𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐍 | 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬.

𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 // floch forster.

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: Y/n left her friends and joined the yeagerists with desire of revenge. she feels drained as her hands are covered with blood. the only person who leads her through the hell is Floch.
𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒔: mentions of death, light smut, 3d pov, I think I messed up with canon plot, Jean is an ex.
𝒂/𝒏: hii ^^ I had lots of ideas with AOT recently so I'll write something down. I wanted to make a big book with slow burn but I think I'll just write one-shots haha! also I have a wattpad - anorsella. ty for attention!
𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒈: heal - tom odell
𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 1,2k

Cheerful conversations over glasses of wine at the same table with the soldiers-followers of Eren Yeager only helped to forget all the events that happened before the "split" of the army into yeagerists. An explosion in a building, the murder of Zakklai, wine that turns people into titans... which, by the way, Y/n poured herself, and quite consciously.

Alcohol helped to calm her thoughts a little. It helped not to think, not to feel like a traitor to the people with whom she had been for about 10 years. It clouded the image of her ex, muffled the grief over her best friend. But, in fact, she probably just wanted to think so - wine didn't affect Y/n, and the army had very few strong drinks.

She got up and left the drunken yeagerists, went to the man who became the main light and support to her. The only one in whose words she felt the truth and wanted to follow him. His whole image personified freedom, and, no matter how contradictory it may sound, he served it. It wasn't Eren, not the one with whom Y/n exchanged three words a month, whose power was too much for her. And it wasn't Erwin Smith, whom she really admired, but in whom she saw the shadow of death lying on him and on his soldiers. The person she was going to was also alien to her, but he attracted her, he was the reason for her split, and, probably, if she could formulate her crumpled feelings for him into words, Jean would understand her. But he resigned himself and remained silent. Jean did not make it clear whether he forgave or not, he just covered his ears and left, also rushing between two fires, chasing the truth. This confused Y/n and gave the relationship with Flock Forster a certain shade of wrongness, regret and a huge mistake.

They haven't confessed to each other yet. She hadn't told Jean yet, and Forster hadn't opened up to her yet as well. They only said the unspeakable, they only felt. They were allies, they were friends, and it looks like they would become lovers tonight - in the midst of war and blood.
──────
Flock did not take part in drunken gatherings. Except that he spoke a few sentences, exchanged jokes, and then his smile abruptly turned into a stone serious face.

Flock seemed to be an absolute cynic, a fanatical idealist and a murderer. Y/n started becoming like him, which caused condemnation from her friends who went against Eren's ideas. And she couldn't go with them.

Flock and Y/n had a lot in common: they started their journey with dreams and hopes, with thoughts of fame and prosperity. They faced the horrors of murder and experienced real fear, which brought a few gray hairs to their young appearance and took away the sparkle in their eyes. They were both wounded and embittered, but Y/n still refused to stifle her emotions. She was like Jean in that sense. But he left, and she stayed on the easy path. And let it be. Now she wanted peace, revenge and to resolve the issue with Flock.

- Can I come in? - of course she could, Forster's room was open only for him and her.
- Come in. - a red-haired, very young guy was sitting at the table, but did nothing. His hand was propping up his cheek and he was looking thoughtfully out of the window. Tomorrow is another day when he will have to take up arms. Another day when she would have to kill, too.

There was silence. It was frequent between them, but comfortable enough.
- I keep thinking, is all this really necessary? All these deceptions, intimidation...
- Are you really going to discuss this with me? Do you really think about it when exactly your hands are covered in blood? - it's amazing how, for all his anger, hatred and cruelty, he was an empathic and sensitive human. Yes, Y/n saw him first of all as a human, not a soldier, and Flock appreciated that.
- I don't know.
Forster got up. He was wearing a shirt and pants, he looked relaxed, he did not hold his posture and did not grin. In front of her, he was ready to be like that. He didn't know why, but he seemed to know that she understood him.

He remembered how Y/n had been the first person to talk to him honestly after Erwin's suicidal outburst. He was rewarded for the feat, of course, but no one could imagine what he experienced then. He was angry at everyone and sarcastic only because he had to keep his pain to himself. But one day there was a case when Y/n, who was always joking with Jean about him, suddenly spoke quietly to him, her hand on his shoulder. Floch was angry that he had to listen to her, to look weak, he did not understand her kindness, because he hurt her, hurt her a lot. "You know, I wasn't there, - she said, - I can't imagine what you experienced, but it remains to accep the whole thing. you have a chance to look at the sun again. and perhaps to destroy the walls..." And he resigned himself, though having experienced such changes that he looking in the mirror did not believe that it was him.

Flock came up to her, not close.
- Okay. You need to get some sleep, I guess. But please, don't worry too much... - consolations were never easy to him. He was generally unable in the field of expressing the emotions, but for her he was ready to try.

The girl's eyes watered. She looked so sad, wistfully, constantly worried and nervous. It was noticeable, but the guy didn't want to say or do anything. He didn't know, and neither did she.
- Floch, how did we come to this? Floch, who are you?
- I do not know.

No one knew. Both felt that he had died on that field, and a new, strict, unapproachable man had come in his place, speaking in the words of Erwin Smith.

Y/n missed it so much. Y/n craved warmth. Y/n hugged him, and he stood in incomprehension, because they had never touched each other.
- It doesn't matter. I don't know who I am anymore either.
He answered the hug.
They didn't want to leave each other at all, because they were both starved for love.

The kisses and sighs, the rustling of clothes, the greedy touches, but both of them are dressed and these actions have been going on for ten minutes. Y/n runs her fingers into his reddish-red hair, covers his cheeks and lips with kisses. Floch hugs her, buries his face in her neck.

Everything was going to that intimate moment of passion, after which they would blush when they were close.
Floch's hands wandered over Y/n's body in military uniform. They moved to her thighs and thighs, the heat increased and it affected much stronger than the wine.

- Push me away now. Otherwise I won't stop.
- Shut up, please, - Y/n whispered, unbuttoning his shirt.

The sheets were rumpled and their naked bodies were lying next to each other. They were breathing heavily and were in a state of euphoria, which was so rare. Floch didn't say anything. Y/n too. The silence was comfortable.

Tomorrow is another day when he will have to take up arms. Another day when she would have to kill, too.