please be careful about your phrasing. That said, just like IRL everyone we see has a backstory and depth we are not necessarily privy to. It could have still been written in a way that wasn’t jarring and unnecessarily heavy-handed.

“it doesn’t add anything to her or the situation”

I won’t say it doesn’t add “anything” since information about a character in general is something, but…it doesn’t affect the situation so it’s unnecessary.

“an attempt to make her look pathetic and pitiful like Mike during his death scene”

I kind of agree. Mike’s death seemed to seek to humble a hulking giant of a dude by making him break into tears. Nanaba’s death preyed on her gender in a much more harmful way, I think. (As the “Goodnight, Sweet Dreams” story for Mike shows us that he has some PTSD that evokes tears already.)

“so on the nose” / “cheap” / “silly in its attempt to be serious and dark”

I agree with the first two but I don’t think it’s “silly” in its attempt to be serious and dark. Child abuse isn’t silly; I can’t even pretend it’s silly. It’s way darker and more serious than this series can deal with, though; it was just a cheap shot at tragic dark angst.

“no problem with the detail itself” but “pushed and unnecessary to understand her actions”

Agreed completely.

“we don’t have to know much about a character to enjoy them” / “can’t come to terms with what she said even though she never interested [them] as a character”

I agree. I’ve loved Nanaba for a long time, way before this reveal. That said, it was a very triggering thing to have suddenly thrust in your face and I know a lot of others in fandom were made very uncomfortable by it, so I’m sorry that so many people have had to deal with it.

“time spent trying to understand the character might feel thrown away?”

I don’t feel this way, but I understand why people do and I think it’s a perfectly valid way to feel. I feel frustrated, personally, by the fact that I wrote a story featuring domestic violence and Nanaba was in it and in light of this new information I feel I should go back and edit it and tell the entire story for Nanaba, too, instead of the gentle light-hearted story that was told from her perspective. A part of me feels like I’ve been telling her story wrong all these years for having failed to include it. But of course…how could I have known? I was purposefully avoiding the “she has short hair she must have been hurt by a man” stereotype.

“could have been woven in better from a narrative perspective like a realistic flashback in 26 to give her an actual little arc”

Man oh man, I’d have really felt something if we’d gotten a hint of it in 26: her voicing her own fear, mentioning her father…or Mike mentioning her father in response to her fear-reaction re: Wall Rose (assuming he knows about her trauma and would seek to create a parallel, which is: you fought that, now you have to fight this, too. You won’t lose, you’re not lost. Not if you don’t give up). (To clarify, though, I think Mike would understand that sometimes there might not be much of her able to fight, and that’s okay.) This could be a little extra sad if we assume that she might be worried Mike is dead. Not that she needs him to stand tall, but his role as her encourager and pillar could be really important to her character, and part of her being triggered could be that she feels she’s lost it. But that’s looking way too deep at something the writers would have never bothered to attempt…

“doesn’t mean it’s sexist or shock value if it’s realistic for the world”

Our world’s pretty damn sexist but it doesn’t mean that a guy telling me I have “no business” in my field and “should be home barefoot and pregnant” isn’t a sexist comment. By definition any kind of material inserted into fiction without narrative build-up that happens to be shocking for some reason is…basically just…shock value.

“no indication of her having been abused”

I want to talk about this a little more, because I feel like…abuse isn’t something you always see. Even physical abuse. But narratively speaking it shouldn’t be inserted as a random detail of her life without any buildup. It was a poor choice. Again: shock value.

“doesn’t mean being abused is being weak”

Agreed completely. I don’t want fandom to send this message to people, either. The crime of abuse is on the abuser, not the victim. You’re not weak for doing what you have to do to survive.

“it’s not about experiencing abuse, but how it was handled”

Agreed completely. It could have been done well, but it wasn’t. End of story.

“makes nanaba weak” / “won’t be known for her bravery but as the girl who was abused” / “final moments leave big impressions” / “it’s not sexist though” / “i’d feel the same even if those lines were given to another character.”

It doesn’t make her weak. I understand the fear that she’ll be known as a victim of abuse over her actual personality traits, but I want to talk about this sexist thing you say here, where you think you’d feel the same even if the lines were given to another character. I just want to ask you if you’d refer to Gelgar, given those same lines, as “a boy” and not “a man” or “a guy” or “a veteran.” Nanaba is an adult woman, 30+ years old I’d guess. She has not been a girl for a long time, but since this reveal that word’s been thrown around a lot. Please. Stop that.

“the sexist/misogynistic messages aren’t intentional i don’t think, but they still exist”

Yeah, see below.

“latent sexism is hard to explain unless you analyze discourse and conversation because we’ve been taught it’s normal. The fact that a woman screaming in her death throes begging her father to leave her alone/promising not to misbehave again is normal enough that we consider it character development is what makes it sexism. That there was a CHOICE to give this to a female character is too.” @teetanjaeger [here]

This is a great post and I want everyone to read it.

“abuse used as a tragedy amplifier”

That’s exactly what it is.

“a history of abuse (and from the sound of it, horrible ongoing abuse) is canon now. we can’t pretend it doesn’t matter.” / “it won’t be explored or developed.” / “filler to amp up the sads.” @momtaku

Yes, yes, and yes. That said, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with refusing to accept the anime in this instance as canon—especially if it makes you feel more comfortable.

“a lazy addition” / “cliché”

It’s definitely lazy but I don’t know if it’s cliché. I’ve never seen this kind of death in any other series that I can recall off-hand, but then again…I’m pretty selective about my reading material.

“it’s saying people are still cruel inside the walls”

HAHAHA FUCK THIS BULLSHIT. Look, I get what you’re sayin’ pal, but this is a horse that has been beat to death 3001310 times over in this series. We get it. It doesn’t need to keep being stated. The extent of Nanaba’s abuse comes to this and ONLY this: “How can we somehow make her death worse than it already is?” It’s got nothing to do with spreading more of this message we’ve already seen ten tons of.

“gratuitous and unnecessary. Girl is getting her limbs torn off by titans after losing three of her friends in battle right in front of her—that’s tragic and horrifying enough. Did we really need the implied past abuse angle thrown in there at the last second to make it even more tragic and shocking?” “some backstory or even ONE mention might have made more sense but like with Mike’s death it feels like WIT is just hamming up these deaths to make them as horrible as possible.” “grossed out” “imagery of assault, gendered violence, victimization of Nanaba.” @drinkyourfuckingmilk [here]

Completely agreed, especially at the imagery of assault bit. I still feel gross.

“is there sexual abuse implied in this?”

That’s up to interpretation but considering the above imagery we’re given, I think a case could be made for saying it is.

“no issue with a history of abuse” “no issue with a character who rises above it or a character who falls back into that dark place” “issue is with something serious like child abuse being treated as tragedy wank fodder” “can’t rule out the nature of her abuse/if it was sexually motivated” “all of her accomplishments now relate to that abuse, something she had no control over” “her father now colors her presentation” “she’ll never get out from under his shadow” (see: petra’s dad who made fandom see her in terms of her marriageability to a man) “didn’t need to give nanaba’s filthy father more power over her” “at the moment of her death he still had power over her” “she didn’t escape him and that’s grotesque even if we’d known about her situation all alone” “especially terrible for those who relate to her” “I’m sorry there are people using your struggle for tragedy points” @lindowyn [here]

Another good post. I agree. Petra’s seen by a lot of fandom the way her dad talked about her: marriageability. It’s awful. I’m afraid for how they’ll portray and talk about Nanaba in the coming years. That said, not everyone gets a full recovery or can throw off the mantle of their abuse entirely. It’s doesn’t make Nanaba weak or “less than” for what her final moments were. But damn if I hate the message it’s sending to people, especially considering how many teens read this series.

“i don’t think it was added to reinforce that strong female characters are built by and will revert to their weakness in an abused state”

I agree, but unfortunately it’s a message that seems to still be getting across. :/ It’s an unfortunate accident.

“they gave her final moments to her abuser”

Yes they did.

“it seems that people who don’t have an experience with abuse aren’t able to understand the viewpoints of those who do”

I think this is the case, especially with the younger fans. Experience goes a long way re: sympathy and empathy…

“they didn’t add this scene because they want to explore child abuse and/or nanaba’s past abuse”

They absolutely did not; you’re right. I think they’d have actually tried a little if they wanted to show us a character who had that as part of their backstory, but I know what they were doing by adding it in—just trying to get a reaction from the audience. :/

If your name is not here and you want it to be associated with your comment...let me know.

TL;DR: I’m not mad at the backstory but I’m pissed about how it was handled, and the way the fandom is arguing about it and treating it makes me feel sick. There’s a lot to discuss here. I’ve accepted that this is part of her backstory. But I don’t want fandom to make it her character and I don’t want people calling her “weak” over it, either.

I still really love Nanaba. She’s one of my favorite characters in this series. Maybe even my favorite. (How does one pick?)

If you have any questions, concerns, thoughts, or you’d like clarification or to engage me in discussion, please feel free to send me a message.

**Edited as of 20 May 2017: Nanaba’s English Dub dialogue for this scene is as follows: “Dad, no! No, stop it! Please, I’m sorry Daddy, I’ll be a good girl from now on--I promise! Ahhh! No, Daddy, no!!”

#snk #snk meta #nanaba #tw: abuse #tw: rape #tw: assault #tw: sexism #tw: misogyny #mike zacharias #gelgar #tw: domestic violence #snk s2

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tiffersthenerdyficrecs · 5 years

Text

Ereri Lemon Fics

(*) Indicates my most suggested reads.

Fully Taken by VanishedElf*

Rating: Explicit Relationships: Levi/Eren Yeager Characters: Levi Ackerman, Eren Yeager Additional Tags: ereri, riren - Freeform, Alternate universe LevixEren. Summary: Levi is a broke artist who is completely jaded about most things, love included. He hits up a party with Hange one night, hoping to get hammered and numb himself completely, but instead, he stumbles across a certain nineteen-year-old rocker boy who makes him feel things; things he hasn't felt in years.

Oh, Baby by Merakii

Rating: Explicit Archive Warning: Underage Relationship: Levi/Eren Yeager Characters: Levi Ackerman, Eren Yeager Additional Tags: riren - Freeform, Bottom Eren Yeager, Top Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Dom/sub, Kinky, Blow Jobs, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Rimming, GayPorn, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, slight daddy kink, Canon Compliant, Canon Universe, Fluff and Smut, Fluff, ereri, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Forbidden Love, Love Summary: Levi and Eren aren't new to the sex game. In fact, they're quite well acquainted. And they like it nice and dirty. Or, one of those days Levi and Eren have some alone time. The nasty kind.

Tradition They Say by SasuNarfuFan13

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Levi/Eren Yeager Characters: Levi Ackerman, Eren Yeager, Erwin Smith, Armin Arlert, OC Characters - Character, Jean Kirstein, Ymir (Shingeki no Kyojin), Reiner Braun, Sasha Blouse, Mikasa Ackerman, Mike Zacharias, Hange Zoë Additional Tags: birthday fic, Levi's POV, Set a bit after Eren's friends join the Survey Corpse, Slash, Canon Age Difference, A somewhat darkish theme, Reference to rape but it doesn't happen in the story, Lemon, a bit of angst, Reference to past minor character deaths, Smidgen of violence, some time skips, mature content Summary: Choosing a Companion is tradition - one Levi doesn't want to touch with a ten feet pole. Until someone wants to take Eren as their Companion. Levi can't, won't, let that happen. Not to someone of his squad.

don't make me go by writer_person

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Levi/Eren Yeager Characters: Levi Ackerman, Eren Yeager Additional Tags: Gentle Sex, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, First Time, First Kiss, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Age changes, Fluff Summary: They say, when you love someone, they make you better. When someone loves you, they do what's best for you. Well, in their case.. How come only one side of that is working?

Blood Sticks by Blue_Thallium (orphan account)

Rating: Explicit Archive Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage Relationship: Eren Jaeger/Levi Characters: Eren Jaeger, Levi Ackerman Additional Tags: Masochism, Consent Issues, Rough Sex, that Graphic Depictions Of Violence tag is more just in case, its so hard being Levi Summary: "I asked you if you needed to hit me again. Because. In court, you said Sir, you said that you were going to." Levi blinked at him. He'd only told Eren he'd missed a spot.

An Unforgettable Face by ryuusea*

Rating: Explicit Relationships: Levi/Eren Yeager, Eren Yeager/Levi Characters: Levi Ackerman, Eren Yeager Additional Tags: Porn With Plot, Porn Star!Eren, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, I torture poor Levi (again), Porn Watching, Eren Wears Glasses, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bad Puns, Fingering, Riding, bottom!Levi (part 2 only - for those who care) Summary: “Have we met before? I recognize your face…” Levi’s brows furrow, scouring his memory as to why he knows this guy’s face from somewhere. “Ah, you’ve probably seen one of my videos!” "Hmm. YouTube?" "No. Porn."

set yourself on fire by graves

Rating: Mature Relationship: Levi/Eren Yeager Characters: Levi Ackerman, Eren Yeager Additional Tags: its real sweaty and they BONE Summary: “Oh, good fucking god,” Levi pants, pulling at his cravat. “It’s hotter than a titan’s asshole in here.” “Titans don’t even have assholes,” Eren replies. —Eren and Levi in the throes of a heatwave, a cabin, and frustration leads to ... well, yknow.

My Home Is Where Your Heart Is by bfketh*

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Levi/Eren Yeager Characters: Levi Ackerman, Eren Yeager, Mikasa Ackerman Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Domestic, Parent Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), babysitter Eren, Child Mikasa Ackerman, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, I Blame Tumblr, Light Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Shower Sex, Frottage, Praise Kink, Coming Untouched, Come Eating, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex Summary: Single father Levi is left scrambling to find an after school daycare for his daughter, Mikasa, when his regular babysitter announces that her husband's job is being relocated. The only problem - they're all far more expensive than he can afford. The solution to his dilemma comes in the form of a college student, Eren, who will do it for a fraction of the cost - as long as Levi will save him from a steady diet of ramen and pop-tarts by feeding him dinner every night before he leaves.

A Special Cleaning Service by rachel_exe*

Rating: Explicit Relationship:Levi/Eren Yeager Characters:Levi Ackerman, Eren Yeager Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Humor, Top Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Bottom Eren Yeager, Kissing, Anal Sex, Doctor Eren Yeager, Naked Levi Summary: Eren is a doctor that struggles with keeping his loft clean, so he decides to contact a cleaning agency whose employees work naked.

Smug Smile by tiffersthenerdy

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Levi/Eren Yeager Characters: Levi Ackerman, Eren Yeager, Erwin Smith Additional Tags: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, One Shot, Bottom Eren Yeager, Top Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), First Time Blow Jobs, Virgin Eren Yeager, Caring Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Dirty Talk, Fluffy Ending, Eren Is a Little Shit, Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin) Swears, ereri, riren - Freeform Summary: Eren learns not to eavesdrop on his captain.

Alles Gute Zum Geburstag, Levi by Yumislover99

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Levi/Eren Yeager Characters: Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Eren Yeager, Armin Arlert, Mikasa Ackerman Additional Tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, Lingerie, Christmas Smut, Christmas, Birthday Sex, Birthday Smut, Birthday Summary: Levi and Eren have shameless birthday/Christmas smut in the bedroom. Eren wears lingerie and thigh highs, and they both just have a good time.

Break Time by erenfuckinjaeger

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Levi/Eren Yeager Characters: Eren Yeager, Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Face-Fucking, Top Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Bottom Eren Yeager, Dom/sub Undertones Summary: Eren and Levi take a break from moving into their new apartment

Say 'Ah' by tainted_ashes *

Rating: Explicit Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationship: Levi/Eren Yeager Characters: Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Eren Yeager, Erwin Smith, Grisha Yeager, Hange Zoë, Mike Zacharias, Petra Ral, Oluo Bozado, Eld Jinn, Gunther Schultz, Armin Arlert, Mikasa Ackerman Additional Tags: doctor!eren, Violence, Eren Is a Little Shit, Underground Doctors, Levi Is Terrible With Feelings, One Look and He's Done For, Assassins & Hitmen, Special Operation Scouts, Humor, There's Violence Though, Guns, Government Agencies, Secret agent!Levi, Levi's Got it Bad, Eren Knows What he's Doing, Bad Flirting, Bad Puns, Eventual Smut, Kidnapping, Stuff happens, because feelings, POV First Person, POV Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Levi Wants That Yeager Booty,Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Not really slow burn, Eren's Pretty Clumsy Summary: "I'm going to have to take your pants off," Eren comments idly as he examines my ankle, his head tilting in delicate concentration. "You should at least buy me a drink first, no?" I ask, my lips etching with a small smirk as his face turns all sorts of reds and pinks. Even with my unfocused eyes, there was no mistaking that blush. Shit, did I say that out loud?

#snk #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #ereri #ereri fanfic #riren #fanfic #fanfiction #tiffersthenerdy #fic rec #levi ackerman #eren jaeger #eren x levi #levi x eren #lemon #ao3

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