A/N: Minors, DNI. This chapter contains heavy, detailed smut and also mentions of childhood trauma, death, blood, kidnapping, being in a closed space. If any of that triggers you, read with caution.

My heartbeat is a war drum in my chest, the bombs and bullets adding to the orchestra as Levi leads me up the grand staircase and then down the hallway on the left. If I was in my right mind, I would have commented on how the place looks like a hotel with the numbered doors, the yellow light and a janitor's cart stationed on the side. How could anyone be in their right mind when your party is getting fucking bombed?

Erwin. Shit! I hope he's alright. I mean, I'm sure that to have earned the position of the Boss, he had to have been good at all that he makes his employees do. But...

What is this feeling? Care?

Of course, I care about him. I would hate it if something were to happen to him, something I won't be able to fix.

Is he even mine to fix?

All eyes were on him tonight. And, rightfully so. He's gorgeous. Every time I look at him, it's hard to keep a straight face. It's literally impossible that he is attracted to me. With all these other beautiful women around? No, absolutely not. How will he ever stop himself from comparing me with... I don't know, Nanaba, Lara Tybur, and the likes?

Levi pushes a door open and pulls me inside through the foyer. There's a massive bed in the middle of the room, an open suitcase on the floor beside it, a tall mirror just in front of it and floor to ceiling windows opposite to us. He lets go of my hand and slides open the closet door. Pulling out clothes, bunches of bedsheets and a whole plank of wood out, he finally looks at me. "I hope you're not claustrophobic," he says.

I scoff. "You can't be serious. I won't even fit in there."

"Of course you would. Get in." He tugs my hand to lead me into the closet. I did not go to every Pride march since I was sixteen and wear a sole stud on my left ear for years just to go back in the closet.

Once I'm seated inside, neck bent at an angle that I know would hurt like hell tomorrow and knees so close to my chin like I've never thought possible, Levi squats to look me in the eyes. "Listen. I know this is new to..."

"Just give me a gun and go to Erwin."

He sighs. Fishing out the pistol he had previously collected from my boyfriend, he shows it to me. He clicks open the barrel and I see the golden butts of the bullets. "It's loaded so be careful where you point it." He rolls the barrel close again, placing the gun in my palm. When he starts to adjust my fingers around the trigger, trying to teach me how to handle it, I snatch it from him.

"I've used a gun before," I tell him. His forehead wrinkles, unwilling to believe the gap in his background check.

"On a person?"

"In self-defense, yes."

Pursing his lips, he force-shuts my fingers around the grip. He's so easy to read. "Fine. I want to say, use it at your own discretion. But don't kill anyone from our family."

"I don't know everyone from the family. I might make a mistake." I'm just now noticing the tremor in my hands.

Levi stands back up to dust his trousers before starting to leave. "Shoot anyone who can't tell you what Erwin's favourite color is."

"Wait! I don't know what Erwin's favorite color is."

"I'm sure he tells you to look into his eyes all the time. Why do you think that is?" His last words trail off and the door shuts behind him. I unclasp all my jewelry and pull my knees as close to me as I can before dragging the patio door shut. This darkness is my safe haven for today, for as long as people are killing each other downstairs.

Wait. Brown?

Brown is nobody's favorite color.

The barrel is cold in my hand, the gun heavy. It pops open chambers of memories I thought were bolted shut. The absence of this major life event in Levi's research only proves beyond doubt my father's influence and his will to cover up one of the two most traumatic incidents of my life.

One would definitely be my mother's death. The scene of the crime, to be exact. The autopsy ruled it to be self-inflicted but years of torment at the hands of the man she worshipped and that of his favorite child can hardly be called suicide.

And the other would be the week before my fifteenth birthday when my brother thought of the most perfect gift for his little sister - getting her kidnapped by real thugs. The coffin they'd locked me in was a tighter space than this closet yet somehow, a tad more comfortable. Death was welcome at that age, its ideation a constant companion. If Grampa hadn't pulled me out of that coffin and eventually that house, I would have probably not been here, trembling, tearing up, cocking and uncocking the gun just to feel something, to hear something, to tune out the deafening silence.

A click outside the closet jolts me back to the physical realm. Who knows how long it has been? I clutch the gun to my chest, my thumb anxious on the safety.

The door rushes open, flooding my darkness with the dim yellow light from the bedside lamp. A huge person stands in front of me, shoulders so broad that the light doesn't reach their face. But I don't need to see the face to recognize the man. I've learned to know him by smell, by his presence. He offers me a hand, an unnaturally steady hand, and I take it. Pulling me up, he takes me in an embrace tighter than I've ever been hugged before, burying his long nose in my neck.

When I pull away, I have to physically restrain myself from gasping. The wine jacket is gone, it's just him in his black shirt, the buttons doing their best to stay put over his broad chest, the fabric soaked in places, patches of red splattered across the front of his outfit, over his white neck and even on his chin. "We're fine," he tells me, so monotonous that it's painful to the ear. "I got as many of them as I could. They won't dare step close to anybody from my family ever again. And that includes you, Angel."

"Okay, baby." My eyelids are heavy with the water that has spontaneously accumulated. I really don't want to blink in fear that they'd fall but when Erwin's huge palm lands gently on the side of my face, I have no choice but to close my eyes to relish his touch.

"We're fine. We're all fine." He keeps repeating himself like he needs more convincing than anybody else.

"Okay, okay, I know." I forget my tears and reach out to rub his shoulders. It's wet there too. When I face my palm toward myself, it's red with blood. Someone's blood. "You're not hurt, are you?" Erwin shakes his head. Great! So, a stranger's blood.

"Where's the bathroom?" I ask. Erwin takes my hand and leads me out of the closet. We avoid the clutter on the floor and go back to the foyer where he slides open another patio door before ushering me into the cleanest bathroom I've seen in my lifetime. Pristine white marble floor, sink and toilet, frosted glass door separating the shower space. Like it's rarely in use.

I pull out the wooden stool from under the sink and motion for Erwin to sit on it. He complies. Without giving two shits about my dress, I kneel between his legs, starting to undress him. His shirt is saturated, heavy with the blood of others, with the burden of protecting his family. When I cast it away to a corner of the bathroom, the red leaks out, staining the virginal white tiles. "Can I take your pants off?" I ask as mildly as possible, not wanting to initiate any intimacy, just looking to take care of him. Fix him.

Instead of answering, Erwin takes my wrist off his thigh to kiss it. "I'm yours," he whispers. "Yours to break and yours to fix."

"Why would I ever want to break you?" I throw my arms around his neck. He smells salty, from the sea and the sweat. I grab a towel to dab on his neck, his chest, his tummy.

Mine to fix. Mine to fix. Mine to fix.

When I turn on the shower, trying to get the perfect temperature, Erwin takes my hand. There's no need for words. I know what he's asking for just by looking at his eyes. So I turn my back to him, exposing the zip of my dress.

"Are you sure?" He asks.

"Yes, baby, I'm sure." Why would I have to think about that?

His hands work ever so slowly today, dragging the zip down like it's a weight he struggles to lift. When I turn to look back at him, he kisses my cheek. It feels like a breeze against my skin, how quick and polite it is. The dress peels off my skin, freeing my flesh from its glamor. I'm a simple girl again, with a face full of makeup, neck covered with hickeys hidden under a layer of concealer, and booby tapes. Erwin pulls me into the bath as I kick the dress away.

Under the hot water streaming out of the shower hose, he pulls me to him, so close I'm afraid we're going to merge into one body. His kisses are hungry, needy, looking for an anchor to the real world. I hold him to myself too as the water washes off the strangers' blood, and anything left, I scrub off him, rubbing down his shoulders and arms.

Erwin moves away, revealing the full length mirror his huge body had been blocking from my view. Such an odd addition to a bathroom rarely used. Erwin's strong hands guide me closer to the mirror. He stands behind me, his grasp on my waist light and curious. When he bends to rest his chin on my shoulder, I shiver. Strange! How can a simple graze of this man's skin bring me to my knees?

"Can I take these off?" He points at the nipple tapes. "Will they hurt?" I nod. "I promise to be gentle. And not touch you afterward if you're sore."

"Okay." I give him permission.

If I had not known gentleness before, I know it now. Every time I even lightly hiss at the way the tape tugs at my skin, Erwin places a kiss on my neck to distract me. By the end, I'm sure I'm faking pain on purpose just so I can watch him take care of me.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful." He pulls my back to his chest, his arms resting in the seats of my love handles. He's gorgeous, his beauty powerful, the flame to my moth. I slide my hands over his neck to reach into his hair and pull at his roots.

"You mean, my tits?"

Erwin is taken aback by my challenge. But he doesn't pull away. If anything, he holds me tighter. "I mean, you." He sticks his nose in my hair and I thank Historia for spraying perfume into my locks even though I insisted I didn't need any. "Hold this." Erwin guides my hand to a towel holder I hadn't noticed before. He slides his hand along my arm, over my shoulder and then down my spine. Landing on the top of my ass, he presses down, slanting my back so he has access to where he wants to enter. "May I?" He asks, his hand on my ass cheek, moving in the direction of my thigh.

He needs only a nod. "Keep your eyes on me, angel. Always." His breaths are short, he's huffing already, even before he has entered me. My my, the passions!

I feel how wet I am for him by the way he slips in so easily, grunting near my ear. I moan back. That's our way of communicating tonight. His huge hand travels back to my face and he pulls me to a more straighter posture. Wouldn't this make it more difficult for him to thrust?

Looks like he doesn't care. Erwin pinches my face so my lips pucker and kisses me. With the romantic gesture distracting me, he starts pounding. Oh goodness! It feels so good. My insides are fluttering already, making me wetter and wetter, making it more and more convenient for him to keep up.

I cling to the handrail with all my strength as my legs start to feel weak. Even more so when his left hand tiptoes to my clit and he starts rubbing. Closed mouth moans are not doing it for me anymore so I latch off of his lips.

"Fuck," he whispers. "The way your body responds to me makes me want to never stop making love to you. Look at you, angel. Look at yourself." Erwin holds me face up so that I can look into the mirror. I try to keep my eyes glued to his, like he always tells me to, but he eggs me on to look at myself. "Your body, my angel, your body... makes me... want to believe in God."

I'm panting now, my body a victim to Erwin's movements, quivering at all the right places, tightening at others. "Touch me," I command, pulling his hand to my chest.

"Aren't you sore, angel?"

"Not quite enough. If tomorrow we part, inflict upon me a soreness I'll remember you by."

My words do something to him. He removes his hands, not entirely, but from the places I ache most at. Am I being punished? Just as I'm growing critical of myself for saying what I said, he embraces me. He's still inside me, none the softer, but his hug is filled with affection and affection alone. "Why will we part?" He whispers into my ear, "Look, we're one," while guiding my gaze down to my thighs. My eyes dart to his finger instead, rubbing circles around my clit and behind it, his thick dick, half buried in the crevice of my femininity, inching slowly inside.

"Don't tease, Erwin. Spoil me. Please." I tell him, looking back up to meet his eyes. His devilish grin steals my breath instead. He finally allows me the privilege of his touch, his grab, his squeeze and pinch, and as I'm just about getting used to the attentions of his hand, he quickens the pace of his thrusts.

My mind is numbed of thoughts. My moans seem to be coming out of my own head. The only sound I can really hear is Erwin's breathing. "You... like... that... Angel?" When I don't reply, because I really can't think straight, he surprises me with a hard pinch on my nipple. The pain goes through me like electricity from loose wiring.

"Fuck, Erwin." I can't say it's all pain; I can't deny the pleasure.

"You're getting... tighter... Angel. Don't come so quickly now. Wait for me, okay? Wait... for... Daddy."

My grip loosens around the rail, my palm slipping onto the glass, trying to grab on to the flat surface. I loosen up again, falling prey to Erwin's rhythm. He utilizes the ease I offer to press himself into me; he's so close, our bodies so entwined, I can feel the throb in his vein on my walls.

Daddy?

My eyes snap open, meeting his through the mirror. Daddy?

Erwin pulls out, leaving me empty. Is he done? Why is he stopping?

He turns me around and presses my back flush against the cold glass. "Eyes on me," he demands, lifting my left thigh up to enter me again. His motions are swift, insistent, wearing me out so I just hold on to him, my nails scraping red lines over his shoulders and back. "Touch yourself, Angel."

"Really? In this position?"

"Touch. Yourself."

Oh! Daddy. I see Daddy.

Wordless, I slip my hand off his shoulder to bring it to my clit. It's throbbing, sensitive, and eager to send all those horny signals to my brain's orgasm centre. Erwin's breathing becomes more rampant by the second, blowing warm on my face. As he watches me touch myself, my body reacting to the stimulation, his exhales become growls. He's pulsating inside me, his thrusts dragged out and heavy.

He goes to retract himself but I stop him, quickly moving my hand from my sex to his. "Stay." What am I saying? "The pill will take care of it."

The desire in Erwin's eyes become hunger. With a sleight of hand, he pulls me up off the floor, into his arms, carries me out of the bath and toward the bed, all the while buried deep inside me. Laying me down, he kisses me, his moan a melody I want to dance to. "Are you sure?" He mumbles.

"Yes... Daddy." What am I doing?

His eyes sparkle. "Fuck, Angel, you don't know what you're doing to me, do you?" He doesn't wait for my answer. Docking my ankles over his shoulders, he starts to thrust again. Such powerful thrusts. Like the gait of an influential man. I mean, he is an influential man.

I stretch my hand to touch his face, his hardened face, now wrinkled with furious desire and the anticipation of pleasure. I wonder what i look like? Am I just as impatient? Eager?

"Come for me, Angel," he whispers into my palm. "Come for Daddy. Come. For. Daddy."

It's like his permission is all my body was waiting for. It begins at the seat of my belly, then spirals up along my spine, arching my back, shaking my whole body. My whole world. Fuck, this was so good!

"Fuck. Fuck. Angel, such a... good girl for me. So warm, so... ugh, so fucking tight. Angel. My sweet angel." Erwin lets my legs drop to his sides before bending over to grab my breasts. "Fuck, fuck, fuck." His tongue flicks over a sore nipple, the one he had pinched earlier, swirling my insides again. "Mmmmfuckmmmm," Erwin hums as he suckles, his pace increasing, his grip tightening on my other tit.

I think he's done by the slight tremor in his hip, but know when his warmth fills me up. Quite literally. Not to objectify myself but I believe this is exactly how a waffle cone feels when being poured ice cream into. "Fuck, Angel." He finally releases my nipple but doesn't lift his head up straightaway. His shaky breath blows over my peaked skin, hardening it further. A single touch to it would make me weak for another round.

But as we lay there for a while, spent and contemplating, it comes back to me. His words from earlier, from when he had just come upstairs, covered in blood that I had to wash off him.

"We're fine," "I got as many of them as I could."

He killed someone, didn't he?

A/N: The following fanart is what inspired this chapter. By @/Djuney9 on X.

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