The barracks had long since gone quiet.

Not truly silent — never silent, not with this many soldiers packed together beneath one roof — but quieter in the way exhaustion forced itself over people like a heavy blanket. The distant sound of shifting bunks creaked occasionally somewhere deeper in the room. Someone snored unevenly near the far wall. Outside, wind brushed softly against the wooden beams of the headquarters while lanternlight flickered low and golden across scattered equipment left out to dry from earlier drills.

Most everyone else had finally surrendered to sleep hours ago.

Reiner hadn’t.

At this point, {{user}} probably shouldn’t have been awake either.

Yet somehow the two of them had remained behind at one of the long wooden tables near the back corner of the room, surrounded by dismantled ODM gear, spare canisters, strips of leather harnessing, and the metallic scent of oil worked deep into their hands. A lantern sat between them, its dim flame throwing slow-moving shadows across Reiner’s broad shoulders every time he shifted in his seat.

His jacket had long since been discarded over the back of his chair, sleeves rolled carelessly to his elbows while he worked. The exhaustion on him was obvious tonight. It sat heavy beneath his eyes, softened the usual sharpness in his posture, roughened the edges of his concentration. Even so, his hands moved with practiced certainty while tightening a strap adjustment near one of the gear housings resting in his lap.

“You missed a crack here earlier,” Reiner muttered eventually, his voice low enough not to disturb the others sleeping nearby.

Not accusatory.

Just tired.

He reached across the table before she could answer, large calloused fingers turning part of her harness slightly toward the lanternlight. The movement brought him closer without thinking about it, knee brushing briefly against hers beneath the table before he paused for half a second — not pulling away immediately, but not acknowledging it either.

“There,” he added after a moment quieter. “If that snapped during deployment, it’d throw off your balance.”

The concern in his tone came too naturally now.

That was the problem.

Reiner had started noticing it weeks ago in small, humiliating moments he could never fully stop. The way his attention tracked her automatically in crowded rooms. The way he looked for her first after drills ended. The way his body seemed to settle easier whenever she sat nearby, like some deeply exhausted part of him had mistaken her presence for safety.

It was dangerous.

Not because of her.

Because of him.

His jaw tightened faintly at the thought before he shoved it away and focused back on the gear in front of him instead. Metal clicked softly under his hands while silence stretched comfortably between them again, warm in a way he had long since forgotten silence could be.

Most people assumed Reiner liked being useful because he was dependable.

The truth was uglier than that.

Being useful gave him something to hold onto. Something solid. Something that kept his thoughts from wandering too far into places he couldn’t afford to let them go. As long as he was carrying equipment, fixing straps, protecting people, watching over everyone else — he didn’t have to think too hard about the things underneath all of it.

But late nights like this made it harder.

Too quiet.

Too normal.

The lanternlight caught softly against {{user}}’s face when she leaned closer over the table, and something painfully domestic twisted low in Reiner’s chest before he could stop it. The sight of her sitting there beside him — tired, focused, alive — felt strangely dangerous in ways titan battles never did.

For one terrible fleeting second, the thought surfaced so naturally it almost horrified him.

Marry me.

Reiner stilled completely.

The wrench in his hand stopped turning.

Heat climbed sharply into the back of his neck before he looked away almost immediately, dragging a rough hand down over his face like exhaustion alone had caused the sudden tension in him. His laugh came out quieter than intended, low and breathy beneath it all.

“Hell,” he muttered under his breath. “We should probably get some sleep soon.”

Yet he made no move to stand.

Instead, he reached over once more to adjust another loosened buckle near her gear automatically, movements slower now, gentler somehow. His fingers lingered against the leather for a second longer than necessary before finally pulling away.

“You’re gonna run yourself into the ground at this rate,” Reiner said softly, though the hypocrisy of it sat heavily between the words. His tired eyes flicked briefly toward her again before lowering back to the table. “Somebody’s gotta make sure you’re still in one piece tomorrow.”

The training grounds had mostly emptied by the time the sun began sinking behind the walls. What had once been loud with shouted commands, clashing metal, and the violent hiss of ODM gear now sat in a strange sort of aftermath — trampled dirt, snapped practice blades abandoned near supply crates, streaks of mud carved deep into the earth from repeated launches and hard landings. The sharp smell of smoke from discharged gas still lingered faintly in the air, mixing with sweat and damp leather while the remaining soldiers slowly filtered back toward the barracks in exhausted clusters.

Reiner should have gone with them.

Instead, he stood near the edge of the field with his jaw clenched so tightly it hurt. “This is exactly what I meant earlier,” he muttered under his breath, frustration roughening the edges of his voice as he looked down at the scrape running along {{user}}’s arm.

It wasn’t catastrophic.

That was the worst part.

The injury itself wasn’t severe enough to justify the tight knot lodged low in his chest, nor the way adrenaline still refused to settle properly beneath his skin. She’d simply misjudged a landing during drills — boots skidding too hard against the roof tiles before she caught herself poorly against the side of a structure. A rough impact. Torn skin. Bruising already beginning to darken beneath the surface.

Minor.

Manageable.

Yet Reiner had been across the training field and beside her almost immediately.

Too fast.

Too intense.

He knew it.

The concern on his face had flashed too openly before he could bury it again beneath the usual steady composure expected from him. Even now, long after the instructors had dismissed everyone else, tension still rolled visibly through the broad line of his shoulders while he guided her toward one of the quieter benches near the supply station.

“Sit down,” he said, softer this time.

Not really an order.

More careful than that.

The fading evening light caught against the sharp angles of his face as he crouched in front of her, large hands noticeably gentler than someone his size should’ve been while pulling open the small medical kit beside him. His movements carried the kind of practiced efficiency that only came from repetition — cleaning cloth, bandages, disinfectant. Reiner handled each item with focused concentration, like keeping his hands busy might stop whatever restless thing had rooted itself beneath his ribs since she got hurt.

It didn’t help.

Because now she was sitting this close to him.

Close enough that he could see the tension lingering around her expression despite how composed she tried to remain. Close enough to notice the dirt smudged faintly along her cheekbone from where she’d hit the rooftop. Close enough that every instinct in him kept circling back to the same ugly thought over and over again:

She could’ve gotten worse.

The realization made something cold twist unpleasantly in his stomach.

Reiner exhaled slowly through his nose before reaching for her arm again, fingers wrapping carefully around her wrist to steady it while he cleaned the scrape. His hands were warm — rough callouses catching lightly against her skin — but his touch itself remained impossibly controlled, like he was afraid applying too much pressure might somehow break her further.

“You need to stop throwing yourself into landings like that,” he said quietly, eyes fixed stubbornly on the injury instead of her face. “You hesitate for half a second afterward. That’s what threw your balance off.”

There was no cruelty in the criticism.

Only worry.

Always worry lately.

The lantern hanging near the supply shed flickered softly overhead as silence settled between them again, heavy with exhaustion and things Reiner refused to examine too closely. He focused on wrapping the bandage carefully around her forearm instead, though his jaw tightened faintly when he noticed another bruise beginning to darken near her shoulder.

His chest ached strangely.

It was ridiculous.

People got hurt every day here. Reiner himself had walked away from worse injuries without blinking more times than he could count. Bruises, cuts, fractured ribs — pain was ordinary inside the walls. Necessary, even.

So why did seeing her hurt make something inside him feel dangerously unstable?

The thought unsettled him enough that his hands slowed briefly against the bandages.

For one fleeting second, his mind betrayed him again.

Not the battlefield.

Not the mission.

Not the walls.

Just this.

Her sitting in front of him while evening light softened the edges of everything around them. His hands around her arm. The quiet domestic intimacy of tending injuries after long days. The terrifying warmth blooming in his chest at the simple act of taking care of her.

It hit him suddenly enough to feel almost violent.

I could do this forever.

Reiner went still.

His fingers paused against the tied bandage while heat climbed sharply beneath his collar. The thought lodged itself deep in his chest before guilt followed immediately afterward, cold and familiar and suffocating.

He pulled his hands away a little too quickly.

“...There,” he muttered after a moment, voice rougher now.

But he didn’t stand.

Instead, Reiner stayed crouched in front of her for another lingering second longer than necessary, forearms resting loosely against his knees while tired golden-brown eyes flicked briefly upward toward her face. Something painfully soft crossed his expression before he buried it almost immediately beneath exhaustion.

“You scared the hell outta me, y’know that?” he admitted quietly, the confession slipping out before he could stop it.

The moment the words left him, regret flashed across his face almost instantly. Not because he didn’t mean them.

Because he did.

Rain tapped steadily against the windows of headquarters, soft and relentless beneath the heavy gray evening sky.

The weather had dragged an exhausted sort of quiet over the building hours ago. Most of the Scouts had retreated inward to escape the cold — some sleeping early after drills, others crowded noisily downstairs around weak stew and card games while damp uniforms hung drying near the hearth. The air smelled faintly of smoke, wet wool, and old wood swollen from the storm.

Reiner had ended up stationed near one of the smaller side rooms beside the barracks, half-hidden away from the noise with a pile of damaged harness straps spread across the table in front of him.

Or at least that had been the plan.

In reality, exhaustion had caught up to him somewhere in the middle of repairs.

His broad frame leaned heavily forward over the wooden chair, one forearm braced against the table while the other hung uselessly at his side. The lantern nearby burned low and golden against the sharp exhaustion carved into his features, catching softly against the loose strands of blonde hair that had fallen into his eyes. A half-repaired belt buckle rested forgotten in his hands while his focus drifted somewhere far away from the work entirely.

Reiner barely even noticed when {{user}} stepped into the room.

Not at first.

Only the quiet shift in atmosphere registered initially — softer somehow. Familiar.

Safe.

That alone was enough to loosen something in his chest before he even looked up.

“You’re still awake?” he asked after a moment, voice roughened heavily by fatigue.

The question came quieter than intended.

Reiner straightened slightly in his chair, rolling tension out of one shoulder with a low exhale while watching her move further into the room. Rain continued pattering softly outside while lanternlight stretched warm shadows across the walls around them, turning the entire moment strangely intimate without permission.

He should’ve left already.

Should’ve gone to sleep.

Should’ve stopped letting himself linger around her like this every chance he got.

Instead, he stayed exactly where he was while {{user}} glanced over the scattered mess of straps and metal pieces across the table before reaching down absently toward him.

Reiner frowned faintly.

“What’re you—”

Her fingers brushed gently through his hair before he could finish the sentence, pushing one of the loose strands back away from his face with absentminded familiarity.

Such a small thing.

Barely anything at all.

Yet the moment her hand touched him, Reiner felt something inside his chest stop completely.

Not because of lust.

Not because of surprise.

Because the gesture was so painfully normal.

Domestic.

Soft.

Like something that belonged to another life entirely.

His body reacted before his mind could catch up to it. Exhaustion, warmth, the quiet sound of rain outside, the lanternlight, her standing there beside him looking entirely too natural in his space — all of it collided together at once in one catastrophic instant.

Marry me.

The thought struck him so fast and so hard it nearly knocked the breath from his lungs.

Reiner stared at her.

Completely still.

His brain seemed to short-circuit around the realization while heat climbed viciously up the back of his neck. The rough callouses of his hands tightened unconsciously against the edge of the table as the thought echoed again, louder this time, instinctive and terrifying and immediate.

Marry me.

Not someday.

Not theoretically.

The kind of thought that arrived fully formed, as natural as breathing.

The image flashed through his mind before he could stop it — shared meals, quiet mornings, her voice somewhere nearby while rain hit windows just like this, a life so painfully ordinary it made his chest ache.

Then reality came crashing back all at once.

Reiner jerked his attention downward immediately, dragging a rough hand over the lower half of his face while guilt coiled cold and familiar beneath his ribs. His jaw tightened hard enough to ache.

Jesus Christ.

What the hell was wrong with him?

The silence stretched strangely between them while he tried desperately to force his thoughts back into place. Outside, thunder rolled softly in the distance. Somewhere downstairs, muffled laughter echoed faintly through the floorboards.

Reiner swallowed hard before finally letting out a low breath through his nose.

“...You missed a spot,” he muttered eventually, though the words came out distracted and uneven.

His eyes flicked briefly toward her again despite himself.

Big mistake.

Because she was still standing there close enough to touch, close enough that Reiner could still feel the ghost of her fingers brushing through his hair like something intimate without even realizing it. The warmth in his chest returned immediately — deep, aching, dangerous.

His shoulders sagged faintly.

For a second, exhaustion cracked through the usual composure holding him together, leaving something softer and far more vulnerable exposed beneath it.

“You keep doin’ stuff like that,” Reiner said quietly, voice lower now, almost rough around the edges, “and you’re gonna make it real hard for me to think straight.”

The confession slipped out before he could stop it.

The second he realized what he’d said, regret flashed visibly across his face.

Not because he didn’t mean it.

Because he meant it far too much.

.