Chapter Text
The first time you see him is as you’re passing an alleyway in town. You only back up because you recognize the two with him as Reiner and Bertholdt. He’s not quite as tall as Reiner, also blond and light eyed, quite fit, and wearing a pair of spectacles. There’s something familiar about him, but you’re sure you’ve never met.
You lock eyes and he pauses in his conversation, then nods toward you. The two boys mutter back and forth with him and a hint of a smile appears on his face. You are still staring at one another when you flush hot, turning to head back toward the horses.
“Yeager, wait up!”
Reiner catches up to you not two minutes later. The big guy isn’t even panting, those long legs of his better suited to running than your own.
You favor him with a tight smile, a little embarrassed to have been caught staring earlier. “Hey, Reiner.”
“You really shouldn’t be walking around here alone, you know.” Ah, such a gentleman. Reiner is always like that, and he further demonstrates it by offering to take your bag.
You shrug, but slide the cloth bag with your new undershirts into the proffered hand. “I can handle myself,” you counter. “I’m a scout, too.”
“Yeah, but you’re not exactly the best at ground fighting, are you? As I recall, that’s the one area Eren walloped you in.”
The two of you had been neck-and-neck for most of your training, except for hand-to-hand fighting. Your brother would never let you forget it, either, despite you pointing out that you’d hardly be grappling titans.
He just had to prove you wrong there.
It was still bizarre that your brother could transform into a titan, much less how it came about. Those were grisly details you wish you could forget.
“Thanks for the reminder,” you mutter. “Well, now you’re here to make sure I don’t get lost on my way back, right?”
“Right,” the ox of a young man responds.
The pair of you walk in relative silence for a few minutes, then curiosity gets the best of you. “Is Bertholdt still with that guy?”
He nods.
“So, who is he?”
You don’t miss the way he nearly stumbles as though surprised you’d asked. He wasn’t exactly the brightest of the 104th. “He’s— that’s Zeke. We met him after Wall Maria came down.”
“Oh.” You didn’t expect that, but it makes sense. After all, the pair had come from the same village, and had never mentioned anyone else coming out alive. Quite the contrary, if you recall correctly. “He’s a friend, then?”
“Yeah, he looked out for us a bit when we came to the city.”
“Sounds like a nice guy.” And good looking, though part of you kept thinking you were missing something.
The next time you see him he’s alone. You glimpse him in Stohess, which is strange for a multitude of reasons. Zeke pauses as you lean against a wall and wait for the signal. His pale eyes narrow, then a smirk spreads over his face, and you’re blushing again.
Why does he get to you like this? You’ve seen him exactly twice now, and for some reason he gets under your skin like nothing else.
You dream about him that night, and that’s only the beginning.
When you see him the third time, you’re walking along the Wall early in the morning. You’d given up on trying to sleep some time before dawn only to wind up taking to the heights in an attempt to clear your head.
It’s from a distance at first, but you recognize him with enough time that you could use your ODM gear and get away if you really wanted to.
You don’t.
Instead, you watch him approach, hands in his pockets as he casually strolls your way. He’s so cocky with the way his eyes glint behind his glasses, smirk tugging at his lips.
“Hey, there, sweetheart,” he says when he’s in a comfortable conversation distance.
Your brows twitch in a brief frown. “H-hi. You’re Zeke, right?”
He nods and says your name as though it’s a question, but you know it’s not.
“No last name, Zeke?” He apparently knows yours, so you feel a little outclassed.
“Doesn’t really matter. What are you doing up here so early?”
You shrug. “I couldn’t sleep. The air up here is refreshing, so…”
Zeke hums, then swings a bag from his back and crouches down to remove what looks like a field teapot, but not. “I have something that might help. Sit, please.” He makes a little fire to heat the water in it, and within minutes the strange brown grounds are perfuming the air with the most lovely scent.
You sit across from him and watch the whole process from his careful measuring to the way he pours the brown liquid into tin cups.
It’s hot when you take the cup from his large hand, and it warms your palms as the steam tickles your nose. You watch as he takes a healthy gulp, then do the same. You don’t miss the way he watches with those sparkling, amused eyes.
Bitter, but refreshing heat floods your tongue. It tastes like one of those nice days in autumn where the leaves are turning orange and there’s a hint of chill in the air, and you just want to lay in your warm bed.
Zeke chuckles. “It’s good, yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He scoots closer to you, those pale blue eyes intent as they study your features. “You and your brother don’t look much alike, huh?”
“What do you mean?”
You’ve heard it before, but it seems to mean something different from him. He reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, watching your cheeks flush to compete with the temperature of the coffee. “You’re twins, right? Are you close?”
“I mean, us and Mikasa and Armin, we’re all we have.” You shrug again, wrapping your cloak around yourself when a sudden chill hits. “So, I guess.”
“You cold, honey?” You nod. Though he’s in a button down and slacks, he looks remarkably untouched by the cool air. “C’mere.” Zeke wraps an arm around you and you let him pull you to his side. And he is warm . Solid, and enveloping, too. He smells like pine, the drink, and something intensely masculine that makes your stomach flip.
“You’re warm,” you say lamely.
Zeke smiles down at you, scrubs a hand through his blond scruff. “Yeah. I run hot, I guess. It’s good for cuddling cute little things like you.”
You swat at him playfully, but your heart is in your throat. He’s just as handsome up close as he was from a distance, and you kind of like the view from your place pressed up against him.
A moment passes during which you sip from your cups, but you can feel Zeke glancing over at you regularly.
“What?”
He hums a question, as though unaware what you’re asking.
“You keep looking at me.”
“Oh.” He runs a hand through his hair. “That. You’re just very pretty, is all.”
“I’m okay,” you counter.
He cups your jaw, turning you to face him. The way his gaze flits across your features is addictive. “You’re beautiful, sweetheart.”
You try to turn away in embarrassment, but his hand holds firm.
“I mean it. You’re so beautiful, I almost can’t believe you’re real. And that you’re— Eren Yeager’s sister. Seems a shame.”
“Eren’s not that bad.” You defend him automatically now, having stood up for Eren so many times over the years that the words are rote.
“Yeah, well.” He slowly removes his hand, and your cheek feels cold without his calloused palm against it. “Reiner certainly agrees with me. I think he has a thing for you.”
Your nose crinkles, caught between saying ‘ew’ and laughing that off. “He likes Krista. Krista Lenz,” you explain at his raised brow. “She’s a great scout. Even shorter than I am, but can run circles around me.”
“You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. Besides, a guy can like more than one girl, ya know. He really didn’t like me asking about you that day in the alley.”
“Is that when you found out my name?”
Zeke nods, the hand around your shoulders drifts down to your waist and squeezes gently. “Yeah. You were just so pretty, I couldn’t help myself. And when he ran off to escort you back to your barracks, I was a little jealous. Did you reward him for that?”
“Reward him?” The conversation has taken some odd twists, but you’re still enjoying the company of the older man.
“Maybe give him a kiss for his time.” He bumps your leg with his own, and you think you see something devious swim behind the pale surface of his eyes, but maybe it’s just the sharp way he studies you.
You shake your head. “No. I’ve never— never done that, actually.”
“What, you’ve never kissed anybody?” He sounds disbelieving.
“Never really had any time. I mean, we started training at twelve, and there’s never any privacy or anything. So kissing just hasn’t been important.”
“Hm.” He turns toward you more fully, arm sliding to your lower back. His eyes are definitely darker now, but only because his pupils have grown to swallow up the pale blue of his irises. “Would you like to?”
Your mouth hangs open, eyes widening. No way can he mean what you think he means. Right?
“You’ll catch flies like that, sweetheart.” Zeke cups your cheek again, thumb running over your bottom lip. “So, what do you say?”
You nod, swallowing dryly before you can second-guess yourself, and the corner of Zeke’s mouth ticks up in a smirk. Then he’s leaning down toward you, slotting that mouth over yours. He takes advantage of your dazed state to run his tongue around the sensitive inside of your lips. You shiver and make a little sound in the back of your throat. Zeke seems to like that, because that slick tongue then dips in and strokes along yours, against the roof of your mouth, possessing you and stealing your breath.
Burning hands pull you into his lap, running eagerly over your sides. “Jeeeeesus, baby,” he says when he finally parts his lips from yours. “You’re gonna be the death of me.” You lick your lips, an action he avidly tracks, and then he’s kissing you again.
And it’s amazing, sending tingles down to your toes and moths swooping in your stomach. It tastes like lightning in your veins, the closest thing to soaring through the air with your ODM gear as you can get while sitting on the stone.
He slides you down to lay across the cold surface that makes up the top of the Wall, his lower half trapping yours as he mouths across your jaw to nibble on your throat.
“Zeke,” you breathe, overwhelmed and trembling, but unsure if you really want to end this. When you push experimentally at his shoulder, he doesn’t even pause his ministrations.
Fingers dart to undo your buttons, one large palm slipping in to cup your breast, and you realize he’s mumbling between kisses and love bites. “So fucking beautiful, babygirl.” The sharp edge of his teeth press against you as he sucks a hickey on your collarbone. “Perfect. Perfect, pretty girl. Wanna destroy you, steal you away for myself. So wrong.”
You’re getting so lost in his fingers pinching and rolling a nipple, in the scratch of his beard on your flesh, that it’s hard to follow what he says. It’s all just a mad jumble of praises.
“Tried to fight it, but you’re so good, baby.” He loses patience and tears at your blouse, the rest of the buttons flying in a staccato hail. His mouth follows the path down down to your breasts, and you think you should tell him to stop now, but his burning mouth engulfs half of the one not occupied by a hand, and all thoughts flee.
Your fingers tangle in his shaggy blond hair, tugging in tune with his tongue, which he seems to like. He worms his hips between your thighs, rolls deliciously against you. When you whine, he pulls from your breast with an obscene pop! and grins. Only now do you realize his glasses have been set aside.
“You sound so pretty, babygirl. How about we see if we can make you come, huh?”
You blink dumbly at him and he grins.
“Don’t know what that means, do you? It's okay, honey. Daddy will take care of everything for you.” His meaty hands work at your trousers, and your head tries to catch up, your own hands flying to his.
“W-wait. Wait!” You’re confused and hot and dizzy and you think you’re a little nauseous, too. It’s the same feeling you get whenever Reiner or Jean or even Mikasa is partially undressed around you.
He pauses. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” he assures you in the softest, most patronizing tone possible. “Here, lemme see if I can help you calm down a little, huh?” He unbuttons his own shirt, revealing a muscled chest just a bit slimmer than Reiner’s. Your mouth is dry all over again as you follow the revelation of each popped button. When he’s done and you make your way back to his face, he’s smirking. “See something you like?”
You turn your head, biting your lip in mortification at being caught staring.
Zeke lays one of your palms against his chest. “Don’t be embarrassed, baby. I like the way you look at me.” He dips back down to kiss and suck at your neck again, fingers skimming your sides. It’s enough of a walk-back that you start to relax again. When his hips begin their slow roll, you spread your thighs and wrap them around him.
“Fuck,” he hisses into your hair. “You’re killing me. I gotta taste you.” He tugs your trousers off before you can raise another protest, diving between your legs to press his nose against your underwear.
You shriek and try to push away, but he holds you tightly and licks your center through the material. And you freeze.
He tears them off after a few more laps, and the difference that little piece of cloth makes is insanity. You’re thrown into a puddle of your own making while he eats you like he’s starved. He sucks and nibbles and touches parts of you you didn’t realize could feel that way until you’re falling apart. You don’t even notice the first finger, but you definitely notice the second. It’s a slightly painful stretch, but it also feels so good.
He finally pulls back after what feels like ages, and you’re emptier than ever, blushing as he sucks his fingers clean. “You.” He shakes his head and chuckles nervously, staring down at her. “You’re killing me. I don’t know if I’m gonna be able to give you up after this.”
Then he’s unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning his pants, lowering them just enough that his erection pops out—
You can’t breathe.
You might be young, but you’re not totally blind. You grew up with a brother and spent all of your formative years in close quarters with multiple boys. You’ve seen them naked before, but always soft (or under covers while they slept, just tenting the blankets a little). And they’ve always been rather awkward looking in those glimpses. This is nothing like those.
It’s long and thick and standing up against his pelvis with slickness beading at the end as he strokes his fist up and down.
He lowers back over you, and when his dick brushes your stomach, you startle out of your daze, slapping against his shoulders with both hands.
“Sh, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “It’s okay. It’s okay,” he repeats, free hand brushing through your hair. “Baby, you’re alright.” It’s too easy for him to ignore your ineffectual hands, peppering kisses to your cheeks until you think, maybe, you’re safe. Then he’s pushing inside you and, Walls, that hurts!
It’s a stinging, burning stretch inside you as he bullies his way in. You whimper, eyes hot and vision shimmering with your tears, which he promptly kisses away.
When his pelvis meets yours, he pauses and pulls you into his chest with those strong arms wrapped around your waist and shoulders. “Shush, sweetheart. Sh. Daddy’s got you. The bad part is all over now. Relax, baby. I’m so sorry, I just couldn’t help myself. You’re so pretty.”
Despite the pain he’s causing, you fist the open edges of his shirt, sniffling against his shoulder as he continues rambling in that soothing voice of his.
“... such a perfect little sister. Didn’t know what to think when I saw you in town that day. I wanted to hate you, but you’re just so pretty and so sweet . I can’t let anyone else have you. Baby, baby, baby. Please calm down for me? I promise, I’ll make it feel good from here on. Please, honey.”
Another sniffle, and you realize the pain isn’t as bad. It's more of a discomfort than anything.
Zeke notices the change and cranes his neck to look down at your face. His smile is soft this time, fond. “There’s my girl. I’m gonna start moving now, okay?”
It still stings a little when his hips rock back, your walls dragging along them, but over the next few thrusts it starts feeling kind of good. And Zeke, noting every flicker through your expression, sees the shift immediately. He quickens, angling himself different ways until one particular thrust has you arching in his arms, a rush of wetness flooding your thighs.
“Atta girl,” he praises, and he picks up speed until the wet slap of your flesh is all you can hear between his dirty words and heavy panting.
You think you scream when your pleasure hits again. The world is thrown into relief, like a bolt of lightning flooded your vision. Your toes curl and you throw your head back, every muscle tense against Zeke’s hard body.
“Fuck. Can’t pull out, I’m so sorry, babygirl. Gonna cum in this perfect pussy. Made for me. Born just for me. Fuck,” you hear him spit out the curse again, then he buries his head against your throat and groans, his length throbbing against your still pulsing insides.
He lays over you for long moments as you both come down, steam rising from your hot bodies in the cold morning like you’re a titan just sliced across the nape. Then he rolls to the side, curling around you where you lie on your cape, pressing his lips to your stomach before laying his cheek there.
You don’t know how long the two of you bask like this. It’s your one day off training, so you aren’t too worried, but it would be horribly awkward if anyone were to—
“Zeke?”
Reiner and Bertholdt are standing not two yards away. Your guess is they didn’t see you at first since you’re lying down. Bertholdt’s cheeks stain red and he hurriedly looks away; Reiner, blue eyes wide, is trying to not stare, but his gaze is dancing all over you. You’re completely nude and sticky, while Zeke has shed his shirt to cool down, trousers still unbuttoned.
The blond beside you slips on his glasses and leans up on an elbow, flashing the others a grin. “Hey, boys.”
You wrap your cloak over yourself and hide against Zeke’s chest; he chuckles and pats your back.
“Hey, Zeke.” Bertholdt’s voice sounds strained. “Isn’t that, um, isn’t that your—”
“My sister?” He sighs and shakes his head as you freeze. “Yeah.”