Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/13676595.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M, F/M
  Fandom:
      Shingeki_no_Kyojin_|_Attack_on_Titan
  Relationship:
      Levi/Erwin_Smith, Armin_Arlert/Levi, Mikasa_Ackerman/Eren_Yeager, Armin
      Arlert/Eren_Yeager
  Character:
      Armin_Arlert, Armin_Arlert's_Grandfather, Eren_Yeager, Mikasa_Ackerman,
      Levi_(Shingeki_no_Kyojin), Erwin_Smith, Grisha_Yeager
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe_-_War, WWIII, Historical_Fantasy, Gang_Rape, Breaking
      stereotypes, Eren_is_Armin's_soft_place_to_fall, river_sex, Poison, Armin
      saves_himself, Blow_Jobs, First_Kiss, Profanity, carrot_abuse, Germany,
      Russians
  Stats:
      Published: 2018-02-14 Updated: 2018-03-04 Chapters: 7/? Words: 40099
****** War on Titan ******
by Kumikoko
Summary
     When World War Three breaks out, a lone German village comes under
     attack.
Notes
     Initially I wanted to write a historical fanfiction set in World War
     I, and when I couldn't find the information I wanted, I traveled to
     World War II research and I still was not comfortable with what I
     wanted to do so I ventured towards World War III conspiracies and
     while I found nothing interesting, I have settled on the World War
     III concept to place my fanfiction in. In the fanfiction, I give a
     brief background of which countries are fighting each other and why.
     I'd like to point out that if a World War 3 ever occurred, I honestly
     have no idea which countries would actually pair up.
     This is a short introduction chapter, to the world, some of the
     characters, and the issues that will arise in future chapters. If you
     can get past the introduction, you'll see it's actually a story.
     This ultimately is a work of fiction and I do not own any of the
     characters.
***** Potato Town *****
                                 War on Titan
                            Chapter 1: Potato Town
World War III.
Everyone knew it would happen. It was only ever a matter of when.
Democrats blamed republicans, who blamed them right back. Atheists blamed
Religion, who in turn blamed atheists. Racists blamed other racists.
No one ever stopped to blame themselves for promoting their own bullshit,
ignorant agendas.
America and Russia teamed together to fight against the political leaders of
Germany one more time, who stood between them, and the Arab nations. Germany’s
ignorant, female leader was protecting the Arab nations, at the expense of its
own people. America and Russia knew that to protect their own countries from
the Arabs, they would first have to protect Germany from its poorly elected
leaders. Once the German people were freed of the Muslims raping, and pillaging
their lands, America and Russia could bomb all of the problematic Arab
countries without flak from other world powers.
That was the goal; Save the world from the insidious Muslims, who presented a
threat to all non-Muslims.  
This war mantra caused riots in the streets, and sent the internet into a
tweeting tizzy. The peck peons in sheep skin rallied together in loud, violent
protests to protect Muslims. All their life, they had been told that the
Muslims were peaceful. History showed a completely different story, one that
had been paved with blood from the very beginning.
Most people had long forgotten the atrocities that the Muslims had committed
throughout time. The Spanish were not amongst them. They remembered the
oppression of their ancestors, and had never forgotten. For this reason, Spain
fought alongside America, and Russia. They frothed at the mouth to give the
Arabs a taste of their own cruelty. For the proud Spanish, this was a war of
vengeance, whilst America and Russia aimed to protect their countries, and its
diverse citizens from the Muslim invaders.
In war, no matter how just, or how heroic, no one wins in the end. There are
always casualties, and unexpected consequences because there is nothing worse
than a good intention gone wrong. It was these very intentions that devastated
Germany, and its citizens, who had already been embroiled in an  war with the
foreign “refugees.”
Nestled deep within the Thuringian Basin, surrounded by a wide outer girdle of
limestone ridges, was a lone farming town that had been forgotten by time.
Potato Town had not seen visitors in hundreds of years, until recently. The
local lore was that if potatoes were regularly offered to the Gods, their
village would remain untouched by the outside world.
“Ah, I don’t believe in any of that stuff.” One unruly, brunette haired boy
quipped, as he puffed his chest out. He was fifteen, and he knew everything
there was to know about the world around him. He was not about to leave a
potato outside of his front door so that it could be magically whisked away by
some entity that he could not see with his own green eyes.
“But you must, Eren!” His best friend, Armin, a blonde, blue-eyed boy pressed,
with worry flickering through his eyes.
“Or what? Demons will invade our village and rape us? Murder us?” Eren
challenged, tired of hearing adults warn about the dangers of angering the
potato God. He was laying on the grass, with his arms behind his head, as he
stared at the wide, blue sky above him.
“Well,” Armin began, sitting down next to him, and folded his legs to sit
Indian style. “Think about it, Eren. My parents refused to offer a potato for
the annual potato harvest, and then those dark skinned men came the day after.
They murdered people. Raped the women, children, and goats. Grandpa even said
they wanted me, but he shot the one intruder with that gun.” Armin recalled,
waving his hand around for emphasis as he spoke. Eren frowned, remembering that
dark day in their history.
“That was a coincidence.” Eren scoffed haughtily, dismissing the connection
Armin pointed out to him.
“Maybe it is. But if not for Grandpa being in the possession of illegal guns,
our entire town would have been taken over by those men. He saved us all, you
know, and then the elders made it a point to make sure we all understood the
importance of offering up potatoes to the Gods. And if I recall, you slept
through that discussion.” Armin recounted, leaning back on his hands.
“Then let’s test it. I’ll deny the Gods their potato sacrifice, and we’ll see
if they punish us or not. And if they do, I’ll become their loudest voice.”
Eren suggested, crossing one leg over the other. A gentle wind brushed past the
two young, innocent boys.
“I’d rather not, Eren. It sounds like you’re playing with fire and I don’t want
to get burnt again.” Armin murmured, and self-consciously rubbed at a scar on
his hand. He had learned better than to follow Eren’s mischievous deeds
blindly. Eren noticed Armin was rubbing the scar again, and reached out,
placing his hand over Armin’s knee.
“Hey, I am sorry about that. You know I never meant to hurt you.” Eren
apologized softly, rubbing his thumb across his best friends knee in soothing
rubs. Armin shied away, and pulled his legs against his chest, becoming
withdrawn.
“That doesn’t change the fact that it happened. And it doesn’t change the fact
that I don’t want you to do this, but you’re going to do it anyways, and then
we might all be doomed.” Armin griped bitterly, feeling helpless and uncertain
about his future. It was not like Armin believed in the Potato Gods, but he
knew that every time someone did not offer a potato, something bad tended to
happen. And it had happened enough to make the clever blonde boy concerned.
“Ugh, be like that if you want to. I know you don’t believe in the Potato Gods
and I’ll remind you why you don’t in the morning.” Eren huffed, letting his
unchecked teenage hormones eat the sympathy he felt, and transition them into
anger. He stood up, and stomped off, because he was fifteen, and he had life
all figured out.
With a heavy sigh, Armin began to pluck the wild flowers near him, and
delicately, but intricately began to string them together into a flower crown.
He placed it over his head, and hoped that it would protect him from the
potential harm Eren was going to recklessly unleash on to the town. He stood up
then, and descended down the hill, towards home.
The luscious, vibrant potato fields stretched for miles.
Armin’s family had owned the entire potato field once, which had been passed
down from generation, to generation. But in recent years, with the murder of
Armin’s parents, and the passing of his grandmother, Armin and his grandfather
could not keep up with the extensive, laborious work. His grandfather ended up
selling most of the farmland, to those who did have the time to plant, nurture,
and harvest potatoes. They had a mere miles worth of potatoes left to grow,
which was still too much work for an elderly man, and a young child. Armin was
older these days, but he wasn’t suited for farm work, despite his aptitude for
it.
Grandfather always said he ought to have a book in those delicate hands, and
not a hoe. He had said that if the rest of the family had not perished, he
would have allowed Armin to wittle the days away with books. Unfortunately,
someone had to plow the fields and water the crops, and he couldn’t do it
himself so Armin hadto help.
 It was their way of life after. 
The town grew crops, and raised animals to sustain each other. In that way,
everyone knew everyone, and had since the town was formed. Armin even knew that
incestuous families were not uncommon. Some families liked to stick together.
One consistent theme in the village was that there was always a man, and there
was always a woman. And potatoes. Lots, and lots of potatoes. Everything was
simple in the sleepy potato town. Armin liked it this way because he could
retreat into his own mind, and ponder whether spiders thrived in the clouds as
well as they did on the ground. He stopped at the family well, and heaved to
draw up the bucket, so he could sip the water.
Family wells were common, and normally, the water was boiled before being used
in cooking.  
When Armin’s thirst had been satiated, he wandered around to the side of the
house, where a separate, large bucket of water sat, waiting for him. He knelt
down, and lifted a shirt that had been soaking in the water, and then scrubbed
it on the washboard. Since his grandfather dealt with the majority of the farm
work, Armin was left to take on traditional woman roles of the house when he
was not needed in the fields.
As farmers, their clothes often became stained with grass, and dirt. It had
taken Armin quite awhile to figure out how to properly remove the stains on his
own. He hadn’t wanted to ask any of the neighborly females down the road
because they would pity him more than they already did. Armin grimaced at that
thought, and stretched to hang the shirt up to dry on the clothesline, that
stretched from the house, to the small gardening tool shed.
All of the families had clotheslines. It was normal, to Armin. He crouched back
down, and began to scrub the rest of the clothes, and hang them up, one by one.
This was a chore he tended to avoid. The cool water dried his hands out, and
made them crack.
He nursed them against his chest for a moment, and wondered for the hundredth
time if the local women had lotions that would soothe his hands. He would only
have to ask, but then they would flock around him and mother him in ways that
hurt his dignity, and belittled his pride.
Damn it. Armin cursed silently as he saw one of the local hen mothers
approaching him. It must be Sunday. Armin realized, spotting the cooking pot in
her hands. I hope she made that noodle broth. Armin found himself hoping
reluctantly, as he stood up and casually rested his trembling hands at his
sides, to hide the dry skin. He did not want anyone to see how useless he was. 
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Schmidt.” Armin greeted, forcing a smile on to his face
that did not reach his pained, troubled eyes. 
“And a good afternoon to you, Little One. How are you faring out here by your
lonesome, with your Opa working the fields?” Mrs. Schmidt asked, with a
conversational tone, and balanced the cooking pot in one arm, so she could
freely pinch his cheek.
It took every ounce of self-control Armin had to refrain from frowning, and
pulling away from her. She didn’t seem to understand that he was fourteen. He
didn’t thrive off of cute nicknames, and cheek pinching. More then that, Armin
wanted to be independent. 
“Just fine.” Armin lied easily, and peered around her momentarily to make sure
no other women had come to dote on him. “Is it Sunday again?” Armin wondered
aloud, refocusing on her, and feigned ignorance to the fact that she returned
every Sunday, with more left overs.
“Why, it sure is. And since I feel terrible your mother isn’t around anymore to
cook for you, I want to make sure you get a bite to eat somedays. I have here
the left overs of my noodle soup. There’s potatoes, and a few carrots. You’ll
have to fight your grandfather for them.” Mrs. Schmidt chimed, and winked at
Armin teasingly, as she held the cooking pot out towards him.
Left overs. Armin barely repressed another frown. Some of the women made
special, specific meals for Armin and his grandfather to eat. But Mrs. Schmidt,
nice as she was, made it a point to feed the skinny boy left overs. As if that
concept was not humiliating. Left overs were given to the local dogs. They
werent meant to be offered to a hungry child.
I am hungry. Armin felt shame spread across his face as he reluctantly accepted
the pot. He hated himself for taking someone’s left overs. To be in such a
position in life that he couldn’t politely reject the gift weighed on his
conscious. He stared at the pot. 
This wasn't right. Armin did not grow, nor buy this food himself. Only lazy,
selfish mooches took things that did not belong to them. Armin's hands trembled
as he thought of what a bad person he was for accepting the pot of food. 
And as if to remind him of that unsettling fact, his stomach growled as soon as
he inhaled the scent of food. Cooked food. He wouldn’t be eating bread tonight.
Nor another dry, simple potato, left over from last harvest. If he was lucky,
the soup would be salted. Armin's mouth watered at the pleasant thought. 
“Oh, you’re so cute when you blush. What a dear you are. You poor, poor boy.”
Mrs. Schmidt gushed, as she ruffled Armin’s hair. She, maybe deliberately
misread the emoitions displayed on Armin's face. 
There it was. The pity. The pity that rubbed him the wrong way. The pity that
reminded him of how broken, and fucked up his life was. Armin felt his eyes
burn hot. He blinked furiously, and tried to compose himself, but fuck, after
his fight with Eren, he was sensitive, and left raw from cleaning the laundry. 
Other boys did not have to wash clothes or sweep the house clean of dust. Eren
and others had the freedom to run around the gorgeous strawberry fields and
stare at the clouds. All Armin wanted to do was curl up on the windowseal and
read books. Maybe childishly, Armin felt that life wasn't fair, and that Mrs.
Schmidt kept reminding him of that.
“Ah, Mrs. Schmidt. It is good to see you.” Armin heard his grandfather’s voice,
and silently thanked the Potato God he didn’t believe in for the gracious
distraction. Mr. Arlert must have noticed Mrs. Schmidt approach and knew Armin
would not want to be left alone with her for long so he stopped his field work
to come to Armin's rescue. 
“Mr. Arlert! Your boy is so shy, and charming. I just love him so, you know.”
Mrs. Schmidt enthused, and tried to pull Armin against her in a hug. Armin
reflexively dodged, which implied he knew how to avoid being womenhandled. He
ran towards the house.
“Thank you Mrs. Schmidt for everything! I better heat this up.” Armin called as
he fled, and did not look back. He pushed open the back door of the house and
rushed in, feeling nauseous and overwhelmed. Armin carelessly placed the
cooking pot on the table, and from a shelf he stretched to, he hastily tore
down a bucket that he crouched over and puked into, losing his breakfast. 
Everyone wanted to act as if they cared so damn much about a poor little potato
farmer, but it was all a damn show. Armin knew enough about the world to know
that much. Mrs. Schmidt only wanted to make herself feel better, so that when
Armin eventually died of starvation, she, like the other women, could act as
though they were all just such good people, caring for the poor dregs of town.
If she had cared, she would have seen the way his smile hadn’t touched his
eyes, or how badly his hands shook from overuse. She would have seen the way it
agonized Armin to be treated as a child, or as someone who needed help.
Nevermind that Armin did need help. And deep down, Armin knew he needed help,
and that’s what frustrated him the most. He wanted to be independent. Armin did
not want to rely on others, just to scrape by.
It was so humiliating.  
In the safety, and privacy of his home, Armin cried. He hated just how badly he
wanted those left overs. He hated that he took them. He hated that he couldn’t
have rejected them. Most of all, Armin hated how his own mother wasn’t around
to cook meals like that anymore. He missed her cooking, he missed how she would
hug him, and sing to him. He only liked when she had ruffled his hair.
Armin clutched the bucket tightly, his knuckles turned white. His shoulders
shook as he dry heaved into the bucket, sick with himself, and his life. Armin
was even angry at Eren for being pissy, and defiant. Armin had only tried to be
the voice of reason, yet Eren was going to do what ever it was that Eren did
best, and damn the consequences.
Even if the Potato Gods weren’t real, terrible things happened when they were
denied a potato sacrifice. Armin was terrified for the future. Would bad people
come to the village tomorrow? Would they take his grandfather from him too?
Armin remained hunched over the bucket, and tried not to be sick from that
thought. He was already concerned that his grandfather would kill over any day
from stress, exhaustion or hunger and now Eren wanted to mock the Potato Gods.
Armin had a dreadful feeling about it, and Eren wasn’t listening to him which
made him feel worthless. 
“Oh. Armin. Again?” His grandfather’s concerned voice cut through the
troublesome thoughts, and worries in his head. Armin craned his head up at his
grandfather, and felt incredibly small next to him. Mr. Arlert never
complained. Armin felt shame spread across his face. He wanted to be strong
like his grandfather. 
“I’m so sorry…I didn’t mean to behave so poorly…” Armin apologized, regret
creeping into his voice. He rubbed his palm against his eyes, furiously wiping
the tears away, because he didn’t want to worry his grandfather.  
“No, Armin. You don’t have to apologize.” Mr. Arlert assured him as he knelt
down carefully, and pulled Armin against him. “I know how stressed out you are,
and I am so sorry I influenced you to be like me.” Mr. Arlert apologized, as he
began to rub Armin’s back comfortingly. He recognized Armin’s insufferable
pride as a trait he passed down to him. The little blonde was a lot like him
when he was young.  Knowing that, Mr. Arlert did not mind letting Armin express
his feelings in the comfort of his own home.
Armin said nothing and wrapped his arms around his grandfather’s neck, and
buried his face against his neck to cry unabashed. Mr. Arlert’s understanding
nature was a relief, and a comfort to Armin who felt as if his feelings were
being validated. He still felt as if he was being petty, and selfish somehow,
but the fact that even if he was, that, his grandfather was still, then, being
nice to him was refreshing.
“If your hands hurt, I remember your grandmother would rub olive oil over
them.” Mr. Arlert added, having noticed Armin’s hands when dry, and cracking
when he had rubbed at his eyes. “You may use it however much you like if it
helps.” Mr. Arlert offered, keeping a strong arm around his precious,
overwhelmed grandson.
“I’ll…try that then…” Armin responded, while he tried to calm himself. He felt
like he was acting like a child, and wanted to instead act as strong as his
grandfather did. He rubbed at his eyes, and then rested against his father-
figure. Mr. Arlert tentatively grabbed Armin’s hand, and gingerly rubbed it.
“I don’t want this life for you…but times are hard, and we must endure. When
you turn sixteen, I can marry you a good wife who will take over the laundry
you hate so much.” Mr. Arlert mentioned, with encouragement in his tone. Armin
rested his head on his shoulder and shut his eyes.
“That I might like.” Armin relented, since he would prefer solely working on
the fields, and reading books as opposed to house work that made his hands hurt
in a more personal way than farm work did. He had little notion towards what
the concept of marriage meant, since couples did not make it a point to talk
about their relationships, or lack there of.
All Armin knew was that a man and a woman were to be married, and then a baby
would appear that Fall. But until he came of age, he knew he had no choice but
to continue with the house chores he didn’t like. His hands yearned for that
day. Armin briefly wondered if charming princes only rescued pretty
princesses. 
“Do you think you can wait two more years?” Mr. Arlert wondered, holding Armin
close. Armin shook his head weakly.
“No, but I will tough it out.” Armin promised, and slowly crawled off of his
grandfathers lap. “I’ll try the olive oil now.” Armin added, and went to fetch
the olive oil to spread on his hands. He wanted to be alone with his petty
thoughts. 
Mr. Arlert relied on the table to push himself back up on his feet, and grabbed
the bucket Armin had thrown up in. He dumped the bucket properly, washed it
out, before heading to the cooking pot. Mr. Arlert grabbed it and put it on the
stove to heat it.
Once Armin ate, Mr. Arlert knew he would feel better. Food always made Armin
feel better.
Armin who he would die to protect.
***** Enemy Potato *****
Chapter Summary
     The war spreads far across the lands, and stumbles across a lone
     village, once lost to time.
Chapter Notes
     This will be a brutal chapter to read. I do not use the "rape tag"
     lightly, nor as a joke, like so many other authors do.
     The Russian soldiers can speak a bit of German.
                                 War on Titan
                               Chapter 2: Enemy
The soft pitter patter of rain on the roof roused Armin awake. He opened his
eyes, and laid there for a few minutes, content to drowsily listen to the rain
splattering against the window. No thoughts circulated in his head until he
pushed himself up onto his elbows. His messy hair fell around his face. I need
a bath. Armin realized, catching a whiff of his hair that smelled like the
straw he and Eren rolled around in yesterday, sometime before their fight. He
rolled on to his side, and then thought about how he did not want to greet the
new, rainy day.
“Oh no!” Armin exclaimed, as he scrambled out of bed and bolted for the door.
He rushed through the house, and tore open the back door. Armin leapt outside
and slid in the mud. He flailed his arms, and managed to keep his balance. Then
he rounded the corner of the house, and saw the clothes he washed were still
hanging on the clothesline, where he had left them yesterday afternoon. “No,
no, no, no.” Armin fretted, because during the night, the wind had tossed mud
onto the clean clothes. Armin thought about how he would have to wash, bleed,
and scrub the clothes all over again. He screamed.
And he screamed until his throat was sore. He was mad at himself for shirking
his obligations, angry with his unfair life, and frustrated with Eren for not
offering up a potato to the supposed Gods. Armin had told him to get his head
out of his ass, but Eren obviously hadn’t listened because it was fucking
raining, and muddy. Once again, one of Eren’s antics had made Armin’s life
tougher. Armin clenched his trembling hands into fists, and stalked towards the
dirt road.
Rationally, Armin knew the rain could be a coincidence, and that he should have
brought the clothes in himself last night. Emotionally, Armin needed someone
else to blame. He headed down the road, and passed right by the strawberry
field he liked so much. Armin went straight for Eren’s house, and rapped his
knuckles briskly on the door. He sucked in a breath to calm himself, and not
appear so angry. The door opened, revealing Dr. Jaeger, Eren's father.
“May Eren come out to play?” Armin asked, forcing a smile on to his face.
“You just missed him. He’s heading for the fields.” Dr. Jaeger responded, and
noticed Armin was thinner than the last time he saw him. Armin had always been
alarmingly thin, though it was not uncommon amongst the villagers.
“Thank you, Dr. Jaeger. I’ll just go—” Armin started, waving  dismissively as
he began to turn around to leave. There were wounds on his pale hands, which
implied he was doing a woman’s job at home. Mikasa had those same wounds on her
hands, from doing her own laundry, alongside Eren and Dr. Jaeger's laundry. Dr.
Jaeger briefly wondered what Armin must think, being delegated to do a women's
work, then grabbed Armin’s wrist.
“Why don’t you come inside for a minute, and borrow one of Eren’s jackets. You
might catch cold in this weather.” Dr. Jaeger suggested, since Armin was
trembling in a pair of simple tan pants, and a long sleeved shirt. Armin
started to shake his head and retreat, but Dr. Jaeger’s grip on his arm was
strong, since he was used to dealing with Eren. “I insist.” Dr. Jaeger
insisted, wanting to help Eren’s delicate, unfortunate friend out.
“O-okay. I’ll just grab a jacket and go.” Armin reluctantly conceded, and
because he had no choice, he stepped into the house. Dr. Jaeger plucked Eren’s
old jacket off of the coat hanger, and draped it over Armin’s little body.
Armin muttered a quick ‘thanks’ and shoved his arms into the holes of the
jacket.
“If you need help with the household chores, I’ll send Mikasa over.” Dr. Jaeger
offered, and buttoned the jacket up for Armin. Armin brightened at the thought
of getting out of laundry duty, then shook his head in protest, having thought
better of it. He did not want Mikasa to have intimate knowledge of his clothes.
Plus, they were friends. It seemed cruel to even entertain the idea. 
“N-no. I’ll be okay.” Armin promised, and quickly made his escape out the door
before Dr. Jaeger could guess at the rest of Armin’s pitiful life. Armin ran to
the fields, and found Eren, making mud balls. Armin trudged through the mud,
and felt his earlier anger return. “Eren!” Armin barked accusingly, as he
approached his best friend who never seemed to have a care in the world.
“Huh?” Eren looked over his shoulder, and saw Armin coming towards him, with an
angry expression on his face. Eren grinned from cheek to cheek. “Aww, Armin.
You’re so cute when you’re mad.” Eren gushed teasingly, thinking Armin’s apple
hued cheeks were charming. He always liked making Armin mad, because Armin
reminded him of a little pint-sized puppy, adorable, and completely non-
threatening.
“Is this funny!?” Armin questioned angrily as he thrust his hands in Eren’s
face. “Because I have to wash those clothes all over again because you just had
to defy what we don’t understand!” Armin yelled, voicing his frustration over
how much more pain his hands will be in, partially thanks to Eren. Eren was
always finding ways to damage his hands, it seemed. The same hands Eren used to
like, because they had been soft, like a women’s palms.
Eren blinked at Armin’s hands, and saw the dried, cracked skin. He twisted on
to his knees and grabbed Armin’s wrists, to further inspect the damaged hands.
“Hell, I am sorry, Armin. I don’t know why your hands keep getting hurt.” Eren
apologized, his tone soft and concerned. He hadn’t thought that defying the
Potato Gods would bring bad karma on to Armin.
“I am so upset with you. You never listen to me, and then I am the one who gets
hurt while you glide through life without a care in the world.” Armin ranted,
venting some of his pent up anger out onto Eren, who hunched his shoulders. He
felt bad, which made Armin feel relief that Eren knew he messed up.
“Well, at least it stopped raining. Maybe I can kiss your wounds better?” Eren
suggested, since he was partially at fault for bringing Armin to tears. Armin
yanked his hands away from Eren and huffed stubbornly. “Come on, let me
apologize to you properly.” Eren pressed, wanting to repent for making Armin’s
already hard life more difficult. Armin glanced warily at Eren, and folded his
arms across his chest, becoming withdrawn.
“It won’t matter because you’ll just do something stupid tomorrow, and I’ll get
hurt again.” Armin griped, staring at the muddy grass. Now that he had vented,
and Eren had listened, Armin felt horrible for yelling at him in the first
place. He just did not feel bad enough to apologize yet.
“As much as I want to tell you that that’s not true…I get bored here. I’m
sorry, really, I am. I am so sorry.” Eren swore, and wrapped his arms around
his emotional friend. Armin stiffened, but had no notion to push Eren away, not
when he was being honest and kind. Armin sighed grumpily and leaned into Eren’s
arms that had kept him safe, and warm since the very first day they met as
toddlers.
“I’m sorry too, Eren. I know I should have brought the clothes in last night
myself, but Mrs. Schmidt came by yesterday and thrust left overs on me.” Armin
said, and pressed his face against Eren’s neck. He inhaled the scent of straw,
Earth, and horse. Eren had a horse back home, and since he tended to clean the
stables and care for the horse, he kind of smelled like the horse. Armin knew
he didn’t smell any better, so he said nothing and instead found comfort in the
natural scents of his friend.
“Ah, I know you hate when that happens. I don’t really understand why, though.
I mean, you do need to eat sometimes and she is willing to provide you—” Eren
started, but before he could finish with his point, Armin angrily pulled away
from him.
“Of course you would not understand. You’ve never been hungry before. You have
food, so you’ve never been forced to rely on others, and feel how bad that
feels.” Armin snapped, irritated that Eren would even think of defending that
bitch. Armin did not need Eren to understand, he just needed him to listen.
Eren lifted his hands up in surrender, realizing he hit a nerve. Again. Armin
never used to be so emotional. He used to be a relatively happy kid.
“You’re right, I don’t know about that. If you’re hungry, why not come over to
my place? I’ll feed you.” Eren offered, and held his hand out to Armin. Armin
huffed, annoyed Eren thought that his offer was kind, when it only humiliated
him more. The whole point was that Armin didn’t want other people to take care
of him, he wanted to take care of himself.
“That’s not the point. I don’t want other people to give me things because not
only does it suggest that I can’t get those same things for myself, but then I
feel like I owe them something and I hate that.” Armin explained, in an effort
to make Eren understand that he needed to be free. He did not want to be in
debt to someone else. What if Mrs. Schmidt was only being nice to Armin because
she wanted him to marry her ugly, boyish daughter that was around his age? That
thought made Armin feel nauseous. If he ever married a girl, he wanted her to
be soft, and pretty. Feminine.
“Oh. It’s a power thing.” Eren realized, and felt that he understood why Armin
was bent out of shape about being handed left overs. Armin nodded, affirming
Eren’s guess. Eren knew Armin tended to feel insecure, and powerless ever since
his parents were murdered. Armin used to be a cheerful, happy-go-lucky child. A
lot had changed since then, and while Eren only ever wanted to make Armin
smile, he could not resist making Armin angry at him from time to time because
the only time Armin vented his anger was when Eren coaxed it out of him.
“Yeah. I—hey. Eren.” Armin distractedly spoke, as he patted Eren’s chest
repetitively, and urgently. Eren tensed, hearing the alarm in Armin’s voice,
but what concerned him most was how pale Armin became. He turned around, and
saw why Armin was scared.
Foreign men in green clothing were approaching the village. Amongst them was a
huge, hulking vehicle, the likes which the young teenagers had never seen
before. It made horrible noises, and made the ground shake underneath it.
“It’s the Potato God.” Armin shrieked fearfully, his voice reaching a higher
pitch, while he pointed a trembling finger at the military tank.Eren frowned,
having believed the Potato God would be brown, or would come in the form of a
selfish, stupid girl. Oh, wait. That was Sasha. Fuck, was she stupid. Eren
surveyed the surrounding land. There was no where for them to duck, or hide.
The village was so close, but so far away. There was no way the strange men,
equip with guns had not seen the pair of boys on the hill. Eren knew that much,
but it did not stop him from grabbing Armin’s wrist, and making a run towards
town.
"Come on, Armin." Eren said, as he ran pulled a stumbling Armin along with him.
Armin followed Eren, and hoped the hasty brunette knew what he was doing.
Shouting ensued behind the fleeing kids. Loud gun fire reverberated in their
ears. Eren gasped, and ran faster. Armin yelped at the loud noise, and pulled
Eren to the right. Hard. A bullet whizzed past Eren’s ear.
“Ah, they’re fucking shooting at us.” Eren complained, and placed a hand over
his hot ear. It had not occurred to him that Armin’s jerky movements had saved
his life. Armin practically led the way, even though he was behind Eren. In
this way, they zig-zagged towards the town. For being a child with almost no
gun exposure, Armin’s technique was clever. However, the way they weaved back
and forth was tiring, and confusing for them.
But for trained soldiers who often had to shoot moving objects, the kids did
not go completely unscathed for long. A bullet lodged itself into Eren’s leg,
making him cry out, and crumple to the ground. Eren had had a habit of picking
fights with the other village children and often received sprains, fractures,
and or a broken bone, but the scalding pain igniting through his leg was
nothing like he had ever felt before.
In some ways, it was a small fraction of how Armin felt when his hand was
burned on the pot. Eren grabbed his leg, and felt warm liquid wet his hands.
“Eren!” Armin shouted with alarmed concern, and knelt down by his best friend.
A bullet hit the ground near Armin’s knee, and scattered dirt, and grass into
the blonde’s face. Armin gasped with fright, becoming startled and threw his
arms over his face.
“Ah!” Armin’s scream broke through the mind-numbing, white hot pain fogging
Eren’s brain up. He opened his green eyes, scrambled up, and pounced on to his
best friend. Eren held Armin tight against him, to guard him from gun fire. It
was all he could do to protect his delicate friend, since even if he had Armin
leave him behind, the gunfire could easily take Armin down too.
This way, Armin would be relatively safe, at least until the soldiers caught up
to them.
“Why couldn’t you have just listened to me!? The Potato God is going to kill
us!” Armin shouted, his accusatory voice rang in Eren’s ears. The little blonde
was frantic, desperate, and needed someone else to blame because if he had to
blame himself for one more thing that went wrong in his life, he would break.
It had to be someone else’s fault this time.
“I am s-sorry!” Eren stuttered through pain-gritted teeth. He grabbed Armin’s
wrist, kissed his hand. “I am so sorry. I know I should have listened to you.
You always know the right thing to do, I just get bored and now it’s just like
all those years ago, but these men are different.” Eren conceded, raising his
voice so he could be heard over the gun fire. The gun fire ceased then, when it
was obvious that the children weren’t running away anymore.
“They’re going to kill us.” Armin cried, tucking his head underneath Eren’s
chin. He let the honest, copper-skinned boy kiss the wounds on his hand. Eren
placed his trembling hand on the back of Armin’s head, and held him close.
“Don’t look.” Eren whispered against Armin’s ear, as they were surrounded by
five unfamiliar men. The rest of the army, and the tank went around them, and
continued to head for the village. Eren looked at each of the men, who wore
identical military outfits, and weaponry. They were of similar builds as well,
having more muscle and abs on them than anyone in the village had. Their faces
were pale, but their eyes were cold, and haunted.
All at once, the men began to converse with each other, in angry tones. Eren
understood the men were arguing, or debating about what to do with the two
stray teenagers. It was clear that some of them were uncomfortable with what
Eren guessed to be the idea of killing them. At least whoever they were seemed
to have a problem with murdering children. But that was all Eren could
understand, since the language was foreign. Armin tensed in Eren’s arms,
hearing the strange language. He gripped the front of Eren’s shirt and did not
dare to utter a noise.
One of the men, who had curly brown hair sticking out from underneath his
helmet, olive skin, and dark eyes stepped forwards. He had broad shoulders, and
was taller than the rest of the soldiers. Eren noticed he was the only one
amongst the men who had a different star ranking system than the others, which
implied he had authority over the rest, especially because they all stared at
him.
“Well lookit here, men. A boy and his little tomboyish girlfriend. Man, are
German women lacking in class.” The man said, and was pleased to hear the
soldiers hoot and holler in agreement. Eren straightened up, realizing the man
had spoke in German. The Captain was bilingual, which had become an imperative
requirement for high ranking military leaders, for reasons just like this one.
“Hey, Armin is not my girlfriend!” Eren exclaimed defensively, and held Armin
tighter. Armin still said nothing. He was trying to figure out a way to save
them both from being shot at point blank range. If they cooperated with the
men, and told them what they wanted to hear, they might let them go simply
because they were children, and civilians.
“I am his sister.” Armin spoke up, raising his voice so he could be heard over
Eren’s warning growls. The captain whistled with amusement, and suddenly, Armin
regretted his lie as dread tightened itself around his intestines. Eren gaped,
and sputtered for a moment, then clamped his mouth shut, deciding to just go
alone with Armin’s poorly constructed lie.
“Someone’s mother was a slut.” Stated the Captain, which elicited more jeers
from the soldiers who either spoke German fluently, or knew enough bits and
pieces to put together that their Captain was insulting the German kids. Eren
growled louder and tried to spring up in a bout of anger, but his leg reminded
him that it still felt as if it was on fire. He gasped in pain and sat right
back down. Armin grabbed Eren's shoulders tightly, to keep him from doing
anything rash.
“Take it back.” Eren warned, puffing his chest out in an attempt to look
intimidating, but after his embarrassing tough-guy display gone wrong, no one
was scared of him and he knew it. He was just a teenager, who had no weapons to
fight with. Armin, presumed to be a girl, was even less threatening than Eren
was.
“You got spunk, Kid. You want to see the world, Brat? Come, fight with us.
We’ll mold you into one of us.” The captain offered, liking the fire blazing in
Eren’s green eyes. He understood that a lot of the German people did not want
the invasion of the Muslims, and figured that he could offer the young ones a
chance to fight their country, for their country's future.
“Get lost!” Eren exclaimed, taking a stance against them.
If they were going to be murdered, Eren wanted to fight until the end.
“Wait.” Armin whispered, having another idea. “Go with it, Eren. If you can
gain their trust, you can steal a gun from them.” Armin explained in a hushed
tone, knowing that if Eren managed to get ahold of a gun, that he would not
hesitate to shoot each soldier here. Eren could be ruthless, and cold, and
right now, Armin was hoping for the psycho Eren to emerge. The one he had seen
lurk and creep around in Eren’s eyes from time to time.
“Is that your final offer?” The Captain pressed curiously, and waited for Eren
to say something. Eren hesitated, torn between wanting to fight, and listen to
Armin. “Grab the girl.” He said, in his native language so the other soldiers
would understand him perfectly. One of them stepped forwards to grab Armin.
Eren tensed.
“No! Wait, wait, wait. I’ll join you. I swear. Just—just tell me what to do.”
Eren shouted suddenly, choosing to listen to Armin for once in his life. The
Captain paused, and halted the approaching soldier.
“Well then, here’s what you need to know. We are Russians, currently embroiled
in a world war against Germany, and all hostile Arabic countries. Actually,
we’re heading for Berlin to overtake the Capital. We decided to cut through
here as a shortcut, never expecting to find a fucking backwater village.”
Explained the Captain dismissively, since that was background information. “As
a new recruit, you’re going against your own country to save your own country.
You’ll die for us, as a scout.”
“Fine, fine. Just don’t hurt Armin.” Eren said impatiently, wanting Armin to be
able to run away and be free. He needed that to happen, because the blood loss,
and the pain in his leg was making him pale, and dizzy. If a fight ensued, Eren
wasn't sure he could win.
“Oh. Ar-min. Let’s see her. Now.” The leader urged firmly, his voice leaving no
room for arguments. A lackey yanked Armin away from Eren. Armin and Eren both
gasped with alarm and reached for each other.
“Hey, put hi—her down!” Eren demanded, as he scrambled to his feet, and rested
the brunt of his weight on his good leg. Armin was held underneath his armpits,
left to flail in the air uselessly. He was short, compared to the tall, bulky
Russians of impeccable military status. They all looked as if they had been
bred for war, especially compared to a couple of straggly village boys.
For a moment, no one spoke. Eren and Armin were holding their breaths. The
soldiers were struck by Armin’s girlish charm, chubby, apple cheeks and  his
tiny, delicate physique. Even Eren had admitted to himself from time to time
that Armin was cute with his fair skin, and pretty blonde hair. But the way
that the ginger haired soldier was staring at Armin made Eren irritated. The
only comfort he had was that Armin wasn't actually a girl. Once the men
realized this, they would surely stop drooling over Armin.
Some of the soldiers began murmuring in their native language. Eren and Armin
could not understand them, but neither boy liked how the men were staring and
gesturing to Armin’s pouty, pink lips. Armin shrank back as much as he could,
as the leader approached. He grabbed Armin’s chin, and rubbed his thumb over
his trembling bottom lip.
“Many of my soldiers would love to have your pretty lips wrap around their
cocks. Would you do that service for them, in exchange for your life?” The
Captain wondered, tracing the succulent shape of Armin’s lips with his thumb.
Armin paled at the thought, while his eyes bulged.
“I-I’m fourteen!” Armin exclaimed, as if that fact would keep the hungry eyes
from devouring him. He was becoming scared, and ever more aware that he was
going to be hurt.
“And? All is fair in war.” Stated the Captain with a shrug of his shoulders,
and watched Armin’s eyes grow wider, as he realized these men had dark
intentions in store for him. Armin swallowed hard, and shook his head, while a
whimper escaped his lips. Eren panted, and tried to focus on the situation
before him. He knew he needed to help Armin. He just couldn’t make the mental
connections needed to do so.
"Hey, Armin isn't a toy to be used!" Eren rasped, disgusted that the soldier
would even think of objectifying Armin like that.
“I am a boy, a boy!” Armin shouted desperately, hoping that fact would deter
the men from wanting to do bad things to him. He did not want a penis anywhere
near his mouth.
“A boy?” The captain scoffed, incredulous. He shook his head, and gestured
around to his soldiers. “We are men. Albert, Viktor, Dennis, Igor and me,
Boris. You are a girl, with a pretty mouth. Open wide. Let’s see how wide you
stretch.” The Captain, and leader, Boris instructed Armin, who clamped his
mouth shut tight and groaned fearfully.
“He is a boy.” Eren spoke up, remembering he needed to fight in any way that he
could. If he couldn’t move without becoming dizzy, he could be mouthy, and turn
their attention on to himself. Boris stared at Eren with disbelief. “We grew up
together. I swear. I know he’s a boy. We bathed together in the crick a lot.”
Eren swore, recalling his baths he took in the local creeks with Armin. Armin
was definitely a boy.
“Bullshit. Captain, you should make her strip. We’ll know then, Hehe.”
Suggested Igor, with a laugh. He was the ginger man holding Armin up. He spoke
in his natural Russian language. Boris contemplated the idea, then nodded
briskly, and made a gesture for Armin to be released. Igor dropped Armin, who
gasped, and crashed on to the ground.
“Take your shirt off.” Boris instructed, using his second language of German to
give commands to the presumed girl. A gasp sounded from both teenagers. “Now.”
Boris commanded, and thrust his gun in Armin’s face. Armin shrieked and threw
his arms high into the air and trembled like a fucking Chihuahua. His eyes went
cross-eyed as he stared at the barrel of the gun, that was too close to his
face for him to think of anything else. Boris rolled his eyes with annoyance.
“Viktor. Take it off of her.”
“Gladly.” Viktor agreed, and tugged at Armin’s shirt. Armin squealed. His first
instinct was to wrench away, but the cold steel of the gun pressing against his
nose kept him still as he was stripped of the shirt. Eren’s lips parted with
disgusted surprise. He hadn’t thought these fuck heads would really check to
see if Armin was a girl, or a boy.
And why did Armin’s gender matter, anyways? They were civilian children. Dread
suddenly filled Eren as he distinctly recalled something he said to Armin
yesterday;
Or what? Demons will invade our village and rape us? Murder us? 
Eren looked at the way the men were eyeing-humping Armin, even though Armin was
a flat-chested boy, and felt sick. The little blonde was probably the prettiest
human being the men had seen in awhile, and arguably, Armin was one of the most
feminine people in the village. Mikasa was prettier, but damn, Armin made all
of the older men awkwardly uncomfortable.
These men seemed to be no exception, because even now that Viktor was rubbing,
and pinching Armin’s pretty, pink nipples, the blonde’s alarmed, startled yelp
was high-pitched and painfully feminine, which garnered the attention of the
men. A surprised, airy gasp left Armin’s throat. His first instinct was to
throw his arms over his chest, but the presence of the gun made him reach back
for the sky, and whimper defeatedly. Eren, distracted from his weakening body,
wondered if Armin had begun to change, like he had been for the last two years.
Armin’s voice really sounded the same as it did back then. Had Armin not begun
the change, despite being fourteen? Eren tried to push these thoughts out of
his head.
“Show us your true gender, and he might stop touching you.” Boris offered,
keeping the gun hoisted up, and pressed against Armin’s pale, sweating
forehead. Armin barely repressed another shriek as Viktor began to kiss, and
suck on his neck. Igor practically foamed at the mouth with jealously. Albert
rolled his eyes, and shook his head.
They think I am a girl still? Armin wondered with horror, while Boris gestured
to Armin’s pants, with the gun. Armin’s breath hitched in his throat. “No.” The
word came out as nothing more than a shameful whimper. They want to humiliate
me. Just like the other boys in the village, who liked to hit Armin. This was
all a power game.
This he understood.
“Do it.” The other soldier, Igor, hissed impatiently. Armin did not need to
know Russian to know what the man with the twisted smile wanted him to do. With
trembling hands, Armin hooked his thumbs under the waistband of his plain
pants. If I show them…they’ll leave me alone because I am not a girl. Men have
time with women. Armin assured himself, as he did his best to rationalize
removing his clothes in front of these dangerous strangers and shakily began to
tug his pants down. Men can't be with men.
“Don’t do it, Armin! He just wants to embarrass you.” Eren called, from where
he was barely standing, not far away at all. His own breaths were becoming
uneven as the gunshot wound continued to leak blood. Armin did not dare say a
word as he slowly slid the pants off of his narrow hips, and let his fringe of
hair hide his eyes. The man gestured the gun at him again. Armin reluctantly
stepped out of the pants, knowing better than to argue when a gun was pressed
against his bare chest.
There was no doubt anymore that Armin was a young guy. The underwear he wore
revealed his boyish package, and round butt cheeks. He quivered, feeling the
intense stares that raked over his skinny body, criticizing, judging,
mocking…Armin just knew he was being picked apart, and sized up. They too would
come to the conclusion that he was not a real man, as had many other people in
the past. Armin’s feminine features never failed to attract the wrong type of
attention, that called his masculinity, or lack there of, into question.
“All of it, you dirty German brat.” Dennis commanded spitefully, in broken
German. Armin almost did not understand him, but when Boris’s gun swiped across
his crotch, he knew then that they wanted him to stand before them with no
secrets. Eren seemed to understand that too, and felt his blood boil. Armin was
too innocent, and sensitive to be manhandled like this.
“No.” Armin whispered, embedding a soft plea into his voice. His arms were
still raised towards the sky, similar to Eren’s own. They weren’t fighting, but
they should be. They were just too young and sheltered to know how quickly the
tense situation could escalate into something horrific, and unforgettable.
‘Nein’ was a word all of the Russians were familiar with.
“Then I’ll help you.” Viktor decided, and tugged Armin’s underwear off of his
narrow, bony hips. Armin, in a flustered frenzy, squealed with alarm, and threw
his hands over his exposed cock, gun be damned. The underwear was callously
ripped off his pale body. Dennis, the fifth man, howled, and jeered, seeing
Armin’s legs that appeared hairless. Eren gasped with pity, seeing no dark hair
to speak of on Armin’s body. His own copper skin was covered in dark hair, and
had been for the last two years since puberty had awakened within him.
Each of the soldiers had the same thoughts as Eren did; The little blonde was
still a fucking child. Only Eren was concerned as to why this was. If they
lived through whatever these men had planned for them, Eren was going to
inquire about Armin’s virtually hairless body. At fourteen, the changeshould
have occurred in Armin. Why hadn’t it?
“You monsters.” Eren growled under his breath, and sent Armin a sympathetic
look. Armin refused to look at anyone—he was staring at his feet, because he
did not want to see the mocking grins he instinctively knew were plastered onto
the men’s faces. Armin heard some of them laugh, and converse mockingly in
Russian. Tears stung his eyes as his face heated pink with humiliation.
“Let us see your penis, or Albert will shoot your brother.” Boris warned, and
nudged the barrel of the gun against Armin’s shaking hands. Armin whimpered
loudly, and reluctantly lifted his arms and wrapped them around himself. He
hung his head with shame, and trembled with nervous fear.
“Fuck, he’s hairless.” Albert mentioned, with shock that the little blonde had
to be much younger than they initially thought. His words were spoken in
Russian, but Armin understood by the tone of his voice that he was being
mocked, insulted, or belittled in some way shape or form and felt a new surge
of shame spread through his entire body. No one should be made fun of for what
their body did, or did not look like, but Armin never felt more ashamed in his
life.
“No, he’s a fucking German. Look closer.” Dennis declared, and grabbed a
fistful of soft, blonde curls that were barely visible, even in the sunlight.
Armin gasped, feeling the blood drain from his face, and jerked back, bumping
into Viktor, who reached around him to grab at the ghost-like curls to see if
Dennis was telling the truth. Boris kept the gun pointed at Armin, to remind
the little blonde that he was still not in control of the situation. Another
whimper escaped Armin's throat.
“My God, everything about him is soft and delicate.” Viktor gasped jealously,
as he curiously pawed at Armin’s sensual curves, and hair that framed his face.
Armin squealed, reaching a higher octave, as he tried to wrench away from
Viktor, but by now, he was surrounded. And it was now that he spotted the
awful, lustful grin spreading across Igor's face. Armin swallowed hard, as
dread began to fill his heart, knowing that that grin would haunt his fucking
nightmares, right alongside the muddy laundry.
“H-hey, d-don’t touch him!” Eren barked weakly, as he sunk to his knees. He
felt hot—too hot, and yet so insufferably cold at the same time. He sweated,
and panted, becoming pale. At this point, all Eren could do was yell,
especially because he could only guess as to what the men were doing to Armin.
They had surrounded him moments ago, and since then, Eren saw arm movements,
heard Armin’s alarmed squeals, and sometimes saw Armin’s flushed, petrified
face. He wanted to take Armin’s advice, and steal a gun—the men were so
intrigued by Armin that Eren felt as if he could snag a gun away from one of
them, but he could not bring himself to move with the quickness he needed to
accomplish the task.
“Don’t touch me!” Armin parroted fearfully, jerking away from Viktor, only to
stumble right into Albert’s gun. The cold metal against his shoulder made Armin
gasp, and scramble back to the center of the small circle. He timidly surveyed
the soldiers, and wondered why they were wasting their time bullying two young
boys. Didn't they have German soldiers to gun down, and not the citizens?
“Oooh!” Albert and Dennis chimed in unison, mocking Armin shamelessly. “He
thinks he is self important enough for his selfish wants to be listened to.”
Dennis said, and laughed at the ridiculousness of Armin’s demand.
“P-please. We’re just teenagers. Just let us go. We can’t possibly harm any of
you.” Armin begged, hoping one of them would understand him, and remember that
they had more important things to be doing then harassing a couple of
teenagers. Albert opened his mouth to speak.
Just then, loud gun fire, and ear-piercing screams began to stretch across the
field, originating from the village. Eren and Armin screamed in unison, and
ducked.
“Ah, no one ever wants to surrender willingly.” Albert sighed, while Viktor
tsked. Igor laughed cruelly like a maniac, imaging the horror that must be
befalling the dirty, backwater German village. Dennis whistled. Boris sighed.
“It’s not about that, you idiots. They’re shooting the men.” Boris snapped,
forgetting to switch over to his natural German tone. Startled, Eren went rigid
upon hearing that the men of the village were being unceremoniously
slaughtered. Armin snapped his head up.
“Grandpa!”
“Dad!”
The boys shrieked in unison, realizing their only remaining family members were
likely to be murdered. Eren clambered to his feet, intent on rushing home and
rescuing his father. As soon as he applied pressure to his wounded leg, a mind-
numbing pain spread through his body, igniting and spreading like violent tree
roots. He crumbled back to the ground, gasping, and panting with pain. Tears
stung his eyes as a feeling of helplessness overcame him. “Dad!” Eren mourned,
clenching his hands into fists.
“Please, please don’t let them kill my grandfather!” Armin begged desperately,
eyes wide with fear. “He’s the only one I have left.” Armin pleaded, shaking
with a raw, primal fear. If he lost his grandfather, he would be solely
responsible for the field work, and all of the house hold chores, most of which
he was still struggling to perform properly. His hands took the moment to
scream at him, as if to remind him that Armin that they could not handle any
more laborious labor. He would be all alone without his grandfather, and would
be left to fend for himself. That was a terrifying thought.
“My Dad is a medic, he could help you all if you let him live!” Eren spoke up,
sounding just as desperate as Armin did. Neither of them wanted to lose the
only precious family they had left.
“Whoa, wait.” Boris said, raising a hand. “You two brats told me you were
siblings, that, you were her older brother, except you never mentioned that she
was actually a boy. And now? You both act as if you’re not in the same family.”
“Lying whores.” Dennis grumbled, understanding enough German to piece together
what Boris has said, though he spoke Russian. Albert raised his eyebrows,
understanding the kids had been lying to them the whole time. Igor growled, and
barred his teeth. Viktor shook his head.
“We’ll kill them all and I'll fuck his corpse!” Igor declared, though the
Russian words were lost on the boys. He was a particularly evil man. Armin
paled at the angry tones, and realized he fucked up by lying.
“No, no…I didn’t…I didn’t mean to…” Armin whimpered frantically, his blue eyes
were wild with terror. They’re going to kill me. That persuasive thought
paralyzed Armin to his core, and in a desperate attempt to give them a reason
not to kill him, Armin raised his trembling arms in surrender. "I-I'll be
honest, I swear."
Boris shook his head, and then whacked Armin with the gun. Armin yelped with
pain, and clutched his throbbing cheek. He could taste blood, while his tongue
stung from being bitten. “I tried to be nice to you, but you Germans are all
the same.” Boris griped irritably, and shoved his gun into Albert’s hand. “If
he so much as fucking moves, shoot him.” Boris commanded, and stepped around
Armin. He was done playing the nice guy to a couple of unruly children.
“What happened? Armin, Armin are you okay?” Eren called, refocusing on the dire
situation Armin was in. All he could see was Boris stepping around
someone—Armin, the brunette assumed. He had heard a smack, and Armin’s yelp
that implied he had been hurt. But damn it, he couldn’t see, and he couldn’t
seem to push through the burning pain in his leg.
“Eren, I am scared!” Armin admitted, calling out to his friend that he could
not see. Albert threatened Armin with the gun. Armin shrank back, and again
raised his arms into the air, to show he was willing to be submissive if it
meant he could live to see another day. “Please, I am so sorry I lied. We’re
best friends, I swear that’s the truth.” Armin then returned to begging for his
life, in the hopes that his display of desperate honesty would make the men
less hostile with him.
“Oh, you’ll be fucking sorry by the time we’re done with you. We haven’t seen
any tail in weeks, and right now, your lying ass is the prettiest thing we have
seen in awhile.” Boris commented, as he grabbed Armin’s butt cheeks, and spread
them to reveal the puckered hole. Armin gasped with alarm, and the only reason
he did not jerk away was because Albert was pointing the gun at him.
“Wh-what are you going to do to me!?” Armin asked fearfully, feeling the wind
brush against his most private parts. He had no idea what to expect because if
he did, he would have fought them with everything he had. Screams and gunfire
still ensued from the village, making both young boys incredibly nervous, and
on edge.
“We’re going to make you scream, and if you dare to move, he won’t hesitate to
shoot you.” Boris warned, and then wedged his index finger into Armin’s virgin
anus. Armin’s young eyes bulged open with a toxic mixture of shock, and fear.
“Heek! Why are you doing that to me? I am not a girl!” Armin shrieked, panicked
and pale. He was rigid, and tense against the ungodly penetration. As far as he
knew, the hole only had one purpose, and being prodded at was not that purpose.
He couldn't understand who would have thought of something like this, either.
“Exactly. This is the only hole I can penetrate with my dick.” Boris answered,
and pistoned his finger in and out of the straining hole that clenched tightly
around his digit.
“P-p-pep…pen..wha…” Armin stammered with horror, and shock. That’s not
possible. Who even think of something like that!? Armin fretted internally, and
shook harder with fear. All his life, a man was to marry a woman. Never had a
man even thought of being with another man before. That was just…just asinine!
Armin couldn’t comprehend it at all. And yet, that finger was the prelude to a
few rude wake-up calls. Armin’s little world was about to be shattered, and
split in half.
A second finger was wiggled inside of Armin, causing the boy to shout with
pain. Armin began to squirm, shifting from one foot to the other, but there was
no relief to be found from the awful scissoring motions the intruding digits
performed.  “Stop, stop it! That hurts!” Armin cried, and felt tears well up in
his eyes, and curl over the rims of his eyes, to trickle down his cheeks.
“He’s so noisy.” Dennis complained, keeping a gun focused on Armin, who was
only too aware of the threatening guns. He groaned repetitively, and remained
tense as that finger kept inserting itself into him.
This can’t be happening to me. I am not a girl. Why would he…how could he…I
don’t understand. Armin cried, while he was finger-fucked. “I am not a girl.
I’m not a girl!” Armin repeated desperately, as if that fact would spare him
from the agony, and violation he was experiencing.
That was it. Dennis had had enough of Armin mouthing off—Dennis clapped a hand
over Armin’s mouth.
“Noo! I want to hear him scream!” Igor protested angrily, his voice coming off
as a pained screech.
“Enough, Igor. You’ll have your turn, and when you do, no one will interfere.”
Boris told the angry ginger haired man, who was slender, yet wide in an eerie
way. He was not so much a physical fighter, but it was obvious still that he
could hold his own against others.
“Damn it.” Eren cursed, only knowing something really bad was happening to
Armin. He ripped a part of his shirt off of his body, and wrapped it tightly
around his leg, to stem the flow of the bleeding. He knew he should have done
that earlier, but pain was keeping him complacent, and shockingly unresponsive
to the horror going on around him. He wanted to rescue Armin, but damn it, he
felt as if his hands were tied behind his back. That was the power of fear.
“Viktor, keep a gun trained on the other one. I’m sure he’ll try to stupidly
rush in to save his boyfriend once he starts to scream.” Boris told the
soldier, who had been staring at Armin’s ass. They were all sex deprived, and
since the other soldiers in the village were probably raping the women right
about now, this little blonde was the best they were going to get, and they
knew it.
“Fine.” Viktor grumbled, and stepped away from the circle to train his gun on
to Eren, who stiffened. Any fight Eren was about to put up was halted. If he
moved, he would be fucking shot again, and he didn’t want that because if he
was killed, Armin would be left alone in the world.
“Do it, do it, tear him open!” Igor enthused in his native Russian, and eagerly
rocked on his heels. He had always been partial to young, feminine boys, and
wanted to hear Armin fucking scream. Boris rolled his eyes at Igor’s
impatience, and pulled his fingers out of Armin’s warm body. He had opened the
boy just enough that if he used enough force, he could gain entry to the
forbidden tunnel.
“We don’t have to act like animals, you know.” Dennis griped, irritated that
Igor was getting off on this. Dennis, like Boris, under ordinary circumstances,
never would have thought to force themselves onto someone else, but as was
stated, all was fair in war. Armin would be another unknown statistic. A victim
of the ravages of war.
These men wanted sexual relief, and Armin was going to be their conduit whether
he liked it or not. Boris pulled his cock out of his pants, and stroked himself
quickly, to become hard. Armin sniffled, and felt momentary relief that the
intruding fingers had retreated from his body. He went rigid once more as a
hard pressure was exerted on his hole.
"What is that!?" Armin shrieked, panicked that something much wider than a
finger was poking at his entrance.
“My cock. Now, You’re going to learn to be honest with us, and obedient from
here on out.” Boris informed Armin, and placed his hands on Armin’s hips. Armin
began to stammer with fear. Boris then rammed his cock into Armin’s anus,
splitting it open. The sharp, dry fireworks of pain erupted through Armin’s
entire body, and thrummed up his spine, leaving him speechless.
Words caught in his throat, while his eyes saw white. Armin was wracked with
pain that only heightened, and intensified as Boris began to noisily slap his
hips against Armin’s. The first noise that escaped Armin’s throat was a
strangled, agonized sob. He should be screaming, but the pain of dry
penetration overwhelmed his senses, and ignited every nerve he had to mock
explode.
Not this.
Anything but this. Armin wanted to scream. He wanted to run. But he didn’t even
remember how to breathe. Boris repeatedly slammed himself into Armin’s
quivering hole, creating a dry friction that made Armin’s mind tingle
incessantly with pain. He was shocked, confused, and terrified. A warm liquid
trickled down Armin’s pale legs, like crimson tears.
"Poor wretch." Albert muttered, watching the way Armin was being brutalized. He
had a fifteen year old boy back home, and couldn't imagine someone hurting him
in this way. Yet, Albert did not do anything to help Armin. Armin was not his
responsibility. If he had been a little Russian boy, Albert would have
intervened. But Armin was German, and German's were the enemies of the
Russians, for electing that stupid bitch, who was dragging Germany into the
ground.
All of a sudden, Armin began to shriek, and while his reaction had been
delayed, he made up for it by screaming loud enough to make the men cringe.
Armin screamed, reaching a impossibly high pitch, previously unknown to man as
he was sodomized. Igor cheered with sadistic delight, and watched Armin’s
flushed face contort into one that expressed pain, and fear.
“Fuck, you’re tight.” Boris mentioned appreciatively, and tore his cock through
Armin’s rectum, pressing in as far as he could. He withdrew for a moment, and
then smashed their hips together, causing Armin’s entire body to jolt, and
convulse with pain-induced shock. Armin wailed. The pain was excruciating.
“No! Stop it, stop it! Whatever you’re doing, don’t hurt him!” Eren pleaded
desperately, hearing Armin’s agonized screams. He was young, but he had a damn
good idea as to what those men were doing to Armin. His father was a doctor,
which meant he knew something or the other about sex.
“Quiet.” Viktor snapped at Eren, and cocked the gun, to make Eren sit back
down. Eren’s bottom lip trembled as he thought of what could be happening to
Armin to make him scream like that. Eren bit his bottom lip, and trembled with
helpless rage.
“This. This is why I covered his mouth. I knew he’d scream.” Dennis complained,
exhibiting no sympathy for the little blonde that was being fucked up his ass.
Armin's cries were muffled by the hand over his mouth.
“Oh-ho-ho!” Igor laughed with delight, his dark eyes lighting up with the
sexual thrill he received from watching Armin be sodomized. It was his dream
come true, and even in a pain induced hysteria, Armin knew to be terrified of
Igor. “I’ll fuck your sweet corpse!” Igor announced in sing-song fashion, that
made Armin cry harder. The Russian was lost on him, but the cheery threat was
bone-chilling, and concise despite the language barrier.
“We…aren’t killing them today.” Boris mentioned, between thrusts, and pants. He
slammed into Armin harder, and quickened his pace to let the pleasure build
quickly. He did not need to draw the rape out, and make the kid more
uncomfortable than he already was. Igor would probably take his sweet time
anyways, and traumatize the kid.
“Ugh, we better hurry, or else we’ll be left to hold down and occupy the
village here.” Dennis groaned, casting a glance to the village, where soldiers
and civilians blended together in an ominous menagerie. He wanted to keep
trudging on with the rest of the military, but he, like the others, had been
instructed to stay behind and murder the boys, or make them silent.
And oh, they would be silent after this. Obedient too. Fear was a excellent
tool to gain power over people. Armin was scared enough to not fight against,
nor run away from the man who was sexually assaulting him. His nerves shook
with fear, and kept him complacent as he was raped from behind.
“Hnngh!” Boris moaned loudly as he orgasmed, and felt the pleasant ecstasy
thrum through his body. He ejaculated a moment later, and filled Armin’s rectum
with cum. Boris pulled out then, and to Armin’s credit, he did not crumple to
the ground. He was paralyzed from fear, and pain.
“My turn! Oh, oh, it’s my turn!” Igor shouted with euphoric, crazed joy, and
pushed Armin on to the ground. Armin gasped as he fell forwards, and collided
with the damp Earth. Boris stepped to the side, and took his gun back to give
Albert a break. Albert stepped back, and finally Eren could see some of what
was going on. He swore his heart stopped as he saw Igor forcefully flip Armin
on to his back, and come at him with a exposed dick.
"Ahh! No, no! Get away from meee!" Armin yelled frantically, and spastically
kicked his legs at Igor. Igor snatched Armin's ankles, and dragged the
struggling teenager to him.
“No!” Eren shouted, his voice was angry, and desperate, while Armin’s frantic
plea was brought on by sheer terror. Igor yanked Armin’s legs over his
shoulders, while Albert grabbed Armin’s wrists and held them down against the
mud.
"E-Eren, help me! He's going to-" Armin shrieked loudly as Igor began to thrust
into him wildly.
These thrusts were rapid, sporadic, and desperate, as if Igor had waited for
this moment for years. Igor thrust harder, driven by a feral need to sodomize
innocent boys. This right here was the reason he had joined the military—to act
on his primal desires, and rape little blonde boys who couldn’t say no. And
Armin was his dream come true, because Armin was fucking perfect.
His pretty, agonized screams were music to Igor’s ears. Armin’s flushed, wet
face and wide, blue eyes as insanely attractive to the pedophile. Armin was
even little, and delicate, just how Igor liked them—and that blonde hair. Fuck,
Igor almost orgasmed just observing Armin. He tried to calm himself, and then
thought about how tight Armin’s little hole was that he was penetrating. Oh
fuck, Igor fucking orgasmed, hard. He hadn’t even properly fucked Armin the way
he had wanted to. The boy had only been subjected to a few minutes of
repetitive, painful thrusts.
In that time, Eren had yelled obscenities, while Armin screamed.
“No, no, no…I can’t…I can’t be done…huwhaaahhh…” Igor fretted between
breathless pants, and the ecstasy that sprang through his tingling body. Armin
panted beneath the vile man, breathless and tired from struggling against the
monster.
“Well you are so move the fuck over. God. I don’t even want to do this, but I
might not get another chance to fuck someone for awhile, so here’s to sloppy
thirds.” Dennis said, and kicked Igor off of Armin, who clamped his trembling
legs shut.
Igor rolled over like a cockroach and hissed, then began to fucking cry,
agonized he had only had a few minutes with Armin, who was his fantasy come
true. “Nooo…” Igor grieved, and scrambled on to his hands and knees to watch
Dennis fuck his precious treasure. “Hurt him, hurt him.” Igor goaded
desperately, because raping Armin hadn’t been enough for him.
“Shut up.” Dennis snapped at Igor, and then refocused on to Armin, who he
forcibly rolled over with his boot.
"Leave him alone, just leave him alone!" Eren begged, not wanting to see his
best friend be hurt again. It was his job to protect Armin, yet Eren couldn't
do shit. Dennis climbed on top of Armin, and gripped his hips, to keep Armin
from scrambling away. Armin gasped, and scrabbled at the damp dirt, in a vain
attempt to crawl away. He was sweaty, from the heat of the bodies that had
dominated him, and the struggle he put up in a desperate attempt to keep the
men off of him.
“You’re fucking nasty.” Dennis griped, as he jammed his hips forwards,
penetrated Armin’s little hole with his cock. Armin only wailed in response,
and dug his nails into the muddy Earth. A strangled sob escaped Armin's lips as
Dennis began to fuck Armin as if he was a bitch in heat.
“Stop it, stop it! You’re hurting him!” Eren yelled, speaking for Armin who
only seemed to know how to scream, and grunt with pain. Armin must have
realized that words, and pleas were useless, or he just couldn’t stop screaming
long enough to beg for mercy. “Please, for fucks sake, he’s a virgin!” Eren
exclaimed, digging his own nails into the palms of his hands. He was trembling
just as hard as Armin was, from feeling his own powerlessness to help his best
friend.
“What, you going…to be…his knight…in shining armor…you gay…fuck?” Dennis
taunted, as he sodomized Armin, who writhed underneath him frantically. Armin
squealed with pain, and managed to catch Eren’s eye.
For a moment, they stared at each other, before a vicious thrust made Armin
lose focus on reality. Eren’s green eyes widened with the realization that he
wanted to be Armin’s knight in shining armor. Armin was such a princess, it
just seemed natural to Eren to then want to protect Armin.
Sweet, innocent Armin who was head down, ass up. Eren swore he felt some of
Armin’s humiliation. From what little Eren understood about sex, he knew that
position was absolutely degrading, and unnatural, because it gave complete
power over the dominant person. Armin seemed to understand this much, because
he was experiencing it.
“You smell…like barn shit. How dirty…are you?” Dennis wondered distractedly, in
the midst of thrusting into Armin, because he kept breathing in the scent of
straw. He hated the farm smells that wafted off of Armin each time his body
jolted forwards. Armin flushed red, and squeezed his eyes shut. He knew he
should have bathed two days ago, but he had not wanted to bathe in that cold
creek.
Unfortunately, Dennis’s dislike of Armin’s natural scents did not deter him
from fucking Armin. Igor bit at his own nails, and drooled over the beads of
sweat that trickled down the side of Armin’s face. He fidgeted, and then
grabbed at Armin’s hair, to tug on the pretty strands. Armin yipped, and tried
to jerk away, but the hand at the back of his throat prevented him from moving,
just as effectively as the gun pointed at Eren kept him still.
His best friend was being raped at gun point, but all Eren could do was watch,
and feel sick about it.
When Dennis finished with Armin, Igor was only too quick to have a second go at
Armin, pressing him hard into the ground, crushing his face into the dirt.
Armin shrieked, terrified of Igor, who ravaged him with pent up fury. Boris
sighed, but did not intervene, because if he denied Igor now, Igor would never
shut up about Armin’s hot pumpkin ass.
Igor penetrated Armin repeatedly, shoving his cock into Armin’s butt. He
laughed, and giggled manically, and thrust harder into Armin who was
justifiably terrified of the man. “Eren, Eren, Eren!” Armin screamed
desperately, and stretched his arm out to Eren. Eren looked down with shame
spreading across his face. “Help me!” Armin sobbed, when Eren refused to look
at him, and move.
“I—I can’t.” Eren choked out, between his own tears. Armin was calling for him,
but he couldn’t do a damn thing to help him.  
“Stop-stop-stop-stop!” Armin pleaded frantically, his raspy, strained voice was
barely a whisper. His little cry went ignored. Igor penetrated Armin’s abused
hole one more time with his dick, and felt the familiar tingles of an orgasm.
The ejaculation came next, and once more, semen filled Armin’s hole, and burned
the abrasions, and tears.
But Igor wasn’t done. He swept Armin’s hair off of the back of his neck, and
dragged his tongue along the side of Armin’s neck. Armin screeched fearfully,
and shuddered, creeped out by the long lick. "Heek!"
“Come on. You’re done. We’re done.” Boris decided, and dragged Igor off of
Armin. Igor reached, and flailed for Armin.
“No! No, nooo! I must touch him!” Igor wailed, and continued to protest as he
was dragged towards the town. “He’s mine, miiiine!”
“Go shower, Kid. You’re filthy.” Dennis said, before following after Boris and
Igor. Albert lowered the gun, and headed after the other soldiers. Viktor
looked Armin over, pondered whether he should have his way with the kid, then
decided against it and pursued his fellow soldiers.
As soon as their backs were turned, Eren scrambled to Armin’s side, and placed
his hands over Armin’s trembling shoulders. To his horror, Armin jerked away
from him, and stared at him with accusatory eyes, glossed over and red from
tears. Eren shrank back, feeling scolded.
“I am sorry, Armin. I couldn’t do anything, honest!” Eren said, and hated the
unforgiving way Armin stared at him, as if this was all his fault. It made Eren
feel horrible, because he too believed this was all his fault.
“Th-the potato…” Armin rasped, reminding Eren about the potato that was not
sacrificed. If Eren had just listened to him, and had offered up that damn
potato to the Potato God, none of this would have happened. Armin was sure of
it. Nothing bad ever seemed to happen when potatoes were sacrificed.
“Ah, fuck. You’re right, Armin. I fucked up. I fucked up so bad, and I’m so
sorry. I am so, so sorry. I should have listened to you, okay?” Eren apologized
profusely, as he pulled a reluctant Armin against his own trembling body. “This
is all my fault. I swear. Please, take it out on me.” Eren urged Armin, as
tears streamed down his face. He had never meant for any of this to happen.
“Why, why couldn’t you…listen?” Armin whimpered with frustration, and rubbed
furiously at his eyes that kept tearing up. He couldn’t stop crying, nor calm
his racing heart. “Th-they…they…” Armin’s breath hitched in his throat,
disrupting his speech as he paused, and tried to make sense of what he had went
through. Fuck. Fucked? Armin didn’t know the word for it. “They put
their…their…” Armin trailed off again, as the horror consumed his mind. Eren
grit his teeth, and held Armin close.
“I know. I know they hurt you, and I am so, so fucking sorry.” Eren apologized
profusely, and stroked Armin’s sweaty hair. Armin was angry with Eren, but he
was more furious at himself for being weak.
If I was a real boy like Eren, they never would have hurt me like that. Armin
told himself, reflecting on how easily the soldiers had believed he was a girl.
The local village boys had once forced Armin to play the role of a German
princess that they fought over, bossed, and pushed around, as if to prove he
was not a 'real boy.' And ever since his parents were murdered, he had been
thrust into the role of a woman. Now, he had been treated like a woman. Armin
couldn't understand why. He didn't even really know what to call the
experience. He just knew he had been scared, and hurt.
“What…what did they do to me!?”  Armin exclaimed, grabbing at his hair and
tugged on it as he let out a agonized scream. “Why, why, why me? I’m not…I’m
not a girl!” Armin sobbed, becoming hysterical, even as Eren rocked him back
and forth. All Armin could think about was how men were independent and strong,
yet he reflected no male qualities other than the penis nestled between his
legs, and a insufferable, toxic pride.
“I don’t know, Armin. I don’t know but I am so sorry.” Eren murmured, having
one arm wrapped protectively around Armin while the other was clutched to the
back of his head. Eren knew how feminine Armin was, and always had been.
Personally, Eren thought Armin's feminine features were attractive, but he also
understood how Armin had been ostracized for his delicate features, and build.
“I’m not a girl!” Armin insisted again, plagued by how life kept forcing him
into the traditional roles of a woman. His hands still stung, and now his ass
was sore, and throbbing. Would he become pregnant next? None of the village men
had become pregnant, but Armin was concerned that he would be the exception.
Would one of the soldiers try to take him as a wife?
“Hey, hey. I know that. But, listen to me. Armin, listen.” Eren tentatively
grabbed Armin’s chin, and forced the traumatized blonde boy to look at him.
“You’re okay now. I am here for you, and we’ll get through this together.” Eren
promised, his sad, green eyes were kind, and honest. So honest. Armin’s bottom
lip trembled, and then he threw his arms around Eren’s neck and sobbed against
his collarbone. Eren always was a safe place for him to fall against.
Neither of them knew what the future would look like or who would be waiting
for them when they inevitably returned home. 
For all they knew, they could be orphans now. That unpleasant thought haunted
both of them, and wracked their hearts with fear, and guilt. If something
happened to their remaining loved ones, they wouldn't be able to forgive
themselves for not reaching home before the soldiers did.
All they could do was cry in the comfort of each others arms.
***** Captured Potatoes *****
Chapter Summary
     Eren and Armin limp home.
Chapter Notes
     There is minor character death, that in some context, follows both
     the Anime and the Manga. There will be another rape in this chapter.
     The chapter is short, and the events within it are going to build
     into something larger because everyone has a breaking point.
                                 War on Titan
                         Chapter 3: Captured Potatoes
The sun illuminated the moors, and made it impossible to ignore the blood
staining the grass. Eren grimaced at the sight of his best friend’s blood,
soaking into the dirt. He looked over his shoulder, and saw Armin smoothing the
wrinkles on his clothes that he had just put on. Armin’s hands were still
shaking, and an occasional sniffle sounded. Armin was not okay.
“Come on. We have to know if our family is okay.” Eren encouraged gently as he
turned and held his hand out to Armin. Armin paused, and stared at Eren’s hand
for a minute before deciding to ignore it. He simply nodded in acknowledgement
and descended down the grassy hills, heading towards the village. Eren noticed
the limp in Armin’s gait, and frowned once more. He couldn’t begin to imagine
all of the thoughts Armin must be plagued by.
Screams, and gunshots still echoed across the fields, yet neither boy stopped,
since they had no where else to go. Eren limped alongside Armin, and wondered
if either of them were going to be okay. The village was the only place they
had ever known, but it was clear to both of them that nothing would ever be the
same as it once was, just from what little they could make out of the village.
“What happens if Grandpa is gone?” Armin asked suddenly, in a small, fearful
voice. He thought about how the soldiers had said that the men of the village
would be shot. Did that include the elderly, and the children?
“Then you can live with me and Dad.” Eren suggested, since he could not imagine
Armin living in that house all alone. Armin was already lonely, Eren could see
that reflected in his eyes. If Armin had to live in his childhood home without
any of his family, Eren worried Armin would become more withdrawn and would
focus on mundane work.  
“But what if the Potato God took your Dad away too?” Armin wondered aloud,
voicing the concerns that were nagging at his anxiety ridden mind.
“Then we’ll live together, wherever you want us too.” Eren offered, trying to
remain positive despite the grim circumstances. Armin shook his head, doubting
Eren’s suggestions would be as simple as he made them out to sound.  Then
again, Eren’s optimism and indomitable spirit were charming qualities that
Armin appreciated.
“I’d like that, but what about those people? You don’t think they’re going to
stay in our village, do you?” Armin asked, since he could still hear vague
screams, and yells in the distance.
“I don’t know. But we’re about to find out.” Eren responded, and thrust a arm
in front of Armin to halt his advance towards the wooden house where a soldier
was exiting. Armin gasped, and felt his heart flutter with dread. The soldier
descended the stairs and turned, heading down the path away from Eren and
Armin. Armin’s breath hitched, catching in his throat as he mentally counted
the seconds that created distance between them and the retreating soldier.
Armin pushed Eren’s arm out of the way and ran the rest of the way to the
house, and hurried up the stairs. In his haste, he tripped, fell, and scrambled
back up. “Grandpa.” Armin called as he pulled the front door open and darted
into the house. He took a few rushed steps inside his childhood home and
stopped abruptly. The wet splashing noise jolted through Armin’s body.
“Hey, why’d you sto—” Eren wondered as he bumped into Armin, who had stopped
without warning. Eren peered over Armin and felt his words catch in his throat
as he saw what had made Armin freeze. There was a puddle of blood that was
soaking into the wood. “Armin.” Eren said with concern as he set a hand on
Armin’s trembling shoulder.
“Grandpa!” Armin yelled with alarm, and wrenched away from Eren to race through
the house. He didn’t notice Eren follow behind him as he burst into one room,
and then another. Armin went through the house, and when he did not find his
grandfather, he headed into the basement, where he stopped again.
In the middle of the dreary basement was a hole where the hidden guns had been
buried.
“He’s outside. He was fighting.” Armin realized, and whirled around on his
heels to hurry upstairs, back to the main floor.
“Yeah, he fought last time, remember? Against those tan skinned invaders. At
least, that’s what I heard anyways. I don’t really remember that, though.” Eren
commented as he followed Armin up the stairs. The bullet wound in his leg
became hot, while the rest of his body became clammy. A dizzy spell assaulted
Eren, making him lose his footing. His gasp was barely audible.
However much blood Eren had lost left him weak, and panting on the stairs. As
much as he hated to admit it, he couldn’t keep up with his best friend for the
first time in his life. Armin didn’t even seem to notice either, because he
kept going, plagued by the loud, anxiety-riddled thoughts in his head.
Maybe it was selfish of Armin, but all he could think about was his
grandfather. Was his grandfather still fighting against the foreign people? Was
he winning? Or did he die? Who else was wielding guns? Armin didn’t have to
wonder for long because the middle of the village was filled with those foreign
people, and the left over villagers, who were predominantly female.
 “Ah, Arthur is going to speak.” A familiar voice amongst the soldiers said.
Armin recognized Boris and ducked into the crowd of village women he knew. A
lot of the women were crying, disheveled, and bloody, although Armin suspected
the blood was largely from husbands. A few of the women even grabbed at Armin
to fuss over him.
“There you are! Oh, it’s so horrible, Little One.” Mrs. Schmidt exclaimed, and
pulled Armin to her. Armin squeaked with protest, and pushed at her hands
distractedly. “They’re all dead. All of them are dead, so dead I won’t even
have to cook leftovers for your brave Opa.” Mrs. Schmidt lamented dramatically,
as if show everyone else how she was the most upset by the tragedy, and thereby
the most caring. Armin froze against Mrs. Schmidt, who pawed at his messy, damp
hair.
“This is horrible.” One of the women nearby muttered. 
“In this day of history, we have conquered this German town, and its handsome
wenches—” A unfamiliar voice began to boom over the fearful, confused murmurs
of the crowd. Some of the soldiers snickered, and sent lewd looks at the women,
who cringed away and covered themselves. “I’ll leave a select few men here to
keep these women under our control. Russian control. The rest of us are heading
out at dawn.” The man—Armin assumed he must be called Arthur, announced to the
entire town, in a strong, confident voice.
“That be the Devil speaking in tongues.” Mrs. Schmidt commented, uncaring who
heard her because everything had already been taken from her, and the rest of
the villagers. What else did they have to lose?
“It…it’s a different language…” Armin muttered, as he craned his neck in an
attempt to see past any of the women in front of him. He could only catch
glimpses of Arthur, and other soldiers.
“You hush now, Boy. If I say that be the Devil speaking, it’s the Devil.” Mrs.
Schmidt chided, wagging her index finger at Armin. Armin groaned, and rolled
his eyes. He was done with acting polite, and wrenched himself away from her
and pushed past the women in front of him.
Before Armin was the presumed Arthur, assumedly the man with the most power
amongst the men. He was speaking with a strong, baritone voice that washed over
the crowd in calm, passionate ways. For a moment, Armin froze, concerned he was
being addressed personally, but then Arthur’s eyes focused on another person,
and then another.
Next to Arthur was the village men, who had been discarded into a pile of
lifeless bodies. Armin paled, because every adult male he had ever known was in
the pile, bloody and disheveled.
Friedrich the blacksmith who had made various farm tools for Armin’s
grandfather. Otto the baker who always gave Armin a slice of cake on his
birthday. And Hans, who was the only man who had left the village in search of
a better life, but who came back with a hatred of women. Armin could name them,
ad many more men, but the adults he focused on both meant something personal to
him.
Dr. Jaeger, and Mr. Arlert were amongst the bodies.
“Dad!” Eren gasped with horror, as he pushed through the barrier of women and
saw the pile of men. Armin trembled next to him, silently mirroring Eren’s own
thoughts.
Dad’s gone.
I’m alone. 
Their thoughts were too similar.
“It is with pride that we take this town in Russia’s name, and burn those that
stood against us. Igor, light the fire.” Arthur commanded, and gestured towards
the pile of corpses. Armin grabbed Eren’s hand tightly, eyeing the flaming
torch in Igor’s hands. He didn’t need to understand Russian to know exactly
what was about to happen. Eren glanced at Armin, then looked back, hearing
Igor’s insidious giggle.
Igor marched too happily to the dead villagers, and pressed the torch to their
clothes, igniting a fire to spread amongst them. The flames illuminated them,
and consumed their clothes, and flesh. Armin squeezed Eren’s hand, and
shamelessly let mournful tears stroll down his flushed cheeks. Eren felt a fire
erupt through his heart, one that shown through his green eyes. He wanted
nothing more than to murder every soldier present. The only reason he did not
act on his violent impulse was because he understood that Armin needed him now
more than ever.
“This was his worst fear…” One woman lamented about her husband, and shook her
head. Another woman cried into her hands. Mrs. Schmidt cried the loudest. Some
women just stared on with horror while others looked away, turning sick.
Children wailed, and were coddled by their mothers.
 A pungent, unique smell assaulted everyone’s nose. Armin turned, and buried
his face against Eren’s shirt. Eren clapped a hand over his mouth. Some women
remarked about the smell and waved their hand in from of their face, but the
scent of burning bodies remained strong.
“Wenches, and brats of Germany, you’ll each be assigned a personal soldier, and
one more, if not two more will be assigned to your homes. If any of you
resists, or acts out against my soldiers, you will be punished. This back basin
is ours.” Arthur declared, in fluent German, which garnered the attention of
the women and children. The powerful Russians in leadership roles seemed to all
know German.
Murmurs of shocked, horrified protests erupted through the crowd of female
adults, and the young teenagers who had not been murdered. Arthur ignored the
protests, and began to call for specific Russian soldiers he wanted to stay
behind, and keep this location as theirs.
Once two soldiers were called up, they were free to grab a woman they liked,
and then she was forced to escort them to her home, kids and all. Mrs. Schmidt
was no exception to this rule. A few women tried to run away, or wrestle
against their assigned soldiers. They were promptly hit, and one feisty woman
was shoved on to the ground and was ass-raped, much to Armin’s horror, and
shame.
They did that to me.  Armin thought, and squeezed Eren’s hand with both of his
trembling palms. Neither of them had moved much, since they were smart enough
to realize that running was futile. There were too many soldiers, and they had
Russian guns, and now old German guns from years long past.
“What do you want to tell them when they ask?” Eren asked, since Armin always
had a plan, especially when no one else did. Armin simply shook his head.
“Nothing. They already know we’re not related. If we lie, we’ll—I’ll get hurt
again. I think it’s best if we…do what we’re told, and when we can meet
again…we’ll relay the situation to each other. I’ll decide then what we should
do.” Armin said softly, knowing their only choice was to be obedient, and
observe the new world they were being forced to be a part of.
“Fine.” Eren agreed reluctantly, since he was too weak to think about fighting
off the soldiers that were present. He wouldn’t tell Armin—not that he needed
to either, but he still felt weak, and dizzy. So when two men approached Eren,
he did not make a scene. Nor did Armin, who quietly stepped away from his best
friend. Neither of them wanted to draw unnecessary attention to themselves.
“You. Come, Brat.” The one Russian said, in broken German. Eren barely
understood him, but he knew to lead the men to his home, where just hours ago
his father had made him a warm egg breakfast. He looked back over his shoulder
and met Armin’s eyes. They stared at each other for a moment, and then Eren
broke the longing contact to look ahead.
I am alone now. Armin thought, and looked at the last few women around him. I
never did see Mikasa. What happened to her?  Armin wondered to himself, as two
more soldiers let another women lead them away. Armin clenched his hands into
fists, and took in a small breath to steady himself. It was only a matter of
time before Igor spotted him. Armin knew, and grudgingly accepted that.
“Boris. You’re a damn good leader. You’ll stay here, and govern the rest of the
lackeys, especially Igor.” Arthur said, and gestured with his hand to Igor, who
was watching the bodies burn. Igor looked up as he heard his name be mentioned.
“Igor, you and Boris will choose someone to live in and govern.”
“Understood, General.” Boris acknowledged, and scanned the remaining villagers.
His eyes slid over the women in search of someone he could stomach looking at.
Boris spotted Armin and headed towards him. The kid was feminine, and
delicate—more so than the remaining woman, and, Armin had a cute ass that he
could use to waste the days away.
Igor squealed, and hurried behind Boris. “Yes, yes, I want him!” Igor exclaimed
excitedly, and rushed towards Armin. Boris held out his arm, to stop Igor from
tackling the pretty blonde boy to the ground.
“Hold it. You will restrain yourself. That’s an order.” Boris commanded Igor,
who was reaching for Armin wildly. Armin took a few fearful steps back, and
debated on running. “Take us to your home.” Boris told Armin, who stared at
Igor with apprehension. Igor could only have one thought on his mind, and Armin
could only think about how much he did not want that penis anywhere near his
butt. “Kid.” Boris spoke louder, to gain Armin’s attention.
“R-right.” Armin grumbled, and turned, to reluctantly lead the men to his
grandfather’s home. Armin felt fresh tears burn hot at the corners of his eyes
as he thought about his grandfather, and his dreary future. He was leading
horrible men to his home. Men who were going to abuse him.
“Don’t sound so dour. You’re lucky I was assigned alongside Igor. He’d have
raped you in front of the remaining women.” Boris chided, taking some of his
anger out on the trembling boy. He was pissed that he had to stay in this rural
village, and babysit Igor who was staring at Armin’s ass and was drooling over
it.
No one would ever guess Igor was a skilled marksmen. Boris didn’t believe it
half the time, and especially not when Igor behaved like a creepy fool around
young boys.
“Raped?” Armin questioned, feeling a strange connection to the unfamiliar word.
“Yeah. Rape. We forced you to have sex with us. In some parts of the world,
that’s illegal. And amongst our own military, we’re not supposed to rape the
locals, but most of us are just men. Some of us get bored, and others just want
to feel something so more often than not, no one actually cares if a few
villagers are raped, especially in desolate towns like this.” Boris informed,
and kept Igor at bay with a few warning glances.
“Oh.” Armin muttered, and stared gloomily at the ground as he limped home. His
ass throbbed, but the adrenaline kept him walking. He now had a few words with
which he could label the awful experience he suffered. Sex. Rape. Fuck. He
distinctly remembered that word from earlier, and hadn’t quite understood it
then, but now he did.
What was more, was that Boris seemed to know that rape was wrong, but he had
committed it anyways. Armin wasn’t sure who was worse at this point. Boris, or
Igor who had not seemed to ever acknowledge that his lust for Armin was
illegal, and morally wrong.
“Is this your place?” Boris guessed, seeing the lone, wooden house at the end
of the dirt road, that sat on the left. Armin nodded with acknowledgement, and
headed up the stairs slowly, mindful of his aching body. He took another breath
for encouragement and with a shaking hand, he opened the door. Armin stepped
into the home, and spotted the blood on the ground. He numbly headed to the
couch, where he hoped he could rest his weary feet.
“Yeah!” Igor exclaimed, and shoved Armin on to the couch, to enact out one of
his many fantasies. Armin let out a startled shout as he was pushed against the
couch. He wrested his shoulders, in an attempt to throw the man off of him.
“Gonna make you mine!” Igor declared in his native Russian tone, and tugged at
Armin’s pants, exposing his pretty, ivory skin marred with bruises.
“Ah! No, no!” Armin yelled desperately, quickly becoming frantic as he imagined
his hole being split open again, so soon after the last few rapes.
“Damn it, Igor. Get off of him.” Boris scolded, and pulled Igor off of Armin.
“What? No, no! I waited, I—” Igor began to complain frantically, then
remembered his place and shut up, much to Boris’s relief. Armin scrambled to
the far end of the couch, and tugged his pants back up. He wasn’t sure why
Boris spared him from another sexual assault, but the gratefulness mingled with
the fear swirling through his eyes.
“You. Armin, was it? I saw fields outside. Your hands also seem to suggest you
are a farmer. Are you?” Boris asked, and grabbed the back of Igor’s shirt
collar to keep him from pouncing on Armin again. Armin pulled his legs against
his trembling body, and nodded cautiously. “Good You’re going to harvest
everything out there, and then you’re going to plant new stuff for our
soldiers, and our army.” Boris instructed, and pointed towards the visible back
door of the house.
“…Now?” Armin asked, furrowing his eyebrows together with confusion.
“That, or I’ll let him go.” Boris said, giving Armin an ultimatum that made
Igor perk up.
Armin’s scared blue eyes widened with that thought, and then he fucking ran
outside. Armin grabbed the basket next to the door and headed to the fields. He
searched the gardens for ripe fruit. It was a bit too soon to harvest the
fruits, and vegetables. He heard the back door shut, and knew he had been
followed.
“Why are you standing around?” Boris questioned, joining Armin in the fields.
Igor was at his side, and was already looking at Armin as if he wanted to fuck
him into the dirt. Armin took a step back, feeling uncomfortable.
“Th-the plants aren’t ready…they need a few more days, otherwise they’ll taste
a bit sour, or dry…” Armin responded hesitantly, since he wasn’t sure how Boris
would react to the bad news.
“I don’t care. We’ve been eating rations for weeks. Anything will taste good at
this point, so harvest everything. Now.” Boris commanded impatiently, and
folded his arms across his chest. Startled, Armin began to branches, dig the
potatoes from the ground. He had to make various trips back to the house, where
he set the food on the table.
His already sore hands were cut from the plants, rubbed raw from the dirt, and
were bit by the occasional bug. Armin did not complain with words, even as he
was forced to prepare the land for the morning. He was hungry, tired, and hurt,
but he kept his comments to himself, even when Boris occasionally yelled at him
to work faster. Armin couldn’t keep from groaning from the pain and hunger
throughout the long hours of laborious fieldwork.
Each groan lit a intrigued fire in Igor’s eyes, one that was getting harder,
and harder for Boris to control. Armin knew, even as he obediently worked the
land that before the night was through, Igor was going to rape him. It was only
a matter of time. Armin couldn’t, and would not pretend that Boris could keep
Igor off of him forever.
“Go. Eat something, and head to bed.” Boris finally said, giving Armin the
permission to retire that he had longed for for the last few hours. Armin did
not need to be told twice. He headed to the well where he drew some water to
drink, and drink, and drink.
Once Armin’s thirst had been quenched, he tiredly headed into the house, where
Boris gestured for him to sit at the table with him and Igor. Armin didn’t dare
refuse the offer and sat down. He grabbed a potato, rubbed the dirt off of it,
and with a knife he peeled the brown skin off of it. Then Armin bit into the
potato, and ate it raw. He was too tired, and hungry care about how tough the
potato was to bite into, or how flavorless it was.
“Tomorrow, you’ll till the land, and plant new seeds. We need as many potatoes
as possible to feed ourselves, and our army invading this cold land.” Boris
mentioned as he took the knife to peel his own potato to eat. Igor kept looking
at Armin. Armin squirmed uncomfortably in his seat, and glanced back at Boris
with apprehension.
“If…if I promise to be obedient, will you keep him off of me?” Armin asked
tentatively, unable to hide the bit of stray hope in his tone. He hunched his
shoulders and lowered his head to look up at Boris, attempting to make himself
look smaller, and more defenseless than he already was, as a ploy.
“No. What Igor does to you when you’re not working for the Russian army is of
little concern to me.” Boris replied, and bit into the hard potato. Armin’s
face fell. “Some nights, you can even expect me to claim you as my woman.”
Boris informed Armin, who suddenly lost his appetite. Armin set the half eaten
potato on the table, and quickly headed down the hall.
What did I do to deserve this? Armin wondered sorrowfully as he shut the door
behind him, and then let himself collapse on to the bed that he called his own.
In one day, he had been orphaned, and had had his virginity pummeled out of
him. The only reason he was alive now was because he was useful as a
multifunctional slave. He was young, but he was already beginning to understand
that concept.
Many thoughts, and worries flitted through Armin’s brain, but now that he was
lying down, and aching, he began to drift off into a fitful sleep. He was
almost successful, and then he heard the door open. Armin’s eyes fluttered open
as dread shot through his body.
His worst fears were confirmed as Igor climbed on top of him, and nestled
himself between his legs. “No, no, no!” Armin cried, as he tried to kick at
Igor. Since Igor had weaseled himself between Armin’s thighs, the boy could
only flail his legs uselessly. Igor smirked, and slid his tongue across his
lips as he watched Armin thrash underneath him.
“I’ll have you now.” Igor stated in his native tongue, and ripped Armin’s shirt
open. He then pinned Armin’s wrists to the bed, and ducked his head to drag his
tongue along Armin’s neck.
“Eeee!” Armin squealed with alarm and tried desperately to shy away from the
warm tongue that rubbed against his adam’s apple. A noise of approval left
Igor’s lips, and then he licked one of Armin’s pink nipples. Armin squirmed,
and twisted uselessly. “Stop, oh god, just stop!” Armin sobbed, as his pants
were tugged off of his body. He knew exactly what was going to happen to him.
“Yes, scream, scream and beg me.” Igor goaded, hearing the pleading tone of
Armin’s voice, who he was pushing against the mattress. The blanket was draped
over Igor, from when he slid under it upon coming on to the bed, as if to hide
the dirty act he was about to commit.
“No, no…” Armin whimpered, and continued to struggle against the vile man, who
had both of his wrists pinned together with one hand. Igor’s smirk grew as he
watched Armin tremble with terror. He spit on to his hand, and rubbed the spit
on to his cock.
Igor thrust his hardened cock into Armin’s butthole. The spit did nothing to
cool the dry burn that ignited through Armin’s abused tunnel. Armin let out an
involuntary scream as he was split open, and tensed. Igor giggled sadistically,
and buried his dick into Armin’s warm body. Armin strained, and writhed
underneath him, while tears streamed down his cheeks. 
“Mmm, you’re so pretty, crying like that.” Igor purred, and began to move on
top of Armin in quick, eager movements. He licked the tears off of Armin’s
flushed face, and continuously smashed their hips together, repeatedly forcing
his dick into Armin’s poor little hole. Armin blatantly sobbed, and screamed as
the cock was shoved into his abused rectum. No amount of screams, nor thrashes
seemed to deter Igor.
As the horrific sexual assault continued well into the night, Armin forgot how
to use words. He could only blubber, and shout with pain. His heavy, exhausted
breaths, and pained groans sounded alongside Igor’s own pants, and the awful
noise of flesh slapping against flesh. Igor quickly pummeled Armin’s hole as
his stomach tightened with the hint of a oncoming release. He felt a warm
liquid coat his dick, and thrust himself into Armin with more vigor, excited
over the obvious pain Armin was in.
“Coming, coming, ahhh…” Igor announced, as he stuffed his cock into the
defenseless hole. He ejaculated, filling Armin’s spongy cavern up with the
sperm. Armin strained, and writhed, feeling the cum burn his wounds. 
“Hah…hah…I’ll return in the morning for you.” Igor promised, and patted Armin’s
cheek with his hand. Armin shied away from the vile touch, and grit his teeth.
Igor crawled off of Armin, and left the room. Armin rolled over, on to his
side, and curled himself into a tight ball, and sobbed. He was in too much pain
to properly mourn his family, and realize just how dire of a situation the
villagers were in.
All he could think about was the pain itself. Some of the hurt was brought on
by hunger. Some of it was brought upon by overworking himself in the garden.
The rest of the insufferable rapes, that were prominent in his mind.
Armin did not know when he fell asleep because his dreams were wracked with
pain, and suffering.
 
***** Potatos of Change *****
Chapter Summary
     Armin seeks the comfort of his best friend.
Chapter Notes
     I posted chapter three and four today so be sure you aren't skipping
     a chapter.
     In this chapter, rape is pretty prominent, and I apologize for that.
     However, Armin does get to see Eren again, and seeks comfort from
     him. That part should be worth reading, since the actual story is
     beginning to unravel and come to life now. ;D
                                 War on Titan
                         Chapter 4: Potatoes of Change
Morning rose on the small, battered village. The pungent scent in the air was
thick, and unforgiving. Villagers woke, and remembered their husbands, and
fathers were deceased, along with the occasional son that had been unfortunate
enough to reach adulthood. Those boys who were sixteen, or who appeared to be
sixteen and older had been murdered alongside the rest of the men.
Leftover were the young males who could potentially be molded, and controlled
to be complacent with their newfound lives as worker slaves. The women were to
go about their daily routines, and not complain if the soldiers deigned to rape
them. It was only the morning, but disease was spreading. Anyone who argued, or
struggled against their captors was consequently battered, and or raped.
It was a lesson Armin had already learned yesterday; Be obedient. That was the
only way he and Eren was going to survive, until he could think of a plan to
rescue themselves, and or the entire town. However, plans were the last thing
on Armin’s mind as he woke up to an excruciating agony that made his mind
paralyzed with pain.
The sun had barely risen over the mountains, yet Igor was sodomizing Armin
fervently. Armin was powerless to push Igor off of him, he had learned that
lesson last night. That didn’t stop him from pushing at Igor, who smirked with
amusement. He knew Armin was too weak to hurt him, but it was damn cute that
Armin was trying—hitting at his chest, shoving at him.
“Mmph!” Armin screamed into the hand clamped over his mouth, and rubbed his
feet against the matrass as he kicked. Igor hummed as Armin struggled
underneath him, and continued to penetrate his tight hole with his throbbing
cock.
Igor fucked Armin up his ass to his hearts content, and ejaculated into him
when he was finished with the pretty, flushed blonde teenager. Igor panted, and
with his free hand, he pulled, and tugged on Armin’s messy hair that was damp
with sweat. Armin whimpered as Igor dragged his tongue across his sweaty
shoulder. The incessant licking was invasive, and made Armin’s skin crawl. He
wasn’t sure what he hated more. The rape that made him feel powerless or the
licking that left him feeling objectified, as if he were a piece of meat.
“What are you doing to him?” Igor and Armin both jumped, and craned their heads
to the doorway where Boris stood, with his arms folded across his chest.
“Fucking his pretty little hole.” Igor responded, and pinched Armin’s nipple.
Armin groaned into the hand covering his mouth, and writhed underneath the
cruel man.
“No you’re not. Get the fuck off of him.” Boris told the unruly soldier, in a
firm voice. Igor climbed off of Armin, dabbed himself off with the blanket, and
then fixed his pants. Boris rolled his eyes as he shook his head with irritated
disbelief that Igor had already raped the trembling blonde. “Get the fuck out
of here and do not ever come back to his room in the morning. We need him to
work those fields. He can’t do that if you’re fucking his brains out from dusk
to dawn.” Boris scolded Igor, and jerked his thumb back to the door.
“No promises.” Igor responded as he headed for the door. Boris grabbed his arm,
to stop him.
“That’s a fucking order. You’re not allowed to fuck him in the mornings.” Boris
warned, and shut the door behind Igor, who sputtered in shocked protest. Boris
looked back to Armin who had retreated to the corner of the bed, and had
pressed himself against the wall corner. He was trembling, and flushed.
He’ll never work for us if he’s traumatized. I am going to have to keep Igor
off of him. Boris realized, and approached Armin, who watched him with wary,
tired eyes. “It’s unfortunate your ass must be sore. However, you’re still
required to get out there and plow those fields, or whatever it is that you do,
so go on.” Boris said, and gestured with his hand to the door. Armin hesitated,
and brought his hands against his chest, as if to guard them. “Now.” Boris
commanded, and watched Armin scramble out of bed obediently.
As a loud, Russian leader, Boris had that effect on people who were of a lower
status than him. Armin did not bother to change his clothes, and headed
straight for the kitchen. He snagged the half eaten potato off of the table,
and gnawed at it as he went outside, into the brisk morning air. There was no
other option available to him, and he knew that. Boris, like Igor, was not
going to take no for an answer.
With that thought in mind, Armin did the best he could to ignore the rampant
pain that bit at every nerve he had in his body. His hole burned, while the
rest of his body ached, and throbbed. Armin grit his teeth, and pushed past the
pain simply because he fucking had to. If he had had his way, he would have
curled up into a ball, and laid for hours on end in an attempt to feel better.
His grandfather would have had Dr. Jaeger visit him, and he would have patched
his hands up.
That type of care was something Armin found himself craving desperately as he
worked the land that he knew well. Farming was something he knew how to do. He
just didn’t like it, especially not as blisters formed on his hands, and then
split open from the excessive work he had no reprieve from. Armin panted as the
sun rose higher into the sky, and sweated. He wanted a drink of water, he
wanted food, and most of all, he wanted to collapse against his grandfather and
cry as if he were five years old again.
There was no shame in those thoughts, because Armin was quickly becoming
desperate to have who, and what he lost. As bad as his life had been before, it
was so much worse now. Boris wouldn’t let him stop to rest. There was work to
be done, and Boris wanted it to be done hours ago. Never mind how exhausted,
and hungry Armin was. His hands bled, and he was pretty sure the strenuous work
had only aggravated the wounds he hadn’t yet been able to address.
This wasn’t a life he wanted to live.
When night blanketed the fields, Armin was allowed to leave. Armin limped
straight to the well where he drew water, and drank the water for a long time,
until he felt sick from the consumption of water. He pulled more water, up, and
buried his agonized hands into the water, and let them soak. The fields around
him were dark, with the moon as the only source of light. Armin rested against
the well, and thought about how much he missed his family, and Eren.
If there was a war going on, Armin wondered if the Bundeswehr would come, and
rescue their village from Russian control. It was a fleeting thought, since his
thoughts circulated back around to how much he hurt, and how tired he was. At
this point, he wasn’t sure what hurt more—his hands, or his ass. Armin splashed
the cold water on to his face, and then dipped a wet finger between his legs.
He rubbed the sore hole with his finger, in a attempt to cool the awful burn.
Armin repeatedly wet his finger into the cold water, and pressed it to the
swollen hole. It was the only relief he could get. Armin took a breath, held
it, and then pushed his wet finger into his hole. This was the only way he
could clean himself. A bit of water would not chase potential infections away,
but it gave Armin a false sense of relief. As painful as it was, he knew it was
necessary.
What Armin needed was a proper bath in the creek, but he was not about to
travel down to the water when all he wanted to do was sleep. A crude laugh
meant that sleep would have to wait. Armin’s flushed face paled with terror,
having been caught with his pants around his ankles, and his finger buried in
his butt. He opened his mouth to explain, or scream—he wasn’t quite sure, but
all he was able to do was sputter uselessly as Igor advanced on him.
“All squeaky clean? How gross. I’ll fill you with my hot cock. Come here, my
pretty.” Igor purred, as he undid the belt from around his waist. He let the
belt drop, and began to fumble with his pants. Armin tugged his own pants up,
and fucking bolted into the fields, running as fast as his battered body would
let him.
Flight was triggered through Armin’s veins, and caused his heart to race. A
noise of approval left Igor’s throat, and within seconds, he tackled Armin to
the ground. Armin shouted, and twisted fearfully underneath Igor.
“No, no, get off of me! Get off, get off!” Armin yelled, scrabbling at the
ground in an attempt to escape. His nails only managed to claw at the soft
dirt. Igor grabbed Armin’s neck, and held him down as he pulled the pants off
of his narrow hips, exposing his abused ass.
No matter how hard Armin tried, he could not lift his head, not while a firm
hand was pressed to the back of his neck. Igor put his weight on Armin, forcing
him against the Earth, and shoved a finger into Armin’s anus. Armin’s breath
caught in his throat. Igor wedged a second finger into Armin’s butt, and then a
third.
“Scream. Scream just like that.” Igor encouraged Armin, as he mercilessly
finger-fucked his swollen hole. He watched Armin squirm, and buck his hips
wildly, and heard his pained grunts, and groans. “Yes, feel it. Feel my nails
scrape your fleshy walls.” Igor enthused, fucking Armin with his fingers,
simply to see him writhe from the prolonged sexual torture.
“It hurts...it hurts…” Armin cried, rubbing his head against the dirt, and
continued to claw at it. His German words went ignored, while Igor continued to
torment him. From what Boris said, Armin had a horrible feeling that he would
be raped every night, from now on, just like this. If he took too long to come
into the house, would he be raped in the middle of the fields? Armin didn’t
want to find out, but he was sure he would.
“I’ll dirty your asshole all over again, every time you clean it.” Igor
promised, as he pulled his fingers out of Armin, and positioned his erection
against Armin’s quivering, red hole. He plunged into Armin, and felt the tight
ring of muscles contract around his penis. He moaned, and buried himself to the
hilt of his body. Armin let out an agonized shriek, one that hit a high octave
as Igor fucked him senseless, in the middle of the field.
Igor pumped his cock in and out of Armin viscously, further bruising the hole.
He reveled in Armin’s panicked sobs. Armin was desperate to escape, and clawed
wildly at the dirt, that aggravated the nasty blisters on his hands. He threw
his pride aside, and begged for mercy that never came. Igor took his time
sodomizing the young teenager, and eventually filled the rectum up with sperm.
Now that Igor had his fill of his sweet, blonde fantasy, he returned to the
house, slithering away like a shadow in the dark. Armin sniffled, and rubbed
tears away from his eyes just enough so that he could make out the well in the
dull moonlight. He pulled his pants up, and crawled over to the well, where he
cleaned himself up with the discarded bucket of water. Armin only cleaned the
most private part of himself, not bothering with fresh blood on his thighs,
that had smeared and trickled over dry blood. He dumped the water when he was
finished, drew fresh water, drank it, and then trudged back to the house with
his metaphorical tail between his legs.
Once Armin was inside, Boris was waiting for him at the kitchen table. Armin
tensed, and instinctively thought to run. Boris patted the empty chair next to
him. Armin swallowed hard, and found himself sitting down despite himself. On
the table was a plate, with mashed potatoes on it, with green beans. Armin
stared hungrily at the simple meal, but he didn’t dare touch it. Instead, he
nervously fidgeted in his seat.
“You have the important job of providing potatoes for the Russian army. This
means that I can not let you starve to death. Eat.” Boris said, and gestured to
the plate with his hand. Armin grabbed at the spoon, then hissed in pain and
dropped it. His hands trembled, and hurt. He stood up, found a cloth, and
wrapped it around his right hand. Armin tried once again to grip the spoon and
keep hold of it.
But even eating proved to be difficult—almost downright impossible, simply
because his mangled hands screamed at him. Armin almost gave up. That was when
Boris left, and headed down the hall. Armin looked around himself, and once he
confirmed he was alone, he ducked his head, and ate without the use of his
hands. No one was around to see him eat like a dog, but he still felt
humiliated, even after he disappeared into his bedroom. The humiliation
followed him and plagued his mind as he let himself collapse on to the bed.
There was only one bright side to the awful day he suffered, and that was that
he had food in his stomach. Armin pulled the blanket over his head, curled
himself up into a tight ball, and cried himself to sleep.
                            One Grueling Week Later
Every morning for a week Armin was woken up by Boris, who then forced him to
work in the fields for long, unforgiving hours. The first time Armin collapsed,
he woke up in his own bed, and to his surprise, he was left alone for the rest
of the day. Boris had even brought him bread, and water. Armin had been told
than that he must not faint like that again—or else. The threat embedded
himself into Armin’s brain, and made him panic six days later when he was
working in the fields and again felt his body become weak, and heavy.
No amount of panic kept his battered body from shutting down. The fainting
spell was completely involuntary, which was why Armin could only scream in
frustration when he woke up naked in the field, with his ass throbbing from a
too familiar dry burn. Armin sobbed, realizing he had been raped while he had
been unconscious.  There was nothing more unsettling than that. Armin slowly
collected his clothes when he exhausted himself with crying, and with trembling
hands, he pulled them on. He stood up slowly, and felt blood, and sperm trickle
down his thighs.
By now, it was a familiar, unnerving sensation that made Armin want to claw his
skin off of his muscles. He limped past the laundry line that he had slaved
over while he was not working in the fields. Armin headed down the street,
letting his feet guide him to his unknown destination. He saw children working
in the fields, some of whom had not been avid farmers before the soldiers came.
One woman was even being raped against the side of her house. Armin was too
numb and detached to react to the different horrors he saw on his walk.
The moment he saw Eren’s house, Armin quickened his pace, realizing he needed
to see his childhood friend now more than ever before. He spotted Eren, and
Mikasa working in the fields. A soldier was lording over them, barking orders.
And to Eren’s credit, he did not yell back, nor punch the man out.
Mikasa noticed Armin in the distance, and caught his eyes, making him freeze.
She threw the farm tool on the ground, and tactfully ran into the house,
despite how the soldier yelled at her. The Russian chased her inside the house.
Eren tensed, and was about to follow Mikasa inside, but he noticed Armin
standing uncertainly on the open road.
Oh. She created a diversion.  Eren realized, and ran towards Armin who
diligently waited for him. “Armin!” Eren called happily, and set his hands on
Armin’s sides, and plucked him up off of his feet. Armin gasped with surprise
as the ground disappeared underneath him, and he was spun around as if he
didn’t weigh anything. “You’re alive.” Eren cheered with relief, and hugged
Armin’s little body against him.
“Am I?” Armin wondered glumly, unsure he was happy about being alive when he
was living the life of a overworked slave. Armin buried his nose against Eren’s
neck, and inhaled his friends familiar scent and found nostalgic comfort in it.
“Yeah, where’ve you been, Armin? I’ve been waiting for you.” Eren pressed,
pressing his left hand against the back of Armin’s head, and felt the greasy,
damp hair. He immediately thought that was odd because Armin always used to
smell fresh, if not like the flowers they used to play in when they were
little. Armin’s hair had certainly never been greasy, nor tangled before
either, despite not having a mother to nag him about cleanliness.
“I couldn’t come to you before…but I’m here now…can you take me to the crick? I
think…I really want to bathe, or drown…” Armin said and looped his thin arms
around Eren’s neck. Eren caught a whiff of Armin and decided a visit to the
creek was a good idea. He swept Armin’s legs up, and carried him down the
street.
“What would make you say something like that?” Eren asked, becoming more, and
more concerned for his best friend that had disappeared for a week straight. If
Armin was suicidal, something must be terribly wrong because he had always
wanted to leave the village and see the world. Now, it sounded as if Armin had
given up on his dreams, judging by the tone of his voice, and the shameless way
he let Eren carry him. Armin never would have allowed this type of contact
before.
“He…won’t stop touching me.” Armin murmured softly in response, and let his
heavy eyes close. He was exhausted from the walk over here, and the fitful
sleep he got that was too often plagued by nightmares of the fields, or Igor.
“Who?” Eren demanded to know, as anger flit through his body. Someone was still
touching Armin? That day on the hills was not an isolated event? Just how much
more had Armin suffered in a week? He looked down at his friend, and saw the
dirt, and grass stains that were smudged on to his cloths, as if he had been
working a lot with the fields at home. His dirty pants had holes that exposed
bruised knees, covered in dried blood. Eren was suddenly nervous to see more of
Armin’s body.
“That creepy one…he touches me at night…and apparently, if I collapse in the
fields, he’ll still touch me.” Armin muttered bitterly, and let his hands rest
against his stomach. He trusted Eren not to drop him. Plus, he felt sleep
sweeping over his body, and was intent to welcome in.
“I’ll fucking kill him.” Eren swore, recalling the way Igor and other men had
fucked Armin as if he had been a bitch in heat. Armin’s flushed, agonized face
was one Eren wasn’t about to forget. He wondered how many times Armin had been
bent over since then. Armin smiled upon hearing the promise in Eren’s voice,
and let himself succumb to the urge to sleep.
It was a short nap, yet Armin slept better than he had in a week. No dreams
assaulted, nor caressed his sleep deprived mind. Armin woke, resting against
Eren who sat on a large rock near the creek. He heard the noise of the water
trickling by, and took momentary comfort in it. Armin shifted against Eren, and
rubbed at his swollen eyes.
“Hey, welcome back.” Eren greeted warmly, and pushed some of Armin’s tangled
hair out of his face. He spotted a hickey on Armin’s neck and frowned. He
wanted to inquire about Armin’s life these last few days, but he resisted that
urge, since Armin already basically told him.
“Ah…are we here?” Armin inquired sleepily, and let out a yawn as he stretched
his arms above his head. Eren nodded with acknowledgement, and watched Armin
slowly stand up on his own, and waited to see if he needed help. Armin stepped
to the edge of the creek, and pulled his shirt off. Eren saw that Armin’s back
was covered in bruises and hickeys. His arms were splotched, and dotted with
hand shaped print bruises, which were prominent on his wrists.
“If you need help, let me know.” Eren offered, since Armin seemed unsteady on
his feet. Armin let out a noise of acknowledgement while he pulled his pants
down and stepped out of them. Eren’s audible gasp of horror brought heat to
Armin’s face, and made the corners of his eyes sting with embarrassment. Eren
was staring at the hand prints bruising Armin’s thighs, and the sensual curve
of his waist.
Smeared on Armin’s thighs was dried blood, from each day of the week. Eren
clambered up from the rock and hurried around Armin, to face him. Armin
instinctively tried to back up. Eren grabbed his forearms. “Wait. Let me look
at you.” Eren insisted, not wanting Armin to hide away from him now. Armin bit
his bottom lip and looked away.
“I’m dirty, Eren. You should let me bathe first.” Armin murmured, shying away
from Eren who was paying attention to his body in a way no one else had for a
week.
“I don’t care about that, Armin. I am worried for you.” Eren admitted
earnestly. Armin tentatively looked at Eren, saw his honest, worried eyes and
felt all of his defenses melt. Eren fucking cared about him, about how he felt,
and if he was okay or not. Armin relaxed his shoulders, and wrapped his arms
around Eren to cry on him with grateful relief.
Even after all of this time, Eren cared, and that resonated strongly within
Armin who was lonely, and desperate for positive human contact. Eren closed his
eyes, and wrapped one arm around his friend’s lithe, trembling body, while his
other hand fisted in his dull, yellow hair caked with dirt.
“Shit, Armin…what the fuck did they do to you?” Eren wondered, and held Armin
close to him. Armin had never been so candid about his own problems before.
Armin did not have a habit of crying in front of anyone—yet the tears came
fast, and hard. Eren could feel the tears dampen his shirt, and  imagined
himself shooting the soldiers who stole Armin’s innocence, and independence.
Not that Eren minded being Armin’s soft place to fall—Eren was very grateful
Armin trusted him, and felt comfortable enough to be vulnerable. Yet, at the
same time, Eren hated those men for making Armin feel this upset in the first
place.
“Boris called it rape…he said as long as I’m not working in the fields, or
doing household chores, Igor can rape me, and he does. I can’t understand him,
but every time he speaks, dread fills me.” Armin responded, through the tears.
He sniffled, and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands. It felt refreshing
to have someone care about him.
“Yeah, I bet.” Eren agreed, and rubbed his thumb against a hickey on Armin’s
neck. Armin placed a hand over Eren’s hand. Eren saw the wounds, and blisters
on Armin’s hand. Eren carefully grabbed his bruised wrist, and brought his hand
to his lips. Armin blinked. “I always loved your soft, delicate hands…now
they’re mangled, and all I want to do is murder those assholes.” Eren
professed, and then kissed another wound on Armin’s trembling hand.
“You can’t, Eren. We have no weapons. Our only option is to wait for help.”
Armin told Eren, and stepped around him to lower himself into the shallow end
of the creek. Eren quickly pulled his shoes, and clothes off of his body, and
joined Armin in the creek, like old times.
Only, everything had changed since the last time they sat in the brisk water.
“Then we’ll wait, but how can I protect you while we are waiting for help?”
Eren inquired, and pushed Armin’s hands away from his body. “Let me.” Eren
suggested, and carefully rubbed the blood off of Armin’s thighs with his copper
skinned hands. Armin sat back, and let Eren wash him.
“Can’t. I already told you, we just have to wait…and that means that he’s going
to continue to touch me and there’s nothing we can do about it.” Armin replied,
resting some of his weight on his hands, that were submerged under the water.
He winced as Eren’s hands dabbed at his knees.
“I can’t accept that when I know you’re going to be hurt.” Eren stated, and
cupped handfuls of water to pour over Armin’s body.
“You have to. We don’t have any other choice.” Armin lamented with frustration,
and hated the powerlessness that crept underneath his skin. He wondered if Eren
felt it too.
“Ugh, you can’t even walk, but you want me to look the other way?” Eren griped,
as he gently nudged Armin back to wet his hair. Armin lowered himself on his
arms, and tilted his head back.
“I can walk. It just hurts to do so.” Armin quipped stubbornly, and closed his
eyes in appreciation as he felt Eren’s hands massage his head. He was so
thankful he still had Eren to rely on.
“Still. If there’s anything I can do to make you feel better, just let me
know.” Eren told Armin, and began to work the tangles out of Armin’s hair.
Armin made a noise of acknowledgement, and closed his eyes, relaxing at the
gentle touch. He thought about how much he had missed Eren, and had yearned for
him.
Now Eren was here, and he was soft, and attentive to his feelings. Suddenly, it
didn’t matter anymore if Eren was the root cause of all of this mayhem. Armin
wanted to feel Eren’s hands on his body, pain or no pain.
“Kiss me.” Armin suddenly requested, wanting to know what a kiss was, and why
adults snuck them when they thought no one was looking. He opened his blue
eyes, and stared into Eren’s surprised, green orbs.
“What?” Eren gasped, shocked that Armin was expressing interest in romance
after everything he had been through. Armin shifted, propping himself up on his
elbows, and lifted up as much as he could, straining to reach Eren.
“Please. I just want to know what it’s like before it’s taken from me too.”
Armin pleaded as cutely as he could, to entice Eren to play along with his
whim.
“Oh.” Eren muttered, and smiled sadly, understanding now why Armin wanted to be
kissed. He ducked his head, letting his brunette hair fall around his face, and
planted a chaste, upside down kiss on Armin’s chapped lips. Armin blinked.
“Is…is that it?” Armin asked, unable to contain the disappointment in his tone.
He had thought there was more to kissing then a simple timid brush of lips. He
rolled over, pushed himself into a sitting position and wrung his wet hair out.
“No…there’s more to it. I just didn’t want to startle you.” Eren admitted, and
gently stroked Armin’s cheek with his hand.
“Show me. Show me everything you know.” Armin encouraged, wanting Eren to be
his first for any potential unexplored territory. He did not want another
stranger to have any more claim to him. Eren was taken aback by Armin’s
comment, but saw the seriousness in his friend’s eyes, so he cupped Armin’s
cheeks against his palms, and pressed their lips together.
Eren kept the kiss light and explorative, easing Armin into something he
shouldn’t have experienced until his wedding night with a village girl. Their
dire situation left them little choice—Eren gave Armin exactly what he wanted,
because fuck, Armin deserved to be treated nicely. Armin returned the kiss, and
let Eren set the pace.
It never failed to astonish Armin how far Eren was willing to go to make him
happy. Eren probably only wanted to kiss Mikasa—they both talked about it
before, wondering who would marry the pretty, exotic, oriental girl who seemed
out of place in the village. Eren always seemed like the likely fiancé, and
yet, he was showing Armin what kissing was all about, in the creek they grew up
bathing in.
“If you want me to stop, I swear I will.” Eren promised against Armin’s lips,
and then resumed kissing him. Armin smiled at the thought that Eren would stop
if he told him to, and suddenly he wanted to kiss Eren with fervor. He wasn’t
sure what the fluttery feeling was that bubbled in his gut whenever Eren was
around, but it was back now, and Armin didn’t want to ignore it.
“Good.” Armin murmured against Eren’s lips, and obediently parted his lips when
Eren’s tongue pressed against them. He made a noise of surprise as Eren’s
tongue brushed against his own. Armin hadn’t expected that, but he returned the
gesture, flicking his tongue against Eren’s.
They kissed like that for awhile, content in each others arms. Armin broke away
first, flushed and breathless. “Erase their touches. I want your hands on me.”
Armin encouraged, his voice soft, and sincere. For days, Armin dreaded every
touch and cringed away from hands grabbing at him. But now, Armin wanted Eren’s
hands on him.
“I don’t want to hurt you.” Eren protested, pulling away from Armin who had
been hurt too many times already. Armin grabbed Eren’s wrist, and searched his
eyes.
“You won’t hurt me.” Armin assured his uncertain best friend, and stared at him
with trust shining in his blue eyes. Eren relaxed a little, and leaned in,
nudging Armin back, against the river bank. Armin propped his elbows on the
grass, and willingly spread his legs for Eren. Eren was grateful Armin’s
stomach, and vulnerable parts of his body were submerged under the water,
because if they hadn’t been, he’d have been blushing hard.
“Let’s say I hope you’re right about this.” Eren said, and lowered his knees
against Armin’s hips, to hold him in place. He dipped his hand into the water,
and felt Armin’s body up to find the hidden, puckered hole. Once Eren found it,
he penetrated its depths with his index finger. Armin barely tensed. Eren then
leaned forwards, and kissed at Armin’s neck.
All of this Eren had wanted to do to Armin, but had never  known how until
recently. The fact that sex with males was possible had been a revelation for
both of them. Neither of them quite understood how something so wrong could
feel so right, but they didn’t let their fun be dampered by the thought.
A soft gasp left Armin’s lips as Eren began to suck on one of the hickeys. “Wh-
what are you doing?” Armin asked curiously, feeling a mix of pain, and
excitement that he had never felt before.
“You told me to erase their touches. I’m going to make the hickey’s mine.” Eren
responded, and sucked on another hickey. Armin felt his breath catch in his
throat. He had not realized that Eren could be so sweet, and romantic. He bit
his bottom lip as Eren found, and dominated every hickey that he could reach.
Eren pushed a second finger into Armin, and made gentle scissoring motions to
properly stretch him out.
“Do it. All of it.” Armin goaded, wanting to belong to Eren, and Eren only. He
didn’t want to remember Igor’s vile touches, nor any of the other men. Eren
seemed to understand this too, because he gently sucked on each of Armin’s
sensitive nipples, and massaged his insides gently, in a way the men never had.
Eren gripped Armin’s hips, and thrust himself into his delicate best friend.
Armin tensed involuntarily, and curled his hands into fists. His whimper made
Eren stop. “Don’t stop.” Armin told Eren, who reluctantly obeyed by pushing his
cock the rest of the way into Armin. He waited then, and planted hot kisses on
Armin’s mouth, to let his body accommodate the foreign flesh.
“Mm…the cold water feels so wonderful…” Armin moaned airily, thrilled he was
not experiencing that awful dry burn that had been present for days. Eren had
pushed cold water into his body, and it had a rejuvenating effect on the
blonde’s abused anus. Or maybe it was a cold, numbing effect. Armin wasn’t sure
which, but he didn’t care, either.
“Well…if you change your mind, it’s never too late to tell me to stop.” Eren
coaxed Armin, and slowly began to pump his cock in, and out of Armin’s tight
hole. The water swished around them, and as Eren began to thrust faster, the
water was displaced on to the creek’s bank. Armin tilted his head back, and
reveled in knowledge that Eren was making him his, and was showing him that sex
didn’t have to be a terrible experience.
It never had to hurt like that. Armin realized, and felt bitter tears sting the
corner of his eyes. Eren hadn’t hurt him once—the only pain Armin felt was from
previous wounds, and a general aching soreness that made his anus throb,
despite how gently it was being treated now. Armin panted, and let the chilled
tears slide down his flushed face. It’s not fair.  He thought childishly,
recalling how much those men had hurt him, just because they could.
“Does it hurt?” Eren asked, pausing abruptly in his thrusts. He noticed Armin’s
tears, and wondered if this was a bad idea. Armin shook his head, and leaned
forwards to kiss Eren, to alleviate his concerns. Eren was so sweet—he was
concerned he hurt him. Armin felt flattered, and guilty for letting his
negative thoughts bring tears to his eyes. Eren accepted the kiss as an answer,
and continued to make love to Armin. He ejaculated a few minutes later, and
deigned to just sit there with Armin, while they regained their breaths, and
their senses.
“Thank you,” Was the first thing Armin said when he could breathe properly
again, and calm his racing heart. Eren smiled, and kissed Armin again. “Mm. Can
you move? I’m kind of cold.” Armin mentioned sheepishly, and nervously
scratched at his cheek.
“Oh, right.” Eren simpered, and pulled out of Armin. He clambered up on to the
creek bank, and helped Armin up. “Hey. I was thinking. There is a way you can
convince them not to rape you.” Eren started, and once Armin perked up with
attentive interest, Eren continued, “It’s something I learned recently. I’ll
show it to you, and you can do it to them. It’s better then getting a cock
shoved up your butt, anyways.”
“Okay. Show me.” Armin accepted, and let Eren push his knees apart, to expose
his untouched penis. Eren curled his fingers around Armin’s penis and lifted it
up. Armin nervously watched Eren, who ducked his head down. Armin fucking
squealed, and jolted as Eren’s warm lips wrapped themselves around the head of
his cock. “What are you doing!? I—I peeout of there!”
A light-hearted chuckle erupted from Eren’s throat as he pulled away, just
slightly. “Might I remind you what comes out of your butt?” Eren pointed out,
which made Armin clamp his lips shut. A dark blush spread across Armin’s face
as he thought about how right Eren was. “Relax. I swear I know what I am doing,
and I’ll treat you right.” Eren coaxed, and when he saw Armin’s shoulders
relax, he knew Armin was relenting.
With no further ado, Eren sucked on the head of Armin’s cock, and caused
familiar electric tingles to jolt up Armin’s spine. Armin had felt something
similar when he touched himself, but what Eren’s wet mouth was doing to his
penis was on a whole other level. Eren swirled his tongue over the tip, and
mercilessly teased the slit. Armin swore he saw stars for a moment. He had
never felt something so good before.
And as Eren continued to suck Armin off, the pleasant tightness in Armin’s
stomach only heightened, and made him moan. Eren’s tongue dragged along Armin’s
hardened erection, and resumed bobbing his head. Armin entangled his hands in
Eren’s hair and moaned prettily as the pleasure spiked through his body. He
curled his toes as the ecstasy became too much for him, and he ejaculated into
Eren’s mouth. Eren pulled away and spit the sperm out of his mouth.
“How’d that feel, Armin?” Eren wondered as he dragged the back of his hand
against his mouth. Armin had his head back, and was trembling from the force of
the orgasm. He panted, and moaned as the euphoria tingled every nerve he had.
“Good. But…I’m sleepy…and I don’t want to go back yet.” Armin said, and laid
down on the cool grass. Eren smiled a little, and brushed Armin’s wet hair out
of his face, before he lowered himself on to the ground. Armin snuggled up
against Eren, wanting to leech his warmth. Eren draped an arm over Armin’s
sensual curve, and rested his hand on the small of Armin’s back.
“Then nap. I’ll watch over you, I promise.” Eren swore, and happily stroked
Armin’s clean hair. Armin settled against Eren, and let sleep take over his
body. Eren thought about Mikasa, and wondered how he would explain any of this
to her.
What if she was mad, or hurt, or jealous? Eren did not want to upset Mikasa,
but he also wasn’t about to lie to her, especially because now more than ever
they needed to be honest with each other if they were going to get through this
hell they were all living in. Eren kissed Armin’s forehead, and held him close,
to keep him warm while they dried off under the fading sun.
When night blanketed the lands, Eren gently shook Armin awake, and they
reluctantly parted ways, collecting their clothes and tugging them on as they
went. Armin felt as if he had actually had a moment of sleep, and felt better,
until he saw his house that had become a prison.
It was then that the reality of the situation occurred to Armin. As far as
Boris or Igor knew, Armin had ran away and was hiding from them, none of which
was untrue. Armin shirked his duties—whatever Boris had had in mind for him,
and that meant Boris was probably mad at him. Mad enough to let Igor have his
way with him.
Would Igor fuck Armin senseless on the couch again, or would he shove him
against the wall and sodomize him in the hallway like he did the other night?
Armin gulped, and began to tremble as he headed straight for his fate. Armin
pushed the door open, and hesitantly stepped inside, attempting to be as quiet
as he could.
But this was an old creaky house, and Boris and Igor were trained soldiers who
could hear a twig snap from outside. Armin shut the door behind him, and jolted
when the noise of a kitchen chair scraping against wood sounded. Boris rounded
the corner, and stormed over to Armin who shrieked and tried to back up, but he
bumped into the coat hander and fell down with it.
“Where he hell have you been!?” Boris’s voice boomed throughout the house, and
shocked every nerve in Armin’s body white. Armin scrambled back, and yipped
when his shirt got caught on the coat hanger. He ripped the shirt without a
second thought, and cowered, pulling his legs against his chest.
“The crick! J-just the crick, I swear!” Armin shouted desperately, in defense.
“I was bathing, a-and soaking…and then drying…” Armin mumbled hastily, and
fearfully rubbed the back of his neck. Please believe me. Armin prayed urgently
in his head, and begged Boris for mercy with his eyes. Boris scoffed, and
grabbed a fistful of Armin’s hair. Armin yelped as he was yanked to his feet,
and then let out another alarmed, pained shout as Boris punched him in his gut
with his other hand. Armin tried to crumple, but was held aloft by his hair.
“You lying slut. Albert said he saw a brunette carry you off to the creek, as
if you were some damn princess and he was a knight in shining armor.” Boris
snapped, and began to drag a stumbling, gasping Armin into the kitchen.
“No…no…” Armin cried between breathless gasps for air. It wasn’t like that. It
wasn’t like that at all. “W-we’re just f-friends…” Armin swore, but received a
quick kick to the back of his leg. Armin yipped with pain. 
“Oh, I know what goes on between just friends. You let him fuck you, didn’t
you? But any time Igor fucks you, you scream like a little bitch. Igor who I
keep off of you, and yet you throw my kindness back in my face by whoring
around with a boy—not even a village girl. Gay piece of shit.” Boris ranted
angrily, and threw Armin against the counter.
He doesnt believe me. Why cant he just believe me?   
“I didn’t—it wasn’t—just a bath, just a bath!” Armin sputtered frantically as
fear maddened his mind as he realized Boris was going to rape him. He tried to
push himself up from the counter, but Boris pressed his hand against Armin’s
neck. Terror prickled Armin's nerves.
Tears burned in the corners of Armin’s eyes as he found his airway was
compromised. All he could do was gasp weakly, as his face was blanketed in
blue, while his eyes bulged with terror. Boris yanked Armin’s pants down, and
while he couldn’t see any evidence of a recent sexual encounter, he was sure
Armin was a slut, and rammed his cock into the defenseless hole. Armin mewled
with agony, and wiggled his hips.
Each thrust was unforgiving, and forceful. Armin felt as if he was being
punished. The weight on the back of his neck lessoned just enough for Armin to
regain some breath, and color to his cheeks, but then the hand was heavy on his
neck again.
“I’m sorry…!” Armin wailed, as the dry burn returned with a insufferable
vengeance. His insides were being split apart again, and ignited with that
awful burning sensation, brought about by dry friction.
“Fucking slut, you do feel looser than earlier. Did he have a big cock? Did you
swallow him whole too like the gay fuck you are?” Boris bashed Armin verbally,
and shoved his cock into Armin’s anus, with the intent to hurt him. Armin
writhed, and sobbed underneath him. He didn’t dare comment, even as he was
berated, half-choked, and fucked up his ass mercilessly.
When Boris was done with Armin, he let the little blonde crumple to the ground,
curl up, cower, and sob. Boris wordlessly left the house, and when he returned
twenty minutes later, Igor was accompanying him. Armin heard them talking in
Russian, and curled up tighter. He knew Igor was going to rape him too. There
was no universe where that wouldn’t happen.
“My pretty has returned!” Igor’s distinct voice sent apprehensive shudders down
Armin’s spine. He felt a hand grab his arm, and instinctively jerked away. Igor
grabbed Armin again, and forcibly pushed him on to the table. Armin knew this
would happen. He was still left feeling scared, and worried for his body. 
“Not again…” Armin whined to himself as he was penetrated by another cock. He
was sodomized on the table. Every harsh thrust slammed his already bruised
stomach against the edge of the table. Armin briefly thought of Eren, and how
his best friend hadn’t hurt him.
Why did these men have to hurt him?
Armin didn’t know, but as he was left used, and abused in the kitchen, bleeding
and bruised, he knew that waiting around for a savior was a fool’s wish. If
Armin wanted something in his life to change, he needed to save himself.
The only question was how?
***** Romance Potato *****
Chapter Summary
     Armin comes up with a plan.
Chapter Notes
     Armin is desperate for relief, and change. He comes up with a plan
     that just might work. Now that said, we're going to see how clever
     Armin is, and we'll see how he endures despite everything he has been
     through. Some people might think Armin is too emotional, but in case
     anyone forgot, in this fictional story, he was raped. Rape is
     traumatic, and those who have endured it respond differently to the
     aftermath. Some people become angry or guarded while others become
     emotional or touch-happy. Or all of those things at once.
     I think this is the first rape-free chapter too, since things are
     starting to change. Also, we'll get to see Erwin and Levi finally,
     and what they're up to.
     I'd like to point out that this fanfiction is not politically
     charged. It does contain some history, and I have played on some real
     events, and fears that people have to create a realistic war fiction
     setting.
                                 War on Titan
                           Chapter 5: Romance Potato
How can I make them stop hurting me, without getting myself killed? Armin
wondered, as he tenderly dabbed a cloth against his sore hole, to clean it. He
was squatting in the privacy of his bedroom, and tried not to think about how
Boris had overtaken his grandfather’s bedroom. He instead focused on creating a
plan to spare his little, inflamed hole from more sexual abuse.
Waiting around for the Bundeswehr was not an option, since most people had
forgotten about this little town. The only reason the dark skinned foreign men
wielding swords had found the town years ago was the same reason the Russians
had stumbled across it—chance. No one ever came here deliberately. The
Bundeswehr could not be counted on for that same reason. If they happened
across the town and pushed the Russians out, that would be a happenstance
miracle.
None of the remaining villagers owned guns. Mr. Arlert had been the only man
that had hoarded guns in secret, and while that had been enough to push out the
first foreign invaders who had wielded swords, the Russians wielded guns of
their own. A few unskilled villagers with a limited number of guns had not been
enough to defend their town from an army of talented army marksmen.
Knives were the best weapons the villagers had at their disposal, next to blunt
objects. Neither of those weapons could compare with a gun, though. As far as
the weapons department was concerned, Armin knew violence was out of the
question. Armin briefly thought of suffocating Igor with a pillow, but he
abandoned that thought quickly, since Igor was likely to wake up, flip them
over, hit him, and shove his cock up his ass. It was a bad plan that would only
end in rape.
Armies and proper weapons were not available to Armin. Pleading, crying,
bleeding and obeying was getting him no where either. Igor was only turned on
by Armin’s human behavior, while Boris simply didn’t care because he used sex
as a weapon with which to punish Armin. Armin rubbed his face, and wracked his
brain for another solution.
There had to be a way to make this nightmare end.
Armin stood up, and peered out into the hallway, glancing left and right.
Tentatively, Armin tip-toed into his grandfather’s room, and scoured the
bookcase in search for a book on plants. If he could just find a plant that
could numb the burning sensation in his anus, he would be able to endure the
rough sex that Igor always seemed to have planned for him. He spotted the green
cover, and pulled it out of its spot between other books.
As soon as Armin had the book in his possession, he hurried back to his room,
and sat in the corner to make it not obvious that he was there. Armin propped
his legs up, and rested the book on them. He then began to thumb through the
pages, scanning the pages for a medicinal plant. Armin stopped upon the drawn,
colored image of a plant that resembled a sunflower. He squinted at tiny
writing consistent with his grandfather’s writing. The words were not part of
the book—they had been jotted down separately.
Arnica Montana, from the mountains. Some people use it as a medicinal flower,
while others use it as a potent poison. Armin eyes widened as a plan formed in
his head. That’s it! Armin closed the book, and shoved the book under his bed
to hide it. He then quietly shut the door, and went to the dresser, where he
pulled out a fresh outfit to change into. Armin headed to the window, and
sucked in a breath of courage.
For as long as Armin could remember, he was terrified of the dark because of
the monsters that could lurk within it, and see him. Wolves were a constant
threat, and once a bear had wandered down from the mountain. Armin pushed those
thoughts out of his head and pushed the window open. He winced, and briefly
sucked on a wound on his hand that had been aggravated. Armin then climbed out
of the window, into the advanced darkness.
The full moon was the only light Armin had to navigate by, on his way back to
Eren’s. In the cover of night, Armin hoped he was hidden from potential prying
eyes. He wrapped his arms around himself, to take the edge of the cool spring
wind off of his arms, and to give him a false sense of comfort. The spring
night air was still chilly, despite his long sleeves. Armin hurried through the
dark town, jumping and freezing when a noise sounded in the night. He had never
ventured outside alone like this at night before, but there was a first for
everything, he figured.
By the grace of God, or chance, Armin arrived at Eren’s house, and sidled
around the house to Eren’s bedroom window. He peered inside, pressing his face
to the glass. Armin couldn’t see much in the room, but he hadn’t came this far
to give up, so he pushed at the window. He was fucking amazed when the window
actually opened.
There was no movement in the room, but Armin could make out a form under the
blanket, on the bed. “Eren?” Armin quietly called, and climbed into the room.
He slowly headed towards the bed. “Eren?” Armin questioned again, and carefully
clambered on to the bed. The person stirred, and rolled over on to their back.
“Mikasa!?” Armin gasped with surprise as the girl pushed herself up into a
sitting position.
Mikasa smiled warmly with a greeting, and pulled Armin against her in a
friendly hug. “Welcome home, Armin. Eren is servicing the soldiers. He’ll be
back soon, though.” Mikasa greeted Eren’s best friend, and let kept him close
to her because he was chilly, while she was warm. Armin smiled with relief and
hugged Mikasa, glad to see her again, and found comfort in her familiar, fresh
scent.
“Servicing?” Armin questioned, craning his head up to look at her. Mikasa
looked away, and gritted her teeth. Armin sensed that she wasn’t going to
divulge the information, so he let the topic go. “Are you okay? I haven’t
really seen you in awhile.” Armin wondered, to broach a more important topic.
“Fine. We’re more worried about you. Did you think of a plan?” Mikasa
responded, shifting the blanket around Armin’s shivering body. She noticed how
much thinner Armin was since last week, and was concerned he wasn’t allowed to
eat. Armin had already been too thin to begin with.
“Don’t be. I did manage to come up with a plan. That’s why I need Eren. We’re
going to the mountains.” Armin told her, and pulled the blanket tighter around
his body. He was cold, and couldn’t seem to become warm.
“Okay. I’ll stay here and cover for Eren, then.” Mikasa suggested, figuring
that was how she could help her friends out. There was nothing she wouldn’t do
to protect Eren, after all, and since Eren cared about Armin, she would protect
him too, in what ways she could.
“Like you did for me, earlier? You didn’t get hurt, did you?” Armin inquired,
recalling how she lured the soldier away so Eren could come to him.
“Yeah. I didn’t get hurt, though.” Mikasa answered, and looked to the door as
it opened. Eren stepped inside, and paused upon seeing Armin.
“Hey, Eren. I have a plan. Take me to the mountains. We have to be back before
sunrise.” Armin said, happy that Eren had joined them. If they left now, they
might both return in time before anyone noticed they were missing.
“Let’s go then.” Eren decided without hesitation, because he had been waiting
for Armin to have a plan, and now that he did have one, it was time to act.
Eren wanted to help Armin, and now was the time. Armin shimmied out of the
warmth of the blanket and clambered off of the bed. Mikasa noticed the slow,
heavy way Armin moved. He must hurt. But that was why he had Eren.
“Be careful out there, you two.” Mikasa advised them, and watched Armin
carefully climb out the window. Eren leaned over the bed and tried to kiss
Mikasa, who turned her cheek to him. “I know where your mouth has been.” Mikasa
muttered, not wanting to be kissed so soon after Eren serviced the perverted
soldier that lorded over them. Eren pulled away.
“I rinsed my mouth out. I swear.” Eren swore, with a shrug of his shoulders.
Mikasa didn’t budge, so Eren bid her farewell and followed after Armin and
climbed out the window. He shut the window behind him, and turned his attention
to Armin, who was already shivering from the brisk air. “Do you want me to
carry you on my back?” Eren offered, since he could see the pain in his best
friends eyes.
Once, Armin would have refused Eren’s offer. Now, his stubborn pride would have
to take a hit because Armin knew he needed Eren’s help. “Yeah.” Armin answered,
and climbed on to Eren’s back. He wrapped his legs around Eren’s waist, and
winced, feeling his cheeks spread as a result. There was nothing to be done for
that, though and he knew it, so he didn’t bother voicing the pain.
“You look really upset, and shaken up. Did something happen to you when you
returned home?” Eren asked with worry, sensing another significant difference
in Armin’s presence. Armin looped his arms around Eren’s neck, and rested his
chin on Eren’s shoulder.
“Boris was really angry with me. He yelled at me, and used words I don’t know.”
Armin responded, thinking about how frightened he had been when had Boris
physically assaulted him. He tightened his arms around Eren, as the dark memory
of being unable to breathe smacked him in the face.
“What words?” Eren wondered, out of a mere curiosity, since he didn’t think he
would be able to define the words if Armin couldn’t. He moved quickly through
the night, wanting to take them out of the village, and get them to the
mountains.
“Uh…gay, was one…slut was another, as was whore. All I know is that his tone
was derogatory.” Armin recalled, and nervously picked at his battered fingers.
He wondered if there was a fresh bruise on his neck. With the way his stomach
ached, he was sure it was bruised as well, from being jammed against the
counter, and table’s edge.
“None of that sounds pleasant. But something worse happened, didn’t it?” Eren
guessed, because he knew Armin had been called names before, and hadn’t ever
looked this messed up from it before. Something else had happened.
A soft, heavy sigh slipped past Armin’s lips. “Yeah. Boris raped me this time,
which as unsettling as that felt, it was nothing compared to the way he choked
me while he did it. I couldn’t breathe, and that was more terrifying then
anything. I can’t get it out of my head, either.” Armin explained uneasily, and
felt hot tears gather in the corners of his eyes.
He had not had a chance to think about the life-threatening incident until now.
The horror of it was dawning on him. Armin blinked the tears away, and forced
the thoughts out of his head, because he didn’t have the luxury to break down
about the inhumane way he was treated.
“Wait. He choked you!?” Eren exclaimed in horror, and then clamped his mouth
shut, realizing he was being too loud. He walked quicker through the village,
and kept off the main dirt road.
“I can’t—I can’t talk about it anymore. Let’s just focus on our mission.” Armin
pleaded, raw and emotional. If Eren didn’t let this topic go, Armin knew he
wouldn’t be able to keep the tears away. Eren seemed to understand this too,
because he grit his teeth, and put anger into his steps.
There was nothing Eren wanted to do more than murder the soldiers that hurt
Armin. They had had no right to touch Armin to begin with, but they went a step
further and hurt him. Choked him. Eren felt his own blood boil with rage at his
own powerlessness to help his best friend. Who he had had sex with that
afternoon. That was another discussion that would have to wait.
Since Armin could not handle talking about the abuse he suffered, he focused on
their surroundings—the moon in the sky, the houses they passed, and the fields.
Eren raged quietly, fed up with everyone he knew being hurt, and abused, and
being unable to protect any of them.
Taking Armin to the mountains was something Eren could do, so despite the fact
that he had been ready for bed, he jumped on the chance to help one of Armin’s
plans come to fruition. Armin was clever. Emotional, and delicate, but smart.
Eren trusted him.
“So what are we looking for?” Eren questioned, as they arrived on the mountain.
Armin gingerly lowered himself, and groaned involuntarily as his stiff body
reminded him that he needed pain relief. Eren’s body that normally burned hot
had been a temporary relief.
“Sunflowers, basically.” Armin responded,  as he wrapped his arms around
himself, and began searching for yellow flowers. He had no idea if the flowers
he wanted would grow here, but if he just managed to find a few mushrooms,
Armin would settle for those and hope they were poisonous.
“I don’t think flowers will solve our problems.” Eren mentioned, but began to
look for yellow flowers.
“We’re looking for poison, Eren.” Armin muttered snippily, following along with
the natural mountain trail. Eren didn’t take the snap personally, since he knew
Armin was suffering. Pain often made people lash out. Eren understood that, and
continued to hunt for the flowers, but made a point to stay near Armin to watch
over him.
“Oh. That makes sense.” Eren commented, and marveled at Armin for a moment.
Poison. That was a brilliant plan.
“Ugh, it’d be so much easier to find the flowers if we had some damn light.”
Armin griped angrily, translating pain into anger. It was an emotional,
involuntary response. He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, and began to
doubt his plan. Armin just wanted cry.
“Wait. Don’t cry. I have an idea.” Eren assured Armin, as he cupped his friends
pale cheeks against his hands. “Just wait.” Eren coaxed Armin, who was
emotionally pent up, and ready to explode. His psyche needed a proper break
down, but he couldn’t do that yet.
“You have an idea?” Armin gasped, shocked that Eren had a idea. He then blushed
with shame, realizing how rude that must have sounded. Eren just smiled
reassuringly and sought out two sticks that he began to rub together.
The dry friction ignited a fire to spark between the sticks. Armin frowned,
because the irony was not lost on him. Eren grinned, and held a burning torch
out to Armin. Armin hesitated.
“A fire? That’s not a good idea. Anyone from the village could see that!” Armin
complained, feeling incredibly frustrated at Eren’s lack of foresight.
“We need light, you said it yourself. And this will keep wolves away.” Eren
pointed out, and again offered the torch to Armin. Armin groaned loudly, and
swiped the torch. Eren just didn’t tend to think things through all the way.
And yet, when Armin felt the heat radiating off of the fire, some of his anger
dissipated. Or maybe it was Eren’s calm voice that soothed Armin.
Their hunt for the flowers resumed, long into the night. Armin was becoming
more frantic, and frustrated as the hours passed by. He was so engrossed in
finding the flowers, and bothered by his own pain that he never noticed they
were being watched. Eren didn’t notice either, because he kept trying to calm
Armin down, and reassure him that they would return home before the sun rose.
“We’re not going to find them.” Armin worried, stressing out that this entire
endeavor had been for nothing. Instead of searching for a poisonous flower,
Armin could have been sleeping—something he desperately needed. Part of his
wild emotions was caused by lack of sleep.
“Don’t say that. We’ll find them.” Eren promised, as he watched Armin pace in
the darkness. The light on their torches had went out, and now they were
dark—it was no wonder to Eren that Armin was flipping out again. He had been
coming undone all night, no matter how hard he had tried to be fine enough to
just find the flowers, and get home.
“We’ve been searching for hours. They aren’t here. I could have been sleeping!”
Armin fumed, angry with himself for concocting a hairbrained idea. There must
be a easier to find poison. One he didn’t have to search so hard for.
Neither of them wanted to go deeper into the mountains then they already were,
because distance mattered. If they traveled too far, they wouldn’t be able to
return home in time. And if they didn’t return home in time…Armin set a hand
over his neck, and just wanted to scream. It was the way he normally vented his
frustration, but the only screaming he had been doing recently had been done in
terror, not anger. It didn’t really count.
“Let me see your neck.” Eren instructed, as he stepped around Armin, who was
fretting. His little outbursts were a prelude to something larger. Eren was
just amazed Armin could regain control of himself at all. He knew how
sensitive, and delicate, yet prideful Armin was.
Violence had always scared Armin, and what he went through throughout the day
shook him to his core. Eren wanted to tell Armin that it was okay to cry, and
scream. That was his job as a best friend. But if they couldn’t find the
flowers, and went home empty handed, Eren knew Armin would feel even worse.
Right now, Eren just needed Armin to calm down enough to refocus on the
mission. Armin sucked in a breath, and swept his hair off of the back of his
neck, to reveal the heavy, dark bruising. Eren lightly set his hands on Armin’s
shoulders, and gently pressed his lips against the bruise. Armin winced at the
soft touch, out of reflex.
“We’re going to find those flowers, and when we do, they’ll never hurt you
again.” Eren affirmed, as looped his arms around Armin’s tiny waist, and pulled
him against him. Armin shivered, and leaned back against Eren, who always
seemed to be warm.
“I can’t be touched like that again. It was so terrifying. I thought he was
going to kill me.” Armin confessed quietly, his voice was raw, and emotional.
He needed Eren’s reassurances, just to be okay. Eren soothingly kissed the side
of Armin’s neck, and held him close. Armin took in a few breaths to steady
himself, feeling a brief calmness whenever Eren was near, and holding him. Eren
nuzzled Armin’s cheek.
“That is why we’re going to find the flowers. Just sit back for a minute, and
let me search.” Eren assured him, and pulled away. Armin carefully sat down on
a rock, and rubbed at his face, focusing on calming his frazzled nerves. Eren
poked around the mountain for a little while longer, never venturing far away
from Armin.
Even as the minutes ticked by, Eren remained positive that the flowers would be
found. Maybe it was his optimism, or his indomitable spirit, but under the
light of the moon, he found a small patch of yellow flowers. Eren looked over
his shoulder, in Armin’s direction.
“Found yellows.” Eren called, and watched Armin perk up. Armin pushed himself
up, and awkwardly wandered over to Eren with a newfound hope and curiosity
shining in his eyes.
On the ground, in the dirt, was a patch of yellow flowers. Armin’s eyes lit up,
and a small, tired smile pulled at the corners of his lips. “I think these are
them.” Armin enthused with relief as he turned to Eren, and leaned up to kiss
him. Eren smiled and returned the kiss, simply happy he could be of use to
Armin. Armin then knelt down, and began to dig them out of the ground. Eren set
a hand on Armin’s arm. Armin turned his head up to look at him with curious
eyes.
“Wait. Let me do it.” Eren offered, because while his own hands were blistered
from farm work, his hands were still in much better shape then Armin’s palms
were. Armin sidled out of the way, and was content to let Eren take over the
digging. He unconsciously wiped his bleeding hand against his shirt, and
instantly regretted it when his palm stung in response from the rough fabric.
Armin tugged on the shirt and frowned at the blood stain. He hadn’t been able
to properly wash blood out of fabric, and this had been his last bloodless
shirt.
“Ugh.” Armin groaned irritably, and rested his hands against his pants. He then
focused on Eren, and was mildly surprised that Eren was able to pull the
flowers out, root and all. Armin wanted to use every part of the plant in the
hopes of…of what? Murdering? Armin pushed the unnerving thought out of his
head.
“Here. Why don’t you hold on to them and I’ll carry you home?” Eren suggested,
holding the bunch of yellow flowers. Armin slowly, stiffly stood up and took
the flowers from Eren, then limped around him. Eren crouched low, and let Armin
climb on to his back. Armin pressed the flowers between his chest, and Eren’s
back, so he wouldn’t drop them if he nodded off, which he desperately wanted to
do. Eren headed down the mountain, with Armin, and the flowers that would
change the tide of their war.
                                     . . .
Two lone men wandered around the mountains under the cover of night. They were
men of the Rebellion Bundeswehr, which consisted of men, and women who wanted
to restore Germany to its former glory. A Germany where Muslims did not have
more rights than the German citizens. A Germany where Muslims did not eradicate
entire rural villages. A Germany where cops could protect the people from
Muslims. The women, and children needed to be protected, and since Germany
couldn’t have a legal army—how asinine—brave citizens created, and organized a
secret army. A vigilante Bundeswehr.
The leader of the Rebellion Bundeswehr was a tall, blonde, blue-eyed German of
ancient lineage. Erwin Smith was as German as Germans came, and was done
watching Germany be destroyed from the inside out by foreign, and domestic
enemies. He created the Rebellion Bundeswehr to rescue Germany, but unlike
Hitler, he was reading Aristotle and not Nietzsche. And despite the many
barbaric transgressions the Muslims had committed against his fellow Germans,
he didn’t want to round them up into camps and exterminate them. Erwin just
wanted them to get the fuck out of his country.
They had their chance to show their intentions, and when Erwin’s fiancé, Marie,
was raped, and later stoned to death, Erwin had had enough. The German police
had put their hands in the air and had explained that they were legitimately
not allowed to persecute Muslims because that would be an act of racism. Marie
had went public about the rape, and then was taken to a Muslim court, where,
because she did not have four Muslim men as witnesses, she was ruled to be a
liar, and a slanderer. The sentence had been death.
On German soil. As if they were all in the fucking dark ages. Erwin had been
powerless to help her then. Now, the fight was more personal then ever. If
Muslims wanted to abuse women, and rape their children and goats, they could do
it on their own land. Erwin wouldn’t interfere with that, because every culture
had a right to thrive in its own environment, but not when it imposed on
innocents. Marie had been innocent. Most Germans had been innocent. Spaniards
had been innocent. The hurt had to stop somewhere, and Erwin planned to be the
one to herald in a new era in Germany.
There was only one cinch in Erwin’s plan. The last battle the Rebellion
Bundeswehr had been bloody, and chaotic. Erwin, and his right hand man, Levi
Ackerman had gotten separated from the rest of the army. That was two days ago.
Worse, their stomachs were as empty as their guns. They needed food, bullets
and rest. If all of that could happen, they could reunite with the Rebellion
Bundeswehr.
Until then, they would head through the mountains, to stay out of sight of the
enemy. Their mountain trek was arduous, and tiring. Wolves howled in the
distance, which kept the duo alert, and aware of their surroundings. Levi
surveyed their surroundings, keeping watch for unexpected movement. He stopped
and crouched, grabbing Erwin’s arm and tugging him down with him. Erwin
followed Levi’s eyes to a pair of young teenagers ascending the mountain trail.
A scrawny, tired brunette was carrying a messy-haired blonde kid on his back.
The teenager stopped and crouched near the ground, to let the blonde down.
Erwin and Levi watched from on high as the blonde teenager stepped around his
friend, and wrapped his arms around himself to stave off the brisk air. He
began to look at the ground, as if he was searching for something.
“Look at their clothes. They’re German, and from a local village.” Erwin
pointed out, able to determine all of that in an instant. The children were
allies, and if their village had not been taken over by Muslims or Russians, or
hell, Americans or whoever the fuck else, Erwin and Levi could recuperate
there.
“I don’t care about that. See the way that bony kid is limping? He’s been
fucked up his ass by someone.” Levi mentioned, shamelessly pointing at the
blonde, who was busying himself with searching for something the adults
couldn’t begin to guess at.
“Well, incest does run rampant in small, forgotten villages.” Erwin recalled
grimly, resting his knuckles against his chin. He now focused his attention on
the tiny, shivering blonde boy whose movements were stiff, and slow, consistent
with pain. Levi was probably right. He had grown up in the Underground, where
crime was rampant, and normal. Out of anyone, Levi could spot abuse.
“Could be a family friend, or the local pig farmer.” Levi countered casually,
resting his arms on his knees. The tiny, short blonde became rather animated,
his body tensing with anger as a hand swiped through his hair. Levi watched
that tall, gangly brunette kid step in front of the blonde and place his hands
on his cheeks. The touch was extremely intimate, even from where Levi and Erwin
were sitting.
Neither of them were close enough to hear what the kids said to each other, but
it was clear that the brown-haired boy was able to smooth the blonde’s frayed
nerves, and even make him blush. “How gay are they?” Levi scoffed, with a shake
of his head.
“Hmm. I was not aware rural, backwater boys fell in love. It is a intriguing
find.” Erwin mused with interest, and like Levi, he began paying attention to
what both boys said with their bodies. The copper-skinned boy was rubbing
sticks together now, and procured two lit torches.  
To the ivory-skinned boy’s credit, he seemed to realize what a stupid thing
lighting a torch was at night when the light could attract anyone, or any
animal right to them, because he started to yell at his friend. His angry voice
echoed slightly through the immediate area, but not concisely to Erwin, nor
Levi. The brunette once again was able to soothe, and calm his friend. They
understood each other on a deep, and personal level, that was obvious. It was
also too obvious by the way the brunette kept glancing at the blonde, every
time he paused or winced, that he was extremely concerned about him.
And from what Levi understood about injuries and abuse, the brunette should be
damn worried like he was. “He shouldn’t be out in this whether. The brat should
be in bed, resting.” Levi judged verbally, to his Commander, who nodded with
agreement. The blonde seemed to know that too because as the night went on, he
had a few moments of uncertainty, and glancing back the way they came. Each
time the blonde faltered, the brunette was right at his side, touching him, and
or talking to him.
“How long are we going to follow, and watch them?” Levi wondered, after awhile
of Erwin dragging him along to spy on some clueless village kids.
“We are going to follow them to their village, and scout it out. If their
village is German, we’ll be able to obtain food, at the very least.” Erwin
informed Levi, who hadn’t thought ahead like he had. Levi was smart and quick
in a lot of ways, but he was distracted by keeping watch over their
surroundings, and observing the teenagers.
“Wait, what the fuck are they doing now?” Levi wondered, as the frustrated
blonde set a hand on the back of his neck. His brunette friend set his hands on
his shoulders, and to Erwin and Levi’s surprise, pressed his face against his
neck.
While the other touches had been suspiciously gay, and intimate, Erwin and
Levi’s suspicions were confirmed. The little ones were gay. Well, the brunette
definitely was gay. Which made Levi wonder if he was wrong about his earlier
assessment. Was the blonde not being sexually abused? Was the limp caused by
horny, clueless teenagers having rough sex? It seemed a bit of a stretch, but
Levi supposed anything was possible in a rural town where knowledge was
limited.
Below them, the dominant boy looped his arms around the blonde’s alarmingly
tiny waist, and pulled him close. The blonde leaned back against him, nestling
against him, while he kissed at the side of his pale neck. There was a moment
where the onlookers thought the boys were going to kiss. They did not. They
pulled away from each other and went their separate ways. The troubled blonde
sat on a rock and rubbed at his face while the brunette continued to hunt for
something.
“Caring for each other intimately, I suppose. I haven’t seen such raw affection
like that in years. Maybe we could learn something from them.” Erwin hinted to
Levi, who rolled his shoulders nonchalantly, obviously pretending to not have
heard him.
Within minutes, the brunette called the blonde over, and waved him over. Levi
and Erwin peered over the edge of their perch, and in the dim moonlight they
could faintly make out yellow flowers.
“God, they’re so painfully gay.” Levi groaned, exasperated and embarrassed for
them. At least when he let Erwin fuck him, they weren’t obvious about it.
“Flowers. They’re hunting for fucking flowers.” Levi muttered and shook his
head back and forth. Erwin withheld judgement, and continued to quietly observe
the unique pair of boys who actually began to kiss each other, which affirmed
Levi’s comments.
Once the brief kiss was over, that little blonde crouched down, and began to
dig the flowers out of the ground, despite the obvious strain it put on him.
Erwin knew then that the boys were not after flowers, they were after the root
of the flower, either for medicinal purposes, or poison. Erwin assumed
medicine, since the blonde looked like he could use some.
Unsurprisingly at this point, the brunette set a hand on the blonde’s arm, and
some exchange was made between them to where the dominant boy took over the
task of digging. The two were a team unlike anyone Erwin had seen in awhile. He
had a special bond with Levi, but the two brats seemed to be closer to each
other on a way more personal, intimate level. Erwin looked to Levi, and
wondered if he would ever open up to him the way the kids did with each other.
Hell. Am I jealous? Erwin realized, surprised at the jealousy he felt when the
two boys displayed such open affection for the other. The brunette crouched
down, and then the blonde climbed on to his back. They were leaving. That was
their cue. Erwin stood up and gestured for Levi to follow him.
“Let’s see where they go, and when this war is over, we’re going to have to
talk about your intimacy issues.” Erwin told Levi, and scanned the immediate
area for a quick way down. Levi stood up and followed Erwin, and watched him
warily.
“You know that’s not what I signed up for. We fuck, but I don’t know about any
of that gay shit those brats were doing.” Levi protested, having no real
interest in being vulnerable, nor affectionate. Erwin rolled his eyes, and
climbed down to the mountain clearing the boys had spent a considerable amount
of time in.
“It’s not gay. It’s love.” Erwin countered, because love didn’t need labels.
Levi wasn’t comfortable with his sexual preferences, and while Erwin respected
that, he still hoped Levi would accept himself, and their relationship.
But, this was a battle best fought another day, and Erwin knew that, so he did
not add fuel to the fire when Levi just scoffed. Personally, Erwin thought
those boys were precious, and that their sweet actions should be emulated and
copied.
“There. They are heading to a village.” Levi pointed out, gesturing with his
finger. Erwin paused, and narrowed his eyes at the village. He then surveyed
the limestone ridges around them, and felt a sense of familiarity. He
remembered this place.
“I’ve been there before.” Erwin stated, recalling this entire area. He had
visited this village fourteen years ago . Erwin thought of the little, blonde-
blue eyed kid from the mountains and frowned, thinking he looked a lot like
him. “Say, how old do you think that blonde kid was, with the funny eyebrows?”
Erwin inquired, a bit unnerved.
“Twelve?” Levi answered uncertainly, walking alongside Erwin. They were keeping
their distance from the boys, to not be discovered. “Why?” Levi then asked,
turning to look at Erwin inquisitively. Erwin shook his head left, and then
right.
“No reason.” Erwin muttered, brushing his concerns aside and laughed at his own
ridiculousness.
That boy was way too young to be a bastard son of his.
***** Poison Potato *****
Chapter Summary
     Armin hopes his plan will work.
Chapter Notes
     Please be aware that the abuse is not over, and that carrots were
     never, ever intended to be used in this way and that I am so
     absolutely, unequivocally sorry, and I feel so bad for writing what I
     wrote. If you can read through it, there might be light at the end of
     the tunnel one day.
                                 War on Titan
                           Chapter 6: Poison Potato
Grinding, and mashing the flowers was the easy part. Then came the hard part.
Armin quietly scoured the dark kitchen to gain an idea as to where to sprinkle
the powdered flowers on to. It would be easier if there was a ready-made male
that just needed to be heated up, like the ones Mrs. Schmidt used to bring over
on Sunday’s. There was nothing like that available, though. The soldiers had
been eating everything, and had cooked very little.
Cooking was the only chore Armin still weaseled out of doing. For obvious
reasons, like the one in Armin’s hand now, the soldiers had kept him away from
the food and had definitely not allowed him to even try to cook. A smart move,
really. Armin needed something he could poison, and since food was not a viable
option, he was at a loss of what to do until he remembered the soldiers liked
their beer.
With that thought in mind, Armin snuck into the living room, and plucked the
beer bottle off of the table. Igor slept on the couch, and for a moment, Armin
debated on the pro’s and con’s of bashing his head in with the bottle. The
thought was extremely appealing, but Armin knew that act of violence would make
him no better than Igor, so he trudged back to the kitchen, frowning with
disappointment.
Then again, poisoning someone was often a slow, painful way for them to die.
Armin knew if he went through with this, he wouldn’t be innocent anymore, nor
would he be a victim. He’d be a killer. Armin swallowed hard at that thought.
Was taking someone’s life a legitimate punishment for them being a rapist?
Armin hated the second thoughts he was having.
Death was permanent. Was it a justifiable sentence? All because Armin didn’t
want Igor’s cock to be shoved up his ass? Armin worried then that he was being
selfish, and or petty. Did Igor really deserve to die? Moreover, what would his
grandfather, or mother think of him if he went through this? Would they be
disappointed if they ever found out?
Morally murder was wrong. Religiously, murder was a sin. Legally, murder was a
crime.
Can’t I Just endure the sex? Armin wondered briefly, and tried to downplay the
horrific sexual assault in his mind. It’s just sex. Just sex. The penis goes
in, and out of my hole a few times, and then it’s over. It hurts, but I’m okay.
It’s just a bit of blood. I shouldn’t be such a baby about it. Armin tried
coaxing himself, as his hand shook, and hovered over the open, glass beer
bottle.
Just sex. That’s what Armin rationalized over, and over again in his head, in a
attempt to be okay with having his hole repeatedly split open, just because he
was scared of what killing Igor would mean. What if Eren looked at him
different? Or Mikasa? The fear, and questions were real. Armin almost did not
want to go through with his own plan.
Then Armin recalled the sheer agony each rape had put him through. Pain. Fear.
Powerlessness. Worthlessness. Anger. Humiliation. The injustice. They had
laughed at him when he told them to stop. They mocked him when he cried. And
when he had bled, they fucked him harder up his ass, with no remorse. Armin had
seen how male village dogs went at female dogs when they were in heat, humping
her. Armin felt sick at the realistic analogy, because although he had been
treated like the female dog in heat, he hadn’t actually been in heat. Armin
doubted that was even possible.
But they had ass-raped him as if he was a cock-slut.  They, because, the rapes
were starting to blur together. Who had touched him and when, Armin wasn’t sure
he even remembered. Igor had consistently, repeatedly raped him. Boris raped
him last night, and nearly choked him to death. That’s about all Armin knew. He
felt his fear evaporate into anger. Boris had had no right to hurt him like
that. Armin hadn’t done anything wrong. All he had done was visit a friend,
and, okay, yeah, they had sex.
What was so wrong with that? Armin didn’t understand why any of this was
happening to him. He had always been a good boy, and had followed the rules
without questions. The only thing he wanted in this world was to read books,
and explore the world.
Yet, he kept getting hurt while people like Eren, who deliberately breaks rules
gets to live a pretty peachy life with little, to no consequences.
It.was.not.fair.
Frustrated, and upset, Armin dropped the powdered flowers into the beer, and
jammed the cap over it, while angry tears streamed down his face. He was done
being nice. Armin stiffly stood up, and tip toed back into the living room. He
set the bottle back on the table where he had found it, and headed to his
bedroom. He shut the door quietly, and let himself collapse on to his bed.
There was no going back now.
                                     Dawn
For better or worse, Armin was woken up to perform house work, eat a light,
dull breakfast, and perform work in the fields. Since Igor tended to drink in
the afternoon, Armin didn’t expect any immediate results. If Igor was
successfully poisoned, Armin could have Eren take him back up to the mountain
to fetch more flowers, to poison Boris.
Realistically, Armin was not sure how many soldiers he could poison before they
caught on to him. Armin decided to worry about that another day. Today, Armin
just wanted to see if the flowers truly were poisonous. If they were not, Igor
would surely rape him tonight. Armin definitely did not want to think about
that.
His little hole was sore, and throbbing. Armin wanted nothing more then to soak
himself in the creek. Maybe he could even have Eren massage the abused anus
with his cock like he did yesterday, in the water. Armin day-dreamed about
that, because even if he partially blamed Eren for all of this, he still
heavily relied on Eren and wanted his comfort.
Come dinner time, Igor was eating without showing signs of being poisoned. He
had a new beer bottle, implying he drank the other one. Armin kept glancing at
Igor warily, which wasn’t uncommon for him to do. He slowly, and distractedly
crunched on the bland, raw carrots.
“What’s your problem?” Boris questioned, since Armin had been distracted since
the moment he woke him up. Armin jolted out of his thoughts and coughed a bit
with alarm. “You’ve been distracted all day. Are you thinking of that boy who
fucked you?” Boris guessed, recalling how Armin had been spotted being carried
by some cocky brunette kid. Armin shook his head wildly back and forth.
“N-no. I don’t f-feel well.” Armin answered, ducking his head down to avoid eye
contact. He really hadn’t felt well ever since his parents were murdered, but
the general unease in his body had been exacerbated ever since the soldiers
came and had abused him. The fatigue in his joints only ever seemed to
increase.
Today was no exception. Armin was exhausted, hungry, hurt, and nauseous. He
felt weaker than usual, and could only hope that Igor would start displaying
signs of poison soon, otherwise, he would have to suffer another rape. Armin
really, really didn’t want that.
“That’s your own fault, running off to whore around with village boys. I don’t
care who he is. You are not allowed to go anywhere without one of us putting
you on a leash.” Boris informed the nervous blonde, and picked a fresh carrot
up, and looked at it curiously. “Why don’t we play a game?” Boris suggested,
teetering the carrot up and down in his hands.
Apprehension tickled Armin’s spine. “A g-game?” Armin repeated nervously, and
eyed the carrot as his eyes filled with dread. Igor perked up, glancing with
interest at the carrot, and then flitted his eyes to Armin, who shifted
uncomfortably in his seat.
“Since you are a slut, we’ll see how many carrots we can shove into your loose
ass.” Boris explained insidiously, and plucked another carrot up from the
platter. Armin stared at him with uncertainty. Was he serious? “One…two…three,
and four…now come here like a good slut.” Boris coaxed, holding the bunched
carrots in one hand, and gesturing for Armin to come to him with his other
hand.
“Yes!” Igor shouted happily, understanding the sexual innuendo and slammed his
hands on the table, more than ready for this lewd act to happen.
All color drained from Armin’s face, as his heart crashed hard against his rib
cage in a wild attempt to escape. He eyed the girth of the combined carrots and
became maddened with fear, seeing the serious look in Boris’s eyes. “NO!” Armin
exclaimed, and clambered out of the chair. In his haste, he tripped, and fell.
His elbows hit the wooden floor with a hard thud that made him cry out, but had
did not dissuade him from scrambling to his feet and bolted for the door in a
panicked frenzy.
Then Armin felt a hand entangle itself into his hair and yank him back. Armin
shouted with pain and stumbled backwards and flailed the entire time he was
pulled into the living room. “Ow, ow, ow!” Armin repeatedly yelled, as he
clawed at the hand pulling on his hair. He was thrown on to the couch. Armin
felt his heart thud with alarm, and fear as he scrambled to sit up.
Boris sat down on the couch, and pulled a struggling Armin against him. “Come
on. Don’t fight it. Holes were meant to be filled.” Boris assured Armin, and
wrapped one sturdy arm around his tiny chest, pinning his flailing arms to his
sides.
“No, no, no, no!” Armin protested frantically, twisting wildly against Boris in
an desperate escape to flee. Please, please, let the poison work.  Armin
pleaded in his head, as his pants were robbed from his thin hips. He kicked,
and kicked, but Igor had good reflexes and managed to avoid the kicks long
enough to strip Armin of his main defense, and then for Boris to wrap his other
arm underneath Armin’s knees, and hoist them up.
In this way, Armin’s legs were more or less immobilized, and his puckered,
ravaged butthole was on display. Igor crouched down, and rubbed the carrot over
Armin’s quivering hole. “Oh God no.” Armin cried, as he wiggled desperately,
while the pointy carrot teased and threatened his hole.
They would do it. Armin knew they would. That fear had him struggling against
them with whatever pitiful energy he had left in him. Hot tears gathered in the
corners of his eyes and quickly splattered on to the couch and himself in time
with the desperate shakes of his head. His face was flushed red and a nervous
sweat had broken out on to his skin. "Stop, stop, please, stop!"
Igor flicked his tongue over his lips as he delighted in Armin’s panicked
struggle, and then crammed the carrot into his quivering anus. Shock and pain
reverberated up Armin’s spin and made light explode through out his vision,
while his toes curled tightly. Armin swore he lost consciousness, because the
next thing he knew, the carrot was being twisted inside of him, wrenching
mangled screams out of his throat. Penis’s could be hard, and firm, but not
like this. Armin had never felt anything worse than this before. The carrot
wasn’t even fat compared to a dick, but it still elicited ear-piercing wails
from Armin’s throat. Igor simply snickered, and was goaded on by Armin’s
tortured cries, and began to push the carrot in, and out of his red, swollen
hole. Armin blubbered loudly, stuttering unintelligibly while he sobbed
hysterically.
“Fuck, he’s going to make me pop an ear drum.” Boris grumped in his native
language, as Igor fucked Armin up his ass with the carrot. Armin was tensing,
jolting, jerking, shouting, and crying like the wounded, traumatized teenager
he was. He couldn’t form a coherent word as he trashed against his abusers.
“Let me break him in. He’ll fit more then.” Igor suggested as he ripped the
blood coated vegetable out of Armin’s body. Armin didn’t even notice—he was
still thrashing, writhing, and groaning as if the abuse was still actively
continuing.
“Fine. I need a break from his incessant screaming.” Boris relented, and pushed
Armin off of him and left the house. Armin didn’t move from where he landed on
the couch. He trembled violently, and wept from the searing pain he was in.
“Mmm. C’mere.” Igor said, as he climbed on top of Armin, and spread his
trembling legs. Armin whimpered, but he was in too much pain induced shock to
fight. Even when Igor shoved his cock into Armin’s defenseless hole. Armin dug
his nails into the couch, and with a defeated sob he let Igor fuck him up his
ass with his dick.
I was wrong. Those flowers weren’t poisonous. Armin realized, somewhere between
the pain and shock of the sexual trauma he suffered. He lost the will to fight
as he felt something snap, and break inside of him. Wrong, wrong, wrong. He
repeated brokenly, as he was ravaged mercilessly.
When Igor licked some heavy tears off of Armin’s face, he didn’t flinch away.
Armin didn’t react when Igor pulled at his hair or tailed his hands over his
stomach and thighs either. Igor thrust himself into Armin for a last time, and
ejaculated into him. Armin shuddered with disgust, and just laid there, even
when Igor left him alone, and took the carrots with him.
Minutes turned into an hour. Armin’s sobs and wet, breathless pants had calmed
into a eerie silence. He shifted slowly off of the couch and when he lost his
balance, Armin went with the fall and spent a few minutes on the ground. Shock
left him uncoordinated, shaky, unbalanced and numb. Armin opted to crawl into
the kitchen. He reached his arm up, and scrabbled around for the kitchen knife
he saw earlier.
By some luck, he found it, grabbed it, and pulled it down to rest it against
his quivering knees he had pulled against his chest. Armin took one look at his
miserable reflection and curled his shaking fingers around the handle. All hope
left Armin’s heart. He then pressed the knife to his wrist, and made a sharp
cut. Blood pooled to the surface.
I’m sorry, Eren. Please don’t hate me. The plan failed, and I can’t…I told you
I couldn’t handle it if he touched me again and he did…it hurt so much. I just
hope you’ll understand because I’m done. Armin thought as he pressed the knife
against his neck. Blood trickled down Armin’s neck and slid under his shirt,
the harder he pressed.
“You fucking brat! What the fuck did you do!?” Boris’s angry, booming voice
sounded from the hallway, startling Armin. “Hey, where are you?” Armin paled
and dropped the knife and kicked it away from him, as he whimpered with utter
fear. Boris stomped into the kitchen then, and spotted Armin on the ground.
Armin turned ghost white and fucking coward.
“N-nothing, nothing…” Armin blurted automatically, as he held his arms in front
of his face to shield himself. He had been hit by Boris enough times for
different reasons that he knew to cover himself and cower submissively.
“Nothing my ass. Igor’s puking his fucking guts up in the bathroom and you
better have an explanation for it.” Boris demanded while he advanced on Armin,
who was too scared to flee, even as his hair was grabbed, and he was yanked up.
Armin yipped with pain and fear.
“Don’t know don’t know don’t know!’ Armin shouted desperately, wanting nothing
more than to flee and cower in a corner and cry. He had already been hurt so
much tonight, he just wanted to be left the fuck alone. Whatever or whyever
Igor was puking was of little concern to Armin’s frazzled mind.
“His heart rate has accelerated, he’s weak, vomiting, and complains of a
burning mouth. You don’t know anything about that?” Boris pressed, his tone was
dangerous and sent chills down Armin’s back. Armin shook his head back and
forth frantically, dull, blue eyes wide with fear. Boris tsked with disgust and
dropped Armin. “Fine. It could be alcohol poisoning. Fucker drinks too much.”
Boris muttered and headed into the hallway, presumably to see how Igor was
doing.
Free, Armin clambered weakly into his room, keeping low to the ground because
he was too weak and shaken up to stand. He heard Igor vomiting in the bathroom,
and ducked skittishly into his bedroom. Armin shut the door tentatively and
pulled himself on to his bed, where he pulled the blanket over his head and
laid awake until morning, too traumatized to sleep.
Throughout the night, Armin listened to the noises of the house, Igor vomiting,
and Boris cursing. There were other indescribable, muffled noises Armin
couldn’t begin to determine. All Armin wanted to do was sleep, but all he could
think about was how much the carrot had hurt him. He had curled into a tight
ball, and shook.
Sometime after seven, Boris entered the room and shook the bundled, trembling
lump on the bed. Armin whimpered and curled up tighter, feeling a sense of doom
ripple through him.  “Get up. Igor’s dead. Buried him last night.” Boris said,
shaking Armin again.  
“Wait. He’s dead?” Armin exclaimed, eyes bulging wide with surprise as he poked
his head out from under the blanket. His mind was reeling. Igor’s dead? The
flowers were poisonous after all. I did it. I really killed him. A sense of
shock overcame Armin. His plan worked after all.
“Hell, you’re deathly pale. I thought you’d be fucking happy.” Boris scoffed,
with a shrug of his arms. “Whatever. Just stay—”
And then Boris saw it. Sticking out from underneath the bed was a green book.
Boris narrowed his eyebrows with confusion and bent down to pick it up. Boris
turned to a page that had a folded corner and saw an image of yellow flowers,
and read about how they were poisonous. Boris shut the book, and as rage
flooded through him, he whacked Armin with the book. Armin yelped with pain,
and surprise. He threw his hands over his stinging, ringing face.
“You fucking snake. I believed you were innocent, but you fucking poisoned him.
Why? Because he fucked you up your ass with his cock?” Boris growled, his
temper boiling hot while Armin cowered and cried.
“It just hurt…it hurt so much…!” Armin whimpered in his defense, and shrieked
as he was beaten with the book again. He cowered, hovering his shaking arms
above him to protect his head. “I didn’t want it. I…I didn’t l-l-like it…”
Armin stuttered between his miserable sniffles.
“What a selfish fuck you are.” Armin flinched at the harsh words, and kept his
shaking arms over himself. “Well, you got your fucking wish. You’ll never be
fucked again because I’m going to make an example out of you. So come on.”
Boris stated, and grabbed Armin by his hair and dragged him out of the bed.
“Wh-what are you going to d-do to m-me?” Armin stuttered fearfully as he was
dragged through the house, and was pulled outside despite how he tried to hold
on to doorways and furniture.
“I’m going to hold a public execution in case anyone else decides to get ideas
about hurting me or my men.” Boris responded, and tugged Armin harder when he
stopped. Armin lost the color in his face again, as his worst fears were
confirmed.
“A…a execution?” Armin repeated with sheer terror, while his eyes bulged at the
thought.  Not only had Boris found the book, but he was going to use Armin as
an example to keep everyone else in line. Armin ground his heels into the
earth, and wildly tried to wrench free. “Let me go, let me go! Let gooo!” Armin
wailed desperately, and clawed at the man’s hand.
“Scream all you want, this is not a democracy.” Boris affirmed, and yanked
Armin harder when the terrified, weak boy stumbled forwards.  
Oh my God…Eren please save me.
***** Heroic Potato *****
Chapter Summary
     Boris wants to make an example out of Armin based on circumstantial
     evidence.
Chapter Notes
     There is death in this chapter, and gun violence.
     But can we talk about chapter 102 of the Attack on Titan manga? Like,
     how incredibly disappointed I am that Mikasa is not standing by
     Eren's side anymore? She's pulling a Daryl Dixon? Eren understands
     better than she does what he has done...he's the one who slept
     besides these people and lived amongst them...he doesn't want to kill
     them but if killing them means his friends can live, that's what
     he'll do. And she's all, "Oh, it's unforgivable." I'm very upset
     about that...and then Floch is a member of the team? Floch, who hates
     Armin? Floch who told Armin to his face that he should have died?
     People KILL themselves over shit like that! And Eren never punched
     Floch out. I'm still irritated Eren didn't defend Armin. And on top
     of this, Floch respects Eren now? Armin's best friend? Which, by the
     way, was Armin featured in 102? I didn't recognize him if so. I feel
     like I've seen everyone else. That last panel could have been Armin.
     If so, he looks...more serious? Was that him? I don't know. And I
     know Gabi was made to be the female version of Eren, but can we also
     talk about how Gabi looks exactly like Fir from the Fire Emblem
     series??
     And am I the only one disappointed that Levi, Armin, Eren and
     Mikasa's alpha genes are not likely to be passed on to a child? The
     world needs more people like them. >.>;
     Like, we have enough Connie and Sasha like people breeding...
     But it would have been nice if any of the awesome alpha foursomes
     (Erwin included making 5) would have taken the time to pop a kid out.
     I don't think it's gonna happen, though. Eren and Armin have a
     ticking time bomb hovering over their heads. Levi is climbing in age.
     And Mikasa...doesn't look like a girl anymore, which would turn a lot
     of potential men off (considering I don't think Eren is gonna live.
     He wouldn't have cared what she looked like.) Mikasa's the only one
     who potentially has her "whole life ahead of her" but I don't know. I
     just don't know what's gonna happen. x.x;
     And who is Gabi going to fight? Eren, or Mikasa? I'm kind of
     intrigued, either way...but they better watch out. Gabi is a
     cowardly, cleverly, little snake. She won't fight fair.
     I'm totally on Paradis Island side by the way, because, even though
     their ancestors may have been the aggressors in the past, these
     people were ignorant and innocent and the Marleyans freaking attacked
     them and kept attacking them. All of this is has been self-defense.
     Which I suppose that's what happens with wars but still. I don't know
     if Paradis Island will win. I want them to. But I also know Isyama
     doesn't like to throw us fans any bones. :/
                                 War on Titan
                           Chapter 7: Heroic Potato
The sun was high in the Sunday Sky, offering its spring warmth to the village
below. However, Armin could not have been colder as he stood bare before every
remaining villager he had ever known. Shame colored his cheeks as he felt
everyone stare at him with complex emotions he did not want to begin to try to
dissect, nor acknowledge. He avoided the pitying, horrified stares the way he
avoided the local village bullies. Head down stubbornly, hands clenched with
distress, and a prayer on his tongue as an invisible shield.
I am going to die. Was all Armin could think as he trembled, pale, and marred
in brusies and cuts. He had been ready to kill himself last night when he
thought the poison attempt had failed, but now that he knew Igor was dead, all
Armin wanted to do was live. Boris was a prick, but Armin figured if he was
obedient, that he could endure what ever field, or house work the soldier might
force on to him. Murder was not something Armin could endure.
Death was permanent, and just as binding as the rope that dug into his ivory
wrists, behind his back. There seemed to be no escape, and in the midst of
Armin’s frazzled mind, he couldn’t think of a way out of this. Exhaustion,
pain, and a fear maddened mind made him incapable of thinking properly. Armin
broke out in a cold sweat, fearing judgement day had come. He heard confused,
alarmed, indiscernible murmurs from the crowd of villagers and soldiers.
Eren and Mikasa were the loudest amongst the crowd, but even they were silenced
by a few soldiers threatening them with guns. They all could see Armin’s
wounds, his vulnerability, and his shame. Armin was hiding his face behind his
yellow fringe, but Eren and Mikasa knew he was feeling humiliated by the way
his shoulders were turned in close to his shaky body.
“Last night,” Boris began, speaking loudly to gain the attention of the crowd
he had rounded up and gathered, “This little cock-slut poisoned a fellow
soldier, Igor Sokolov, resulting in his death.” Igor announced as he grabbed a
fistful of Armin’s hair and yanked on it, which elicited a tortured cry from
the boy.
There were surprised, appalled, and disbelieving gasps alongside angry,
confused shouts which rose from the soldiers and villagers alike. Some of the
soldiers were enraged to hear a comrade had died, while a lot of the villagers,
Eren and Mikasa, were outraged that Armin was being blamed for a death. Even if
it was true, Eren didn’t want Armin’s character to be assassinated like this.
“Bullshit!” Eren yelled from amongst the crowd, who were packed close together.
A lot of people, from both crowds, German and Russian, murmured with agreement.
It was clear from the general unrest of the crowds that no one really believed
such a little, young boy could have committed the devious, insidious crime he
was being accused of. Armin was ghostly pale, and appeared faint, even to the
village children who did not quite understand what was going on.
“He’s a good child!” Mrs. Schmidt called, not believing for a second that Armin
was capable of murder. He was a innocent, precious, down-trodden, troubled
child who shied away from violence. Little Arlert was not capable of violence,
and it was offensive to her sensibilities that he was being accused at all.
Even some of the soldiers began to opine on the fact that a fucking child was
tied up, and exposed to everyone. “Ah, Igor was a drunk with a bad liver.
Everyone knows that.” Dennis griped dismissively, with a wave of his hand.
“This transgression will not be ignored just because he is young. He is a
murderer, and will be executed.” Boris announced, while he let go of Armin’s
hair and gripped his arm tightly, to keep him close. The color drained from
Armin’s face as he was reminded that Boris was intending to kill him.
“Oh fuck. He’s fucking serious—he’s going to kill that poor fuck.” Albert
realized, remembering Armin was the kid that he watched be gang-raped. Albert
figured that In all reality, the little blonde probably did kill Igor. That was
no loss to humanity. However, Boris seemed pretty peeved about it, which meant
that boy was going to lose his head. “Viktor, find Edgar—I think he’s sleeping
behind the whores house. I’ll owe you one.” Albert begged, shoving at his
companion soldier.
Viktor’s eyes gleamed at the thought of Albert owing him a favor. “Consider it
done.” Viktor agreed, and sidled out of the crowd of soldiers, and ran off to
find Edgar who was the only one who could save the condemned German.
“Let this be a warning to all of you—” Boris pressed the cold steel of the gun
to Armin’s temple. Armin shrieked, and went rigid. “If you harm us, we’ll
execute you.” Boris warned, and rubbed the barrel of the gun threateningly
against Armin’s face. Armin whimpered fearfully and squeezed his eyes shut.
“Just.Like.This.” Boris’s finger twitched towards the trigger.
“Wait.”
Everyone paused, and looked to Edgar Alexey, who was a fellow Captain, therein
Boris’s equal. Edgar headed towards Boris and Armin with long, confident
strides full of purpose. He was looking right at Armin, taking note of each
blatant injury on the child’s body, all of which were consistent with abuse.
There’s no way he killed Igor. He can barely stand. Edgar thought to himself,
and stopped in front of Armin. Boris let Armin go, intrigued to hear what Edgar
had to say. Edgar knelt down before Armin, resting an arm over his own knee
while his other knee was pressed to the ground. He grabbed Armin’s chin and
tilted his head up to face him. Armin couldn’t repress a scared whimper.
“Hey. Why’d you do it?” Edgar asked, as he closely observed Armin’s tortured
body. Some of the wounds were obvious of long hours in the fields, and house
work, particularly the way his trembling hands were mangled. However, the rest
of the wounds were evident of abuse, which may or may not have been inflicted
by Igor.
Since Igor was dead, and Armin’s body was marred with obvious sexual abuse,
Edgar figured Armin would have had a damn good reason to kill Igor. In fact,
Edgar hoped Armin would blame Igor, because than he could save his life.
Why? Armin repeated numbly in his head. Was the answer not obvious? Armin
stared at the stranger, and noticed he was different than the other soldiers he
had met. There was an honest light in those brown eyes that reflected sympathy,
and warmth that soothed some of Armin’s panicked nerves.
“H-he t-t-touched m-me…” Armin tentatively answered, keeping his voice
deliberately soft so only Edgar and Boris could hear him as he shifted
uncomfortably from foot to foot.
“That’s a clever boy.” Edgar praised, as he set his hand on Armin’s head and
ruffled his hair. Armin instinctively flinched away from the hand, and stared
at Edgar warily. “Oh, don’t look so scared you poor Kid. I was hoping to hear a
confession like that.” Edgar commented, as he stood up to meet with Boris on
level ground. Armin was left feeling confused, and perplexed.
Who was this Russian soldier, and did he coax a confession out of him to help
him, or damn him? Armin stared up at the two men, timidly feeling skittish and
nervous. He had known the risks of murdering a soldier, and had poisoned Igor
anyways. Armin had been too tired, and traumatized to properly dispose of the
evidence, and now here he was, before everyone he knew.
“Did you know that Igor was touching him?” Edgar asked Boris sternly, getting
straight to the point. There was no reason to beat around the bush when a
child’s life was being threatened. Boris glanced at Edgar as a silent
confirmation, then looked back to Armin.
“Right. He touched you.” Boris snarled at Armin who cringed away, and then
refocused on the crowd of apprehensive villagers. “Igor was poisoned like a dog
for shoving his cock into his ass.” Boris informed the people, who had mixed
reactions.
Some of the soldiers shut up and looked away, while others jeered and ‘booed’.
Most of the female villagers were confused, and unable to comprehend a penis
entering a butt. Sex was between a man and a woman, so they didn’t quite
understand Armin’s reason for killing a Russian soldier.
“It hurt!” Armin argued, wanting to defend his stance. Edgar lifted a hand to
hush Armin, so he wouldn’t incriminate himself further than he already was. He
had not used words, but Armin felt scolded and ducked his head down, while he
gritted his teeth.
“So you did know Igor was sodomizing him and you did nothing to stop it.” Edgar
realized, raising his eyebrows in judgement. Armin nodded furiously, further
confirming the man’s accusation, even though he was unfamiliar with the new
term. He was sure it applied to him.
“A bit of forced sex did not give him the right to fucking murder one of our
comrades.” Boris replied flippantly, and tugged on Armin’s hair again,
wrenching him close. Armin yelped in response. “You hear how indignant he is
about confessing to murder?” Boris huffed, holding Armin hostage.
“Look at him. Look at us. We have strength. He doesn’t. We have weapons. He
does not. The only way he could have protected himself would have been to use
poison, but we both know that he didn’t do it.” Edgar responded in defense of
the little German boy. Armin parted his lips with surprise, and shock that
someone with power, and authority was defending him. He never thought he would
receive the benefit of the doubt.
“There was a plant book underneath his bed, with a marked page to a poisonous
flower. Trust me, he fucking poisoned Igor.” Boris affirmed stubbornly, having
already made up his mind that Armin was guilty.
“While I agree that is suspicious, we have no proof he put that book under his
bed, nor if he was the one who marked the page. It is likely, of course, but
here’s the thing. You said this happened last night. But one, there’s no
flowers around the village, which would mean he would have had to venture out
to the fields, or by God, the mountains.” Edgar reasoned, poking holes in
Boris’s proof, to aid Armin despite the fact that Armin had technically
confessed to the murder.
“So?” Boris pressed dismissively, and turned his attention on to Armin to get a
rise out of him. “Why don’t you tell Captain Edgar what a prissy little bitch
you are? How you screamed, and cried like a bitch whenever Igor fucked you up
your tight ass, but then you ran off to get fucked by your loud, annoying
friend?” Boris suggested insidiously, while he grabbed Armin’s cock. Armin
shrieked in response as he jolted and then shook his head left, and right
vigorously.
“Oh God no! Don’t touch me there!” Armin shouted fearfully while his cheeks
burned red and his eyes filled with hot tears. The only person who had touched
Armin’s cock other than himself was Eren, and he wanted to keep those good
memories pure, and untainted.   
“Stop it!” Eren yelled, calling attention to himself, as he bristled, readying
himself to fight. Mikasa grabbed his arms, restraining him from making any rash
decisions. Eren wrenched his arm, but he could not break away from her, and
growled with frustration. “Let me go! If he wants to make an example of
someone, let it be me!”
“Shut up, Eren. I want to help him too, but we or another would be shot before
we could do anything.” Mikasa scolded him, to get him to stew in silence with
her. She did not want to lose Armin, but she knew she could not lose Eren. Any
trouble they might make could make Armin’s impending death more gruesome as
well, which she was aware of.
“Get your fucking hand off him. He’s a fucking child.” Edgar snarled, appalled
that Boris would touch Armin in such a lewd way. All he saw in Armin was his
own child back home, who was a new-age feminine gay-boy who while he did not
always understand, he loved and supported all the same. To him, Armin might as
well be Todd, even though the two didn’t look alike.
“Actually, in many parts of the world, he is considered an adult the moment
these drop.” Boris retorted, cupping and fingering Armin’s balls just to make
him squirm. Armin wiggled, and whined in response. “And as an adult, in
accordance with backwater rural villages like these, we’ll abide by the eye-
for-an-eye Law. He poisoned Igor who died as a result. I’ll shoot his fucking
brains out and let the birds pick at his bones.” Boris explained, and smirked
upon seeing Edgar’s hands clenched into fists.
“All you have is circumstantial evidence that means nothing. Take one look at
him. He looks like he’s going to fucking pass out and die. Do you really think
he had the energy to poke around the fields for poisonous flowers last night?”
Edgar said as he gestured with his hand to Armin, as if one look at him would
prove that he was innocent.
And it kind of did. Armin could barely hold himself upright, standing on pale,
wobbly legs. The gruesome wounds, combined with the terror and desperation in
Armin’s eyes made Edgar’s blood boil with rage. There was nothing Armin could
have done to deserve being battered, or raped like he had been.
“I did it! I du—nngh!” Eren shouted, until Mikasa clamped a hand over his
mouth, and wrapped another arm around his chest to pin his arms at his sides.
“This is not a fucking democracy. We’re in a hick village. The lack of plaid
clothing and overalls is shocking.” Boris snapped, irritated that his authority
was being questioned. Armin realized Boris had expected him and his fellow
villagers to wear overalls and plaid clothing—whatever they were, which meant
that Boris must have had other assumptions as well.
Could I use this to my advantage? Armin wondered, and thought about daily life
in the village. Their lives were all similar, but Armin was one of the only
villagers who could read. “P-please let me go. I can’t even r-read, I swear. I
just like looking at the pictures of flowers I’ve never seen before.” Armin
lied, a plea to his tone as he let the tears stream down his face to present
the image of a confused, terrified, ignorant boy.
“If he can’t read, he would have no way of knowing what the book said.” Edgar
mused, believing Armin without question, partially because the boy’s words
proved he was innocent after all. “This is a rural, hick village after all.”
Edgar drove the point home with a smile, loving how Boris’s use of stereotypes
exploded back into his face. Armin was such a clever child.  
“Tch. Take him, then.” Boris growled with disgust, and shoved Armin. Armin
gasped, and stumbled forwards, becoming dizzy.
“Come on, Little one.” Edgar coaxed, as he caught Armin, and steadied him.
Armin glanced warily over his shoulder at Boris, feeling the tension emanating
off of him, then snapped his head back to Edgar when the binds around his
wrists were cut. Edgar pocketed the knife and then shrugged his military coat
off, and placed it around Armin’s trembling shoulders.
“Th-thank you…” Armin whispered gratefully, and shivered into the coat that he
pulled around his body tightly, to hide his body and preserve any remaining
modesty. He glanced back timidly at Boris again, feeling uneasy that Boris was
going to let him go, just like that.
 “You’re welcome. Now, let’s get you cleaned up, fed, and dressed.” Edgar
suggested as he set a hand on the small of Armin’s back, and gently nudged him
forwards. Armin took a hesitant step forwards, scared the worst was still yet
to come. Edgar then looped an arm around Armin’s thin, malnourished body and
started to guide him away from the undeserved fate. “I am glad you made the
right choice and handed him over to me since we’re supposed to protect the
Germans.” Edgar told Boris, without looking at him, since he was preoccupied
with supporting Armin enough to let him lean against him as they walked.
Click.
Fucking Prick. Edgar thought as the horrified, alarmed gasps from the villagers
told him that the fight for Armin’s life was not over yet. “Todd, get down!”
Edgar shouted as he wrenched Armin against his body, to shield him from any
cowardly, yet decisive bullet.
Boom!
Edgar collapsed on to the ground. Armin screamed alongside horrified villagers,
while some soldiers merely gasped because death didn’t shock them the way death
shocked citizens.
He turned on his own!Armin thought with shock, and dread. The only man who had
had the power, and authority to save Armin’s life was bleeding out on the
ground. Oh God I’m going to die. Armin realized as panic began to make him feel
faint. He knew he should not have resorted to murder, but after the carrot
incident, Armin felt justified for poisoning the fucker.
“Your turn.” Boris declared as he slammed the butt of the gun against the back
of Armin’s neck, causing him to shriek with pain and collapse to the ground,
losing consciousness.
A gun shot tore through the village.
Every villager screamed.
                                     . . .
“Fucking finally.” Levi muttered, as he found the weapons stash. He and Erwin
had infiltrated the village when the villagers, and soldiers all seemed to come
out of the houses and gather in the center of the town. That had given Erwin
and Levi time to hunt for weapons and munch on a stolen loaf of bread as they
moved through the village and searched.
In Levi’s hands was a old gun. He began loading himself up with the guns he
could, strapping them onto his body and hiding them. Erwin was doing the same,
and when they were armed, they cautiously stepped outside and curiously headed
for the crowd. They hid themselves each behind a house, and observed from afar.
Their suspicions had been confirmed—Russian soldiers had invaded the village,
and since there was no men in sight other then the soldiers, they each guessed
the village men had been shot. Was that what was happening now? A continuation
of that? Even though the Russians were meant to protect the German citizens?  
“Look. That Kid.” Levi mouthed to Erwin, and gestured with his head towards the
blonde boy. Erwin merely nodded in acknowledgement, though it was clear he was
distracted with thought.
That blonde boy from the mountains was being manhandled by a Russian captain.
He was naked, and covered in alarming bruises, and scrapes. Levi and Erwin
shared a look between each other. The little blonde had obviously been sexually
abused by a soldier and not his friend who was causing trouble in the crowd.
Another Russian Captain stepped forwards, and knelt before the boy. There was
an exchange of some sort, and then the new Captain stood up to challenge the
other one. Their bodies were tense, and rigid, while the boy looked terrified
of the heated testosterone igniting between the adults.
Within minutes, it seemed like the new captain one the battle for authority,
and after covering the kid in a long military coat, he began to lead him away
from the original captain. As soon as his back was turned, Erwin and Levi
tensed, seeing the man lift his gun up.
There was no warning as the trigger was pulled, splattering the good Captains
brains on to the ground. Screams echoed from the villagers. The remaining,
murderous Captain knocked the panicked kid out with the back of his gun.
“He’s going to fucking shoot that kid.” Levi muttered grimly, and looked at
Erwin again, who was having the same thought in his head. Erwin had his
eyebrows narrowed. He was thinking. Levi shut up, and turned his attention back
to the poor kid, who had been put on public display in one of the most
humiliating, cruel ways. Now, he would never wake up again.
When the gun was aimed to the unconscious kid’s head, Levi’s hand twitched
towards one of the guns he had, but he fucking jumped when a close gun shot
roared over the village. It took Levi a moment to realize Erwin had beaten him
to the shot. Erwin was already on the move, to gain a new advantage point. Levi
blinked at Erwin’s retreating form, then followed suit, going the other
direction.
Fucking bleeding heart. Levi thought to himself as he rolled his eyes. Erwin
always wanted to play hero.  
Now everyone was alarmed, alert, and confused. The Russian soldiers were
hunting for the invisible enemy. Eren could care less about what was going on.
He wrenched away from Mikasa and pushed past the crowd, rushing towards Armin.
He knelt down, and pulled Armin against him.
Gun shots rang out. People screamed and began to scatter for their lives.
Mikasa ran to Eren, and hunkered down with him.
“Nobody move.” A firm, stern voice commanded, from on high. The soldiers looked
up, and on top of a rooftop was a tall, German man, with a gun pointed down.
“The Rebellion Deutschland army has you all surrounded. We will lower our guns,
if you lower yours.” Erwin declared, with a serious expression. If there was
one thing he learned, it was how to bluff. He’d make this whole village go up
in flames if that’s what it took to protect that one blonde kid, who
suspiciously reminded him of someone he knew.
“The Rebellion German army?” Albert repeated, gun hoisted from the search to
find the gunman who shot Boris, who had been about to murder a innocent German
child. Ah. He’s protecting his own. Albert realized, and as the next highest
authority personnel, lowered his gun. “Everyone, lower your guns. They’re
protecting their own.”
Everyone had been hearing whispers about the Rebellion German Army, the new
pride of Deutschland. Their goal was to restore their homeland to its previous
splendor, and to make Germany great again. With that in mind, Albert, and many
of the other soldiers recognized Erwin as an ally. It didn’t matter that he
shot one of their own Russians. No one had wanted to see a child be killed.
“Now, we are taking our village back. I suggest you move out by dawn.” Erwin
announced, making sure to meet everyone’s eyes.
“You heard him, guys. We’ll regroup with our army and let them know this
village is secured.” Albert informed the rest of his own soldiers, who murmured
with agreement. They were restless, and bored here. Some of them yearned for
war as opposed to trying, and failing to find ways to entertain themselves in
such a little, plain village.
“Let’s get ready to leave than. I am itching for a proper woman.” A soldier
commented in agreement, and headed to the house he had been staying in this
last week. Others followed suit, while villagers again headed home, to reel
from the violence they witnessed.
When the crowds had parted, Erwin slid off the roof, and let himself drop to
the ground. Levi did the same, from another rooftop. Erwin headed straight for
the three friends, two of whom had been listening to the exchange.
“You’re the one who shot Boris, aren’t you?” Eren guessed, sensing the no-
nonsense, confident vibe emanating from him. The tall blonde man was a leader,
whose presence commanded respect.
“I did.” Erwin confirmed, as he focused his attention to the quiet blonde boy
nestled in Eren’s arms. From what he could tell based on the way Armin’s chest
was rising and falling, the kid was still alive. “Is he okay?” Erwin asked
then, recalling the bruises from earlier, along with the memories from the
night on the mountain.
Even asleep, Armin did not look okay.
“No. He isn’t. Do you and your group have medical supplies? We’re a bit short
on herbs.” Eren inquired, knowing Armin desperately needed to be treated by a
doctor.
“It’s just the two of them, Eren.” Mikasa pointed out, since Eren had not
realized yet that Erwin had been bluffing. Eren looked at her with surprise,
then looked back to Erwin who nodded.
“While it is true that I was bluffing, I am the commander of the Deutschland
Rebellion army. We’re in need of some supplies before we head out again, but we
can take you guys with us where a doctor will be waiting.” Erwin offered, since
he did not want to leave the unconscious, battered kid behind. Eren and Mikasa
looked at each other nervously.
“He’ll die if he doesn’t come with us.” Levi spoke up, crossing his arms across
his chest. It was too obvious that the little German needed medical help. Eren
grit his teeth, and clenched his hands into fists. Mikasa set a hand on his
shoulder.
“Lets go then.” Mikasa decided, since there seemed to be no choice available to
them. Armin did need a doctor to look at him, after all.
“Fine. We’ll stock up at Armin’s house and leave.” Eren reluctantly stated, as
he stood up, bringing Armin with him.
“Hold it. I will be carrying him, being that you’re wounded too.” Erwin
affirmed, and reached for Armin. Eren jerked away with snapping teeth.
“No one is going to fucking touch him but me.” Eren snapped, and held Armin
protectively against him.
“Drop the brat or die.” Levi warned, hoisting his gun up, and aimed it at Eren.
Mikasa tensed, and set a hand over Eren’s shoulder.
“If you don’t relinquish Armin to them, you’ll be responsible for making Armin
wait longer for a doctor. Let us not be bogged down by your wounded leg.”
Mikasa said, being the voice of reason since she didn’t want to lose either
boy. Eren turned to gape at her.
“Whose side are you even on!?” Eren exclaimed, appalled that she would even
think of handing Armin over to strangers.
“Yours, Eren. So hand him over.” Mikasa assured impatiently. She wanted Eren to
see a doctor about the gunshot wound to his leg, he received a week ago.
“Ugh. How do we know you’re not going to kidnap him and rape him?” Eren asked
defensively, rounding on the strangers.
“Ew. Gross.” Levi muttered, disgusted by the thought of shacking up with a
child who looked suspiciously like a younger version of his commanding officer
he had sexual relations with.
“You don’t. You just have to trust us. It’s the only chance your friend has to
live.” Erwin responded candidly, and reached for Armin again. Eren growled with
frustration, and reluctantly let Armin be plucked out of his arms.
“Don’t make me regret that.” Eren warned, as if he had any power, or authority
to be issuing threats.
“I will not. Now, let us restock for the journey ahead.” Erwin suggested, and
held Armin against him as he headed down the road. Eren moved in front of Erwin
to lead the way
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