#to be redder. like. yk. blood

[wannaliveattheholidayinn]

having one of those days where i'm feeling very trapped in my own body

[lilyinmysoul]

A Loving Feeling

QZ!Joel x F Reader

WC: 3k

Summary: Joel has a shit day, so he finds you to take his mind off of it.

Warnings: smut, piv, joel lowk uses reader (a little mean!joel bc of this), oral (m receiving), joel jorking it, dom!joel, yk what, sleazy joel too

Note: Another request fic, I wanted to finish this asap because I have too much studying to do, but half of this thing got deleted when I forgot to save, so I rewrote it aaanddd sorry if the second half looks rushed to you. It was. But I hope you at least somewhat enjoy it either way. If you do please reblog and send more requests mwahaha

The blood pumping in Joel’s ears aligned with the heavy vibration of his heart as it thumped against his chest. His footsteps were heavy as he ran, and when his feet would hit the ground, they were loud.

The mud was slick, and he did what he could not to fall. It would have helped to slow down, but he could not. The sky was getting too dark. There were muffled voices of FEDRA officers in the distance. He could hear the fuzzy sound of their radios as they updated each other on the unidentified smuggler running for his life through bushes and tunnels, ducking under pipes and hopping over cars. There were too many, and they were too close. He was in good shape, but it was in moments like these that he thought to himself, ‘I’m getting too old for this’.

The air was damp on his skin, the cool moisture mixed with the sweat on his face to overwhelm him further. He only knew that he couldn’t get caught. He needed to run, make it back to the tunnel, back home to his apartment. His mind couldn’t help but wander to all of the luxuries he always failed to appreciate until he wound up in the middle of nowhere, running like hell.

But, this wasn’t nowhere. No, he knew where he was, and there wasn’t much longer to go until he would duck soundlessly into a tunnel that led him back to the QZ, where he was free to go with time to spare before curfew. He could catch a shower, treat himself. He could smoke one of the cigarettes he had set aside for trading. He could surely use a fuck.

But now, he is panting even harder, his lungs starting to burn. It won’t be very long now, and the sounds of officers are fading into the rushing wind and the rustling of trees. The air is hitting his face almost violently, and his cheeks are surely redder than ever.

Joel’s speed has hindered by the time he dips behind a clearing and down a small hill, revealing to him the tunnel door, framed by leaves and vines. Breath heaving, his hot hand engulfs the cold metal knob and turns.

The air in the hallway is warm, stuffy, and moist. Despite having been through dozens of times, Joel still secures his mask over his face—the debris in the air looks like spores. He can’t be too sure.

His breath is still heavy as he walks, his lungs prickling as he holds back a cough. He tells himself that he won’t be doing any more late runs for a while.

When he steps, the sound reverberates off of the cracked concrete walls, and the hall seems to be empty, desolate. He doesn’t even hear the vicious groan of a runner—he is alone.

It feels like hours; the time it takes for Joel to pass through, from the empty and unfinished concrete halls and through fungus-coated rooms. He travels down the lift, emerges from behind the bookshelf and traipses tiredly through a final hallway, his breath steady now as he pulls off his mask, his muddy shoes leaving prints on the old tile of the building, and—oh, God, does the air feel good on his skin once he pushes open the double doors. The streets of the QZ are nothing particularly special, pleasant, or clean, but they are open. He’s breathing fresh air again, and he is safe.

Joel takes his time as he returns to his flat, and he doesn’t talk to anyone. His backpack is heavy and he is about ready to shrug it off, first chance he gets.

The streets are less busy in the evening, but people are still outside. Some smoke on street corners, others converse or clean. The occasional FEDRA officer will stroll along, shooting glances of distrust at inhabitants—Joel pays them no mind. His focus is on his home, what waits for him; not much, admittedly, but he will make do.

When he gets there, when he slides his key in the lock and closes the door behind him, he lets out a sigh of relief. His backpack is off first, then his shoes and socks. His sweat-stained flannel is peeled off of his damp skin next, and he unhooks his belt.

His first instinct is to chug a glass of water—so he does—and his second is to start running the shower. Joel enters the bathroom, his feet stepping onto the cold and battered linoleum. His clammy hand wraps around the old glass knob, and turns. The stream begins to pour, and he will soon find out if cold water is all he has in store today. It is rare that he can run a hot shower, for there are no new water heaters in an apocalypse. And his—along with that of virtually every other building—is a piece of shit.

Joel does not hesitate to shed his clothes. He pulls his dingy and faded white T-shirt over his head and tosses it carelessly on the floor. Next, he pops the button and pulls down the zipper of his jeans, dirt stained from the shin down. He has too much laundry to do. He’ll figure it out some other time.

Tugging down his boxers, he is finally bare. He runs a hand through his messy hair as he glances into the mirror at his appearance. He is disheveled and tired—more so than usual, his beard more overgrown and the lines on his forehead more prominent. Joel certainly feels older. He finds himself increasingly exhausted and his bones a bit more fragile, but his body is still defined by hours and days of labor—lifting, running, killing. He examines his abdomen, littered with scars and defined by a tough and tight pad of muscle. It’s no six pack, but he’s tough. From his belly button trails a line of hair that leads between his legs, a mess of curly strands that nobody has time to upkeep anymore. He runs a hand over his face and steps into the shower.

The water is cold—go figure—but, he’s just glad to have it at all. He needs to get clean after all this time; feel the sweat, grime, and dirt fade and wash away from his skin.

He submerges his head under the steady stream of water, rinsing away the filth. Joel has gotten used to the crisp and tingling feeling of cold water over time, and it has become a welcomed sensation. He’s had to learn to live with it, and it’s not too bad.

Joel scrubs at his skin with what’s left of his soap bar, dragging it along his arms, and then his legs. Suds form on his body—a sight he hadn’t seen in too long—and they wash away, gone as quickly as they’d come.

Soon enough, he was clean. He splashes his face with water, his hair fresh and dripping, his limbs cleaned with soap. He stands under the water a moment, and with either boredom or frustration—probably, a mix of both—his hand wanders down and takes hold of his cock. He sloppily circles a thumb over its tip and a finger down its base. For effect, his free hand splays over his abdomen and then moves down to cup his balls; and soon enough, he’s hard.

The water still beats down on his head as he gazes down at himself, the water working as slick as he strokes himself between two fingers.

Initially, his mind is empty, only registering the feeling of his movements and the stream of water on his shoulders. He lets himself relax, untensing his body. He feels a sore muscle in his arm twitch as he moves it up and down himself. Up and down… he feels, now, more pent up than anything. This isn’t enough.

Joel’s thoughts wander to you, and he wonders if you’re still awake. You surely are; it’s no later than eight. He thinks for a moment, contemplating. He debates whether it would be worth it, leaving his place and the comfort of his shower to seek you out at this hour. His hand is still stroking his cock.

Joel is pent up, and although he’s rather comfortable where he is, there isn’t anything he wants more now—after the day he’s had—than to fuck. The magazine in his top drawer certainly wouldn’t cut it. Both begrudgingly and eagerly—somehow at the same time—Joel shuts off the water.

With a towel from the floor, certainly unwashed, Joel dries off his body. He rubs his wet hair with the material, leaving it a damp and tousled sea of brown and grey. As he pats off whatever moisture from his skin that he can, he lets the towel fall to the floor before approaching his dresser.

He slides out the drawer, picking at random a T-shirt, pair of boxers, and some plaid pajama pants. One by one, he dresses in the faint light of his living room.

He steps into the boxers, pulling them up and hissing when he tucks his still-hard length into them. He is throbbing a little now, but he does his best to ignore it as he pulls his pants on over them. His T-shirt is last, and he hastily pulls on a pair of socks and slips on his shoes.

He scoops up his keys, and he’s gone. He clicks off the light behind him, locks the door, and sets off down the hallway. His feet tap dully on the carpet floors as he passes door after door—none of which were yours.

To get to your apartment, he’d need to take the stairs.

The stairwell air is stale and dusty, as always. He breathes in deeply anyway when he pushes open the door and begins his ascent up the steps. His legs are tired from his lack of sleep and their increase in activity, but he doesn’t pause. He counts one, two, three flights until he reaches your level, forcing the heavy door open and starting down your hallway.

He’s got it down, he knows where your flat is; but he still glances at the other room numbers, counting down to yours.

912, 913… 914.

Joel’s hollow fist raps on your door. The sound is firm, but not too loud. He doesn’t want to draw any attention, he wants you. ‘Get in, get out’, he tells himself.

He suspects you don’t hear him at first, so he raises his hand to knock again when you peep through the hole and open the door. You both look at each other for a moment; you’re wordless and run a hand through your hair.

“Hey.” You finally speak.

Joel doesn’t answer, stepping inside and kicking off his shoes. He closes the door behind him, turning the lock and glancing at your form as you lean back against the wall. He looks tired and restless at the same time, and it’s abundantly clear why he’s here. The two of you really only ever meet for one reason—which is fine by you—you just wish he’d stay a little longer.

“Hard day?” you ask.

A dry chuckle from Joel as he begins to remove his pants. He looks nice in the dim old lamp light. “Somethin’ like that.”

He approaches you as you rest against the cool wall, effectively trapping you against it and resting a hand on your hip. It rests there as his mouth assumes its position on your neck, kissing restlessly and eagerly.

“Tell me about it.” you insist.

“Got better things to do…” he replies, his lips moving rather fervently, and he assumes that you can feel his still-hard bulge against your front. It matters not. Joel’s hand rubs up and down your side before shifting its attention to your breast, kneading rather eagerly.

“But if you must know…” another kiss. “Got chased by a bunch’a FEDRA assholes. Got a good five miles of straight sprintin’.”

He doesn’t expect any kind of answer, and instead traps your lips against his. Joel’s mouth tastes vaguely like liquor, a tang that only strengthens when he pushes his tongue into your mouth. He seems to have so much energy and none at all, and clearly expects you to fix it.

His hand leaves your chest and finds yours, guiding it to the front of his dented boxers. “Feel that?” His question is rhetorical, and he follows up with, “And you know I’ve had a shitty day. Don’t have much time for this.”

With that, his attempts at working you up or growing the tension are gone. His hands find the button to your pants, and when he pops it open, you assist him, pushing down the fabric of your jeans and taking your underwear down next. Joel pulls on the plush fabric, hitching one of your legs over his hip and leading the panties down your legs and slyly tucking them into his back pocket. 

Once it’s all gone, your lower half is exposed and your core is glistening—it’s almost shameful, the things he does to you. You wrap an arm around him, pulling him close as he yanks on the waistband of his boxers, his red and ready cock springing against his clothed stomach and looking at you temptingly.

Joel doesn’t seem to have the restraint or the will to wait much longer, notching himself against you. A heavy breath escapes his lips and a hum from yours, as he gives your center a few slaps. It’s a nice feeling, but it isn’t enough—and he seems to realize that, too. When he rubs his cock against you a few more times, slickening himself between your thighs and he lets the tip rest right at your entrance, ready to plunge right in; and when your back arches slightly and your hips push forward with the contact, he finds his hips slowly pushing inward, and his eyes fall downward to watch as he disappears inside of you.

“Goddamn…” Joel mutters as his hips continue their movements. His movements are slow, but not measured. They aren’t controlled—he seems to lose himself in the feeling.

“Yeah…” he continues, one hand splayed upon your lower back and the other fastening your leg to his hip. His movements hasten, the feeling seeming to overwhelm his senses. He rests his chin on your head. “S’good. Real good, you lettin’ me have you whenever I need to.”

You don’t have an answer, or any kind of counter, it’s simply the truth. Even so, you wouldn’t be able to articulate a retort, anyway. The most you can offer is a pleasured hiss from between your teeth.

To accommodate the rising speed of his thrusts, he moves both hands to your hips. It’s up to you to keep your leg in place, and you do. Joel is concerned now only with his own pleasure, watching his cock appear and disappear into the warm, wet cavity between your thighs. The sensation is strong and tingling, splitting at the same time. Some kind of squeaking sound leaves the back of your throat and Joel chuckles gruffly, either at your noise or your disheveled appearance, your body rocking against the wall as he fucks you.

You hear a deep groan from Joel, the movements of his hips slightly more erratic, and his mumblings more frequent and audible. “Fuck…”

His quick and desperate thrusts slow to a stop when his muscles get too tight and he gets too close. He couldn’t cum in your pussy—it was absolutely off the table—but he liked your mouth. Anywhere was fine, but today, he needed it.

Joel slowly pulls out his cock, slowly retracting himself, his length wet with you and still very much hard.

“Knees?” Joel’s question is less of an ask than it is a command. He knows you’ll do it, and he is right, like always. Soon enough, his back is the one against the wall, and you’ve ducked down onto your knees in front of him. The hard wooden floor is a bit painful under them, but you don’t mind.

Like they often do, your eyes admire him, your eyes level with his red and leaking tip, a hand wrapping firmly around it as you look up at him.

His eyes are intense; eager and expectant like usual, and he can’t decipher whether you are gawking at or scrutinizing him, but either way, it’s taking too long. His big palm covers the back of your head, nudging your mouth closer to him before it encloses around his tip. He hisses when he feels the sweet contact of your lips, pushing still on the back of your head and shoving more of himself down your throat.

What you can’t take, you stroke with your hands, your excess saliva functioning as lubricant, the occasional drop dripping on the floor. Joel’s hand is still pushing at your head, fingers laced into your hair and it has taken an extraordinary amount of restraint not to gag.

“Oh, shit…” Joel’s grunts and groans only get louder, and you’re convinced that he only has the balls to make such sounds because he’s in your apartment, and it’ll be your neighbors who complain about his filthy noises. His fingers tense and his hand presses harder, his eyes gazing down at you as your mouth takes him resiliently.

“Fuck… ‘m close…” Joel grumbles. “Gonna cum so deep, y’wont even gotta swallow. Ah…”

And Joel does keep his promise—although not really a promise—when his hips rut one last time into your face before the spring inside him snaps, his balls emptying themselves into your throat, with only the slightest salty taste left in your mouth as he pulls out. With a few deep breaths and a tap of his softening cock on your lips, he tucks himself back into his boxers and stands from the wall.

You stand, too, and you both slide back on your clothes. As soon as his pants are back on, his shoes are, too, and the door is closed behind him.

You sigh and for a few moments, your eyes linger on the door before wandering back to your forgotten book on the table.

Thinking of adding a taglist, if you want on, let me know!

[genshinluvr]

While ago i saw fanart of genshin men all together crowded in the bathroom, all of them are so chaotic (except xiao and kazuha, albedo dragging klee out and childe and ayato, aether just be chillin-) the genshin men probably have their own bathroom in their individual rooms but what if they all agreed to shower together yk just a small bonding and reader just walk in suddenly in a towel only- i wonder what their reaction would be?

(I FEEL BAD FOR VENTI IF U CAN SEE HIM-)

Omg, I saw that fanart a while ago too! Lowkey, I feel like one of the guys would bite the other's asses as a form of affection and a way to bond with them, but I'm not sure who exactly ���💀 Okay, so, the men will all go silent and the chaos will immediately die down the minute the reader steps foot into the huge shared bathroom. The reader will awkwardly tighten their grip around their towel and swallow the lump in their throat while the men stare at them, not sure how to react.

"Did I walk in at the wrong time?" You would ask awkwardly, feeling heat creep up your neck and face as the men continued to stare at you.

"No, no! You walked in at the perfect time!" Itto would speak up, giving you a cheeky grin as he wipes the water from his face that Gorou had splashed in his direction.

"I think I should go and come back later once everyone is gone." You said, turning around to walk out of the bathroom, only to be stopped by Childe and Kaeya.

"Oh, come on! You can join us, you know? It'll be lonely when you're in here by yourself!" Childe says, throwing his arms over your shoulders with a big grin on his face.

"Yeah, what Childe said! I believe that now is a perfect bonding time for the sixteen of us!" Kaeya says, ruffling your hair with a smile on his face.

"If [Y/N] doesn't want to be here, they don't have to. Don't force them to stay and make them uncomfortable." Diluc scolds Kaeya and Childe, crossing his arms over his bare muscular chest. You can see his biceps bulging, causing you to become flustered even more.

"Oh, shit. Is the bathroom too hot?" Thoma asks, looking around at the others.

"No, why?" Venti asks, looking up from the ground as he rubs the forming bump on his forehead after slipping on the tile floor.

"[Y/N]'s bright red. Probably even redder than Diluc's hair." Ayato says, leaning against the large bathtub with his arms over his bare chest.

You felt like you were going to faint; your face was so hot, your heart was racing against your chest, and you didn't know how to react. Zhongli sighs softly and covers his face with his hands, shaking his head when he caught the sight of Itto whacking Gorou's bare ass with a towel, causing Gorou to let out a loud yelp. Xiao and Kazuha sighed, face palming as they stood far from the rest of the men. All of a sudden, your vision turns black.

"[Y/N]!?!" The men exclaimed at the same time; Childe and Kaeya catching your unconscious body in their arms. Your head lolled back into Kaeya's tanned chest, a small dribble of blood coming from your nose.

"You liar! The bathroom is too hot and now [Y/N] fainted and has a nosebleed!" Thoma lightly smacks Venti's arms before rushing over to where you're at, almost slipping on the puddle of water on the tile floor.

"I don't think temperature is the reason as to why they've fainted." Baizhu chuckles, shaking his head.

[things-happens]

In Memory

Levi Ackerman x gn! Reader

Armin Arlert x gn! Reader

Erwin Smith x gn! Reader

Mikasa Ackerman x gn! Reader

hola 😎 i have a request for ya! which i do hope you like cause I literally spent hALF aN hoUR thinking of how it should go... anyWAYS, i’m gonna request it rn cause why not? .. anyways—maybe a hc for Levi, Armin, Erwin, Mikasa, and Pieck; their S/O’s favorite memories with them are playing in their mind. They wished it happened again. people thought they (they = pieck, levi, armin - yk)—people thought they went crazy. out of their mind insane. They do often smile, when they hear their S/O’s laugh. They cry when they hear their S/O’s screams. They couldn’t save them in time. they were now dead. // now do keep in mind, that this all happened weeks after their S/O’s death. they felt so useless at the fact that they couldn’t save them in time. the one they loved the most...

Note: I DELETED THIS AND HAD TO MADE THE POST so... please like and share thank you. Also I'm not caught up on season 4 but I know what has happened so I don't know Pieck's personality, I didn't want to get her wrong.

Prompt List

Mastlister

Summary: their s/o passed, they blame themselves and other and sadly cannot cope.

Warnings: Death, Blood, Feels and Fluff Words: a lot just a lot

Levi Ackerman (Sadderdaze)

Somethings never change for Levi losing the ones he loves left and right but why did he think that would change with y/n.

During the Battle of Shiganshina, Y/n was by Levi’s side the whole time.

They always was anyways, the lone survivor of Levi’s Squad after the 57th Expansion. Years ago, they vowed the loyalty for him then again 3 years later, till death did them part.

They both lead the group of soldiers to eliminate the Beast Titan.

As the Beast began to throw rocks everyone took covered in an abandoned town, after the first-round y/n and Levi resurfaced on the roofs.

They both noticed the beast was readying for another throw, yelling for the other to go bad into cover.

“GO BACK!” Y/N yelled into their cupped hands; they still couldn’t hear them.

Levi started to run to help them, only to be held back, y/n telling him there isn’t enough time.

Levi protested only for Y/n starting to push him back down to between the houses.

Suddenly, Y/n gave him a hard push on his back making him lad down on the ground. Looking back up to his love, their leg of in a now, missing part of the roof.

Levi quickly shot back up to help them out, grabbing their hands pulling as hard as he could.

“Levi… LEVI! Please take cover, you’ll die.”

“I’m not leaving you behind… not again.”

Levi had left Y/n in charge of his squad as he joined Erwin in the 57th Expansion. Nearly dying because of the Female Titan and protecting Eren.

Y/n pulled their arm away from him, giving him one final hard push in the chest right before the rock came pass them.

“I love you” they whispered.

As Levi flew back to the ground, he held eye contact with them all of his memories going through his head, knowing that this was the last time he would see of them, forever.

As for y/n, all their memories flew through them.

Late nights with Hanjie, mornings drinking tea with Erwin and Levi.

Levi… the night of their wedding, cake, slow dancing together, then stargazing. Oh, what they’d give to do that one more time with him.

Then they were gone.

Days later, everyone was concerned about the Captain. They could hear his cries and sobs when they’d pass his room. If you’d knocked, his cries would stop, and he’d stay silent till he watched your feet leave.

Every time Hanjie would open his door to bring breakfast or dinner, they could see the hopefulness in his eyes only for them to fall. Not like he ate till he was starving and knew he had too.

Years later, as Levi slept at night, he could still hear the whisper and cries of his love. That’s all he could hear ever, yet now he hid it well.

The nights he couldn’t sleep he’d walk through the halls of the fallen soldiers. In the middle of all the paintings, was Erwin. A gold frame shining in the moon light. Next to him was y/n.

They also had a golden frame and at the top were their favorite floor in their favorite color. Whomever painted it, Levi thought they did an amazing job.

The captured the brightness of their eyes, their gloss on their hair and the perfection on their hands.

Levi sat on his knees, lightly placing his hand on theirs. Wishing he could feel them just one more time.

BONUS:

“I bet you’re not popular with the ladies…” Zeke sighed.

Levi looked down thinking about y/n for the first time since the battle. “I was popular enough…”

Armin Arlert (When Will I See You Again)

Most people admired Y/n relationship with Armin, never put a title on side thing but the two and others knew they loved each other.

And when y/n died… well it was hard on everyone.

Since Armin inherited the Colossal Titian he saw and heard y/n die with his own eyes or really with Bertholdt eyes.

They stood by Armin till the very end or what they thought was the end.

The two stood in front of the giant titan, directing him. The plan… they knew they were going to die but it was with Armin and that’s all y/n would ever want.

Bertholdt let out the burning steam, burning them alive. y/n’s eyes looked at Armin, they screamed and cried till nothing… black.

Armin on the other head was giving the Titan Serum, eating Bertholdt and becoming the monsters he hated.

From the second he woke from the shift, all he could thing of was Y/n.

Where are they?

Are they okay?

Then and dare he say naturally, the memories caved in.

Seeing through his predecessor’s eyes, he remembered his love burn to death. Hearing their caries and he saw them always looking at him.

He cried and blamed himself for their death, y/n thought they were dying together but Eren couldn’t let him live in peace.

“they died thinking they were with me.” He whispered.

He always tired to keep his resentment in around Eren and Mikasa, but everyone could here him scream in pain in the forest next to the HQ.

He used Bertholdt’s memories to see them together all the time, Sasha and Mikasa would become worried he wasn’t grieving well but soon like screams every night stop.

Instead, it was quite crying at night, which wasn’t any better for anyone.

Then they left to find the Sea, one thing that could make Armin come to peace with himself.

Reaching the ocean everyone would play and have fun their but looking down in the water, Armin could’ve sworn he saw his love looking back at him but alas he lost the sight as fast as he saw it.

He knew Y/n would and still is by his side everyday till death brought them back to each other.

Erwin Smith (My Kind of Woman)

Everyone knew Erwin as a very stoic man, a calm gentle giant but with a heart and will of Iron.

And that was true, but that was after someone not one would talk about.

Their name is Y/n, Erwin Smith’s great love.

In 845, the Survey Corps returned from an expiation, but most do not know what happened.

“Four abnormals on the right wing!” some one shouted

Erwin looked at y/n who was smiling but still looking out for themselves and others. They looked over at Erwin and smiled even wilder.

Ever since training, Y/n saw bright side of things. It was their idea to recruit the Underground rebels.

In all most a flash of lighting, rain pored down soldiers dying all around.

10 abnormals flailing around, killing and eating people.

Erwin stared behind him, watching his comrades die under his orders. Then he locked eyes with y/n as they jumped off their horse as a Titan waved its arm at her.

“Erwin!”

Y/n yelled hoping he would turn and help them, and he did, yet despite the connection they had…

It was too late, they were harshly picked and swished, screams reaching everyone’s ears. Held above the Titan’s mouth their blood poured into then as the life quickly left their eyes they were dropped into its mouth.

If it wasn’t for Levi, Erwin would’ve been died too.

Ever second since then he blamed himself, knowing if he was just a little faster.

He paid someone to make a painting of her for his office, they were his right-hand person, but others knew it was more than that.

He would cry as quite as he could for years till it was small smiles or few tears while in his office or drinking tea with Levi or Hanji.

They both learned not to question it as it was a normal thing for the man after five years.

The new recruits would ask about the painting of a random person in his office, he would say someone special.

Yet it’s been years he would still become choked up that night.

Mikasa Ackerman (i wanna be your girlfriend)

Mikasa and Y/n met in training, two people how just sat not needing to say anything to enjoy each other’s company.

Eating dinner, they’d just sit and watch everyone else bicker and talk, nothing needed to be said. Despite being Sasha’s sibling, the older one seem to get all the personality then again there was nothing wrong with the way they were.

Although being close to death of a many of times, they lived and slightly loved Mikasa and watched her grow into a beautiful women she was.

Over the years, y/n become more vocal not wanting to miss out on the moments they had left with everyone. They and Jean would bicker and laugh about dumb things, Connie and they would just sitting and reminisce on old times.

Then Sasha met Nicolo and well y/n had never more vocal about anything before.

“Oooooh the cook, he’s perfect for you.”

y/n would tease Sasha along with Jean and Connie, although Nicolo didn’t seem to mind, Sasha would turn redder than a beet!

Then the war came, Y/n didn’t leave Mikasa side unless it was to save their ether extremely brave or stupid sister.

As y/n and Mikasa run to Eren’s ad after killing the War Hammer Titan, Mikasa yells at Eren.

Y/n watches the two argue, as the War Hammer Titan stands tall and definitely not dead.

Y/n watches as it starts to shoot a crystal goop at them, Y/n wipps around slamming themselves into Mikasa, holding onto her and they both flay away from the now hardened crystal.

“thank you, y/n.”

Y/n only nodded, looking back at the crystal. Again, they themselves in danger for Mikasa but they knew if it came down to it, they would die for their family.

After the battle, everyone was on the air ship, Mikasa had left y/n with Jean, Connie and Sasha. They talked happy to see each other alive.

“You guys are really special to me.”

Next thing anyone knew, both Jean and Y/n heard rumbling from the entrance. Turning around they saw a little girl with a rifle.

y/n quickly realized she was aiming for everyone of the ship, mainly their sister. Running in front of the fire, trying to do the same thing they once saw Hanjie do years ago still the girl shot.

The bullet went straight threw y/n’s stomach; push through the pain they grabbed the gun from the girl. They butted it into the little girl’s head, knocking her out.

The adrenaline wore off, y/n put their hand on their stomach. Their hand covered in blood, they turned around to see their sister on the floor surrounded by their friends.

“Guys…” they dropped the rifle on the floor.

The word came out their mouth, everyone with tears in their eyes slowly turned to look at them.

Jean watched as the blood dripped from their suit on to the light brown flooring.

Y/n began to walk to them, waddling side to side.

Mikasa entered the room watching Y/n fall over into what was now a pool of blood. She quickly ran over, flipping them over sobbing.

Jean quickly applied pressure into the wound, but it was too late. Y/n looked up at Mikasa, their bloodied hand lightly touching her face.

Mikasa sat head on her knees, in between both Blouse graves. She could still here the raspy breaths, the yells of Jean telling them to stay awake and the laugh Eren let out seeing the dead bodies.

She’d cry at nights realizing she loved them more than a friend, she felt like a piece of her was now gone.

During dinners Mikasa would push her food around till she couldn’t sit and not laugh or sob. Armin had become worried of her, but he knew she just needed time.