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[pickalilywrites]

You wouldn't last an hour in the asylum where they raised me

[pickalilywrites]

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[pickalilywrites]

Lily, would you write some pokopiku? 🥹

anon, i will always write some pkpk!

breaking free

pokopiku. high school musical au. 3984 words.

Soaring, flying

There’s not a star in heaven that we can’t reach 

Porco can only recall those two lines, but the rest of the muddled melody plays in his mind for days on end. Sometimes he doesn’t know if he’s imagining it or if it’s just Pieck humming it beside him. When he’s lost in a daze, that song playing in the background of his mind, he’ll startle from his daydream and turn expecting to see her by his side only to realize that it was all in his head the entire time.  

He doesn’t hate music. In fact, he actually kind of likes it. He might not go out of his way to attend concerts or buy musical tickets. Hell, he hasn’t even paid attention to any of the low-budget productions that his school puts on every semester until recently. He just likes to strum the lonely guitar sitting in his living room every once in a while, and he admittedly doesn’t mind hearing Pieck humming beside him when they should be focusing on their chemistry experiment. It’s just that he has other things he should be thinking about: how to improve his free throws, the upcoming basketball game with Shiganshina High, and the basketball championship that his team is set on winning. He has no time for songs or dances no matter how many fliers Pieck shoves under his nose.  

He finds it curious that she’s even interested in the school’s upcoming musical, although she’s never been normal in the first place. She had transferred here a month into the new school year. The teachers adored her for her intelligence and her willingness to participate in class. Her academic credentials were undoubtedly impressive: a straight A student with a dozen math and science championship titles under her belt. She would, of course, be representing Liberio High in the International Math Olympiad with all the other math whizzes in their school. She fit quite neatly into her niche of smart, intellectual students destined to graduate one year early and attend an Ivy League just as Porco fit neatly into his own niche of big, burly athletes that were aiming to attend a top-rated sports university on an athletic scholarship. 

Porco is putting his books away in his locker when someone slams it shut, making him jump.  

“Jesus, Pieck!” he yelps. He can feel his heart pounding in his chest. “What the fuck? You could have slammed my fingers in there.”  

“Oh, please. I wouldn’t have done that to the school’s basketball star shooting guard,” Pieck says with a crooked smile. She leans against his locker, her head resting against the cool metal door. “I made sure your precious fingers were out of the way before I closed the locker door.”  

“I’m the point guard,” Porco says even though he’s had to correct Pieck on his position on the basketball team multiple times at this point. He has a feeling she purposely gets it wrong just to annoy him. He can feel the tips of his ears begin to sting, although he doesn’t quite know why. “What do you want anyway? You don’t have to keep reminding me to write my lab report. They’re individual anyway.” 

“Aw, you’re so grown up now,” Pieck coos, and Porco wants to cover his ears before they turn completely red but he resists the urge and keeps his hands at his side. “No, that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about. I just wanted to tell you that I signed you up for the upcoming school musical. The auditions are tomorrow.”  

Porco straightens up in alarm. He would think this were a joke, but he wouldn’t put it past Pieck to scrawl his name down on the audition list for real. She had been talking about it for the past few weeks when auditions were first announced, but he didn’t think she would actually do it. She had math competitions to study for and he had his basketball games. With all the time they put in their current extracurriculars, he didn’t know how they would even have the time to prepare for a musical on the slim chance they managed to pass auditions.  

“You’re joking, right?” he asks, but he feels as if he already knows the answer to that question when he sees the way Pieck’s smile never breaks. He runs a hand through his hair and curses when he sees the grease that covers his fingers from his hair gel. He glares at Pieck as if this is her fault, but she doesn’t seem deterred. “Pieck, I’m not a musical guy. It’s fine if you want to juggle all of these different things — math whiz, science nerd, theater geek — but I have my hands full as it is being -”  

“- a jock?” Pieck finishes for him, eye brow raised. She rolls her eyes, a laugh escaping her lips. For some reason, Porco is beginning to feel ashamed. Pieck pushes herself off Porco’s locker. Her smile is a little less relaxed now, stretched into a thin, tight line. “Come on, Porco. You can’t seriously subscribe to the strict status quo that all your classmates do. It’s all made up by teenagers, for God’s sake. You must want more in life than being shoved into a shoebox labeled ‘high school basketball star.’”  

“Well, maybe I like being a high school basketball star. Maybe you’re dissatisfied with being good at one thing, but I’m perfectly happy with it,” Porco snaps. He hikes the strap of his backpack up his shoulder and looks down at Pieck, but the frown that has replaced her smile doesn’t make him feel very good about defending himself.  

Pieck purses her lips and looks as if she’s about to turn away, but she opens her mouth instead. “You know, I signed you up because I thought it would be fun, and also because I thought you would be good at it.” She looks down at the tiles on the hallway floor, reaching up to brush a lock of hair behind her ear. "I hear you singing sometimes, and I think it’s amazing. You probably don’t even realize it, but you were singing just a few minutes earlier. It was under your breath, but I heard you.”  

Porco’s cheeks begin to flush and he wants to deny it, but he knows that what Pieck says is true. He’s been singing the song for the audition piece because it plays in his head on repeat. He wants to snap at Pieck again and blame her for getting the song stuck in his head in the first place, but he knows that there isn’t any point. She isn’t saying anything hurtful, just pointing something out what he’s been trying to ignore for years: he enjoys music. If it wasn’t the song for the musical, it would be some other song that he’d be singing under his breath. Even if he’d never admit it out loud, he has thought about what it would feel like to be standing underneath a spotlight on a stage instead of a basketball court.  

“It’s okay if you just want to play basketball, but … I don’t think it’s bad to like other things either,” Pieck says. She raises her brown eyes to meet his hazel ones. One hand reaches out, and Pieck’s fingertips graze Porco’s arm. “We’re too young to be playing personas that other people have written for us. We should be figuring out who we are on our own terms without minding what other people might think of us.”  

Pieck squeezes his arm and Porco watches as she leaves. A few people glance in Pieck’s direction. She’s been a spectacle at their school ever since she had transferred here, and people weren’t used to seeing someone who was on the math team speak with a member of the basketball team. Now that Porco thinks about it, he doesn’t know why that would be enough reason for people to stop and stare. People should be allowed to associate with whoever they like regardless of what clubs they’re in or sports they play. He knows it’s ridiculous, but he still feels embarrassed anyway and pulls up the collar of his bomber jacket and skulks away as if he’s done something shameful. 

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ 

“Are you auditioning for the musical or something?”  

Porco has never particularly liked Reiner Braun, but the power forward’s voice is especially grating today. After his conversation with Pieck earlier this morning, Porco finds he’s especially irritable, but he doesn’t want to take it out on anyone recklessly so he grits his teeth and asks, “What are you talking about?”  

A panic seizes his chest and he can feel his heart rate pick up. Paranoia begins to pick away at Porco, whispering in his ear. Reiner Braun must have seen you talking with Pieck. He must know that you’ve been thinking about what Pieck had said. He must have seen your name on the audition list. Porco doesn’t know why the thought of Reiner knowing about his conversation with Pieck bothers him so much, but he tries to play it nonchalant despite the clamminess in his hands. He shoots a ball at the hoop in front of him and misses terribly.  

Reiner, always happy to see Porco failing, grins when he sees Porco’s missed shot. He turns back to Porco, a knowing smile on his face. “Come on, everyone’s heard you singing the audition song in the locker room. Even if you’re singing it under your breath, we can all hear you. You’re not seriously thinking of auditioning, are you?”  

Last year, Porco would have scoffed and told Reiner he was stupid for even entertaining the thought. A basketball player didn’t have any place in the school musical. People at this school adhere so much to their little stereotyped boxes that Porco never would have considered auditioning for the school musical until Pieck had waltzed in and started singing that damn song. Now is his chance to deny it, but he doesn’t want to. All he can think about instead is how annoying it is to have Reiner’s judgmental sneer in his face and how there isn’t any harm in just auditioning for a dumb school play.  

“I don’t really see how that’s any of your business,” Porco finds himself saying instead and Reiner steps back, startled at his teammate’s answer.  

“Well, it kind of is my business. It’s everyone’s business. You can’t be making these types of decisions by yourself,” Reiner begins, and already Porco finds his temper rising. Reiner continues, not noticing the way Porco’s grip on the basketball tighten. “You’re part of a basketball team, and a pretty important part of the team, and it’s everyone’s job to get to the championship. If you’re taking time to sing and dance on stage for a stupid school play, you might cost us first place. We haven’t lost first place in years. The whole school is counting on us.”  

“I didn’t ask for this responsibility!” Porco snaps. Why should an entire championship hinge on the shoulders of a teenage boy? Why shouldn’t he be able to do a silly little play even if his talents might lie elsewhere? Why can’t he just do things he enjoys without everyone having a say in what he should and shouldn’t do?  

Reiner’s smile falters and his brow furrows. “You’ve been awfully strange lately. Basketball used to be the only thing you cared about. The rest of the team has been concerned, too. ” The corner of Reiner’s lip twitches in a knowing smile. “I know you’ve been getting closer to Pieck, but I don’t think you should hang out with her anymore. You only started acting weird after meeting her.”  

Porco’s patience was already wearing thin. At the mention of Pieck’s name — with the implication that Pieck was the reason for his declining performance in basketball practice — his patience snaps entirely, but rather than throwing a fist or hurling insults at his teammate, Porco simply asks Reiner, “Why are you dating Historia?” 

Reiner’s smile falters once more, caught off guard by Porco’s question. “Why are you asking -”  

“Why do you like Historia?” Porco interrupts.  

Reiner’s brow furrows and he shrinks down, his shoulders hunching over. It’s a stark contrast to the way he typically holds himself: confident, brash, bold. Now, he seems uncertain as he fumbles for an answer. “She’s the head cheerleader. Why wouldn’t I like her?” Reiner replies, but his smile is too shaky for his response to be one hundred percent truthful.  

“So if she weren’t the head cheerleader, you wouldn’t even give her a second glance?” Porco asks.  

“Why are you asking me this?” Reiner asks. His cheeks are turning red as he becomes more and more flustered. He pulls at the collar of his jersey, fanning himself, and turns his face away from Porco. “Look, I like Historia. Doesn’t it just make sense that we’d be together? I’m the power forward on the basketball team. She’s the head cheerleader. We complement each other.”  

“Do you, though?” Porco steps forward, challenging Reiner. Reiner had outgrown him years ago, gaining several inches in height as everyone was going through their growth spurts. Porco could never keep up with him in height, but now he feels like he’s like he’s the one towering over Reiner as the power forward continues to shrink down with doubt. “Forget about whatever cliques or extracurricular groups we’re in for a second. Do you like her? Do you like being with her? What do you two even talk about?”  

Porco feels like he knows the answers to all those questions, and he asks them anyway. Two months ago, Reiner and Historia had never even spoken a word to each other. It was only when Pieck had transferred here that they began talking. When Pieck was about to be seated in the back, Reiner raised his hand and volunteered to give up his seat in the second row for her so that Pieck would be able to see better. He sat next to Historia and, although the cheerleader seemed disinterested at first, the two eventually went out, but Porco always felt strange about their relationship. They didn’t seem affectionate except for the occasional chaste kiss on the cheek at basketball games. When they hung out at parties, Historia was always tapping away at her phone. Reiner talked to his friends on the basketball court than he talked to Historia. They are the biggest couple on campus, but they don’t seem to like each other very much.  

Reiner must know that, too, because his face begins to contort in confusion and then in anger. “What’s your fucking problem, Galliard?”  

“What’s your problem?” Porco asks. “What makes you think you have the right to criticize my relationship with Pieck when your relationship with Historia seems so vapid in comparison? Woohoo, hot basketball star with the head cheerleader, but you guys don’t even talk to each other unless people are watching you. You have a deeper relationship with Bertholdt than Historia.” 

Something about what Porco says angers Reiner even more. In his anger, Reiner grabs the basketball from Porco only to throw it angrily back at him. He throws it with such force that Porco has to stumble backward when he catches it. The basketball feels like a punch to the gut.  

“Fuck you,” Reiner snarls, and he turns and stalks off but not in time to hide the slight trembling of his voice.  

Porco can feel his blood pumping, thrumming in his ears. He grips the basketball tightly between his hands and turns towards the hoop. He’s standing at the free throw line, but the hoop somehow feels further than it normally is. He prepares himself to take a shot, bending down slightly to aim. He flings the ball forward and misses entirely. It isn’t even close.  

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ 

For all his brave words to Reiner and challenging who they should and shouldn’t be associating with, Porco doesn’t make any further moves to rock the boat. He wants to avoid the curious glances from his classmates and judgmental stares from his peers. He keeps his lips pressed tightly together. He doesn’t even dare to hum the song under his breath for fear of being overheard. He doesn’t want anyone — any innocent classmates passing by, Pieck, or even himself — to get the wrong idea.  

Still, he finds the flyer being slipped over his desk every day leading up to the audition. Pieck doesn’t say much when she sends the flyer in his direction. She slips it to him wordlessly every morning before their chemistry lecture starts and then ignores him for the rest of the class unless they have to discuss the reading together or work on an experiment. She’s not her usual bubbly self even when he’s kinder to her than usual, asking her mundane questions about her day or classes that he normally wouldn’t. He’s grateful for her curt answers no matter how short because at least that means he gets to hear his voice. He wonders if he should apologize, but he doesn’t know what for exactly. He’s never really been the best at apologies in the first place.  

At the end of each chemistry class, she taps again at the flyer. She raises her eyes towards his face but never quite meets his eyes. Quietly, she always says, “The audition is soon. It would be good if you could make it.”  

He always makes up the same excuse. His words always ring hollow in his ears. He wonders if Pieck hears it, too, the hesitancy in his voice when he says he can’t audition because he doesn’t know the words and he doesn’t have the time to rehearse because he has basketball practice. The truth is that he knows every single line, he’s memorized it and hears her sing every word in his head every second of every day. He knows the song by heart and he can envision himself singing it alongside her, his voice harmonizing with hers as they stand underneath the spotlight. Even thinking about it is thrilling. It makes his heart beat faster than any basketball game ever did, but it’s not something he’s willing to ever admit so he ignores the pounding in his chest and tells Pieck there’s no way he could ever audition. He isn’t meant for it. She should go audition for it if it’s something she really wants to do, but she shouldn’t count on him to show up.  

“I think you’d do great,” Pieck says on the day of the audition. Her finger is pointed towards the flyer once more, tapping on the date which is circled in red pen in case Porco misses it. She finally meets his gaze today, and she looks almost hopeful even though he’s tried to crush any hopes she had every other day.  

“I have practice,” Porco mumbles, and he doesn’t even take the flyer this time. He leaves it on his desk and grabs his backpack instead, hustling out of the room as fast as he can so he can avoid Pieck’s disappointed gaze.  

He hurries off to practice, but it feels like he’s running away from something. Even once he’s changed into his jersey and running on the court with his teammates, he can’t stop thinking of how he had left Pieck standing alone at their desk. He had never promised her anything, and yet it feels as if he’s abandoned her. His mind is filled with her — her lonely silhouette standing underneath the bright stage lights, her disappointed expression every time he turned her down, her voice echoing across the empty auditorium. He doesn’t hear the voice of his coach yelling at him or his teammates shouting at him when they tell him to pass the ball. All he can hear is that song again, the song that he would have sang if he went to the audition.  

“What’s wrong with you?” his coach shouts before pulling him out of practice to sit on the bench.  

Porco wishes he could answer, but it’s too complex to give a straight answer so he sits on the cold, metal bench and stares at his shoes. Every so often, he glances at the clock on the wall and grows more anxious with every minute that passes. It’s almost four o’clock. That’s when the auditions are meant to conclude. Had Pieck already gone? Had she auditioned by herself, singing that song that was meant to be a duet? Had she gone on without him, doing something he was too afraid to do himself?  

He tastes blood on his tongue and jerks his head back in surprise. He hadn’t even noticed he had started chewing on his thumb nail. He bit too close to the quick and now his thumb is bleeding. He staunches the blood by pressing it against the hem of his shorts, but the material does little to stop the bleeding. He curses and looks back up at the clock. How can move so agonizingly slow and so fast at the same time?  

Without warning, he stands up and begins to run toward the gym entrance. 

“Galliard!” the coach shouts. “Where the fuck are you going?”  

Where I should have been all along, Porco thinks, but he doesn’t say it out loud. He has more important things to do.  

He stumbles through the back of the auditorium and he can see other people who have just finished auditioning looking at him quizzically. They’re people he can’t recognize, part of the theater geek circle that he doesn’t associate with. They’re probably wondering why he’s there at all, and Porco would wonder the same thing if he couldn’t hear Pieck’s voice ringing through the theater. 

He creeps through the backstage towards the sound of Pieck’s voice, clear as crystal as she sings half a duet. It sounds empty without the other person singing the other half, but she keeps her voice steady as she sings, undeterred that she’s singing alone.  

Porco finally reaches the curtain and pushes it back slightly to catch a glimpse of Pieck. Her back is turned towards him and she faces the drama instructor, her voice never wavering even under the director’s stern gaze. She only has the piano to accompany her, but she sings confidently. Her voice fills the entire theater and Porco can hear it, the missing half of the song. He doesn’t realize that he’s singing along with her, that it’s not his imagination that’s filling in the gap but his own voice, until Pieck turns toward him. 

She doesn’t look angry at him or even surprised. Her lips turn upward as she sings and she gestures for him to step forward, to join her onstage, and he takes her invitation, never missing a beat even when he feels the heat of the spotlight on his skin. 

“We’re soaring, flying,” Porco sings, his voice mingling with Pieck’s. He thought his legs would shake as soon as he stepped on stage, but he feels at ease by her side. “There’s not a star in heaven we can’t reach.”  

His eyes meet Pieck’s and he can feel his own lips stretch into a smile even as he sings. He’s not sure if he’s meant to be on stage. He doesn’t know if he’ll even make it past this audition, but he knows that this feels thrilling, like he’s broken chains that he didn’t know were shackled to him. He feels like he’s finally free.  

[pickalilywrites]

I was today years old when I learned that when you type “otp: true” in AO3 search results it filters out fics with additional ships, leaving only the fics where your otp is the main ship

[pickalilywrites]

Levi and Zeke reunite in a future life, in the same preschool daycare

thanks :)

the worst things come in small packages

levi ackerman. special ops squad. zeke jaeger. preschool au. 1093 words.

Levi’s colleagues look skeptically at the pen where the preschoolers are currently playing with each other. He had gathered them here saying it was an emergency, but there hardly seems to be anything dangerous about the group of toddlers stacking blocks and playing with stuffed animals. Nobody has said anything because, despite being reincarnated in a life where they no longer have military rankings, they still feel weird about refusing any orders from their former captain. They just exchange perplexed glances with each other as Levi continues to glare pointedly at one golden-haired toddler sitting in the center of the pen with a stuffed ape. 

“Are you sure it was necessary to call everyone over?” Petra asks. She glances at Eld and Auruo. “I know you mentioned he was your adversary in our past lives, but we shouldn’t be leaving the other class unattended.”  

“They’re not unattended. Gunther’s looking after them,” Eld says. 

On the other side of the room, Gunther is standing at the open door that connects his and Eld’s classroom with Petra and Levi’s. At the mention of his name, he shoots his friends a smile and gives them two thumbs up. He hasn’t joined their circle, but he’s been watching from the side of the room because he hadn’t wanted to miss anything. Every once in a while, he glances back at his own classroom just to make sure that his students haven’t gotten into any trouble. 

“I don’t think you understand. He was indirectly responsible for your deaths and the deaths of many others,” Levi says. His gaze hasn’t left the toddler that was supposedly responsible for mass murder in their past lives. Despite Levi’s hostile glare, the preschooler remains oblivious and continues to play amongst his classmates. 

“I thought you said that was Eren’s fault,” Auruo says. “That punk. We never raised him to be like that!”  

“The situation was really complicated after you all died. Anyway, Zeke played a really big part in it,” Levi says with another glower.  

“Can we really punish him for something he did in his past life, though? He probably doesn’t even remember,” Petra says. Somehow, her reluctance to take action feels worse than any other betrayal Levi could ever experience, and she hastily looks away when she realizes that Levi has directed his glare at her. She self-consciously tucks a lock of hair behind her ear as she continues, “He’s been really sweet otherwise. Maybe this life will be different.”  

“What would you expect us to do anyway? Kill a baby?” Eld snorts. He yelps when Petra elbows him in the ribs. He sniffs and rubs at his side, mumbling, “Come on, it’s not like they can hear us anyway.” 

“I wouldn’t put killing off the table,” Levi says. He doesn’t have to look at Petra to know she’s wearing a disapproving expression and tells her, “Don’t give me that look. He almost wiped out the entire Scouting Legion. He transformed an entire village into Titans as an experiment.”  

“He’s a child,” Petra hisses.  

“I don’t know. Maybe he’ll adopt the same murderous characteristics as he had in his past life,” Auruo says, always siding with Levi even in this life even though backing Levi as a teacher’s aide won’t grant him very many favors. Then again, doing so as Levi’s subordinate in their past lives didn’t help very much either. To Petra, Auruo sniggers, “You nag as much in this life as you did in our past one.”  

“And you’re as insufferable in this reincarnation as you were in our last,” Petra retorts and Auruo turns beet red as he splutters indignantly. 

“On a more serious note, has Zeke actually done anything to make you believe that he’s a danger to anyone in this life?” Eld asks and everyone turns to look at Levi. 

Levi’s former squad doesn’t understand because they weren’t present when Zeke arrived on Paradise, and they hadn’t been acquainted with the former Beast Titan when he had formed an alliance with Paradis. Even though Levi had filled them in on the atrocities that Zeke had committed, they had never experienced it firsthand and it makes it difficult for Levi to believe that they truly understand the gravity of the situation or the depths of Zeke’s cruelty. Zeke is capable of playing the long game, taking his time to build trust so that he can strike a devastating blow just when it will hurt the most. 

Still, it’s not as if he’s done anything yet so Levi reluctantly replies, “... No.” 

“In that case, I don’t think we have anything to worry about. We’ll keep an eye out for him, but let’s just give him the benefit of the doubt or else we might just be worrying for nothing.” Eld clasps a hand on Levi’s shoulder and gives it a squeeze. The gesture is meant to be reassuring, but it only irritates Levi.  

“I think we should all attend to our classes now,” Gunther says, glancing at the clock. This little recess has taken longer than it should have. He smiles apologetically when Levi directs his ire towards him. “Sorry, Levi. It just doesn’t seem like a big issue. If this problem child proves to be an actual problem child beyond speculation, I’m sure we’ll be able to deal with it then.” 

Auruo and Eld nod in agreement before giving Levi a half-hearted apology and shuffling back to their classroom.  

“It’s sweet that you’re so concerned, but I hope you don’t hold his past life against him. I know we’re all very similar, but this life isn’t as merciless as our last one,” Petra says to Levi. She gives him a smile before heading towards the playpen where their students are.  

Levi still isn’t reassured. He watches with narrowed eyes as Petra talks to all the students, laughing as she tries to guess what some of them have built out of their blocks. His frown deepens when he sees she’s stopped to talk to Zeke, who is showing her the stuffed ape he’s been playing with the entire break. Petra is far too attentive as Zeke speaks, nodding as he talks to her. Levi’s jaw clenches when he sees Zeke raise his arms to be carried by Petra and she complies with the child’s wishes with another laugh.  

Levi glowers as Petra lifts Zeke in her arms. Her back is turned to Levi, but Zeke’s face is turned towards him. Their eyes make contact and Zeke’s mouth widens in a smile. It looks suspiciously like a smirk.  

[pickalilywrites]

[pickalilywrites]

[pickalilywrites]

Zeke a fragrance model promoting new male cologne. His younger brother is embarrass of him

ty this was fun :) it made me enjoy writing again even though i've been tired lately. have a good day

my brother is a top model

104th trainee squad. college au. 1516 words.

When Eren was younger, he loved the fact that his older brother was a celebrity because of the numerous perks it came with: autographs from other celebrities Zeke had collaborated with, free promotional goodies and merchandise from companies Zeke modeled for, and all the luxuries that Zeke treated him to because he couldn’t help but spoil his younger brother. Even though he wasn’t in the entertainment industry like his older brother was, Eren got to enjoy fame just by being associated with Zeke, and Zeke always liked to mention his younger brother during interviews. Classmates would clamor at his desk during breaktimes and fight to sit at the same table as him during lunch. Even the older students tried their hardest to get his attention. Paparazzi, journalists, and fans of Zeke would chase him down after school to get any information they could about his brother, and it caused such a disruption that the school had to hire security just to ensure everybody’s safety. It’s something Eren had bragged about in his younger years, but he’s since outgrown the attention.  

“I don’t really understand how you could grow out of something like that. I feel like the pros far outweigh the cons,” Connie says as they walk down the busy street towards the large mall downtown. It was a popular hangout when they were college freshmen, but now they typically frequent bars and restaurants and only go to the mall if they need to go shopping for something. In this particular case, Sasha and Connie had only mentioned they needed to get “something” with a big of vague hand waving and Eren hadn’t asked for any further details. 

“Well, different people have different values -” Armin begins. 

“Yeah, and I value not having to see my brother’s abs plastered on every advertisement that I come across,” Eren says with a roll of his eyes. With how averse he is to seeing his brother everywhere, some people might think he hates Zeke, but the reality is just that it’s awkward seeing his brother’s professional thirst traps in public. “Do you know how bad it was when he was modeling those jeans? Those photos barely showed his jeans, they were practically just ab shots!”  

“I remember those! Your brother looked really good,” Sasha says. She doesn’t even flinch when Eren shoots her a glare and instead she and Connie burst into giggles at Eren’s dirty look.  

“I still don’t know why you need to throw a fit over it. Your brother is just doing his job,” Jean says with a shrug. “Just bask in the residual limelight and let him shower you with presents.” 

Eren sighs. He’s not sure if any of his friends truly understand his plight, but they’ve always taken his relation to Zeke much better than other people. Instead of freaking out or taking advantage of him for his brother, they’ve just treated Eren normally and it’s something he really values about them. To them, Eren is a normal civilian because he’s going through the same motions as them instead of being caught up in the entertainment industry like his older brother. Unfortunately, they just can’t grasp the fact that he’s not far enough from Zeke’s celebrity to be considered normal. It’s even worse now that Zeke’s older. 

“It’s different from before,” Eren protests. “Zeke used to be this wholesome child model for children’s clothing. It wasn’t that bad when he got older and modeled as a teenager, but have you seen the stuff he’s been up to lately? He’s practically naked half the time. He was modeling another clothing line and the photo they chose was him taking off the shirt. How do people even see the product? They’re selling so much of his sex appeal that he’s practically a porn star!”  

“Wouldn’t that be better?” Armin asks. He walks with his head down like he usually does, oblivious to the inquisitive glances that his friends give him. “If he were a porn star, most people would deny knowing his name because watching porn is so stigmatized even though it’s a normal way for people to take care of their sexual needs.”  

“Do you watch porn?” Mikasa asks Armin bluntly. 

“H-huh?” Armin stammers, startled at how casually Mikasa had asked. A pink flush is blooming across his cheeks as he stumbles over his response. “Well, that’s, ah, it’s normal, right? Of course, I watch it sometimes but it’s not like I watch it every day -”  

“We should watch some together sometime,” Mikasa says, which only makes Armin’s cheeks flush a deeper shade of pink. 

“Okay, as much as all of us would love to flirt with Armin right now, we have bigger problems at hand,” Eren says.  

“How is your brother being a top model our collective problem?” Jean snorts.  

“Yeah, what do you expect us to do about it?” Sasha chimes in. “Convince your brother to switch to being a cam boy? With the career he has, don’t you think it would attract even more attention, which is exactly the opposite of what you want?”  

“His image is going to switch from being a wholesome, hot supermodel who loves his younger brother to a raunchy porn star. Even if he doesn’t end up doing incest porn, you know there are absolutely going to be people who make bad incest porn with actors that look like you and Zeke,” Connie says.  

Eren groans. He had simply wanted to complain to his friends, but they’ve somehow made everything worse and now he can’t stop picturing his brother being a porn star. He didn’t think anything was worse than his brother shooting sexy promotional advertisements, but his brother shooting porn — and people making their own bad incest porn using a fictionalized version of his brother and presumably him — is infinitely worse.  

“I thought you guys were supposed to be my friends,” Eren grumbles.  

“We are. That’s why we wanted to show you this,” Sasha says with a grin, throwing her arm over Eren’s shoulders as Connie does the same on his other side. When she sees Eren’s panicked expression, her wicked smile only grows wider. 

“I told you guys this was a bad idea,” Armin warns from behind, which only makes Eren’s dread grow.  

Eren’s eyes flit from Sasha to Connie. He could struggle against them, but they have him trapped between them and he doubts Mikasa, Armin, or Jean will help him. “Wh-what’s going on?”  

“Sorry,” Armin mumbles. 

“You’ll be fine,” Mikasa says as Jean snickers beside her.  

“Did Zeke tell you about the new videos he shot for Paradis? They have a new fragrance line and everyone’s going crazy about Zeke’s ad,” Connie says, his grin as equally wicked as Sasha’s if not more.  

Even though everything in Eren’s body tells him to turn and run away, he walks robotically as his friends lead him to the entrance of the mall. At the very front of the mall above the entrance is a large screen that runs advertisements and the ad playing at this particular moment has a very familiar face. It’s too familiar.  

“No,” Eren gasps in horror, but it’s too late. 

Zeke’s face fills the entire screen and the camera slowly pans out. Eren’s brother lifts his head, an angelic halo surrounding him as his eyes close and he spritzes his neck with Paradis’ newest fragrance: Wings of Freedom. The camera continues to pan out, revealing more and more of Zeke’s body. 

“No!” Eren stumbles towards the entrance in horror. He can only stare up at his brother’s bare body helplessly. “No!”  

Eren’s friends snicker as more and more of Zeke’s body is exposed: his rippling biceps, his six-pack abs, his thick and muscular thighs. The only part of his body that has been discreetly covered is his crotch which is hidden by a black satin ribbon. They’ve somehow even managed to get a shot of the side of Zeke’s shapely ass. Everyone might be going crazy of this advertisement, but Eren has seen far too much of his brother than he ever cared to see. 

“Amazing how much they can get away with without showing him entirely naked,” Armin says in a futile attempt to lighten the mood. 

The screen switches back to Zeke’s face. Eren’s brother smiles seductively at the camera and says in a deep, husky voice, “Free yourself with Wings of Freedom.”  

Somehow it’s this, not the sight of his brother almost buck naked, that makes Eren’s knees buckle in the middle of the parking lot.  

Mikasa is already there to catch him so that he doesn’t smash his face into the pavement. She holds him up, allowing him to lean against her as she rolls his eyes at his dramatics. “You okay?”  

“I would like freedom,” Eren says finally. “Freedom from the shackles of this mortal coil.”  

“He’s fine,” Mikasa announces as their friends laugh at Eren’s expense. She walks half-dragging, half-leading Eren alongside her. She pats him comfortingly on the back. “Come on. Let’s go get you an ice cream. At least Zeke isn’t a food model.”  

[pickalilywrites]

Armin and Annie's first kiss being shy, delicate, and awkward

Their first kiss happening naturally, under the rain or alone by the beach or in the middle of a crowded square – the location doesn't matter

Their first kiss with their hearts picking up the speed; is it happening? This is happening? He will kiss me? She will kiss me back?

Their first kiss being experimental, soft, because it's their first kiss, they don't know how it goes, so it's just a simple brush of lips

Their first kiss with Armin's hand hesitant, hovering over her back, not sure what to do

Their first kiss with Annie's fingers on his cheeks, feeling the heat of them, and holding him closer to her

Their first kiss

And the way they glance around after they pull apart, making sure no one saw them

[pickalilywrites]

shoujo rivetra 😭😭😭

[pickalilywrites]

Levi plans to asks out Petra for Valentines day, but Zeke beats him to it. Feeling upset by it, he stays in, but receives a call from Petra herself asking if she could come over after a terrible date with Zeke.

last one. thanks for waiting :)

right here waiting

rivetra. high school au. 2689 words

Once again, Levi misses the entrance to “Wings of Freedom,” a song he and his friends have rehearsed at least a hundred times by now. He knows the song by heart, but he keeps coming in half a beat early because his mind is elsewhere. Mike and Hanji are about to keep going, but Levi makes a rewinding gesture with his finger to signal them to go back to the beginning even though this is the fifth time tonight he’s messed up the beginning. This isn’t even the first song Levi’s messed up. They’ve been at it for an hour already and the entrances that Levi hasn’t missed have been sung with flat notes and were completely void of feeling. At this latest mistake, Mike and Hanji exchange looks.  

Rather than strumming the opening chords once more, Hanji tucks their pick into the strings of their guitar. “Do you want to take a break, Levi? You seem kind of out of it. It’s not like we don’t practice every other day. We could take tonight off,” they suggest.  

“I’m not out of it. I’m fine,” Levi snaps perhaps more harshly than he intended based on the eyebrow that Mike raises. He’ll feel guilty about it later and give Hanji a belated apology once he’s in a better mood. Thankfully, his friend knows about his moods enough not to mind. With a sigh, Levi rubs his face and says more calmly, “It’s fine. Let’s just take it from the top again.”  

Mike has already set his drumsticks aside and stretches his arms above his head. “Nah, let’s take a break. I could use one, and you’re in one of those moods again. Might as well just call it a night so you can spend the night being grumpy about Zeke and Petra without any distractions,” he says as Hanji snickers.  

“There’s no Zeke and Petra,” Levi snaps reflexively even though he should be denying that he’s grumpy about them in the first place.  

The drummer of their band has hit the nail on the head, though. Levi’s been in a horrible mood leading up to today. It’s not that he hates Valentine’s Day. Most years he doesn’t pay any attention to it, but this year is different because he had plans. He had only failed to act upon them fast enough and suddenly Petra had been swept away on a date by someone else. To make things worse, the person who had asked Petra out before Levi could get the question out of his mouth is Zeke Jaeger, the most pretentious asshole in their school. It’s enough to make Levi swear off all subsequent Valentine’s Days altogether. 

“I mean, there’s kind of a Zeke and Petra,” Hanji says. They pull up a chair and sit backwards on it, their arms resting on the back of the chair. “They’re going out tonight. They’ve probably had dinner at a nice, swanky restaurants, the ones that cook the steaks right in front of you. But should you really feel bad? If Petra’s going out with someone like Zeke Jaeger, you have to question her taste in men. Maybe you dodged a bullet.”  

Mike shakes his head. “It’s not her fault. That guy is charming as fuck. He really buttered me up talking about indie bands. Just when I thought we were being great friends, he asked me if I could lend him my history homework because he forgot to do it last night. He knows how to get people to like him. He’s insidious,” Mike says. 

“SAT word,” Hanji says, throwing up a hand to air high-five Mike.  

“Did you give him your homework?” Levi asks Mike. 

“... yes,” Mike admits reluctantly. 

“Tch.” 

“He’s really charismatic!” Mike protests as Hanji cackles.  

“Well, I guess that’s true. It’s hard not to like him when he’s directed his attention towards you. The dude is charming and sociable, pretty much everything you’re not,” Hanji says to Levi who scowls in reply. Hanji should probably stop talking now if they want to avoid Levi’s ire, but somehow they’ve never felt the need to watch Levi’s temper. “I guess it’s not really Petra’s fault in the end. Does she even know you’re interested in her? If you really wanted to pursue her, you should have asked her out before Zeke. She probably went with him because she didn’t think you were interested in dating her.”  

“It’s fine. It’s whatever. It’s over now, so can we just ... practice or whatever?” Levi asks because he doesn’t want to talk about it right now or ever. He’d really like to just play music the entire night, but he knows that his lack of concentration is going to make any rehearsal difficult. He hears Mike and Hanji start up the first few bars of “Wings of Freedom” once more, but they play half-heartedly, their own morale affected by Levi’s bad mood. In the end, Levi lets out a tired sigh and sits on the couch in the corner of the garage and curls up with the notebook he and the others use to scrawl lyrics when they’re brainstorming.  

The walls of the garage reverberate from the drum beats that Mike practices, a low, syncopated rhythm that pulses against Levi’s ear. Hanji is strumming away softly, practicing a different song. As they play, they hum the countermelody to a song that is still in their drafts. The noise is something that would probably distract other people from writing new music, but Levi is used to it by now and filters it out, allowing it to fade into the background of his mind as he fiddles with his pencil and stares at a blank page. He doesn’t write a word on it but he can already see the words “I’m sorry” scribbled over and over the page in his own handwriting.  

He’s not sure why his own hesitation is preventing him from asking Petra out. They’re just words, and the worst thing she can do is say no. At least he believed that was the worst thing that could happen. It turns out that not doing anything and having the worst person in the world ask out the girl he likes instead is the worst thing that can happen. But if Levi is too much of a coward to ask Petra out, does he even deserve to go out with her in the first place? Maybe he should resign himself to being a pathetic loner for the rest of his life. 

Levi is still moping on the couch when his phone vibrates. Without looking at the screen, he picks up. “What is it?” 

There’s a crackle on the other end and the sound of cars passing by. The person on the other side doesn’t speak, just makes a noise like sniffling, and for a moment Levi wonders if he’s being prank called. He has half a mind to just hang up when he suddenly hears Petra’s voice.  

“L-Levi, can you c-come pick me up?” she asks, her voice breaking towards the end.  

He’s already off the couch and grabbing his jacket off, shrugging it on while still keeping the phone to his ear. “Yeah, of course. Let me know where to pick you up. I’ll leave right now,” he says, ignoring the curious looks he’s receiving from his bandmates. He nods as Petra tells him the address and lets her know that he’ll be there soon before hanging up. 

“Was that Petra?” Hanji asks, interest piqued. They’ve stopped strumming on their guitar. They’re too excited to stand still, bouncing up and down on the balls of their feet. It’s obvious from the expression on their face that they want to extract as much information from Levi as possible but they’re withholding questions so as to not hold Levi back from the task at hand. “Levi, go to her!”  

Levi’s hand is on the doorknob already. “I’m going,” he scowls.  

“Go to her, Levi!” Mike echoes with a grin on his face.  

“Go to her! Go to her!” Hanji and Mike call as Levi runs out.  

⑅ ♥̩̥̩♥̩̩̥͙♥̩͙ˊˎ 

Levi isn’t surprised when he pulls up to the address that Petra has given him. It’s Giovanni’s, one of those steakhouses that people dress up to go to and where the chefs cook the steaks right in front of you. It’s on the other side of town where most of the upscale restaurants and stores are. Levi’s never been in this area except to drive right past it, but it’s a neighborhood that suits the tastes of a rich, privileged, pretentious surgeon’s son like Zeke.  

As he pulls up to the restaurant, he sees Petra waiting outside, shivering in the cold even though she has a perfectly good men’s blazer folded over her arm. She had taken the time to dress up for the dinner. She’s wearing a off-shoulder cocktail dress made of a rich, red satin with matching heels, and her ginger hair has been curled immaculately to frame her face. She must have been wearing makeup earlier, but the only evidence of it is the faint red that still stains her lips. Her eyes are still red from crying, but her expression turns from sadness to relief when she sees Levi’s beat-up car pull into a parking spot.  

She hurries to the car, heels clicking against the pavement, and slips inside. As soon as she gets in, she crumples into the seat. She doesn’t cry, but she’s taking deep breaths as she tries to compose herself. After a while, she says shakily, “I don’t want to talk about it.”  

“Okay” is all Levi says and he pulls out of the parking lot and starts on the long ride home. He should have turned on the radio so Petra wouldn’t feel self-conscious about crying if she needs to, but there’s too high a chance of radio stations marathoning love songs so he decides silence is the best option. Periodically, he glances at Petra, but she keeps her head down so that her hair covers her face. In her lap sits the blazer folded nicely as her fingers pick off invisible lint.  

They’re stopped at a stoplight when something compels Levi to make conversation.  

“You look pretty,” he tells Petra, and he regrets it instantly. It’s not like him to hand out compliments for free.  

“Yeah, pretty fucking pathetic,” Petra says with a self-deprecating laugh. It’s only now that she lifts her head, brushing her hair away from her face. She leans against the side door, one arm resting on the elbow rest while her cheek is pressed against her hand. Even miserable, she looks beautiful. “This isn’t how I imagined the evening was going to turn out.”  

He wonders how she thought the evening was going to turn out. She probably thought Zeke was going to take her home, maybe kiss her on the doorstep, and then make their relationship official by announcing it to the school on Monday morning. God, the thought of it makes him sick.  

“He left me at the restaurant,” Petra continues without any prompting from Levi. She looks more angry than miserable now, her brows furrowed in frustration as she tries to understand why the night had taken a turn for the worse. She glances at Levi from the corner of her eye to gauge his expression as she recounts the night. “We were having a good time, at least I thought so. He took me to such a nice place, and I dressed up for it, too. We both had the steak and the waiter even said we were such a beautiful couple.”  

Here, she doesn’t notice the slight grimace on Levi’s face.  

“And then he got a call from someone. I didn’t think much of it, although looking back now it was really rude of him to pick up someone else’s call while he was on a date with me, especially since it wasn’t an emergency or anything,” Petra says. The more she speaks, the more she fiddles with the blazer sitting on her lap. She rubs the fabric of the sleeve between her fingers anxiously. “He came back after his call — and we had just ordered a dessert to split between us — and told me had to leave for a party. That junior for Paradis University he interviewed with for admissions called him and invited him to a party, said it was good for an incoming freshman to network with people and get a taste of university life outside of just the academics.”  

“Hmm,” Levi hums as he listens. He doesn’t like a single word he hears. Listening to anything regarding Zeke usually annoys him, but everything Petra has just said is making his blood boil over. He tries to keep his voice calm and level as he asks, “He couldn’t have taken you? Or at least driven you home?” 

“I wasn’t invited. He said it would make me uncomfortable if I went because I wouldn’t know anyone. Never mind that he doesn’t know anyone aside from the person who interviewed him,” Petra says bitterly. She rolls up the blazer now and sets it beside her instead of letting it take up space on her lap. “The party was at a house near the campus. It’s the complete opposite direction of where we live, so Zeke asked me to call one of my friends to pick me up so he could just drive there right away. And then he left me there.”  

“Asshole.”  

“I know!” Petra says, and it gives Levi a level of satisfaction that she agrees with him. She turns to Levi now, her hands on the arm rest between them. “He didn’t even wait for the dessert to come either. He just peeled out of there and I had to pay the bill, too.”  

Levi has always known Zeke was terrible, but everything Petra tells him makes Zeke look exponentially worse. It’s like there’s no limit to how awful that asshole can be. He’s gripping the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles have turned white. 

“He told me he’d pay me back on Monday and then left me with his stupid jacket,” Petra sighs. She flicks the blazer beside her with a finger and then turns away to look out the window again. “I spent an hour crying in the bathroom before I called you. One of the waitresses felt bad for me and snuck me an extra dessert. God, I’m so pathetic.” 

“It’s not you,” Levi tells her. “Zeke just sucks. You deserve better. You deserve someone who respects you and treats you right. You deserve someone who doesn’t make you blame yourself when he’s the one being a shithead.”  

Petra laughs half-heartedly and Levi’s words, but she does seem in better spirits than she was earlier this evening. “If you ever find a guy like that, let me know. Tell him I’ll be right here waiting.”  

Levi wants to be that guy. He wants to be the guy that’s better. He wants to be the one to take Petra to dinner, the one to never abandon her. He wants to be the one that Petra deserves and the one that deserves her, but he’s not sure if he is. All this time he’s been right here waiting to see if he is the right person, but he’s not sure he wants to sit around waiting anymore.  

“Do you want to get ice cream?” he asks Petra. He sees her look at him in surprise and he shrugs in response. “It’s too shitty to end your night like this. Let’s get ice cream.”  

Petra purses her lips, the corners of her mouth turning upward. “I’d like that a lot,” she tells Levi and then sits back in her seat. Her head is turned toward the window once more, but Levi can see the smile on her face in the reflection. 

He decides he won’t hesitate any longer. He’s tired of being a coward. Once Petra has gotten over Zeke, Levi plans to shoot his shot. Until then, he’ll be right here waiting patiently.  

[pickalilywrites]

Marcel helps Porco on what to do for Valentines day with Pieck.

cupid's helper

pokkopiku. modern au. 1089 words.

Pieck loves her boyfriend even though he’s not necessarily the most romantic person in the world. Porco is not one for large, romantic gestures. He’s more practical, always giving her gifts that are functional in addition to fulfilling at least one of her wants. He doesn’t splurge on restaurants, selecting more economical places to wine and dine on dates because it’s more financially responsible. He opts for substance over style, trying to avoid overcrowded and overhyped date spots in favor of timeless and classic date spots that they’ll remember forever. Pieck loves all of this about Porco. She loves how responsible, thoughtful, and practical he is, so it’s unusual when he tells her that for Valentine’s Day he’s planning something big and romantic for them. When she had offered her help, he had staunchly refused, telling her that he had everything covered.  

It’s not as if she doesn’t expect Porco to surprise her every now and then, but it does seem out of the ordinary when she comes home to their apartment one night and rose petals are scattered everywhere on the floor. Candles are lit all around their apartment, their aroma filling the entire living room and filling Pieck’s lungs with the scent of sandalwood.  

“I thought you didn’t like things like this,” Pieck says with a grin, her smile growing wider when she sees the slick suit that Porco is wearing for their night in. She lets him slide her coat off her shoulders and hang it for her on the coat rack. “Don’t you dislike lighting candles in our apartment? They’re a fire hazard, you said.”  

“I can make an exception for tonight. Besides, I’ll blow them out in a bit,” Porco says. He places one hand lightly against the small of Pieck’s back and guides her gently towards the dining room where the table has been set with a tablecloth and their best silverware and china. “I made you dinner tonight.”  

“Ooh, I’m such a lucky gal,” Pieck says, clasping her hands together excitedly. She waits for Porco to pull her chair out for her before she takes her seat. She gazes lovingly at her boyfriend as he retreats into the kitchen to get the first course. She smiles when he places a bowl of cassoulet, a slow-cooked pork and mutton stew cooked with beans and sausage. “You don’t normally make such extravagant meals.”  

“Well, you’re more than worth it,” Porco replies, which only makes Pieck smile grow wider. 

Each dish is more complex and surprising than the next. Porco doesn’t typically show off with his cooking skills, opting for simple and practical dishes because they were budget-friendly and efficient for their busy lifestyles. Following the cassoulet is a creamy lobster risotto and then a colorful panzanella salad before serving the main course of mushroom, spinach, gruyere-stuffed pork tenderloin with a side of saffron rice.  

“This is all so delicious!” Pieck hums as she takes another bite of the succulent tenderloin. “Are you planning on opening a restaurant, Pokko? You should have told me. I could help you manage it.”  

“God, no. I don’t have the patience for that,” Porco snorts. He picks up his wine glass, swirls it, and then takes a sip of it. “This is for you and only you.”  

“What a lucky girl I am,” Pieck smiles. She pretends not to notice when Porco glances at his phone for the dozenth time that night. He’s not usually the type to constantly look at his phone, but it seems tonight he’s more anxious about it than ever. Even now, she can see that he’s itching to check his screen. She wonders what he’s so anxious about.  

“Well, you do only deserve the best,” Porco says. It’s only when he’s speaking to her that he can tear his gaze away from his phone. She’s only just noticed it now, but his smile seems a little more forced than usual. He wipes his mouth with his napkin and gives Pieck another forced smile. “Should I get dessert?”  

“Ooh, yes. That would be lovely,” Pieck says. She purses her lips and watches Porco leave for the kitchen.  

Every time he’s left for the kitchen, he’s always taken his phone. This time, however, he’s left it sitting on the table. He must have forgotten it in his haste. Pieck should probably leave it alone, especially since Porco will be back for it, but her curiosity gets the best of her. Before she knows it, she finds herself reaching across the table and taking Porco’s phone for herself, unlocking it with her own fingerprint since he had added her fingerprints as a biometric password to his device a long time ago.  

Pieck can’t say what she had been expecting, but she certainly didn’t think she would be seeing a slew of messages from Marcel. Based on their conversation, Porco has been messaging his brother throughout the night to give him an update on the Valentine’s Day dinner. Pieck scrolls through the messages quickly, smiling as she reads the chat log between the brothers. It seems Porco had enlisted the help of his older brother to plan this Valentine’s Day date, which explains the uncharacteristic rose petals and candles as well as the extravagant dinner. It even seems that Porco had sent Marcel photos of each dish before he had carried them out to Pieck, asking Marcel’s opinion of the plating and seeking reassurance that everything looked good.  

“What are you doing?”  

Pieck turns around to see her boyfriend carrying a plate of chocolate lava cake. She grins as she holds out her phone, showing Porco his conversation with Marcel. “Did Marcel help you plan all of this?” she asks.  

Porco hurriedly sets the cake on the table before snatching his phone from Pieck. He shoves his phone in the pocket of his trousers with a groan. “You weren’t supposed to see that.”  

“I think it’s cute. You really went above and beyond with this one, and it’s sweet of Marcel to help,” Pieck says. She stands up and cups her boyfriend’s face in her hands. With a mischievous grin, she whispers, “I didn’t know Marcel was so romantic. Should I go on a date with him next?”  

Even though Pieck is clearly joking, Porco grabs Pieck fiercely by the waist and pulls her close. “Don’t even think about it,” he growls against her neck, his breath hot against her skin.  

Pieck just laughs and runs her fingers through his hair before pulling him in for a kiss.  

[pickalilywrites]

School festival during Valentines and Zeke signs up for the kissing booth after getting dumped by Petra to go out with his arch rival, Levi.

best kiss goes to...

zeke jaeger. rivetra. high school au. 2086 words.

A girl comes up shyly to Zeke’s booth, a tentative smile on her face. She’s in his class, sits somewhere in the middle row on the right side of the room, but he can’t remember her name even though they’ve had class together for over half a year. Nonetheless, he smiles broadly as she slips a dollar bill across the table. He sets it aside rather than slipping it into the donation box right away and leans across the table, one elbow resting on the table while his cheek rests against his hand. The girl, unused to the attention, flushes a bright pink when she realizes just how close she is to Zeke. 

“I was wondering when you’d show up,” Zeke says. Even though the girl’s gaze keeps flitting between Zeke and the table’s surface, Zeke retains eye contact as best as he can no matter how flustered she gets. “The festival is ending soon. You should have come earlier.” 

The girl brushes a lock of her red hair behind her ear. Her face is almost the same color. “I thought you didn’t know who I was,” she mumbles. “I figured it wouldn’t matter if I came here or not...” 

“Why would you say that? Of course, I remember you. We have homeroom together, and it would be impossible for me not to notice someone as beautiful as you,” Zeke says. He’s careful not to even attempt to recall her name. That would only result in disaster. Instead, he speaks gently and keeps his tone earnest to make it seem as if he really does remember her. He reaches out to take his hand in hers. When she pulls back in surprise, he only grasps onto her sweaty hand harder. He feigns hurt, looking down ruefully at their clasped hands. “I can’t believe you would think so cruelly of me when I was looking forward to seeing you here all this time.” 

“N-no, that’s not what I was trying to say! I didn’t mean to offend you,” the girl says quickly, even more flustered than she was before. She pulls Zeke’s hand closer to her and insists, “I only meant because I didn’t think someone as amazing as you would notice someone like me. I mean, you’re the star baseball player at our school, and I’m ... I’m a nobody.”  

Zeke looks at her impassioned expression, her flushed cheeks, her bright eyes blazing with fervor. It would be great if he could remember her name now, but his mind draws a blank whenever he tries. He’ll just have to make do with what he has.  

“You’re not nobody to me,” Zeke tells her in a low voice and he sees her eyes widen in surprise at his words. 

Without warning, Zeke leans across the table and pulls her in with one hand on the back of her neck. He allows their lips to meet, swallowing the gasp that escapes the girl’s lips. His thumb strokes the back of her neck and he feels the tension leave her body as she leans into his kiss. Cupping her cheek, he presses his lips against hers harder. A sigh escapes her lips this time and he tries to suppress a smile as he continues to kiss her, guiding her with his mouth. She meets his tongue eagerly with her own. She tastes too sweet, too childish, like cotton candy bubblegum, but Zeke continues to kiss her anyway, using his tongue to entice her as if he can’t get enough.  

When they finally do pull away, she’s flushed with pleasure, her eyes dazed as if she can’t quite comprehend what had just happened. She pulls her hand away from Zeke’s and brings her fingers to brush the lips Zeke had just kissed. “Th-thank you!” she stammers before running away. 

Zeke watches as she runs off. Once she’s out of sight, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and slips the dollar bill she had given him earlier into the donation box.  

“Use protection next time. You might get a girl pregnant,” a voice says, and he looks up to see Yelena standing beside him. His friend had been managing the skewer stand at the end of the row of stalls, but it seems she has a break now. The aroma of freshly grilled meat still clings to the fabric of her school uniform.  

“Why don’t you go terrorize some of the kids at the haunted house? I’m sure they could use your help, and you’re horrifying enough,” Zeke says as he rifles through the donation box. He’s accumulated a decent amount of money over the course of the school festival. Many of the donations were from repeat donors. He glances over at Yelena who’s rolling her eyes at him.  

“Are you sure you’re not using this kissing booth as an unhealthy coping mechanism after being dumped by Petra?” Yelena asks. She pulls up a spare care from a nearby booth and takes a seat next to him. She doesn’t flinch when Zeke glares at her for uttering the name of his ex-girlfriend. “You can deny it all you want, but it’s painfully obvious to everyone else that you’re not over her.” 

“I’m over her. I’m so over her. I don’t even know why you’re bringing her up. We broke up weeks ago,” Zeke says lightly. Yelena has a spectacular habit for getting on his nerves and he won’t allow her to see how annoyed he is that she’s bringing up his ex-girlfriend. He distracts himself by sorting out the donation box money by denomination and stacking them into neat piles. 

It’s been weeks since Petra and Zeke had broken up. He doesn’t know why Yelena continues to bring it up. Is it because Petra had been the first girlfriend of his to ever initiate a break up? Is it because Petra was the first girlfriend he had ever gone out with for more than a month? Is it because Petra had called him out for things he had done that none of his other girlfriends never seemed to mind — canceling dates last minute, prioritizing other things over her, never being the one to initiate conversations  — and for some reason he felt compelled to change for her instead of ignoring her complaints? There’s something about Petra that had been different, at least that’s what Yelena insists, and while Zeke knows he hadn’t been the perfect boyfriend, fuck, at least he was working on it. If Petra had perhaps been a little more patient, he could have been everything she wanted.  

“Okay, so let’s just ignore the fact that you won’t even say her name out loud now. That was totally convincing,” Yelena snorts. “And you don’t have anything to say about her dating Levi?”  

“Why should I care who she dates? We broke up already. If she wants to date a total loser, then that’s her problem,” Zeke huffs. He probably should leave it alone. The more he says, the more he reveals how much it actually bothers him.  

“Loser? I’m pretty sure over half the girls would swoon if Levi Ackerman offered to be their boyfriend,” Yelena says. She watches Zeke from the corner of her eye, gauging his reaction as she speaks. “He doesn’t seem to be a loser anyway. He’s been a perfect gentleman with Petra. He did his shift at the haunted house and waited for her at the themed maid cafe her class was doing. Now they’re strolling the school hand in hand, the total love birds.”  

Zeke purses his lips. He had signed up for the kissing booth specifically to distract himself from anything related to Petra and Levi. He figured that kissing half the student body would feed his ego and would help him forget that his ex-girlfriend and his biggest rival were sneaking into empty classrooms and locking lips somewhere. It was working for a while, but now Yelena has to come and remind him of everything he was trying to forget. 

Yelena tilts her head as she tries to understand the expression on Zeke’s face. Her tone is a little gentler now, a little more understanding, as she says, “Maybe you should find a better distraction. A few kisses from lovestruck girls might not be enough of a diversion. You should look for something more substantial. Maybe look into getting into a new relationship to take your mind off your old one.”  

Zeke casts Yelena a disgruntled look. “No, thanks. I’d rather keep myself available so Petra can come crying back to me once she realizes Levi’s a dud and I’m everything she’s ever wanted.”  

Yelena looks slightly miffed, but she shrugs her shoulders and grumbles, “Suit yourself.”  

A crowd is gathering at the center stage. The student council president, Erwin Smith, smiles. His face is projected on a large screen behind him and bunch of girls squeal. Erwin laughs bashfully at the attention before tapping the microphone in front of him to make sure it’s on. Once he’s confirmed that it’s working, he leans forward to speak into it.  

“Thank you all for joining our school festival today. We’re so lucky to have our festival land on Valentine’s Day,” Erwin says as the students and patrons cheer. He waits for the applause to subside before continuing. He glances off some notecards he prepared before speaking. “Of course, this allows us to create a few new themed events that we wouldn’t have otherwise. One of these being the Valentine’s contest, where students write in and vote on who should win certain categories such as Best Kiss and Best Couple.”  

“Best Kiss?” Zeke repeats. He sits up in his chair, his head turning so quickly toward the stage that his neck snaps. From where he sits, he has a clear view of the stage and the large screen projection with Erwin’s face on it. “Why didn’t anyone tell me about this Valentine’s contest?”  

“It was all over the announcements last week. You would have known about it if you were paying attention to anything other than yourself,” Yelena says. She’s still slumped in her chair, her arms crossed against her chest and her long legs sprawled out. She looks at Zeke with amusement. “Do you really think you’ll win any of these categories? You’re hopelessly single at the moment.”  

“Shh!” Zeke swats at Yelena as he shushes her. His eyes don’t leave the stage for a moment. “I can still win Best Kiss. I’m a shoo-in. I’ve probably made more at this kissing booth than most other stalls have, and you don’t need to be in a relationship to be a good kisser.”  

“You’re only setting yourself up for disappointment,” Yelena sighs, but Zeke ignores her.  

“And now to announce the result of the first category, Best Kiss,” Erwin says. He pauses for dramatic effect, a smile on his lips when he sees that the members of the audience have silenced themselves in anticipation. He pulls out a paper from the front pocket of his blazer and reads the winner. “Petra Ral and Levi Ackerman!”  

The crowd cheers and claps for the couple. Only Zeke is not clapping, instead sitting open-mouthed in surprise.  

“How? That’s not even fair!” Zeke protests. 

“Is it really that unbelievable to you that an actual couple would win Best Kiss over a playboy that’s kissed half the school?” Yelena smirks and Zeke glares at her.  

He watches in horror as Petra ascends the steps of the stage holding Levi’s hand. She’s still wearing the maid uniform from the themed cafe while Levi is still dressed in the vampire costume he had donned for the haunted house. The crowd continues to cheer as the couple are congratulated by Erwin who awards them with a large plush teddy bear and a box of chocolates. Soon, the audience begins to chant for the couple. 

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” the students cheer. 

Zeke knows he can turn his head or close his eyes, but something keeps him from looking away. His eyes are glued to the screen that projects Petra and Levi’s faces, and he feels his veins fill with fury as Levi cups Petra’s face in his hand and pulls her close. Petra’s cheeks flush a pretty pink as her eyes close and Levi draws near. As the their lips meet in an impassioned kiss, the crowd erupts in cheers and Zeke’s anguished scream, unheard by everyone except Yelena who observes her friend with mirth, mingles with their joyous screams. 

[pickalilywrites]

Mikasa shows up at Eren & Armin's apartment to celebrate Valentines day, but he forgets the day and is lying around in his dirty clothes

love with flaws

eremika. modern au. 2063 words.

Mikasa finds it odd but not at all that surprising when Valentine’s Day rolls around and her boyfriend doesn’t call to say he’s picking her up. She had offered to plan their date for today because she knows how overwhelming it can be to schedule a date on Valentine’s Day, but Eren had insisted that he could handle all of it. He just asked her what she would prefer to eat that day and told her he’d pick the best restaurant and that she shouldn’t worry about it. As the day approached, Eren would hint to her about what a wonderful surprise he had for her. She would smile and tell him she was looking for it, but obviously it had slipped his mind because he hadn’t even shown up for their date.  

Mikasa calls him a few times but gives up after the fifth time that he doesn’t pick up. With a sigh, she begins to get dressed and wonders what it is that has made her boyfriend forget today’s date.  

She drives up to the apartment that Eren shares with their childhood friend Armin. When she looks up at their apartment window nothing seems amiss, but she can never tell when it comes to Eren. A sudden wintry breeze cuts across her cheeks and Mikasa wraps her scarf tighter around her neck before heading into the apartment. As she takes the elevator up, she glances down at her phone screen to make sure she hasn’t missed anything from Eren, but she doesn’t see any texts or missed calls. With another sigh, she exits the elevator and makes her way towards Eren’s apartment.  

Before she knocks on the door, she brings her ear towards the door to listen. She doesn’t hear anything unusual, just the usual noise of someone rustling about on the other side. She can also hear the muffled curses, but that’s on par with Eren’s usual routine. At least he’s not doing anything suspicious. He had probably just forgotten.  

Mikasa raps her knuckles against the door three times and waits. She hears another loud curse on the other side and can’t help smiling as she waits for the door to open. Hurried footsteps run towards the door and it opens to reveal a disheveled Eren. He looks like he hasn’t showered, his hair messily tied up in a bun to keep out of his eyes, and he’s wearing shirts and sweatpants that look rumpled and worn.  

“What are you doing here?” Eren asks, looking Mikasa up and down and realizing that there’s something unusual about the way she’s dressed. It’s not that Mikasa doesn’t usually look nice when she goes out, but she is dressed a little better than she normally is for their dates. Eren looks at her, panicked. There are dark bags under his eyes. “Why are you dressed like that?”  

Mikasa squeezes her way into the apartment, slipping in between Eren so that she can take her shoes off in the hallway. She sets her bag on the side table near the door and glances back at Eren who’s still staring at her in confusion. “It’s Valentine’s Day. Why are you dressed like that?”  

“It’s Valentine’s Day?” Eren repeats. “It’s not Valentine’s Day. It’s still the 13th, isn’t it?”  

Mikasa is about to laugh but she realizes that Eren’s serious. He looks genuinely confused and, now that she examines his expression more closely, in a complete state of panic. It explains why he’s still dressed in his pajamas and why he hasn’t even showered. When she looks over at the living room, dirty clothes are strewn all over as if he and Armin haven’t done laundry in days. On the coffee table it looks like an art project gone wrong. There are markers and colored pencils everywhere along with different colored construction paper and sticker sheets. She’s about to ask Eren what he had been so engrossed with when her boyfriend hurriedly runs over to the coffee table and grabs what looks like a large book on the table. Before Mikasa can see what it is, Eren shoves it into a drawer of the side table.  

“What time is it?” Eren asks Mikasa. His hands sit awkwardly on his hips as he tries to pretend he hadn’t just hidden something right in front of her.  

“12:30,” Mikasa replies. She doesn’t ask Eren about the book he had just hidden. If he wanted to tell her, he would have done so already.  

“Shit!” Eren curses. He looks around frantically for his phone before finding it on the console table beside his Switch dock. He calls a number and holds his phone up to his ear as he waits for someone on the other end. When Eren notices the raised eyebrow that Mikasa gives him, he explains, “I made our reservation at 11:30.” 

Mikasa nods as Eren picks up and begins speaking to someone on the other side. She hears him ask about the reservation he had made and shakes her head sympathetically as she listens. From Eren’s responses, the outlook doesn’t look good. The restaurant doesn’t seem to want to refund him even partially for their missed reservation and they don’t have any room for any last minute reservations today because so many other couples are visiting on Valentine’s Day. Eren lets out a loud sigh of disappointment when he hangs up and looks over at Mikasa forlornly. 

“I fucked up,” he tells her.  

“It’s fine,” Mikasa reassures him. She was never a big Valentine’s Day person to begin with. As long as she’s able to spend time with Eren, that’s all that really matters to her. She starts to pick up laundry off the floor. “You should shower and get changed. We can still do something nice.”  

Eren starts towards her, tugging on a dirty shirt in her arms. “You don’t have to do that, Mikasa. I can clean up. I just got a little busy taking care of other things.”  

“It’s not that bad. Just take a shower while I clean up and we can spend more time together,” Mikasa laughs. “We can just order takeout or something. It’s not big deal.”  

Eren pouts. Even as a adult, he has some childish habits he’s never grown out of. “I wanted to take you some place nice or at least do something a little more romantic than takeout,” he sulks, which only makes Mikasa smile even wider.  

“I really don’t mind. We can do something romantic another day,” Mikasa tells him. “You can still make it up to me.”  

Eren sighs. He doesn’t love the alternatives, but it’s better than just standing around in his dirty apartment. He looks around guiltily at all the dirty laundry that has piled up. “Let me at least make dinner for you. I can’t, ugh, you know I can only make premade stuff, but at least I won’t burn the kitchen down.”  

Mikasa has always been easy-going, which might surprise some people. Maybe other people would kick up a fuss of their boyfriend had forgotten about Valentine’s Day and had to settle for cleaning up after them while they waited for their boyfriend to shower and make pasta with marinara from a jar, but she’s known Eren for so long that she’s used to all of this. Besides, he feels genuinely sorry about his Valentine’s Day plans not panning out the way he wanted and he’s taken the change of course incredibly well. Honestly, Eren might be even more disappointed in how things are turning out than Mikasa is.  

She hears the drizzle of the shower head as Eren slips into the shower to clean up, and she hums to herself as she collects all the laundry off the floor. It hadn’t looked like much, but it piles up quickly once she tosses them all into the laundry basket until it’s practically overflowing. She’ll have to remind Eren to do the laundry tonight before he gets distracted by something else.  

As she waits for Eren to finish his shower, she lingers by the coffee table where all the craft supplies are. She doesn’t recall Eren ever having any stationery or craft paper, so he must have gone to buy everything recently. He even has fancy craft scissors, the ones with the fancy edges to create borders when you cut paper. She sits down on the couch and inspects more of what Eren is working on.  

She notices scraps of things that have been written and then crossed out on papers that have been torn out of a notebook, things like “first date,” “first anniversary,” and “first kiss.” Seeing Eren’s scrawl on all of these papers makes the corners of Mikasa’s lips curl upward in a smile. She reaches for another paper when she notices a stack hidden underneath a paper. Curious, she pulls it out and is surprised when she pulls out photos of her and Eren. 

Mikasa flips through all the photos. There’s one of them as kids together playing on the swings. There’s another of her and Eren after a violin recital she had. Another photo shows her and Eren in their graduation gowns at their high school commencement ceremony. The photos range from childhood to a few weeks ago, and Mikasa finds herself smiling as she flips through each one. She’s so busy looking at them that she doesn’t even notice that Eren has finished his shower. 

“Ah, shit. I should have hid everything better,” Eren says. He sits down beside Mikasa and pulls one picture from her hand. It’s one of them at a Waffle House that they had taken after being their first year of college. Eren smiles ruefully at their past selves. “I was up all night making a scrapbook of us. I thought it would be cute, but I miscalculated how much time it would take and didn’t realize I was working on it for so long. I probably should have just bought something.”  

 “No, I love it already,” Mikasa says earnestly. She gestures towards the side table where Eren had hid the book earlier. “Is that what you hid away before? Can I look at it?”  

“You can, but it’s not done yet,” Eren says with a sigh. He leans across her to open the drawer and pulls out the scrapbook. It has a beautiful blue cover decorated with purple flowers and studded with beads and pearls. He sets it across Mikasa’s lap, a nervous look on his face. “I know I’m not the most crafty person in the world, but I think it looks half-decent.”  

Mikasa opens the book and sees collages of her and Eren throughout the years. The pictures are cut out so carefully and paired with different magazine cutouts to match the theme of each page. There are stickers decorating the corners of pages and labels that were written by hand detailing what each photo is. It’s clear that a lot of time and care has been put into it, and it makes Mikasa’s heart swell just going through the first few pages.  

“I love it,” Mikasa tells Eren. She turns to look at him, her cheeks hurting from how widely she’s smiling. “You’re amazing.”  

“I-it’s really nothing,” Eren stammers, his cheeks flushing.  

Mikasa reaches over to rub his knee. “How about we work on this today? I’d love to finish this with you if you don’t mind. I think it’d be the perfect Valentine’s day activity.”  

“Really?” Eren blinks. “That would be amazing. You’re amazing. Wow, I’m so lucky to have you.”  

“I’m lucky to have you, too,” Mikasa laughs.  

She leans over to kiss him and he reciprocates easily, tasting of sharp peppermint from the mouthwash he had so obviously gargled after his shower. She runs one hand through his still damp hair, pushing it away from his face as her lips meld against his. Other people would probably prefer a candlelit dinner and a dozen roses after a meticulously planned date. Mikasa prefers Eren, Eren who is so one-tracked minded that he’ll spend all night on one project and not even realize the day has passed, Eren who cares so much about her that he’ll fill a whole scrapbook with carefully curated photos of them, Eren who she loves with all his flaws because she knows he loves her just the same.  

[pickalilywrites]

Oluo & Gelgar running into each other in the park, surrounded by couples. Both decided to get a drink and something to eat while grumbling about not having a girlfriend while passing by other couples

love is overrated

auruo bossard. gelgar. modern au. 1148 words.

Auruo despises Valentine’s Day. He’s fully convinced that the holiday was invented to torture him and him specifically. Never mind that the holiday originated in the 4th century and wasn’t even associated with romance until the 14th, Auruo is personally offended by everyone who chooses to celebrate it. He’s been grouchy ever since stores started setting up Valentine’s Day displays and promoting their Valentine’s Day products: teddy bears, candies, Him & Her gifts. In recent years, stores have been pushing their Valentine’s Day products earlier and earlier. Sometimes they start promoting it even before New Year’s, choosing to deck out their stores in red and pink hearts as soon as Christmas is over. As usual, capitalism has to make everything ten times worse than it already is.  

This year, Auruo vows to at least try to be a little more mature about the holiday rolling around. He tries not to scowl at every couple making googly eyes at each other or the Valentine’s Day displays that are mocking him from every store window. He makes it ten steps from his apartment building when a couple holding hands and walking their dog in a knitted sweater with a heart pattern passes by and causes a permanent scowl to settle on his face.  

“Stupid couple and their stupid dog,” Auruo grumbles under his breath but he doesn’t bother to lower his voice. The couple and even their dog look his way, alarmed, as well as other in-love passersby and their partners which makes Auruo scowl back at them.  

Could he have stayed inside and avoided all these couples? Sure, but it’s not like Auruo would be immune to Valentine’s Day if he stayed in his apartment. If he stayed at home, he would be constantly subjected to ads for romantic dinners or intimate getaways for couples if he turned on the TV or scrolled through his phone. Even if he did decide to have a day free of technology to avoid those ads and promotions, he’d have to deal with the sounds of his neighbors’ overly passionate sex (which they have regardless of whether it’s Valentine’s Day or not) and even if he did choose to drown them out with a Spotify playlist filled with angst-ridden music about how love doesn’t exist, he’d still be bombarded with ads about the latest love songs or sponsors promoting their Valentine’s Day-related products because he’s not the type to spend money on ad-free subscriptions. Unfortunately, Valentine’s Day is impossible to avoid.  

Auruo thought he would have a better chance of avoiding couples if he went to the park. In his mind, it made sense that couples would go to more upscale locations on Valentine’s Day: high-end restaurants, overpriced cafés, or expensive pottery classes where they teach you how to make heart-shaped vases. He soon finds out, however, that he’s wrong and sees couples strolling around the park with their hands intertwined as they gaze lovingly into each others faces while somehow miraculously not bumping into other couples. To be fair, it’s not as if he knows what couples typically do on Valentine’s Day. Nonetheless, he’s disgruntled to find that his assumption regarding couples, parks, and Valentine’s Day is incorrect.  

He scours the park, searching for a refuge where he can be free of these couples and their love, but it seems they’ve invaded every single inch of the park. He wonders if he should just bury himself in the ground until the day passes and everyone gets over Valentine’s Day so they can move on quickly to St. Patrick’s Day, but then he spots a familiar face staunchly defending the only park bench not occupying a kissing couple.  

“Gelgar?” 

Gelgar is more Hanji’s friend than he is Auruo’s, but the man is familiar enough with Auruo’s voice to turn towards him, his own scowl turning into a puzzled frown. “Auruo? What are you doing here?”  

“Trying to get away from all these dumb couples, but as you can see, that’s impossible,” Auruo sighs, gesturing at all the couples that are wandering around the park together.  

“Dumbass couples, shoving their love in our faces,” Gelgar huffs as he slips further down the bench, arms crossed grumpily across his chest. “How dare they flaunt their relationships as if they’re something special? You know what’s even more incredible? Forging a path for yourself in life alone! Hell, people should dedicate an entire holiday for us people who don’t feel the need to attach ourselves to someone just to feel purpose in life.”  

“Yeah!” Auruo agrees. “People should be buying us chocolate!”  

“Yeah!” Gelgar shouts, startling a few couples that were walking by.  

The two sit on the park bench commiserating together when Auruo suddenly asks, “Do you want to grab a drink?”  

“Yeah. Anything would be better than this,” Gelgar snorts.  

The two leave their park bench and hail a cab to the closest bar. Even if they have to put up with couples in the bar, at least they can drown themselves in enough alcohol to make this horrible holiday bearable.  

Sure enough, the bar is packed with couples. Auruo and Gelgar have to squeeze their way through the crowd until they find a few empty seats. They grumble as they settle into their seats, and Gelgar hails the bartender. 

“Give me your strongest. One for him, too,” Gelgar says, jerking his thumb in Auruo’s direction. To Auruo, Gelgar says, “Don’t worry, I’ll pay for you.”  

“Thanks,” Auruo says, oddly touched by Gelgar’s unexpectedly kind gesture. 

The bartender glances at them as they grab a bottle of vodka and fill up two shot glasses. There’s a small smile on the bartender’s face as he slides the shot glasses across the bar. “You’re a cute couple,” the bartender says to them.  

“We’re not a couple!” Auruo and Gelgar shout at the same time, drawing the attention of other bar patrons and startling the bartender who jumps back half a foot.  

“S-sorry!” the bartender stammers and quickly busies himself with some customers on the other side of the bar. 

“Geez, what an idiot,” Gelgar huffs. He shakes his head and takes a swig of his vodka, downing the entire shot in one go. 

As Gelgar drinks, Auruo observes him. Gelgar isn’t that bad looking. It’s kind of a wonder why Gelgar is still single. He has a decent job, knows great restaurants, and he can be chivalrous. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to date him, and Auruo has been single for a while. 

“You know, since we’re both single anyway-” Auruo begins, but Gelgar shuts him down immediately. 

“Never in a million years,” Gelgar snaps. 

Auruo shuts up and downs his own shot of vodka. It tastes a little more bitter than he expects, although that might just be his disappointment. Not that he has a reason to be disappointed. After all, love is overrated.  

[pickalilywrites]

Levi and Zeke finding their younger sibling/cousin are dating each other on Valentines while they're on their own respective dates. LevixPetra & ZekexYelena

you've got to be fucking kidding me

rivetra. high school au. 1550 words.

Petra can write a whole novel describing Levi and his character. "Romantic” is not one of the words she would use for him, at least not in the traditional sense. He can’t even hold a smile when the waiter tells them that a table is finally available and leads them to their seats. He just scowls and follows the poor, underpaid service worker, and Petra knows that Levi is going to complain about the wait time as soon as the waiter is out of earshot although he’ll be kind enough to leave a large tip. No, Levi isn’t necessarily the romantic type, but he’s certainly endearing in other ways and Petra loves him for it. 

“You didn’t have to book this place, you know,” Petra tells Levi once they’ve taken their seats. She had mentioned off-handedly about how beautiful this café was and how she would try it out if it weren’t for the long wait times. She hadn’t expected Levi to make reservations because he hated waiting in lines at restaurants.  

“It’s fine,” Levi replies, although the scowl on his face says otherwise. He picks up a menu and starts flipping through it. “Although I hadn’t expected to wait half an hour after making a reservation weeks ago.”  

“They probably hadn’t expected so many people to come in on Valentine’s Day,” Petra says.  

“Poor planning on their part,” Levi says dismissively before waving the waiter over to put in their order, a wagyu tagliatelle for him and uni pasta for Petra. He lets the waiter take their menus and is about to lean over and continue his conversation with Petra when an unwelcome guest seats themself at the table beside Levi’s.  

“Levi, I hadn’t expected to see you here,” Zeke says. He settles in his seat, steepling his fingers together as he gazes at Levi with amusement. His smile looks more like a smirk and while he claims to have run into them coincidentally, Levi suspects otherwise. Zeke is too damn nefarious for any accidental run-ins.  

Petra politely greets Yelena, Zeke’s date, who’s taking her seat across from him. Even though Zeke and Levi have never gotten along well, Petra and Yelena have managed to remain on friendly terms. Even as Levi glowers at Zeke, Yelena just rolls her eyes and Petra has to laugh a bit seeing Yelena’s reaction. Knowing that Zeke’s presence is likely to ruin Levi’s mood for the entire day, Petra tries to placate him as best as she can.  

“I heard the pasta here is amazing,” Petra tells Levi, reaching out for his hand. She runs the pad of her thumbs over the knuckles of her boyfriend’s lithe fingers. “They get their seafood fresh every morning.” 

“I should hope so at these prices,” Levi says. His eyes flit towards Zeke, a sour expression on his face as if the exorbitant prices at this establishment are Zeke’s doing. He leans back against his seat, assuming a kind of swagger that he wouldn’t care to put up in front of anyone else. “It’s a shame that you couldn’t get here earlier. The view by the window is quite nice.”  

Petra tries not to scoff. Levi typically hates sitting by the window. He despises having others walking by and making eye contact with them or having them gawk while he’s eating like he’s some kind of animal at the zoo. She’d try to stop him from antagonizing Zeke, but there’s no stopping him once he gets started. She’s also aware that Zeke does his own share of antagonizing Levi. In the grand scheme of things, it might just be better to leave them to their own devices and not get caught in their crossfires.  

“There aren’t any bad seats here with the way they’ve decorated so beautifully,” Zeke says, gesturing at the Rococo-inspired café. “Besides, Yelena and I were lucky to arrive as a table opened. We didn’t have to wait at all. I think you mentioned as we were sitting down that you were not as fortunate.”  

Levi scowls in reply. “It gave Petra and me valuable time to converse with each other as we waited,” he snaps.  

Yelena shares a knowing look with Petra as their boyfriends bicker. Even when the waiters bring out their food, Zeke and Levi continue to swap thinly veiled insults in between bites. Petra is sure that Levi and Zeke won’t stop until one couple finishes eating and leaves first but Levi suddenly stops speaking without warning.  

“I see your wit has run out,” Zeke says with a victorious smile. He looks as if he’s about to continue gloating about his own cleverness when he notices the odd expression on Levi’s face and follows his rival’s gaze to the window. “Is that ...?”  

“What the fuck is your brother doing with my cousin?” Levi asks. 

“What the fuck is your cousin doing with my brother?” Zeke asks.  

Petra and Yelena turn to look at the window and see Mikasa and Eren walking towards the restaurant, their fingers intertwined. The sight makes both Levi and Zeke livid, and they’re angrier than they had been earlier swapping insults with each other. It’s not a secret that Eren and Mikasa have been interested in each other. The two have been friends since middle school and have been dancing around the thought of being in a relationship for nearly as long. Practically the entire school knew they were involved with each other and that their coupling was inevitable. 

Yelena turns back in her seat. “I don’t see how any of this is surprising,” she remarks, but Levi and Zeke ignore her. 

“Are they coming here? He seriously took her to this restaurant?” Levi asks, watching like a hawk as Eren enters the café with Mikasa.  

“What? As if you’re above taking your girlfriend here?” Zeke scoffs. Like Levi, his gaze is fixed on his brother and Mikasa.  

Now that their attention is turned toward Eren and Mikasa, their insults are more tied towards their relatives rather than each other. The two watch as Eren struggles to speak with the waiter, trying to get a table despite the crowd. It seems in his nervousness he had forgotten to make a reservation for today.  

“Idiot. He should have been more prepared if he was going to go on a date on Valentine’s Day,” Levi mutters. Even as he watches, he tries to remain hidden behind the partition set up to section off different areas of the café.  

Zeke shoots a glare at Levi. “Cut the kid some slack. He’s just nervous. Your cousin is lucky my brother is even interested.”  

“Interested in a loser like him?” Levi snorts. “Mikasa can do plenty better.” 

“Is your pasta any good?” Yelena asks Petra. Trying to stop their boyfriends is completely useless so Yelena has decided to disregard them completely. Yelena has ordered a tagliatelle, but hers is covered with a buttery cream sauce and salmon roe.  

“Oh, yes,” Petra says. “The uni is excellent here. It practically melts on my tongue.”  

“Hmm, maybe I should try it the next time I come here,” Yelena hums.  

The two are startled when both Zeke and Levi jolt back in surprise. Yelena and Petra turn back to where Mikasa and Eren are and realize that Eren has managed to convince the waiter to give them a table. The manager must have taken pity on him because he’s leading Eren and Mikasa to an empty table that just happens to be right behind Levi and Petra’s.  

“Oh, this isn’t good,” Petra murmurs, and she watches as Levi and Zeke grow more on edge as Eren and Mikasa approach their tables.  

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Levi mutters under his breath. 

Eren has a broad smile on his face as he reaches the empty table but his smile slips off his face as soon as he sees Levi and his brother. “Oh my god. What are you guys doing here?”  

“Going on a date, what does it look like?” Levi snaps as if Eren had planned for this to happen. His sharp tone makes Eren flinch. 

“S-sorry,” Eren stammers. 

“Levi,” Mikasa says, giving her cousin a warning glare that Levi ignores. 

“Don’t you think you’re being unnecessarily hostile?” Zeke growls at Levi. “God, no wonder Petra is the only person who can stand you.”  

It seems the situation is only going to escalate from here. Petra opens her mouth to try to stop it even though she knows diffusing the situation is futile, but then Yelena stands up unexpectedly. Levi and Zeke continue to argue as Eren mumbles incoherently as he tries to defend himself.  

“Come on. They look like they’ll take a while. We should have fun by ourselves,” Yelena says to Petra. She takes a few steps and turns back, looking a Mikasa. “Do you want to come too, Mikasa? You can have fun with your boyfriend later.”  

Mikasa purses her lips and glances back at her cousin and Zeke still bickering with her boyfriend stuck in the middle. She contemplates staying back to defend Eren and then glances back at Yelena and Petra waiting for her. She hikes the strap of her bag up her shoulder before jogging towards them, leaving her boyfriend to his unfortunate fate. “Let’s go.”  

[pickalilywrites]

Uh uh uh quick brain think of something. Moblit. Moblit? Anything Moblit for valentines? Is there anything you want to write for Moblit? Perhaps something along the lines that Moblit is the go to writer of (love)poetry but himself is a happy single who also gives amazing relationship advice? Idk I’ve already started drinking champagne my brain is not braining.

thanks :)

with love, moblit

moblit berner. college au. 3424 words.

Moblit Berner started a poetry club knowing it wasn’t going to be a popular club on campus. He just wasn’t prepared for how unpopular it was going to be. One month in and he still can’t get anyone to attend the meetings despite over twenty students signing up as members. He found out after the second empty meeting that the advisor for the club, an English professor that had just been granted tenure, had offered extra credit to his students if they simply signed the member sheet but didn’t require them to attend any meetings. As it turned out, the professor was looking to advise a club — any club, really — to run off with the funds for his own personal use (booze, nice dinners, vacations). It’s scandalous enough to make any sane person march up to the administrative office and report it, but this professor was a last resort for an advisor and Moblit couldn’t see any other professor agreeing to head a club that was so unpopular. So, Moblit sits in the club room each week reading his collection of John Keats’ poetry hoping that somebody will come even though he knows that nobody will. Even the thought of being able to put “Club President of Poetry Club” on his resume doesn’t grant him much solace.  

Moblit glances at the clock. Only five minutes have passed since the club meeting has started. Fifty-five minutes are remaining until the meeting officially ends and all he’ll have for the meeting notes is a blank page. At least having no club members makes paperwork easier for him, especially since he has to fill all the officer positions.  

He flips the page of his Keats collection, noting that he’s almost at the end. He wonders if he should delve through Keats’ romantic poetry for the dozenth time or if he should cycle through the rest of the romantic poets on his shelf: Blake, Shelley, Byron, Woodsworth, Coleridge. He’s considering Shelley when Levi Ackerman walks through the door much to his surprise.  

“Is this the poetry club?” Levi asks, looking around at the empty classroom before slouching into the desk across from Moblit. “Where’s everybody else?” 

Moblit feels his face begin to flush. “Ah, they’re probably busy studying for midterms or something,” he mumbles. 

Levi nods and looks down at the book that Moblit has in his hands. It’s strange that Levi is even here. He’s a computer science major and has already finished taking the required English courses. He’s also never seemed to be interested in poetry or literature in general. Without warning, Levi asks, “Moblit, do you consider us friends?”  

Moblit nearly chokes in response. “Fr-friends?” he repeats. 

“Yes,” Levi says and waits expectantly for an answer.  

Moblit is hesitant to call Levi his friend. While he’s certain that Levi doesn’t hate him, he’s not sure if Levi likes him either. They’re cordial to each other at least, exchanging greetings whenever they happen to pass by each other on campus. They’re more like acquaintances, friends of friends, but Moblit isn’t sure if that would be the right thing to say. It might be better to just agree with whatever assumption Levi has about their relationship. 

“Yes,” Moblit says with a strained smile that Levi doesn’t seem to notice. “Yes, we’re friends.”  

“You like poetry,” Levi continues. He glances down at the cover of Moblit’s book once more. “You like romantic poetry. Keats and Byron and whatever.”  

Moblit isn’t sure what confuses him more, the direction of this conversation or the fact that Levi is familiar with the names of different romantic poets. “Ye-es,” Moblit says slowly, pulling the one syllable word into two.  

“Great,” Levi says. He leans forward in his seat and looks Moblit dead in the eye. “I want you to write a poem to Petra for me.”  

“I - what?” Moblit isn’t sure he’s heard Levi right. “Why don’t you just write something?” 

Levi snorts. “Don’t be stupid.”  

“Why do you want to write her a poem anyway?” Moblit asks. 

“Because I like her and she deserves romantic poetry, but I’m shit at writing,” Levi scowls. “Are you going to write a poem for me or not?”  

“First of all: I’m very happy that you want to confess your feelings to Petra. You two would make an amazing couple,” Moblit says, but he rushes to get the words out of his mouth towards the end when he notices the way Levi’s glaring at him. He takes a deep breath and then continues. “The thing is, confessions need to come from the heart. If I were to write a poem for Petra it wouldn’t be authentic.”  

“Just because you’re writing it doesn’t mean it’s not authentic. They’re still going to be my feelings, just ... edited,” Levi says. He sighs and reaches into the pocket of his jeans before tossing a handful of crumpled bills on the table. “How much money do you want? I’ll pay you.”  

“This isn’t about money,” Moblit says with a shake of his head but then he eyes a dollar bill on the table. The bills on the table are mostly tens and twenties. “Do you normally carry that much cash around with you?” 

“There’s an ATM near the cafeteria,” Levi replies. “I figured you’d appreciate physical bills more, but I can Venmo you if this isn’t enough money.”  

Moblit shakes his head. “No, this isn’t about how much money you’re offering me. This is just wrong, Levi. Just ... tell her how you feel.”  

“Do I look like a person that’s good with words, Moblit? If it were that simple, I would have done that by now,” Levi scowls. He has a point. Right now with his threatening glare and downturned mouth, Levi doesn’t look like he’s the type to use words to get what he wants, and this is his usual face.  

“Well, I could ... I could help you, I guess,” Moblit says. He begins to clarify before Levi gets the wrong idea. “I mean that I could help you write a poem. I’m not going to write the poem for you. That’s just too dishonest.”  

Levi considers it for a moment before finally sitting down, still scowling. He digs around in his backpack for a pen and a notebook, flipping through the pages until he finally finds an empty page. He looks at Moblit expectantly. “Okay. What do I do first?”  

“Well, we could just brainstorm. It’s a poem meant to convey your love for her, right? You could start by writing a list of things you like about Petra and we can build around that,” Moblit suggests. He tries not to cower under Levi’s blank stare. It’s hard to guess what Levi is thinking because of his perpetual frown — if he’s just brainstorming things he likes about Petra or if he’s contemplating different methods of killing Moblit. Thankfully, Levi begins to jot down a list and Moblit begins to breathe more easily now that Levi isn’t staring at him.  

When Levi is finally done, he hands Moblit his finished list. The first item makes him raise his eyebrows.  

“‘Big tits’?” Moblit reads, his eyes flitting over to Levi. He’s not sure he should be surprised. After all, Levi had told him that he wasn’t good with words. “Really?” 

“The list is in no particular order,” Levi replies, unphased.  

Moblit is sure that holds true of most lists that are written up mindlessly, but it holds true for things that are listed in the middle or the end of the list. It’s usually not as true for the things listed at the very beginning of the list but, well, what does it really matter? 

“Er, okay,” Moblit says. He scans through the rest of the list — smart, kind, witty, high morals, eyes. It’s written very matter-of-factly, no additional descriptions or examples to backup why Levi likes all these things about Petra. When he returns his gaze to Levi once more, he finds Levi looking at him expectantly with his arms folded across his chest. 

“Well?” Levi asks.  

Moblit hesitates. He could ask Levi to expand on this list and they could try to weave poetry as they go down the list, but he already has a good idea of Levi’s poetry skill (or lack thereof) from this list alone. Moblit rubs at his chest and laughs nervously. “How about I just write this poem for you?”  

Levi smirks and slides his money towards Moblit. It’s the first time Moblit has ever seen him smile.  

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖ 

Moblit doesn’t expect things to change after he hands Levi the poem. Levi had merely glanced at it, told Moblit it looked good, and then slid him another twenty dollar bill before heading out to give it to Petra. Later that week, Moblit had seen Levi and Petra locking lips near the vending machines, so he assumed the poem had worked and Levi was able to convey his feelings for Petra. Admittedly, Moblit did feel a bit of pride knowing that his romantic prose was able to bring the two of them together, but he does feel a little bitter that his work would never be properly acknowledged. 

He sits once more in the romantic poetry club room reading a collection of Woodsworth’s poems. It’s another quiet club meeting with only his poetry book to keep him company, at least that what Moblit thinks until Levi walks in unexpectedly with a mutual friend of theirs.  

“Hi, Moblit,” Levi says, strolling into the classroom and looking as if he’s a regular member of the romantic poetry club. He takes a seat at the desk directly in front of Moblit and gestures for his friend, Erwin, to take the chair beside him. 

“Hi, Moblit,” Erwin says with a sheepish expression on his face as he pulls out a chair to take a seat next to Levi.  

“... Hello,” Moblit says slowly. He places a bookmark in his book and puts it down, carefully observing Levi and Erwin’s expressions he does. They haven’t said anything else, but Moblit has a feeling that he won’t like the reason for their visit. After a moment has passed without Erwin or Levi saying anything more, Moblit clears his throat and asks, “Is there a reason why you’re here?” 

“Well, I was talking to Levi and he suggested that I check out the poetry club -” Erwin begins. 

“He wants you to write a poem,” Levi interrupts. He ignores the startled expression on Erwin’s face and continues. “He wants you to write a poem for Hanji. He’ll pay you.”  

“Levi!” Erwin hisses, but Moblit just shakes his head. 

“Levi, that was a one time deal. I can’t just keep writing poems about love confessions for other people. I’m not Cyrano de Bergerac,” Moblit says. He tries not to look down at the money Levi is taking out of his wallet and sliding across the table right now. He doesn’t need the money. This is about integrity and honesty. “Erwin can write his own poem or just find another way to express his affections to Hanji. He doesn’t need me to write a poem for him.”  

Erwin nods in agreement, but the tips of his ears are turning pink. Erwin coughs and says, “You’re absolutely right, Moblit, but ... I did see the poem you wrote for Levi and I could never write anything like it. I feel like you would be able to put into words how I feel about Hanji. Of course, I understand if you’re uncomfortable doing this and that money probably isn’t enough to sway you.” 

“Right,” Moblit says, although his response comes reluctantly. As much as he feels bad about writing love confessions for other people, he also feels bad about turning people down. 

“Erwin will sign up for your club,” Levi says suddenly. He notes Erwin’s alarmed expression and simply shrugs. To Moblit, Levi asks, “You need members, right? Erwin will sign up and pay you. You can call it a membership fee and put it towards whatever you want: more poetry books, club notebooks, a one-man fieldtrip to a poetry museum if that kind of thing exists.” 

Moblit purses his lips. That doesn’t sound half-bad. He looks at Erwin. 

Seeing that Moblit is being swayed, Erwin says quickly, “If that’s what you want, I’d be happy to sign up for your club. It’s really nothing in comparison to what I’m asking of you.” 

Levi holds up two fingers to catch Moblit’s attention. “I want another poem, too. Petra loved your last one,” he says. When he sees Moblit’s frown, Levi pushes another twenty dollar bill towards him. “I’ll sign up for your club, too.”  

Moblit glowers at the dirty money sitting in front of him. He should have never accepted Levi’s offer the first time. Now he’s sliding further down a slippery slope of fraud and deception ... but he’ll never get a chance to grow his club even if the club members aren’t really romantic poetry fans. This is the closest he’ll ever get to people being interested in his club, and he might not be able to continue this club next year otherwise.  

“Fine, but you have to attend club meetings, too,” Moblit says. 

“Deal,” Erwin and Levi say.  

Moblit takes the money. It doesn’t feel as bad as he thought it would be.  

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖ 

After writing the poems for Erwin and Levi, Moblit sees that the poems have worked their magic. Erwin and Hanji are constantly seen together on campus holding hands, Erwin looking lovingly at Hanji as they prattle on about something that happened in their physics lab. Petra and Levi are intertwined whenever they’re seen together.  

As they had promised Moblit, Erwin and Levi have attended every poetry club meeting, which Moblit is grateful for even though all the three do is sit in the club room quietly attending to their own business — Erwin flipping through government documents for his political science class, Levi going through case files for his criminology class, and Moblit reads through his poetry books.  

Slowly, more of their friends begin attending poetry club meetings. Not to appreciate the actual poetry and get into discussions about Keats and Byron, of course. No, they’re there for Moblit’s love poem services. Although Moblit had firmly told himself that he wouldn’t write any more poems after Erwin and Levi’s requests were finished, the chance to gain even more funds and members for the club is too enticing to turn down. Soon, the poetry club has active members that attend the weekly club meetings even if all of them are only there to commission Moblit for poems to woo the people they’re interested in.  

Rather than spending club time reading poetry, Moblit finds himself writing more and more poems for different people. He writes a poem from Nile to Marie comparing her beauty to a bountiful garden with flowers of everlasting beauty. He weaves a poem for Eld describing his admiration for Rosalind’s mountainous strength and tenacity. He crafts another poem for Mike, marveling at Nanaba’s ability to take whatever life throws at her like a flowing river that changes with the nature around her. He writes multiple poems for Auruo to multiple girls because Auruo is the type to fall in love with someone new quickly after being rejected the first time. Evidently, poems are not always enough to win over a person’s affection, but it only makes sense that these poems won’t work for everyone. 

It still makes Moblit guilty whenever he writes a new poem knowing that the recipient will never know that the sender isn’t actually the person who wrote the poem, but the net positive far outweighs all the cons. Someone gets to discover how much someone loves them, they get a written record of affection weaved into beautiful poetry, and Moblit gets club funds and active club members (at least in terms of meeting attendance). He figures that what people don’t know can’t hurt them. 

One rule for new members to join the club is to swear to never reveal Moblit’s identity as the true writer of the poems, one the members keep because it��s in their own best interest as well. Moblit probably should have accounted for the fact that the subjects of these poems are far smarter than any of them. 

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖ 

Moblit is walking towards the club room for another poetry club meeting when he turns the corner and finds himself face-to-face with all his friends’ girlfriends. To be more precise, they are the recipients of all the poems he’s ever written for his club members. As much as he wishes this is a coincidence, Moblit knows it’s far more likely that they’ve found out the truth. They all have a stern expression on their faces as they stare him down, and Moblit gulps guiltily. 

“H-hey. I have a club meeting to get to, but you guys can join me if you’d like. We’re always accepting new members,” Moblit says with a forced smile on his face, the corners of his lips twitching because he’s too terrified to properly control his facial expressions. 

Hanji’s eyes narrow as they scrutinize him. “The poetry club, right?” 

“Romantic poetry,” Nanaba adds, and many of the other girls nod beside her. 

“Ah, y-yes,” Moblit stammers. He can feel his cheeks begin to flush under their gazes.  

“You wrote all those poems for us, didn’t you?” Petra asks. She rolls her eyes when Moblit begins to deny her accusation, stuttering like an idiot the entire time. “We’re not stupid, Moblit. Not all our boyfriends can be talented at writing poetry.” 

Rico nods in agreement. She pulls out a pile of papers that have been clipped together, meticulous notes scribbled in the margins. At a glance, Moblit recognizes the stack as the poems he had written. Rico smirks at Moblit’s guilty expression. “We crosschecked our poems. They have the same writing style and motifs. They were all written by the same person, and you’re the only one in our network that’s a literature major.”  

“I can explain!” Moblit begins, although he doesn’t know how he’s going to explain at all. It seems he’s used up all his words to write poems and has finally run out.  

“Are you, like, in love with all of us?” Lynne asks, narrowing her eyes at Moblit. 

“Wh-what?” Moblit nearly chokes in surprise. 

“Those poems were really good,” says Rico. She folds her arms across her chest and tilts her head as she looks at Moblit. “You’d have to be really in love with someone to write poetry that good.”  

“N-no! I’m not in love with any of you, not that you girls aren’t amazing or anything,” Moblit says. At their confused expressions, Moblit realizes he needs to explain but he knows that his real reason might not even make sense to anyone except himself. With a sigh, Moblit says, “I was just ... Your boyfriends approached me with the chance to write romantic poetry.  It’s the most interest anyone has ever had in my club and I kind of just jumped at the chance. Romantic poetry is all about ... awe and wonderment. It’s something all my friends feel for all of you, and I was flattered they thought I could be someone who could translate their feelings for you guys into words.”  

“Awe and wonderment,” Hanji repeats with a hum. It surprises Moblit when their face breaks into a wide smile. “You are pretty good with words. I guess that’s why they commissioned you, and why your poems helped us get together with all of our boyfriends.” 

“Y-yeah,” Moblit says. He’s not sure where this conversation is going. The girls don’t look mad at him. In fact, they look kind of intrigued.  

“So your club meets every week at 5?” Petra asks. She hops over to Moblit and links arms with him. As she walks, Moblit follows her and the rest of her friends down the hall. “Which room is it?”  

“That one,” Moblit says, pointing down the hall where Levi and the other club members are slowly trickling in. He can see Auruo lingering by the door and looking at them curiously.  

“Great, we’re excited to join,” Rico says, throwing a smile over at a bewildered Moblit. 

“W-wow, thanks. Great to have you,” Moblit manages to say as he’s dragged toward the club room, still stunned at the fact that he’s somehow doubled the amount of club members in one afternoon, an awe inspiring moment that he no doubt needs to write about once he’s done being wonderstruck.