#question two: which rib is the longest

[webfilledhead]

muscle memory

tasm!peter parker x reader

Angst then kinda fluff? My first time writing for him be kind to me

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

Your night is quiet, you were getting used to quiet evenings. It was weird at first, it felt almost empty. You had so much time now, you spent most of your nights in your room studying for exams that were weeks away. You would sit at your desk and reread paragraphs that slipped your mind the first couple times as you played the news on your tv as background noise.

This night was similar to most, you were actually getting work done this time. You had three assignments done and one to go. The downside to this was that they were due next week and when you finished you would have no work to do and would probably end up reading your assigned readings early.

As you’re about to start your last assignment you hear tapping. You brush it off the first time. The second time it is impossible to ignore since you weren’t just imagining it like all the other nights before. Your breath catches in your throat as you realize the second you turn around it’s over.

You turn in the chair of your desk.

Sure enough there he is. He’s wearing his Spider-Man suit, he’s resting against the windowsill like he can’t bear to hold his own weight. The second your eyes landed upon the torn chest of his suit and the bloodied exposed flesh your movements were muscle memory.

It has been two months since you have done this but your movements are quick and sure. You opened the window and half carried him half dragged him to your bed no questions asked. You remove his mask and the upper half of his suit with deft fingers. You paid no mind to how he smelled like he spent his afternoon swimming in the sewers, maybe you noted it a little. You quickly analyze his injuries as you pull the now dusty first aid kit under your bed out. You didn’t have one before you met him, now you keep it under your bed for easy access.

“Sorry I’m getting your bed all bloody,”he groans out softly which makes your movements come to a halt.

You look at him, really look at him. It’s been two months since you’ve seen him up close and not just on the news. You haven’t seen him since he broke up with you, claiming it was too dangerous for you to be around him. You were so angry at first but now after sixty days you’ve grown numb. Your feelings are starting to bubble at the surface again as you gaze into his chocolate brown eyes. His stupid doe eyes.

You take a deep breath and tell yourself you can be angry later. You need to focus on the task at hand, another assignment really,“It’s fine everything can be washed away.”

Your words carry weight that you want nothing to do with. Everything can’t be washed away, some stains are stubborn and never leave. You know you can’t wash him away no matter how much you try that much is evident with how your ears always perk up when his name is mentioned in the news.

Before he can get another word out you exit your room, head to the bathroom, and get two clean towels and dampen them. You also get him pain medicine from the medicine cabinet. You give him the pills wordlessly with your water bottle that was at your desk.

With the damp towel you begin to clean off all the dried blood and grime so you can get a good look at how bad his injuries really are. You’re gentle as you wipe at his warm skin. The only sounds in the room are the quiet news channel now forgotten on your tv and his soft winces every now and then.

Once his chest is clean you can see he has three long gashes, they aren’t too deep they’re much shallower than you expected, the longest one runs from is upper right pec down to his left side on his lower ribs. As you use the clean towel to clean the wounds again he tries to speak again.

“It really isn’t okay, when did you get white floral bedding? It was dark purple a couple days a-” Peter cuts himself off realizing the implications of what he just said.

You feel slightly embarrassed at how happy you feel hearing that. He still cares for you, you hoped he did somewhere deep within you. Despite everything you still miss him and his constant need for first aid.

“You’ve been watching me,” you don’t ask it’s more of a statement since he just confirmed it. You start applying Neosporin to the gashes.

You can feel yourself folding like origami so you make sure not to look in his eyes. Not to look at his stupid sheepish smile. You can’t do this.

“Why would you ever suggest that? I just mean you used to have purple bedding,”He mumbles trying to cover up for himself as he attempts to sit up to look at you better.

You gently push him back down as you get butterfly bandages from your first aid kit. You use them in the deepest sections first since you don’t know if you’ll have enough for the entire length of the wounds.

“Why are you here Peter?”

You blurt your question out with no thinking prior to it. You know why he’s here, you’re the only person who can take care of him. You’re the only one who knows his secret, the only person he can let his guard down to. The only one who will open your window to him in the middle of the night no questions asked.

“I found myself coming here like I always did after getting beat up. I missed you,”he says so sincerely it hurts.

Your hands stop again for the second time. They begin to shake slightly when you hear his words. You hadn’t seen him in so long and the first time you do he comes back to you all beat up and bloody. You take in your proximity to him for the first time since you dragged him to your bed. You’re leaning over him awfully close to him so you can get a better look at his wounds. He’s warm, his skin is soft when your fingers brush against it, he’s so Peter.

You don’t say anything, not knowing how to reply. Knowing him this doesn’t mean he will want to be in a relationship with you again. He’s so stubborn.

You don’t move away when his hand reaches up to cup your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek,“Do you miss me too?”

The answer to that question is obvious enough he just wants to hear you say it. You can’t, your pride won’t let you. You can’t be left to lick at your wounds alone again.

“You’re so unfair, Parker,” you mumble as you keep your eyes away from his. You focus on the tiny cuts on his chest now, keeping yourself distracted. It’s hard to distract yourself when his hand leaves your face to your waist to keep you close.

It’s not fair that he comes to you in the middle of the night all beat up and bruised after not seeing him for two months and asks you this. It’s not fair that he can just show up whenever he wants and leave whenever he pleases.

Then he gives you that stupid smile of his. That very same smile that never fails to make you melt and give into whatever he has to say. You move your hands from his chest to his face and start cleaning up his face with soft touches.

“I know I’m being unfair, I just can’t stand being away from you anymore,” he says making your brows furrow in confusion.

Then the ugly feelings you pushed down start bubbling at the surface once more,“You can’t just leave me then come back after two months expecting me to welcome you back with open arms.”

“I know I messed up, I know that but I want to make it up to you. Just answer this please: do you miss me?” Peter asks as he tugs you closer to him, you lose your balance and end up with one hand braced on the bed beside him and the other on his shoulder. You’re so close to his face and those pretty brown eyes are looking at you in away that makes your breath catch in your throat.

You try to pull yourself away but his arm that has snaked its way around your waist keeps you planted,“Yes, but Peter you can’t jus-“

Your words are effectively cut off by Peter pressing his lips against yours. It’s sweet, a sweet familiar warmth you missed so much. You wish you could blame muscle memory on how quick you are to melt against him and kiss him back.

[allmyocsarebritish]

Outreach day

Pairing: Xavier X Reader

Warnings: SUPER LONG (sorry), British references (specifically England), Tyler Galpin hate projection

A/N: this took over a month omd, also I don't like Tyler can you tell??

Outreach day. Two simple words which struck fear into the hearts of all the townspeople in Jericho. Every outcast knew this much, the whole day was a pointless publicity stunt, detested by all involved. But as long as it meant the town was considered 'welcoming and inclusive' to fellow normies, and the students of the school were supposed seen as 'friendly and well-rounded', the ridiculous mandatory 'volunteer' work continued.

Not a single Nevermore pupil enjoyed the day - spending hours being singled out and targeted, gossiped about and facing constant glares from the oh-so-accepting normies was in no way a cheerful experience. Your feet were lead as you collected the dreaded envelope; the contents of which dictated the placement you were forced into for the morning. Whilst a very small handful of your classmates appeared pleasantly surprised by their assignments, disgust was etched onto the faces of most of those around you.

Despite your entirely uninterested outward appearance, a spark of curiosity began to form. You carefully peeled open the chiffon coloured envelope, revealing a slip of card.

Written in bold, deep black lettering:

Y/N L/N

Uriah's Heap

Ultimately, that wasn't the worst option available. You would be essentially isolated, substantially less exposed to pure, unfiltered hatred from the entire population of Jericho. Relief washed over you, freed from the anxieties of potential work at pilgrim world. However, the consolation was short lived.

"Hey, Y/N!" Came the voice of Ajax from behind you.

"Hi, Ajax. What did you get?" You greeted the gorgon. The two of you were reasonably close friends, sharing several lessons and frequently meeting outside of school.

"Erm, Y/N? Would you maybe be willing to trade with me?" He queried, sidestepping your question. "I saw you got Uriah's Heap. And, well Enid's working there today so I thought-"

"You haven't got pilgrim world, have you?" You groaned, already preparing yourself to decline your friends offer.

"No! No I don't." He answered you, far too quickly. "I got the Weathervane." The last three syllables were barely audible.

"The Weathervane? Really? I don't even like coffee. Do you think I'm dense, Jax? I am not spending the day with the Sheriff's son." You scoffed, scrunching your nose in distaste and already briskly walking towards the shuttle set to take all Nevermore students into Jericho.

"No, Y/N wait! Please I will do anything!" You were quick, but so was Ajax. Before you knew it, he was sat on the seat beside you, whining incessantly in your ear.

"Fine!" You grumbled, barely a minute into the journey, already bored to death of being nagged.

"Because I would- wait really?!"

"Yes, whatever. Just shut up, would you?" You playfully elbowed him in the ribs.

If Ajax thought that you hadn't noticed the thumbs up he flashed to someone behind you, he was entirely wrong. He was not subtle, at all. You shook your head, a small smile taking place on your lips. But before you had a chance to wonder what that was about, the shuttle began to speed up, reaching the road leading in to town. The rest of the trip consisted of bantering with your friend, and soon enough you had reached your dreaded destination.

Your smile completely vanished when you remembered what you had gotten yourself into. Predictably, Ajax was nowhere to be seen the minute you exited the shuttle. You rolled your eyes, silently cursing both yourself and the gorgon. If only you had more patience.

You shamelessly stretched out the walk to your unfortunate placement as much as possible, taking the longest route you could. Yet despite your best attempts, you still managed to get to your destination on time. Early, even.

Being the sensible person you were, you promptly spun around and began walking in the opposite direction, delaying your inevitable fate further. Of course, you would have to make your way into the Weathervane eventually; a Nevermore uniform stuck out like a sore thumb against the sea of normies. Constantly checking over your shoulder for any sign of Weems (or any other teacher ready to pounce on an out-of-line student), you turned a corner. This allowed you to make your way down the empty back street, void of any staring eyes. But the solitude was short lived.

Not too far into the distance stood a brick wall, sloppily coated in patchy white paint. However, your attention was immediately drawn to the extremely tall figure wearing the tell-tale blue and black stripes of Nevermore. You faintly recognised him as Xavier Thorpe, the school's resident 'tortured artist'. A pang of sympathy struck you as you recalled the reason behind the solemn way he stared at the whitewashed bricks.

"I'm sorry about your painting." Xavier immediately whipped around to face you at the faint sound of your hushed voice. He blinked at you, as you began to silently curse yourself for the second time that day. The destroyed mural was bound to be a touchy subject.

"It's fine - there's nothing I can do about it now." He responded after a prolonged moment.

The silence was drawn out and awkward, yet something about Xavier seemed strangely familiar and comfortable, despite you barely knowing him. "You're a really good artist, are they going to let you do another one?"

The look on his face was enough to immediately realise you said the wrong thing. "I'm sorry-" you began, however he cut you off.

"You don't need to apologise. They don't care remotely enough for that, and I wouldn't want to anyway."

"You'd be wasted on this shitty town." This response drew a quiet snicker from him, making you smile in turn.

"Thanks." He smiled back before quickly breaking eye contact and looking down, the corners of his mouth still lifted in a pretty smirk. The sight of which was enough to direct your own gaze to the floor.

..What?

The pretentious sound of heels clacking against concrete infiltrated your momentary confusion. You and Xavier both turned around, movements synchronized. At that moment, you were greeted with a sarcastic smirk from Weems as she stared down (more so at you), hands on her hips. Offering Xavier a mischievous grin, you braced yourself for the scolding that would surely follow.

"I believe the two of you are supposed to be at your assignments right now." She spoke rather elegantly, her posture suggested a source of authority, despite the fact she clearly lacked it, with two students set to arrive late to their placement. "I'm willing to turn a blind eye to this exchange, given the circumstance," A pointed look was directed at the mess of Xavier's mural, "but you are aware that one of the conditions of outreach day is to not make any waves. At all. Now, make your way to your placements, as my kindness will only extend so far." Her tone was clear, and out of respect you decided to surrender; she was a decent headteacher, all things considered.

Quickly glancing to your left, it was clear that Xavier was substantially less willing. You gave him a small nudge with your elbow as Weems turned and began briskly walking ahead - presumably to the Weathervane to make sure you arrived. He glanced at you, before once again looking away, an obvious scowl present on his face, not attempting to mask it in the slightest. A frown pushed its way onto your brow, concern beginning to grow.

"Wouldn't you have thought she would offer us an escort?" You joked dryly, to which he responded with a small huff and a nod. "Are you okay?" The worry festering within you began to grow at his dismissive response.

"Uh, yeah. I'm fine."

Biting back the urge to respond with a snarky comment about him not looking fine, you continued walking, realising you had no idea where Xavier's assignment was located.

Or more importantly, when he would leave.

You felt a dinky yet significant attachment towards the artist, despite never really speaking with him before now. Of course you knew of him, though you didn't really know him personally. And for some reason, you decided that should change; you wanted to spend time together, begin a friendship, maybe even more-

"I just realised." You spoke very slightly too loudly, surprising yourself, but dispersing your rampaging thoughts. Most likely at the unexpected twinge of high volume, Xavier tilted his head toward you, finally making eye contact. His chartreuse irises were flecked with hazel around the pupils, an overwhelming sea of glorious gemstone green you could certainly drown in. Barely noticeably, you shook your head to once again clear the miniscule details that sprung into much more, your mind swarming with thoughts like a hive of restless bees.

"You never told me where you're outreaching." You continued, as though you hadn't just been lost in Xavier's eyes barely a second ago.

He scoffed in response, rolling his eyes. "I got the Weathervane. So now I get to watch that normie idiot ride his own dick all day acting all innocent."

You shouldn't have been happy. You really shouldn't have. And you weren't. No, you weren't happy - instead you were ecstatic, thrilled, overjoyed, delighted. Your joy was kept in check, however, when remembering that this was probably the worst assignment Xavier could have gotten. Truthfully, you had no idea the extent of which Tyler's ambush had reached last year, but you were well aware of the state of Xavier when he returned that day. Bruised, battered and bloodied, and the thought of his suffering made your heart break.

"Do you want to know something?" Your voice wavered, and you hoped the remaining excitement did not translate. Xavier gave a little nod, prompting you to continue.

"I've got the Weathervane too."

The ghost of a smile graces his lips, and you responded with your own grin.

A comfortable silence extended as you continued walking together. The sense of sheer dread in approaching the cafè was no longer so extreme, rather being overpowered by something else; electrifying thrill about spending the day with the boy you only really just met. A twinge of disappointment remained, of all places of course it had to be the Weathervane. But, nevertheless, you were still insanely grateful to Ajax for allowing you this opportunity.

Unbeknownst to you, Xavier was also feeling substantially perkier about the assignment. Ajax had managed to convince you, and his day would in fact be tolerable. Who knows, maybe it could even be fun - after all, a full morning with the girl he liked would undoubtedly be at least marginally enjoyable.

The two of you had subconsciously drifted closer as you walked, until eventually your hands ended up softly brushing together. A surge of electricity flowed through your body, skin burning in the place you had made contact. You almost felt as though your fingers were flaming, hand nothing but raging fire. A small glance out of the corner if your eye had you even more flushed, and a smile tugged at your lips.

What? No-one else had this kind of effect on you.

You wouldn't deny that you kind of liked it.

Regardless of your detour, and in spite of you and Xavier dragging out the walk as long as physically possible, eventually the two of you managed to reach the Weathervane. You shared a brief glance and a deep breath, before simultaneously pushing open the door.

"Nice of you to finally show up." Tyler's attempt at a joke did not translate. You both looked at him blankly, already sick of his shit, yet playing nice.

For now.

"Well, uh, I'll get you each a shirt and apron." Tyler awkwardly smiled. It was quickly dropped, however, when he was greeted with two intense glares. The both of you were entirely unimpressed, and evidently the innocent façade was never going to get you swooning for the normie.

He sighed lightly, wandering into the backroom behind the counter. You turned to Xavier, rolling your eyes and shaking your head softly, to which he responded with a smirk.

Soon enough, Tyler returned, holding two Weathervane uniforms. Enhanced by what you knew of his reputation, you really didn't like Galpin. He was incredibly tense and awkward, but in a really off-putting way that made it seem as though he had something to hide. His unsettling nature made for a largely uncomfortable, disconcerting atmosphere in the small café. The silence was prolonged in a way that starkly contrasted the relaxed ambience when meeting Xavier by the ruined mural. There may have been the odd awkward moment, yet it never felt like this.

On the topic of Xavier's mural, the memory of the sheer hurt on the already tortured artist's face was enough to make you cross your arms, resuming your disapproving glare towards the barista.

Your thoughts were disturbed by a disgusting vision that made your blood run cold.

Two normies held him down, forcing him to watch as dull, eggshell white paint was splashed over hours of work, like tippex covering a mistake. Mocking laughter rang through his ears as sharp pains radiated from each landed punch. Tears welled in his eyes as Galpins fist came pummeling onto his nose, causing excruciating agony.

Returning to your current reality, you discovered you had missed Tyler advising the two of you on where to change. A gentle hand resting on your right shoulder caused a surge of electricity to shock you out of your tempestuous mind, clearing any remaining flecks of the vision from your current consciousness.

"Sorry." Xavier smiled slightly, and your heart shattered like glass at how he was treated. "You seemed a little zoned out."

"Yeah, thanks." Was all you managed in response. Frowning, you trailed behind Tyler as he showed you the staff room at the back of the shop. When you returned, now kitted out in your very own apron and polo shirt, Xavier was already waiting for you. His tawny hair cascaded freely, very slightly covering the sides of his face. The crimson apron was tied behind his back, enhancing his slender figure. It was incredibly flattering, despite being the enemy uniform. Your cheeks flushed when you realised you had been staring. It may have been your imagination, but you could have sworn a pink tinge appeared on Xavier's face to match your own. The two of you maintained eye contact for a bit too long, before breaking it and quickly dropping your gazes to the floor.

As always, the moment was interrupted by fucking Tyler. So what if you were a little bit grateful this time? It was still Tyler.

"Have either of you ever used an espresso machine?" He asked, radiating an air of superiority that made turned your veins molten.

"You just press buttons. Probably." You answered snarkily, avoiding the question of whether you had actually used one and uttering the last word beneath your breath.

"Uh, I think there's a bit more to it than that." Tyler half-smiled.

You rolled your eyes again, and Xavier had to suppress a laugh at your extreme irritance caused by the barista. He just had that effect on you. The way he strode in on his high horse just because he happened to be the normie son of the sheriff made you sick, enhanced by his targeting of outcasts (mainly Xavier). The final straw was the innocent façade he upheld. So, no. You didn't like Galpin.

The sound of someone clearing their throat once again brought you to reality. Were you even trying to listen to Tyler teaching you to work the machine? No, that's why there were two of you. Besides, surely it wouldn't be that hard to wing for a few hours.

Your first task of the day was taking orders. It was simple, really. Head to the table, ask the customer for their order, then report back to Tyler. An easy task to ease you into the art of the establishment. Collecting a small notepad and pen, you and Xavier wandered to the only occupied table.in the whole café. A glimmer of mischief flickered in your eye as you looked up at Xavier, something that made his heart beat a little quicker and his hands tremble ever so slightly.

Back to the task at hand, you approached the booth, smiling sweetly.

"Hello, and welcome to the Weathervane!" You clasped your hands together. "Could I take your order?"

"Oh, just a latte."

Smiling once more, you scribbled onto the lined paper, offering a thank you to the man in the booth before wandering back to the counter, Xavier following close behind. Hoisting yourself up onto the countertop, you tossed the pad to Tyler. If it hit his face that wasn't your problem. You were quick to revert to false innocence, staring up at him with huge, blameless doe eyes.

"He wants a black coffee."

"He asked for an espresso."

You both responded at the same time, dissolving into giggles. Tyler frowned at you both, patience already wearing thin. Sighing, he picked up the paper and began making what he hoped was in fact the actual order.

Xavier shook his head at you, a pretty smirk resting on his face. He leant back on the counter you were sat on, using his arms to prop himself up.

"You know, I bet I could get more tips tha you if I tried." He teased, licking his lips and surpressing yet another smile.

"No way." You narrowed your eyes playfully.

"We'll see." He shrugged, sending you a wink that made your knees weak. It was certainly a good job that you were already seated.

After your antics on the easiest task possible, you and Xavier were demoted to table-cleaning. The two of you took a rag each, wiping the wooden surface at a snails pace.

"I've never even drank coffee." You muttered. "Apparently at pilgrim world they get free fudge. Imagine that." Huffing, you continued wiping slowly.

"Yeah, I mean, its alright but not something I'd dedicate my life to." You snickered at Xavier's subtle dig at Tyler, bringing a smile to his face.

"So, I suppose you prefer tea, then?" He responded, forcing a posh accent and butchering it. You crinkled your nose in distaste.

"Was that supposed to be me? And no, I don't like tea either." You responded, holding back a laugh.

"What? What kind of British person are you?"

"I'm really sorry to tell you this, Xavier. I actually am, but honestly, no-one I know from England drinks tea." You responded, laughing at his reaction.

"So what do you like to drink?" He asked.

"I don't know, Coke? Dr Pepper?"

"Okay, okay. Pepsi or Coke?" He asked urgently, as though it were a matter of life and death.

"Uhh. Will my answer change the way you think of me?" You questioned, a slight frown accompanying your amused smile.

"Oh, absolutely." He joked back.

"Okay, don't kill me, but I honestly can't tell the difference."

His eyes widened in shock as his jaw dropped sarcastically.

The two of you laughed again, smiling at eachother when the giggles died down. The gaze you gave held so much emotion to be directed at someone you barely knew. But with Xavier it didn't feel sudden. He licked his lips, and you accidentally let your eyes trail down. Even though it only lasted a split-second, you felt your cheeks light up as his lips pulled into a smirk.

"Are you guys almost done over there?" GALPIN.

A string of profanities exited your lips as you placed dirtied mugs onto the tray that rested on the table whilst Xavier's heart began to flutter at the thought of you looking at him like that.

~

Not paying attention to Tyler's demonstration proved to actually be a huge blessing. He was entirely sick of you, meaning you were immediately loaded off onto Xavier. Little did Galpin know, he wasn't listening either.

"Google it!" He whispered to you, warm breath fanning against your ear. The proximity was flustering, and you hoped beyond hope that Xavier couldn't see your hands shaking as you typed into the search bar.

"Uh, Xav?" You turned back to him, stopping suddenly when remembering how close he was to you. "I can't be bothered to do all this." You huffed.

If you noticed his cheeks reddening at the use of the nickname, you didn't mention it.

"I mean, we could always just.. not."

"I mean yeah I guess you could, but why would you waste time like that?"

"Passive aggressive much?" Xavier whispered, making you snicker softly in response.

"I heard that." The barista hissed through gritted teeth. "Just go and clean more tables then." Tyler sighed, shaking his head. You made eye contact with Xavier, squealing internally before racing back to the table. The two of you resumed scrubbing, both lost on thought.

The gentle knocking of his hand against yours dragged you from your thoughts, dispersing them as you flinched instinctively.

"Sorry." Xavier mumbled, though he did not make an effort to move his hand.

"No, it's fine." You responded quickly, refraining from retracting your own.

The tension was electrifying, and chills crawled over your skin when you finally made eye contact with the blonde artist. Wordlessly, the two of you seemed to inch closer, subconsciously drifting further into eachother's presence. Rags discarded on the equally abandoned table, Xavier leaned his head down slightly, licking his lips subtly.

"I guess you can go now, your shift is over" Tyler declared, rolling his eyes at the outcasts before him.

"Yeah, yeah. Fuck you too" Xavier flipped him off, already on his way to return to the comforting sapphire and raven stripes of Nevermore. You smiled sweetly, tossing up your own first and middle finger. (A backwards peace sign is like a British middle finger)

The return to the shuttle was solemn- the two of you had barely spoken prior to this, and you were unsure if you ever would again. But, you weren't going to take that chance.

"Hey, Xav?" You boldly decided it was absolutely now or never. Heart pounding as he hummed in response, you cleared your throat.

"I'm sorry if this is a bit too forward, but, do you think I could take your number? You're really cool and I don't want this to be the last time we ever speak."

With an adorable lopsided grin, he offered his hand, to which you gave your phone, already open to the contacts page.

~

Reaching the shuttle all too soon, you waved goodbye to Xavier sweetly, bouncing back to your seat next to Ajax. He let you take your window seat, because, after all, you had suffered through a day of Tyler Galpin.

"So, how did it go?" He asked, and you summoned all of your will strength as to not combust on the spot.

~

Let's just say Ajax's phone barely survived the night of pounding messages from both you and your tortured artist.

[overdevelopedglasses]

Tojoctober Day 22 - Stamina

(So step on up to the plate)

Alt title is from “Time to Make History”, P4G's Battle Theme

A question is posed to the group: Who has the best stamina??? 

(No spoilers!)

—-------------------------------

“Alright then!” Majima stands up from his seat, slamming his drink onto the bar, drawing the attention of all of the occupants in the room. New Serena was a lot more packed than normal, and a cheery atmosphere was in the air.

“We’re really doing this, Majima-san?” Majima looks down at Kiryu, who was seated next to him at the bar. If anyone else was looking at the dragon, they’d think he’d be worried, but Majima knows the man better than most.

“We’re doing this, Kiryu-chan. Oi, you four!” Majima shouts, drawing the eyes of Saejima, Akiyama, and two others who Majima thinks he remembers the names of… Tanimura’s the one in the blue jacket, and Shinada is the scruffy guy… right?

“Who in here has the most stamina?”

“Well, it’s obviously me, brother.” Saejima laughs and takes a swig of his drink. “Have you seen me?” Saejima takes a moment to subtly flex, drawing a chuckle from his sworn brother.

“What about me?” Shinada pipes in, “I was a baseball player, you know. And I’ve kept up with my training all this time.”

“Well, it’s definitely not me!” Akiyama jokes, and everyone laughs.

“Why don’t we have a friendly competition?” Tanimura suggests. Everyone else nods in agreement. “But how do we test stamina?” Kiryu asks? “There are multiple uses for the skill, so how do we figure out rules for a competition?”

“I’d suggest a brothel, but I don’t think everyone here would be alright with that,” Akiyama says, with a bit of mischief coating his expression. “Besides, that’s a backwards use for stamina with this group.”

“Awww, c’mon!” Majima fake-whines, earning a jab in the ribs from Kiryu.

“Why don’t we do a footrace?” Saejima suggests. “We can use South Senryo Avenue, it’s pretty clear at this time of day.”

“But isn’t that a test of speed?” Kiryu inquires.

“Well, it could be, but what if we did the most amount of back and forth laps?” Tanimura answers, brow creased in though. “Whoever lasts the longest wins!”

“But that’s only one test of stamina. We've implied there are multiple uses for the shit.” Majima interjects. This was a harder question to answer than he initially thought. 

“What about the batting cages?” Shinada says, “Whoever lasts the longest in those wins?”

“Not a terrible idea, Shinada-san.” Akiyama replies, “Although I do feel like you have an advantage there…” “We’ll do the batting cages second then.” Kiryu says. 

“Alright. To Senryo Avenue?” Tanimura asks.

5 different pitches of agreement sound off, and all of the men rush out of the bar.

“Well, there’s already a problem.” Kiryu says, as they arrive at the entrance to the street, the Kamurocho sun providing some light, but not doing a lot to puncture the winter chill that had settled upon the group.

“Haw? What problem, Kiryu-chan?” Majima asks, giving the space a once over. The street’s pretty clear, as his brother had said. The ground is pretty smooth, too.

“The street isn’t wide enough, Majima-san” Akiyama saunters to Majima’s other side. “We can’t all go at once. We’ll have to race in 2 groups of 3. So… everyone partner up?”

The group splits apart, and pairs are quickly made. Majima decides to change it up from who he instinctually thinks of as a partner, and picks Tanimura. Saejima pairs up with Kiryu, which leaves Akiyama and Shinada together. The detective does make Majima a bit antsy, however he trusts in what Kiryu had told him earlier, that the detective wouldn’t sell out him or his brother.

“Alright, so… Kiryu, Shinada, and Tanimura, get ready. The rest of us, count how many single laps that your partner completes. When everyone’s done, we’ll swap and do the same thing.” Akiyama instructs.

Majima pulls his phone out, remembering it had a simple counter feature. He brings it up, and resets it to zero.

“Alright, gentlemen.” Majima walks out in front of all 3 of them. “Remember, yer racin for stamina, not speed. Get to the edge of Taihei Boulevard,” Majima points to the end of the road, “and then get yer asses back here, and on and on until ya can’t anymore. When ya think yer done…” Majima pauses, thinking for a second, “wave your arms in the air frantically until yer partner signals at you, and then get outta the way of the others.” Somehow, everyone agrees with what Majima is saying.

“Allllright then! On yer marks…”

The three men who are ready to race assume starting positions.

“Get set……”

Majima wishes he had some sort of starting gun with him. He’d shoot it at Kiryu to make him jump. As a prank… as you do.

“GOOOOOOOOOOO!”

With Majima’s shout, the three men were off. Majima has to jump out of the way quickly, as Kiryu almost barrels into him.

Majima takes his place between Akiyama and Saejima, phone with the counter in hand, as he watches Tanimura sprint to the end of the road, Kiryu and Shinada not far behind.

“Tanimura-san does realize he’s running for stamina, right?” Akiyama asks, as Tanimura is already running back towards them.

“I’m not sure. He’s really hoofin’ it though.” Saejima replies, as Majima inputs another tick on the counter.

Akiyama’s prediction was right, as Tanimura comes up to Majima shortly after, waving his arms in the air frantically. 

“Alright, alright, I get it, detective boy. Go take a breather.”

Tanimura pats him on the shoulder, then slumps against the building. “I… feel like… I did that wrong.” he puffs out, taking off his jacket to assist with oxygen intake. Majima almost opens his mouth to say that it won’t help, but shuts it when Tanimura immediately shivers and puts it back on.

“How are the others doing?” he asks, hands now crossed in front of his chest.

“Kiryu-san is on lap 5. Still going strong from the looks of things,” Saejima says. 

“That’s Kiryu-chan for you,” Majima says, smirking.

“Shinada-san is at lap 7,” Akiyama pipes in. “Can’t tell his condition from here though.” Majima sees the baseball player at the end of the street, who quickly turns to run back to the group. 

“How many laps did I get, Majima-san?” Tanimura asks, finally having regained his breath.

Majima looks down at his phone, “8. Not bad, but…”

“Fuck.” Tanimura breaths out, back slumping against the wall. The others laugh in response.

“Could do good at the batting cages though, Tanimura.” Saejima says, in an attempt at comfort.

“Yeah, if I’m this winded? I'll be surprised if I even hit a ball.”

"Don't have such a pessimistic attitude, Tanimura-san!" Akiyama replies. 

"I'm being realistic, Akiyama-san." Tanimura shoots back, standing upright.

"That borders on pessimism." Majima counters, and the two men bicker for a bit until Majima sees Kiryu begin to wave his arms in the air.

"Kiryu's done." Saejima said, showing the others his counter, which reads 16.

"16???" Tanimura exclaims. "Well, shit."

"That's our Kiryu-chan." Majima says with pride, as he rejoins the others.

"Phew… that takes a lot out of you." Kiryu says, hands on his knees, breathing heavily. 

"Ya need some water?" Majima asks with a touch of concern. He pulls a water bottle out of his coat, which Kiryu accepts happily.

"You didn't ask me if I needed water!?" Tanimura shouts.

"Yer a detective, I figured ya had some!" Majima counters.

Saejima laughs, "He also relentlessly dotes on Kiryu-san, so don't be surprised."

"HEY!" Majima shouts, smacking his brother in the shoulder, causing him to laugh even harder. Kiryu joins in the laughter.

"I always appreciate it, Majima-san," Kiryu says, "Tanimura, do you want some of my water?"

"Fuck you." Tanimura replies, sitting back down on the ground.

"Don't take it out on him!" Majima shouts, trying desperately to mask his anger.

"See what I mean?" Saejima says, laughing.

Shinada finally arrives, tapping out. Akiyama inputs his final lap.

"20! Nice work, Shinada."

Shinada crouches next to Tanimura, who gapes at the baseball star. “I guess you’re just built differently.”

“I mean, is anyone else here a former athlete?”

“I don’t think so. Nice job, Shinada-san.” Saejima says. “But, I guess it’s our turn.”

The pairs swap roles, with Akiyama, Saejima, and Majima all lined up at the start. Kiryu stands in front of them.

“Alright. Same deal as with us. You know how to get yourself tagged out of the laps. Just do the best you can.”

All 3 men nod.

“Ready…”

Saejima and Akiyama take their stances. Majima tosses his sheathed tanto to the side, causing Tanimura to jump slightly.

“Set…”

Majima takes his starting stance.

“GO!!!!!!”

The three men blast off from the starting line, and begin running up and down the street. Majima becomes keenly aware of the burning in his legs, but continues to push on. He does notice Akiyama tag out after 6 laps. Lightweight. Majima thinks.

“How ya doin', brother?” Majima shouts as he passes by Saejima on his 9th lap.

“Doin' alright. What about you?” Saejima responds as they pass each other again in the next lap.

“I can easily keep goin'!” Majima shouts on Lap 11.

“Don’t push yerself!” Saejima pushes Majima in the shoulder lightly, and then watches Saejima tag himself out. It’s just him.

Majima takes stock of his physical condition. His lungs now burn as well, and while Saejima just said he shouldn’t push himself, he’s on lap 14 now, and if he can get over 20 laps, he wins this section.

Well, at least him running all over Kamurocho a bunch since 2005 was now paying its dividends. 

He counts the laps in his head, and while he thinks he's at 20, he doesn’t want to run more laps to make it certain. He jogs back on what he thinks is Lap 22. 

“What’s my count, Tanimura? I’m pooped.” Majima slumps against a building, accepting the offered water bottle from Kiryu.

“24! Majima wins this round.”

“Fuck yeah.” Majima says, weakly putting a fist into the air.

The batting cage round essentially goes the same. Tanimura did predict his performance, as he taps out very quickly. Almost everyone also predicted Shinada winning the baseball round, but Majima came in a close second.

“Well, now we have an issue. Who has more stamina, Majima or Shinada?”

“Well, we needa third round, then.” Majima says. “We can’t pick it, though.” he gestures to Shinada and himself.

“I have an idea…” Kiryu says, and Majima sees a rare sight: Kiryu’s face is the one creased with mischief.

That’s because of course, he drags everyone to Karaokekan, pays for a room, and they all now sit around the screen, with Shinada and Majima holding two mics.

“So, who's up first?” Kiryu asks, Majima noticing the excitement beginning to glimmer in his eyes.

“I’ll go.” Majima stands up, and picks Get to The Top, singing in his own crazy way. While he visualizes a multitude of dance moves, he just focuses on the vocalization. The room cheers once he’s finished.

“Alright, Shinada-san. What do you have?” Akiyama pipes in as Majima takes a seat.

Shinada stands up, and belts out a pretty great rendition of Machine Gun Kiss, sitting down to another round of cheering.

“Alright, from here on, it’s a judge of quality as well. If we think you can’t do it, you’re out. We’ll be as impartial and fair as we can.” Kiryu instructs, and the other 4 men agree. “So, Majima, you’re up next.”

The quality judge is a harsh one. He can’t just pick random songs and scream anymore.

That means…

Majima scrolls over to the 80s hits, and picks the one he knows.

“Wait, Majima-san, you know that song!?” Tanimura asks with wonder in his voice.

“What’s that suppose ta mean?” Majima snaps, but not as harshly as he has before. Tanimura doesn't snap back, the song starts, and Majima almost slips into his 80s mindset with the song, but he resists. He finishes with a flourish, to uproarious applause.

“I think that passes, right everyone?” Tanimura shouts.

3 voices of agreement, and Majima sits with a smile.

“Shinada, you’re up.” Kiryu gives Shinada the mic that works. Shinada, not to be outdone, pulls up a song the gentlemen are pretty familiar with. Shinada also does a couple idol poses, giving the boys a good laugh. He passes the quality check, and Majima is up again.

“Ya have another one in ya, brother?”

“Course I do!” Majima says with a bit of an exasperated huff, and scrolls over to Pride From Despair.

“You sure you know this one, Majima-san?” Kiryu asks with a bit of concern.

“Ya don’t know all of my tricks, Kiryu-chan.”

Turns out, Majima had also learned the actual lyrics to the song, in the time since he and Kiryu had done this together. Kiryu watches in awe, as the other men, minus Shinada, shouted along. Majima ended, passed, and sat back down.

“Well, Shinada-san? You have one in you?” Akiyama asks.

Shinada sits for a second, and ponders for a bit, finally letting out a huge breath of defeat.

“Nah… Majima wins.”

[uniarycode]

MeiKaRu Headcannons.

For no reason in particular.

Friendship:

Takeru makes a point of visiting Meiko whenever he swings by to visit his grandmother, which he does more and more since Meiko's on her own without chosen nearby.

Hikari will often tag along to 'keep an eye on Takeru'. as such, his grandmother thinks Takeru and Hikari are secretly dating.

As seen in the epilogue to Tri, Takeru also writes letters to Meimei on a regular basis, updating her on the goings ons. Meiko appreciates them, but never writes a response.

Taichi and Meiko date for a short time, Hikari and Meiko become instant besties in this period.

Hikari is still mad at Taichi and is perfectly open about trying to steal his girlfriend (platonically at this point)

When Taichi and Meiko break up, the common joke is that Meiko got to keep Hikari in the separation.

Hikari and Meiko have a private messaging channel where they just send each other pictures and gifs of cats.

Occasionally Hikari sends a cute sheep gif.

The two of them are major Ghibli/Disney fans. Takeru will often join them to watch, but pretends he's cooler than that in public.

Takeru does bring the confections however.

The three of them are all creative in different ways. Hikari is a photographer, Meiko's an artist, and Takeru an author.

Meiko and Takeru have done art trades before, drawing something to go with the other's story or vice versa.

The three of them go to art museums together. Takeru takes the longest because he'll find a picture he likes and stares at it for 10 minutes as he tries to piece together a story to go along with it.

All of them are sweet tooths. They will travel around to find new sugary deserts to try and compare notes. one day they hope to find the perfect desert they can all agree is the best.

Getting together:

Takeru made no secret about his interest in either of the girls.  However, he is always careful to leave an exit for them.  He had not actually expect to start dating both at once, except in his wildest fantasies.

Meiko realizes she is bisexual fairly early, and realizes that the outing are better than any of her dates, and at some point puts two and two together to realize her attraction.  However she is initially intimidated by the age gap and not knowing which she should go for.  She does start referring to their outing as dates and dropping other hints.

Hikari is the one that actually made the first move.  Not that she was intending too.  The three of them stubled back to on of their rooms together after a party and she was drunk and curious and kissed Takeru, then kissed Meiko, then told them to kiss and everything spiraled from there.

The next morning they had a very sober ‘are we actually trying this’ talk, where they decided that yes, it was best to try.

Because Hikari made the first move, the other two tease her about being so bold, especially since she is normally the most reserved of the three of them when it comes to PDA. 

Dating:

Initially they kept it mostly secret, unsure if the unusual relationship would last long enough.

Mimi figures out Meiko’s seeing someone.  Miyako figures out Hikari is seeing someone.  Sora doesn’t suspect anything until after the other two start gossiping, and then she starts dropping questions around Takeru and puts everything together.

Sora is also required to be present when the brothers are told to try and ensure the responses are more ….proper for an insecure relationship outside the social norm.

No, “Why is my sister dating my ex?” is not a proper response.

“I’m so proud of you little brother.” is fine. Insinuating it’s because he gets to have a threesome every night is not.

And it is especially not fine to insinuate this is a familial trat in front of your singular fiancé.

Thankfully a good few elbows to the ribs beget more supportive responses.

The rest are more easily told afterward, although Miyako could have used a few more elbows to the ribs.

The three are all comfortable in each other’s company, so they are happy to stay inside most nights, maybe with a movie and a bucket of ice cream.

Takeru s the most extroverted, and thus the one who plans most of their outings.  Meiko is the one who perfects them.

Hikari is very grateful that, because there are three of them, everyone just assumes they are friends no matter how dolled-up they are when they go out.  She feels it takes the pressure off her if no one around realizes she’s on a date.

Although it does make PDA more difficult.

Multiple acquaintances of Hikari hae warned her of her cheating boyfriend.  Hikari isn’t super comfortable explaining their relationship, so she normally acts flighty and teasy and insinuates something random. 

“He’s got a brother, they look alike.”  “No, he was with me at that time.”  “Why are you spying on my boyfriend?  Are you interested in him?”

Meiko is the first one to say “Love” and she means it.  The other two mean it as well, but are far more scared to commit.

Takeru does most of the housework, as his mom was always busy with work and taught him how to do most basic chores so they would get done.  Hikari does the least as her mother was always happy to do them herself and wanted to support Hikari’s dream of being a teacher.

Hikari is also the first of the three with a sizable stable income, which makes her feel better about being less of a homemaker.

Takeru tends not to go grocery shopping though, and always buys something new and different whenever he does.

They have adopted two recue cats.  Sometimes thy just go look at potential rescues, and will likely end up with more.

Patamon and especially Tailmon do try and fill the void for Meiko with her own lost partner, but sometimes they do more harm than good.

Tailmon spends all day with Meiko on the anniversary of Meicoomon’s death, she feels it’s her duty, as the last one able to comfort Meicoomon.

All 3 of them have reasons to feel like the third wheel.  Hikari and Takeru have been inseparable since forever, so Meiko feels like an outsider.  Hikari knew Takeru and Meiko were attracted to each other before they started dating, and feels like an outsider in their love story.  Takeru’s is less rational, and more divorce trauma that makes him feel like the other two will run away and leave him behind one day.

Takeru is absolutely the most jealous and pouty if excluded from things.  He watches make-up tutorials just to feel included.

Of course, they also work hard to keep their relationship going.  Being chosen in a hostile world does help.

Polygamy is illegal in Japan.  It is not illegal in the digital world.

Their wedding has three courses of dessert, on top of the richest, most grandiose wedding cake they could find.

[dontmeantobepoliticalbut]

Senate GOP Leader Mitch McConnell, who froze during a news conference Wednesday and earlier this year suffered a concussion after falling down, has also endured two other falls this year, according to multiple people familiar with the matter.

The first known time, in February, occurred in Finland when McConnell and a US delegation met with the Finnish President in Helsinki, according to three sources familiar with the matter.

As he got out of his car on a snowy day and walked towards his meeting with Finnish President Sauli Niinistö, the GOP leader tripped and fell, the sources said of the incident which hasn’t been previously reported. He dusted himself off and continued on with the meeting.

“It was also very icy to the top,” said GOP Sen. Ted Budd, a North Carolina Republican who witnessed the incident. “So, it could happen any of us.”

Budd added, “All of us are concerned,” though, he said, McConnell appeared normal after the Finland fall.

That incident in Finland occurred just days before McConnell fell in March at the Waldorf Astoria hotel in Washington, where he slammed his head and suffered a concussion and broken ribs, which sidelined him for nearly six weeks before he returned to the Senate.

And just this month at Reagan National Airport in Washington, McConnell was getting off the plane when he tripped and fell, a source familiar with this incident said. He returned to the Capitol later that day. NBC reported on the fall at the airport earlier on Wednesday.

McConnell’s office declined to comment on the incidents.

McConnell, 81, was a survivor of polio as a child and has long walked with a slight limp. He walks on stairs one at a time, and at times rests his hand on an aide to assist him through the Capitol. His falls have at times caused serious injuries, like in 2019, when McConnell fell at his Louisville home and fractured his shoulder.

But his health has received more attention since his fall at the Waldorf Astoria this year. On Wednesday, McConnell froze when speaking to reporters at his weekly news conference, where he was ushered to the side by concerned GOP senators. He later resumed the news conference and answered questions.

McConnell has declined to explain why he froze up, though an aide said he was feeling light-headed.

“I’m fine,” McConnell told reporters when asked about the incident.

It was the second time in as many months McConnell has had an unusual incident at his weekly news conference. The other incident occurred in June when he has having trouble hearing questions from reporters who could be clearly heard by the senators next to him.

McConnell, who broke the record for longest-serving Senate party leader in history this year, is up for re-election in 2026, but he hasn’t said if he would run again or try to stay as GOP leader in the next Congress, which starts in 2025.

In October, McConnell told CNN he would definitely complete his term for the seat he’s held since 1985. “Oh, I’m certainly going to complete the term I was elected to by the people of Kentucky, no question about that,” McConnell said.

But in May, after he suffered his concussion, McConnell declined to entertain the question about his plans to stay in his seat or run for leader.

“I thought this was not an interview about my future,” he said when asked at the time if he would serve out his term or run for leader again. “I thought it was an interview about the 2024 Senate elections.”

[day0walker]

im losing my mind over that evil bastard au you posted, that shit was intense!!

Ehuheueheuheueheuh thank you so much anon!!! Can't believe I literally sat down after work and just shoved all of that out of my brain. Frontier was with me while I kept going "now its at 3k, now its at 5k hahaha". Wild, there's multiple parts I almost cut out, because I almost feel bad my longest writing for those two is fcuking this au lmaooooo

Anyway, to answer the question of Xavier/Painkillers

When Xavier is around 25 or so, he suffers a really, really fucked up side injury to his rib. You can read about it here, but fair warning its blood violence etc as usual.

And after that injury, he gets introduced to heavier painkillers. Which he was taking, just because a couple broken ribs and everything else he went through in that fic, it makes sense. But, it's hard to forget how good a painkiller feels after that.

In this "evil au", I'm leaning a little bit heavier on his addiction to them because 1. sane people are not going to look at evil Benji and be like hahah wanna make out LMAOOOO 2. it's in line for how his character is, if Xavier doesn't find someone to form good genuine emotional connection with.

Xavier, as a character, his like core foundation, is someone who is very, very, very lonely. He just doesn't seem it, because he is REPELLING that idea, even to himself as much as he can. But, in truth, he finds it very difficult to form real emotional attachments with people. Oftentimes, he has fleeting, shallow versions of it and it only ends up making him hate himself.

In Xavier's ship with Peril (that I know y'all don't know much or anything about, but anyway), he wouldn't lean heavy on drugs, because Peril is there. They become a mentor and a friend to him, before they ever become anything romantic, so he has someone to stop him from sort of spiraling into his very bad coping mechanisms. And with Peril, Sergeant Tillman (a man who very much takes advantage of Xavier) doesn't exist primarily because 1. Peril would probably kill him lol 2. Peril is also there. They are a fellow Shadow, so they are ON base with Xavier, so he has someone with him, more consistently, to help him not drift.

With Benji, since there's so much time between the two of them getting to see each other, and Benji is introduced into his life a little later, Xavier is already well into feeling a little Too Fond of painkillers. He's already established a toxic relationship with sex, and he's struggling with both. BUT, his 'situationship' with Benji keeps him from pursuing either of those a little closer, because even if Benji isn't WITH him, he's inside his head. So, Xavier doesn't wander off the path too much.

Even in fun au's like fantasy au, or band au, there's always going to be this core loneliness inside Xavier's heart that he is trying so hard to work on.

Which, I think makes it sound like Xavier is very defined by his romantic ships, but that's not necessarily what I intend; it's more so that Xavier is VERY defined by someone coming into his life and showing him that they very much care about him. That he is not a pretty thing to eat and be done with, he is someone that is worthy of love and care.

Ooooooh sorry for this giant massive dump, it's just that Xavier's character paths are very....interesting to me!!!! He feels like a little friend to me at this point that I just sort of go "hm how are we feeling today" and he goes "please write me giving a oral sex" and I'm like have at it today, Xavier!!!!

[sallage]

Hiiii I love your fics and cant wait for part 2!

Are you a Lee or a Ler? Do you have a fav spot you like to be tickled in/tickle others in or love writing about? Thanks a bunch! :)

Ahhh thank you! Haha it’s nice to know that people are enjoying what I’ve been putting out so far!

Ohmygosh I'm loving all of the asks! haha okay, let me break this down 😂👇🏾

Lee or Ler?

I’m primarily a Lee, but I have my switch moments! 😋 I mentioned in a previous ask that I had convinced my boyfriend to try the Lee role && let me tell you, I definitely discovered some things about myself, as did he 😂 My favorite part of it all was him discovering how tklish he actually was, which was something he truly wasn’t expecting.

He thought he was safe 😈

Favorite Spot to Tickle?

When it came to tkling him, my favorite spots were the ones that he couldn’t stand. (For visualization, he's a muscular dude. He loves the gym and takes really good care of himself.) So the muscle right below his underarms and a little towards his back, his sides and lower belly were incredibly sensitive to light spider tickles. I have medium length nails so that drove him crazy. I’m not a huge fan of feet, but his are sensitive so I made an exception 😂 The inner sides of his hips and his thighs. All of those spots made him ask for it to stop. I only see myself being a Ler for him, so I would say those spots are my favorite to tickle. ☺️

Favorite Spot to Write About?

When I write stories, I love writing about thigh tickling. Specifically the sensitive tendons on the upper inner thigh that connects to the crotch. I think that spot and generally the pelvic area is sooooo underrated. You'll see it pop up in more of my works. One more spot I love writing about is the ribs because thats a sensitive spot on me personally. 😋

Favorite Spot to be Tickled In?

Hmmm... I find myself stuck on this one. The first thought that came to my head was my ribs and thighs, because I really enjoy it. But honestly, I like getting tickled everywhere except my feet, which is hilarious because they're my absolute worst spot.

Seriously, nothing even comes close.

The longest I've lasted would have to be just a minute or two and thats only because my safe word was ignored. (Which at the time was horrible but when I think back to it, It was pretty hot LOL) My feet are always off limits but honestly, he doesn't care.

I hope I answered all of your questions! ☺️

[world-of-fire-and-flight]

Mirth's Ebenezer: Part 14

A/N: OMG I think I can see the light at the end of the tunnel😲 Now the longest standing series on my blog, I’m throwing it back to part 4, part 5, and part 6 in the hopes of tying up some loose ends like who the mole is and how Supervillain got them to leak the holiday schedule. You know, the truly important stuff (though at some point I should probably figure out this love triangle thing. Maybe I should make a poll?? You know what yeah: drop a comment about whether you’d like to vote for who Mirth ends up with and I’ll make a poll for it 😊)

Warnings: reference to past violence, reference to past betrayal, reference to past murder and bodily harm, fleeing, reference to past home invasion (well, safe house invasion😉)

My Masterlist | Taglist Info or Taglist Request Form | Mirth’s Ebenezer masterlist

Mirth let her eyes fall shut and her head go limp, leaning against the cool windowpane of the truck’s rear passenger seat as Superhero and Baron discussed which of their potential suspects was actually Supervillain’s mole.

“I’m telling you, it has to be Agent,” Baron was saying insistently, leaning forward over the center console with one hand dangling over the empty passenger seat and the other over the driver seat. “Who else had access—”

“There’s still Civilian to consider, the H.R. assistant, and as much as I hate to say it, the H.R. director herself, Carole.”

“Well if we’re just going to keep throwing names at the wall, we might as well as add Other Agent to the list too.”

“No,” Mirth finally said, peeling herself away from the window and straightening in her seat beside Baron. “They’re too loyal even if they are a little dimwitted.”

Superhero caught her eye in the rear view mirror, their brow arched in question. Before they could say anything, she added, “I do think we need to consider Judge Whitmire or someone in his office though.”

Baron glanced at her. “Why?”

“Because who else knew where the safe house was?”

Silence descended upon the car. Baron slumped back in the seat and finally buckled himself in. Mirth turned her head back toward the window, watching the forest pass by as Superhero sped through the narrow dirt roads and took the already sharp turns a little too vigorously. Her stomach roiled from the suddenness of the car’s movements and sliding around the backseat with every high speed turn they took. Acid simmered in her gut from both the jerky ride and the fresh memory of Supervillain’s attack on the safe house.

Taking a long breath in through her nose, Mirth tried to focus on anything other than the snap of bones in her ears as she’d slammed henchmen into trees or threw her fist at their faces.

None of it made any sense. How would Civilian or Carole know where they were serving Baron’s house arrest at? But how would anyone in Judge Whitmire’s office know which heroes were scheduled to work during this past holiday season?

Unless…

“What if we’re all right but also wrong?” she started, forcing her eyes to focus on first Superhero’s reflection in the rear view mirror and then Baron beside her. “What if there’re two moles?”

Superhero slammed on the brakes, bringing the truck to a careening stop that had Mirth nearly emptying the contents of her stomach as she flew forward and nearly slammed into the back of their seat behind the wheel. Baron cursed, rubbing his head from where he had actually hit the seat in front of him.

“A little warning would’ve—”

“Then the courthouse isn’t safe either,” Superhero said at the same time, interrupting Baron’s snide remark.

“Then where are we supposed to go?” Mirth asked, rubbing her ribs from where the seat belt had pulled a little too taunt in its effort to prevent her from flying forward at Superhero’s sudden braking.

“I know a place,” Baron said quietly. “Just promise me it won’t violate the terms of my Rogue Trial?”

Superhero’s jaw visibly clenched. “Why would we need to promise that?”

“Oh please,” Baron shot back, “would you trust the system if you were in my position?” Superhero didn’t respond, and in their silence, Baron visibly tempered himself, slumping back in his seat and closing his eyed for a moment. “Let me drive, it’ll be easier that way.”

“No.” Superhero didn’t leave any room for argument, but Baron persisted.

“Look, we don’t have time to fight or for me to direct you to my last safe house, so just let me drive before Supervillain catches up to us.”

“And what makes you think they’re even—”

“Because what we just did? It’s a blow to their ego and they’re going to want to prove that they’re still on top of things, so unless you want to help prove that, let me drive.”

Begrudgingly, Superhero reached for the door handle and undid their seat belt. “Fine. But if I even suspect you’re leading us into a trap—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Baron said flippantly, “you’ll kill me.”

Mirth rolled her eyes. At least their pathetic squabbling hadn’t been impacted by Supervillain’s surprise attack on the safe house. And so much for their near deaths bringing them closer together. Resting her head against the window, she let her eyes fall shut again as Superhero sat in the passenger seat and Baron took the wheel.

Hopefully, Baron’s last-resort safe house actually proved to be secure and safe and they could take a breath before tackling just who the mole was—and how many there actually were.

Mirth’s Ebenezer Taglist: @heroes-villains-side-blog @selene-stories @violetcancerian @kaiwewi @averyconfusedhuman Just let me know if you’d like to be added or removed (no reason necessary!) You can also add yourself using this handy dandy form 😊

[ash-the-porcupine]

Johnny and Nooshy talking with Buster Moon

I woke up with SEVEN request. Holy rabies. Now, you never specified exactly what you wanted out of this, so I kind of free-styled. That okay? REQUEST: Johnny and Nooshy talking with Buster Moon.

Johnny and Nooshy had been discussing it for a while. Their little fluffy boss knew just about everything about them! Pasts, present, and every random tidbit one could imagine. He even remembered their favorite drinks, candies, and cake flavors and even their favorite kind of Doritos so that he could spoil them perfectly on rehearsal days. The two had wanted to find out more about Buster now, and had quite the idea to do it.

Saturdays were Moon theater game night. The group would split up into two groups. One would play one game, and the other a different one. Moon had given Nooshy and Johnny a free pass on it just being them three when they said they wanted to do an extra special game. This was intriguing to Buster. Little did he know what he had just wreaked upon his night.

Hours passed, and eventually the lynx and gorilla pair showed up at the theater, more than ready to speak to the little koala. Their devious plan was nothing other than truth or dare. This was sure to be an exciting evening. Now, they should have asked Ash to bring drinks, but they were sure Buster at least had some sodas somewhere lying in wait for them.

When Johnny walked in, he gave Buster a simple cheerful hello, which the koala was quick to return. Nooshy, however, tackled the showman in a rib-cracking hug before demanding a coke. Buster chuckled and Miss Crawly soon returned with a coke. Or, most of one (she had gotten a little thirsty, being Miss Crawly and all).

“So,” Buster inquired, “what is the so called ‘mystery game’ you so desperately wanted to play?” He tugged his crooked bowtie straight and smoothed out his jacket, a typical little habit of Moon. He always wanted to look nice. No one really understood it but him, really. However, this was bound to be the most nerve-wracking answer he’d received in a while.

In the many months since Redshore, Johnny and Nooshy had presented games such as S.T.E.V.E (Super Terrifying Extremely Vicious Extraterrestrials), Taco Cat Goat Cheese Pizza, Uno Attack, Laser Tag, Five Crowns, Paint Ball, and at one point Nooshy suggested they should Ding-dong-ditch the police department windows. Buster politely declined on this one. Nooshy’s answer caught Buster even more off-guard than defacing public property or committing arson might have.

Nooshy snickered mischievously. “Well, Johnny and I decided, we should play –drum roll pleaseeeee – Truth or Dare!” she exclaimed extravagantly. Buster jumped. Johnny found this amusing. Buster hadn’t played truth or dare in years, all the way since college, and when he had it didn’t go so well. Meaning: There was a bit of a trip to a prison cell for a few hours. Buster’s and Eddie’s parents were not at all impressed and Eddie was strictly forbidden from playing the game for the longest while.

Johnny seemed to notice how Buster went white as a sheet at this suggestion and his smile faded a bit. “What’s with the face, Mr. Moon? It’ll be fun!”

“Ha-ha, I’m not sure.” Buster deflated with a nervous laugh before brushing it off with a shrug. “Well, how bad can it be, right? And Johnny, for the last time, you can call me Buster.” He reminded with a wavering smirk as they walked off. Buster was certainly on edge. The evening proceeded with all sorts of odd and extravagant requests and questions, shenanigans of almost drunken nature ensuing.

To start it off was Nooshy. “Moon-Man, truth or dare?” she questioned, bouncing a little bit (much to Johnny’s amusement).

“Truth, I suppose. I can only imagine what havoc you’d unleash if I said ‘dare’.” He teased playfully. Nooshy accepted this with a ‘so-so’ bob of her head.

“Hm… what’s your dad’s full name?”

“Franklin Davis Moon,” Buster replied simply, unsure of the nature of the question. It was a bit odd of an inquiry for the game, and Johnny signaled this to Nooshy by bumping her with his elbow. Now it was Buster’s turn. “Johnny, truth or dare?” he asked. Johnny went with a simple dare. “Do the floss.” Buster said. Nooshy had recently come in doing something she called The Floss by Backpack Kid and he was kind of curious to see how Johnny would look trying to imitate the strange dance move.

Johnny did so with a sheepish laugh. The night continued with some crazy questions, including Buster’s favorite snacks and such.

(Ex; Doritos: cheese - Soda: Sprite – Meal: sandwich – Home: The Theater – Childhood Best Friend: None – Least Favorite Person: Was this even necessary?)

After a long and lively game involving climbing theater rafters, zip-lining recklessly on light fixtures, ridiculous dances, all the synonyms of ‘annihilation’ and much, much more, everyone was ready to settle down and just talk. Now, Johnny and Nooshy both had their fair share of questions about Buster that they never got to fit into the game without sounding nosy or suspicious. Nooshy had quite the reputation for being nosy.

Buster was quite relieved to find that the biggest disaster of that evening had been an exploded potato in the microwave. This was quite lucky considering Buster’s luck. Last time he had played, he had ended up throwing stink bombs and bath bombs in a hotel pool for twenty bucks with Eddie. Consequences obviously came from this. He had to admit that running from hotel employees gave quite a thrill though.

Now, he was just to simply talk with his friends, as if no odd questions and dares had ever existed that night or any night prior.

“Hey, M- I mean, Buster, what exactly did you like to do as a kid outside of theater activities?” Johnny asked curiously.

“Honestly, not a lot, Johnny. Theater was and is my world, cheesy as that sounds. I always liked art,too, though. I would paint and draw and I would sell my art to raise any money. I think I was good at it too, because I raised a LOT of money that way.” He explained, “But, mostly, I liked anything theater related.”

“How’d you like school? I heard some people actually enjoy it.” Nooshy stated, sipping at her second can of coca-cola.

“Well, I didn’t like school itself, but I liked my English teacher. He was nice. Edward Phelps? He was by far my favorite, and basically the only teacher who didn’t pick on me. My school was very prejudiced against certain interest and theater was one of them so people didn’t like me very much.” He shrugged. “None of them ever got to know me though, or really even learn my name. Half of them would call me Bradley or Baxter. I could never tell whether they were just being mean or actually didn’t know my name.” he said. “It was weird, because everyone loved my dad.” Buster was busy looking down at his paws, ears flicked backwards thoughtfully.

“How did your dad get the money for this place just by car-washing?”

“Well, we sold whatever we could, too. Every spare cent went to the theater. Actually, my dad was saving for whatever his children would want to do a full six or seven years before I was actually born. He originally wanted two kids, actually, but mom died when I was really little.” Buster said.

“That’s sad. My mum died when I was nine.” Johnny spoke softly. “I think your dad was really cool to do what he did for you, though.”

“He was. I never got to see him much, he worked late, but I’m really grateful for how hard he worked for me. He never seemed to spare a thought for himself.”

“You do the same thing, Buster.” The gorilla remarked, gesturing at him with a grey hand. “You’re always working your tail off to make sure we’re all happy and the theater taken care of, but you never take even a moment for yourself.”

“Thanks, Johnny. That’s very kind of you.” Buster very much wished he could be more like his dad. His dad was the best person ever to Buster. There was always a pressure on Buster to make his dad proud, even though Frank never worried about that stuff, Buster certainly did, and Frank never knew about it.

The conversations continued deep into the night, ranging from subject to subject in a wild disarray. They discussed things no one would ever think of but them. Had Rosita been there, she would have tied them all to chairs for staying up as long as they did – and with coffee and soda no less.

But in the end, they were all smiling and they all had a good time. Just because Johnny and Nooshy wanted to learn about their quirky boss.

[markcampbells]

I posted 373 times in 2022

26 posts created (7%)

347 posts reblogged (93%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@excavatinglizard

@tiberiusmulder

@nadja-antipaxos

@mrsmunsons

@starcitysirens

I tagged 372 of my posts in 2022

#about me - 50 posts

#<3 - 42 posts

#series: star trek - 33 posts

#the magnus archives - 26 posts

#leonard mccoy - 24 posts

#queer art - 21 posts

#series: star wars - 21 posts

#jim kirk - 20 posts

#mckirk - 19 posts

#legends of tomorrow - 18 posts

Longest Tag: 120 characters

#(also i'm always weirdly happy when people associate me with my flag? it's that late in life queer moment i guess lmfao)

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

WHAT KIND OF LOSER ALMOST MISSES HER OWN MCKIRKAVERSARY (this one I am that loser)

It has been one entire year since I posted absolution, my first official McKirk fic. I dreamed this baby up on a weekend morning and started writing, after years of admiring the folks in the fandom from afar. I am so, so grateful I did.

to @afterthenovels and @malionnes -- Anna gave me the prompt that became the fic, and Cait asked me the OTP meme questions that sparked me thinking about my own vision. Thank you both for getting me started.

To the USS McKirk folks: thank you for taking me into the fold. You are all so special to me. To mention just a handful of you:

@aishahiwatari and @demerite; best mods ever!

@aroacebones, for being the best partner in angst and never minding a 5 AM DM or fifty.

@lokilenchen and @excavatinglizard, both of whom surprised me with art for my later fic, both of whose talents amaze me every single day.

@better-late-than-nevah for understanding my desperate love for comments 😂

@spockats, my partner in word games, provider of medical knowledge!

@trek-tracks for the humor that keeps me going, and the sweetest words of praise a girl could want.

@sagesiren for loving Jewish Jim as much as I do!

@jenjiy for having the other half of the brain cell 😂

And to @fireinmywoods, thank you so much for giving us SIEL, a light in a dark year and the best communal experience I could have asked for so soon after officially joining the fandom!

I've said it before and I'll say it again: McKirk people best people. I'm so glad I fell in with you all. Let's keep it going a bunch more years. 💛💙

13 notes - Posted February 1, 2022

#4

"I'm Jim. … Which friend is this a favor for? I've been coming here for months."

“Christine. These shifts interfere with her nightlife, you see, and as she saw fit to remind me, I have none, so better I be the one to molder away in an underground transfusion center.”

“I liked Christine. But if she sees fit to abandon me to the whims of a grouchy Southerner, I might displace her in my estimation.”

A vampire and a necromancer have a chat at a blood transfusion center.

(Trektober 2022, Day Two: Vampire AU)

content warnings: Jim was turned into a vampire against his will by an intimate partner; there is a brief description.

14 notes - Posted October 2, 2022

#3

"I saw a girl this morning who looked like my mother. It's strange--I haven't thought about my mother in decades, but after I wrote about her, she appeared before me. Part of me wanted to speak to her, this girl who seemed like my mother, but I didn't know what I would say. That I turned out to be so much more than she expected of me? And so much less? That I'm sorry I spent the better part of sixty years barely acknowledging her existence? That I don't remember exactly when she died? "Of course, it doesn't matter at all what I would say to my mother if I saw her again, because I didn't. It was just a girl with the same copper hair."

You Feel It Just Below the Ribs, Jeffrey Cranor and Janina Matthewson.

16 notes - Posted June 3, 2022

#2

How little we know of ourselves at any moment; how distinctly human that is. There is such little grace given to the perfect messiness of desire. Even queers feel pressure to homogenize the experience into catchy slogans. The 'born this way' narrative, while politically expedient, has done untold damage to narratives of the queer experience, implying any number of horrible ideas: that you cannot move toward desire without some genetic component urging you to do so, that experimentation is inherently problematic, that you have to know your truest and deepest self to act on something. There were times in my adolescence where people asked me if I was gay and I said no, not out of a sense of self-preservation but because I truly believed it to be so. You can be a stranger to yourself; you almost certainly will be, at some point or another. It is inevitable, as inevitable as the moment of rupture that sends you hurtling toward the self you were always going to be.

from "Both Ways" by Carmen Maria Machado, her essay on Jennifer's Body in It Came from the Closet: Queer Reflections on Horror (ed. Joe Vallese).

25 notes - Posted October 4, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

desire to learn how to draw, if not well: losing

years of memories of art teachers telling me how bad at art i was: winning

30 notes - Posted January 6, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[jade-nargacuga]

WS AU stuff

Just some random stuff about my Wayward Souls AU because I’m bored and also not motivated enough to write right now. Mostly I’m Not Ingo part stuff:

(Edit- Holy crap this got waaaaaaaaaaaaay longer than I intended.DX)

-MC is myself, so they are named Jazzmine Mathis (I already used my irl name in my last self insert so why not). When the public asks who they are and why they look like Ingo, they lie for convenience and give a ‘male’ name instead, Luji Mathis. For people in the know, she still prefers to be called Jazzmine, or Jazz for short. On all legal documents she puts Jazzmine “Luji” Mathis 

-When asked by Elesa how she came up with the name Luji so easily, Jazz explains that that is a name she thought of giving to her son if she ever decided to have kids. 

-(Luji is a name I made up years ago for a story idea I never wrote out and loved the sound of. Looking up a definition/meaning didn’t yield me anything except maybe Earth in Chinese or something. Other names I made up back then but haven’t looked up any potential meaning for are Tygra and Torrin. Saruji, which means rubble in Swahili? is also a name I like to use for myself/OCs online. May use these names in the story.)

-When Jazz first appears in Nimbasa in Ingo’s body, Arceus has warped her there in an alley to avoid people seeing her suddenly appear. Emmet, who just got two texts from god saying “Thy brother art safe” and “Protect her” sees the flash out of the corner of his eye and then his brother stumble out into the open. Naturally, he shouts his brothers name and rushes forward to hug him, only for ‘Ingo’ to collapse in his arms, causing a HUGE scene

-’Ingo’ is sent to the hospital where his family is gathered to wait for him to recover, and when Jazz wakes up she has a hard time explaining to his family who she ACTUALLY is, as they don’t believe her and think she must have hit her head.

- In order to ‘prove’ she isn’t Ingo Jazz asks Ingo’s Chandelure to do a vibe check on her, figuring that they must have drained bits of Ingo’s soul from time to time since she’s the pokemon that’s been with him the longest, and thus should be able to tell her soul is NOT his. Chandelure reluctantly agrees.

-While Chandelure only burns the faintest whisper of her soul, barely enough for even the most sensitive person to notice, and can tell in an instant that she isn’t Ingo, Jazz has a BAD reaction to the ghost’s contact. Something inside of her feels like it’s being torn apart, and she grips her chest and falls unconscious again. While everyone freaks out, Chandelure can only stand back in surprise, then telepathically tells everyone in the room that that isn’t Ingo before running off crying.

-While unconscious and after running some tests, the doctors conclude that based on what happened with Chandelure that Jazzmine must have suffered suffered a spiritual injury from a powerful Ghost type attack. While she will recover from the damage given time(and only time), they warn the others that she will most likely remain overly sensitive to any type of ghost type attack.

-While medical science isn’t advanced enough to view the soul, Jazz’s spiritual ‘wound’ is shaped like 3 slightly diagonal claw marks with a 4th vertical line splitting those 3 in half. (If you know, you know)

-Once Jazz fully recovers(again) the group is swarmed outside the hospital by the media all asking questions about the return of Subway Boss Ingo. Jazzmine pulls her bullshiting card before the others can get a word it and jokingly tells the press that she is actually Ingo and Emmet’s cousin Luji from the Orre Region and that this whole thing admittedly a joke in poor taste on her part when she decided to prank her cousin by pretending to be Ingo. Dude hugged her so hard that he cracked a rib and she fainted, hence the hospital visit. And boy was he mad when he found out! Elesa has to hold in a chuckle while Emmet glares at her in only slightly fake angry annoyance. He slaps her back a little too hard a few times and tells his ‘cousin’ that they have places to be before leading the way through the crowd.

-Emmet tells her that for the time being she’ll be moving in with him in his apartment. This makes Jazzmine slightly uncomfortable, since as a girl she doesn’t want to move in with a guy she barely knows. Even if she IS a guy now. This gets a laugh from Elesa who assures her it’ll be ok since she lives there too, having moved in with Emmet about 4 years ago to help him cope.

-So they spend about a month or so getting Jazz slowly acclimated to living in Nimbasa and the pokemon world as a whole, since this is her first time there(that she knows of). Eventually Jazz is given free reign to travel about the city and surrounding area alone, albeit with one of Ingo’s pokemon with her at all times, usually Chandelure. Jazz remains wary of the ghost pokemon because of what happened last time, but understands that Chandelure wants to keep her(or it’s trainer’s body) safe.

-While traveling out to see the Marvelous Bridge the pair encounter a cubone, wounded and exhausted with a wild Mandibuzz swooping in and trying to snatch it up. Enraged and in desperation Jazz orders Chandelure for the first time to hit the buzzard pokemon away with an Overheat before running in and scooping up the Cubone, rushing it to the nearest Pokemon Center. Once healed, she asks it if it wants her to return it to it’s group on the route 15 on the other side of the bridge, but Chandelure tells her that it says it’s family was attacked by a whole flock of Mandibuzz and doesn’t know if they all survived. Hearing this and cubone start to cry, Jazz decides to adopt the cubone and take care of it, effectively making it her first pokemon. She names him Luji which isn’t confusing at all, so she refers to him as Jr.

-Later, Jazz officially registers as a Pokemon Trainer and expresses her desire to travel around to Emmet and Elesa. Seeing how much she cares for the cubone, and how well she treats the pokemon in their home, they agree.

-Random stuff: When Jazz first arrives in the appartment and can get a proper change of clothes, she finds Ingo’s green and yellow St Patrat’s day coat and falls in love with it because she LOVES light green. Emmet and Elesa comment on how Ingo always hated that uniform, so he probably wouldn’t miss it. When she becomes a trainer, she mostly uses Nest Balls for the same reason.

I thought long and hard about what pokemon Jazz would get once she became a trainer, and had at least 4 different pokemon in mind before thinking of Cubone, who honestly fits several themes of the story perfectly as her partner. I love Ground types, so I was thinking maybe a Drilbur bred from Ingo’s Excaldril, and I used to have a Galvantula that I loved way back when, so one of emmet’s millions of Joltiks was also considered. I also LOVE Scolipede, so a venipede from the LostLorn forest was considered as well. What ALMOST won out was a stray Purrloin in Nimbasa if Emmet kept her restricted to the city limits, that she would have adopted and took care of similar to Cubone. While I still might have her catch Purrloin and Venipede eventually, I decided against Drilbur and Joltik. Not only do they have overlaping types with cubone and venipede, but I feel like Jazz would be uncomfortable raising the same pokemon as the twins, especially Ingo. She wants to be seen as her own person, and using any of Ingo’s pokemon just feels wrong.

[panicsdemonically]

Character entry 2.0

Writers Note: This is one of my many Monoliths; a Monolith is a monster of my making so feel free to ask questions. A post outlining the details of Monoliths will be made in the future. TW: there is an image of a gun at the bottom of this post

Name: Deimos Calydon

Fandom: None

Species: Monolith

Literal Age: 2,235-ish

Birth Month: Apr. (Aries)

Sex/Gender: Cic Male (he/him)

Sexuality: Pan

Family: Angelina Calydon (Wife/Deceased), Isabella Calydon (daughter/Deceased), Brutus Calydon (son/living)

Nationality: Thracia/Greek

Occupation: Indentured Agent for the Disaster Prevention branch of the C.T.U. (Contain, Train, Utilize) Organization

Code Name: The Gladiator

Affiliated colors: Barn red #7C0902

______________________________________________________________ Personality His job comes with many social pressures to stay under the radar, which is quite a trying task when you look like a walking force of nature. So behaving like a cold-shouldered asshole that wants to be left the hell alone is just part of the course. Even without his job in mind, Deimos has a temper simmering close to the surface tenting every early interaction with snaky sarcasm. Suffering severe PTSD he's put up thick emotional walls and coined socially destructive tactics to keep people away, for their sake. He's a deeply emotional person under it all and wishes he could convey them better. But his life has required more of his blind rage than any other method, so he accepts the idea of never being anything more than a monster. So his undying loyalty and passions go untapped. He tries to fill the void with one-night stands and heavy drinking habits.

_____________________________________________________________

Physical Appearance

Monoliths have varying control over their appearance depending on their experience and how long they've been a Monolith. Their True Forms are bestial and range in size and shape.

Human: A tan muscular man with a bad case of Resting Bitch Face. His physical age appears 35-ish, he’s 71", and he weighs around 300lb with long, wavy, dark brown/black hair he keeps up in a low bun. Sometimes he'll only pull back the front locks into a small ponytail to keep it out of his face. You'll find this dark hair everywhere else on his body too, excluding his face which is kept clean-shaven. He has dark brown eyes with faint crow's feet and freckles from sun damage, and a repeatably broken nose. His physique is muscular with a healthy amount of fat padding to soften his sharp edges, adding to the bulk of his already thick build. Many notable scars are littering his body. One across his neck was given to him by his late wife; knife cuts on his right arm and bullet impacts on his chest from mafia activity; scratches on his right shoulder and left forearm from a fight with another Monolith; stab wounds on his left arm and under his left ribs, ware mark on the right ankle, and lashes on his back are from his time spent as a gladiator.

Half-form: This can be any combination of his typically hidden features depending on his mood. Boar ears, glowing eyes, sharp claws, visible tusks, etc. He can choose to show these at will, however, at times when he’s overwhelmed by emotion these features will begin to seep through unintentionally.

Full monster: He rarely uses it due to the sheer size. Standing 24'1", close to the same height as a two-story building, he dawns the appearance of a large half-boar man reminiscent of the minotaur from Greek legend. With long dull claws and padded palms, he uses his long arms to walk on all fours when not in combat. Fur coats his body in varying lengths, the longest being along his back and head like a mane. His coat's texture feels bristly and coarse along the rest of his body, protecting his thick hide from environmental abrasions and cold.

Writers Note: There is an NSFW version attached to the Twitter post linked.

______________________________________________________________

Likes/Dislikes Likes: Liquar, Cigars, Rare Meat, Sparing

Dislikes: Having his morals criticized, Nightmares, being called a 'pig', and unnecessarily loud noises.

______________________________________________________________

Spells Spells must be learned and practiced to master. Shared Pain: This spell can be used on small wounds. The caster can transfer the damage done to their subject to themselves. The caster uses their blood to write runes on their subject's wounded area. To complete the link the caster then uses their subject's blood on themselves, on the same location mirroring their subject's wound. Blood for Blood: Specifically sacrificing the one who harmed the caster's subject to bring them back from the brink of death. This transfers all damage dealt to the sacrifice, killing them in the process. This spell can not be used if the subject has already ceased living.

______________________________________________________________

Skills Something the character has worked on perfecting physically, mentally, or academically Weapons Master: Deimos has used many different weapons throughout his life, leaving him the skill to use: Staffs, swords and shields, bows, and too many gun types to count. Hands-On: Hand-to-hand combat with Deimos is the worst place to be. From a young age, he was taught how to wrestle and was gifted with bone density and muscle growth to allow a hit to land without fazing him.

______________________________________________________________

Monolithic Power Monoliths have signature abilities unique to them requiring no learning outside of practice. Bone Armor: As Deimos takes damage he has a passive ability where bone will regrow over heavily damaged parts of soft tissue. The more you damage him, the harder he hits, but the slower he moves due to the weight. this can affect anywhere on his body and can be forcefully activated if he self-inflicts. His most common move is to pound his fists into a hard surface to build the bone around his knuckles before engaging in combat. The bone can also be broken off and used as a weapon. This power can be used in any form.

______________________________________________________________

Extras

Deimos's eyesight is shit. His sense of smell and hearing are heightened like a boar's, this also means however his eyes take a hit. He didn't technically learn how to read till glasses were invented due to it.

He refuses to cut his hair, wearing it as a sign of pride after having it all shaved off when sold into slavery to become a gladiator. Ever since he's put extra effort into avoiding being struck in the head and fire.

The car he drives is a 2008 Ford Excursion, Black. Perfect for transporting large loads.

His weapon of choice that he keeps on his hip at all times when on the job is a gun called The Judge. It's a five-shot revolver chambered for .410 bore shot shells and the .45 Colt cartridge.

[rogersevans]

Back to You

Summary: A drunken night in with his sister and her friends had him regretting ever letting you walk out of his life.

Notes: 18+ Minors DNI

authors note: i got this idea after thinking about that one interview chris had, where he’s asked “what’s the most romantic thing someone has done for you?” and he struggles to think of something. but the opposite; jake can’t stop thinking about all the romantic things reader did for him. there might be a part two to this...

masterlist

Jake didn’t know how the topic of their drunken conversation had shifted to his past relationships. The last he remembered they were talking about which Avenger they’d fuck and why. Jake all too eager blurted out Scarlet Witch and then went on a ten minute rant about how cool she was when they admitted not knowing who she was.

He had been dropping off his niece when he was forced into ‘girls night’, now here he was three beers deep and having conversations about his past relationships.

His sister started it. Talking about his bad taste in women. That was until she mentioned you. “Ya’know who I liked?!” She slurred out, her once full wine glass now holding the remnants of the cheap stuff she’d bought earlier today. Your name rolled off her lips with such ease, she practically sung it.

Jake listened to the small group of women all swoon at the mere mention of your name, his entire body tensing. These women had grown up with the Jensen’s, so you’d been close with them all. Especially his niece. They all took the break-up hard.

A lump started to form in his throat, like it did every time someone mentioned you or whenever he thought about you.

“I’m telling you Jakey, she’s the one that got away!” The high pitched tones of his sisters voice made him cringe. Pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Something he did when he was uncomfortable.

“Yeah!” Another friend piped up. “Why’d you guys even break up?”

“She wanted him to grow up-”

“That’s not why.” Jake started to become agitated, picking at the label on the brown beer bottle. The lump in his throat growing bigger. “Can we stop talking about this?” He coughed to cover up the fact that his voice was cracking.

You and Jake had been together for two years, you were his world, even planned to marry you. But somewhere along the way that plan got derailed. If he was being honest he couldn’t remember why you broke up. He just remembers how quiet it was. You never raised your voice, not even when you argued. Something he’d always admired of you.

He remembers watching as you silently packed your things, tears falling down your cheeks.

“Bubba-”

“Don’t,” his nickname for you making your heart ache, his own voice cracking under the strain of trying not to cry. Holding your palm flat against his chest as he tried to take a step closer to you. “Please,” you pleaded with him. “Because if you touch me right now I’ll cry,” you hiccuped out, your bottom lip trembly slightly. “And if I start crying then I won’t ever stop.”

Jake just silently nodded, understanding your wishes. Not confident that if he did hold you he’d stay strong himself.

That was the last time Jake saw you, two months ago. The longest you’d been apart from one another and it was killing him. He wanted nothing more than to ring you up and tell you he missed you. Ask you to take him back. But he knew it was too late.

“We should call her and ask!!” Another friend piped up, snapping Jake back to the conversation. “Don’t you still speak to her-”

“You what?” Jake didn’t intend for his question to come out as a bark or harsh, maybe it was the beers altering his mood. Or maybe it was the rawness of the conversation topic that made him snap. 

He’d spent two months thinking about you, missing you, wanting nothing more than to hear your voice. Only to find out that you’ve been in contact with his sister this whole time. His heart started to pound against his ribs.

“We chat on occasion.” She defended, folding her arms across her chest.

“How often are these ‘chats’?” He’d forgotten about everyone else in the room, too focused on you. He felt the anger bubble inside of him. For two months you’d ignored every voicemail or text he’d sent. But his sister calls and you’re willing to speak to her. 

“Once or twice a week. Jake, we’re friends.” She tried to reason with him.

“If you’re friends, why isn’t she here?” His tone was bitter, his upper lip curling.

“If that’s your reaction then no wonder she left.” The words came out quicker than she could stop them, god damn wine. Everyone watched as he stared her down, his fists balling until his knuckles turned white. His sister had a tendency to always push his buttons, it’s what sisters do. But even she knew that was a low blow. “Jake...” She tried when she saw him stand and grab his jacket, but in true Jake fashion he had to have the last word.

“No, I get it. I’m the bad guy. The love of my life walks out of on me, ignores me, but still makes a point to communicate with my sister!” 

“Don’t get it twisted Jake. She didn’t leave in the middle of the night, you guys broke up, because you couldn’t get your shit together and figure out that she was the best thing to happen to you. When she came over that night-”

“What did you just say?” Jake stopped dead at his sisters drunk confession, his blood running cold. Had you really left the home you shared, after breaking up with him, to go and sleep on his sisters couch?

Oh, he was pissed.

“She had no where to go!”

“Yes she did! She had a perfectly good apartment and loving boyfriend waiting for her!” 

“You’re such an ass.” She mumbled, shaking her head. “She told me everything that happened that night, how you promised her to be home so you could talk, but instead came home piss drunk after being out with the guys all day. How you told her that marriage wasn’t something you could picture right now.” The last one made everyone, including Jake, cringe. The memories coming back to him like a brick to the face. “She didn’t want to be around you so she came here. I’m sorry that upsets you, but she’s my friend.”

Jake could’t bring himself to talk, the emotion of the situation becoming too much for him. His skin itching as he felt everyone’s eyes on him. He’d fucked up. He didn’t need his sister to tell him that. But it was easier to pretend that he hadn’t. It was easier for him to live with himself, live with the guilt. 

“Where’re you going?” Her voice now strained from shouting and the amount of wine she’d drank throughout the night.

“For a walk.” Was all he said before letting the door slam behind him as he left her home. The cool winter air hitting him, sobering him up to the harsh reality he was now facing. 

He’d fucked up.

Big time.

It was 2am and Jake was walking the cold streets, his thumb teasing over your name in his contacts. Tears now staining his cheeks. He knew he’d overreacted back at his sister’s, but too prideful to admit that he’d rather suffer in the cold and wallow in his own self-inflicted pity.

He remembered everything about you. 

The way you scrunched your nose when you were nervous, like the time you set up an entire office in the spare room of your apartment, nervous that you’d set everything up wrong. Decked out with tech you didn’t understand, the small bed that once occupied the room now gone, replaced with a pull out sofa facing the desk. Oh the desk, Jake thought he’d died and gone to heaven. You’d spotted him eyeing this exact desk a couple of weeks a go. He remembered how you listened to every detail of his rant after you asked why that desk just thinking you were being polite. But you were taking mental notes, remembering the details of how he would set it up if he were to buy it. How important the positioning of the desk is. He’d been stuck at the dining table working from there with just one screen. Two screens are much better bubba. He’d grumble to you, his arms wrapping around your waist as you stood next to him. But when he saw three screens lighting up the room he couldn’t contain the squeal of excitement. You’re getting head tonight, the best head you’ve ever had. Breakfast in bed. A puppy. Anything you want bubba. He promised you as he peppered your entire face with soft kisses. 

Or how you never asked questions, trusting him completely. Especially when he needed to leave at the drop of a hat. He always joked that he was tech genius and business owner by day, hero by night. Loving how it always made you playfully role your eyes and giggle. You’re my hero sunshine. You’d always say back to him. He remembers how you would spray the inside of his bag with your perfume when you packed it, leaving your pillow case folded up on top of clothes. It was an unspoken tradition. He’d find himself itching to get to his sketchy motel room, opening the bag to have your perfumed scent taking over his senses, relaxing him instantly. Replacing the grubby motel pillow case with yours, the smell of your shampoo helping him drift off to sleep quicker. 

When his team found out they teased him relentlessly but he didn’t care.

How you’d widen your eyes slightly, making them big and adorable, to get your own way, your bottom lip would shortly follow, poking out. You would never use your power for evil, only for mundane things like convincing him to come shopping with you. He would love the way your eyes would light up when he agreed. Now, Jake hated shopping, hated doing the weekly food shop. He much prefers doing it online, but not you. He would watch as your perused the isles with such care and determination. Always moving out of the way for people. Jake would spot his favourite brand of beer or cereal and before he could move to grab them you would be already putting them in the cart, ticking them off your list. His heart swelling at the thought of you just adding his favourite things to your list, without thinking. 

Before he knew what he was doing his thumb pressed against your name, calling you. He needed to see you, to hear your voice again. 

The dull and loud vibrations from your phone woke you. Turning onto your back and letting out a heavy sigh you reached for your phone and swiped the screen, not even checking who was calling you at this ungodly hour. 

But they were about to feel your wrath.

“Who the fuck is ringing me at... 3am?! On a Sunday morning!” You grumbled into the speaker, throwing your free arm over your eyes. 

The line was silent, except for the background noise of wind whipping past the caller. “I-I-”

You didn’t have to be awake to know that voice, you’d spent two years memorising that voice. Listening to how it would reach a higher pitch when upset, deeper when angry. How it purred your name on Sunday mornings. Waking up to it singing in the kitchen, so off key and out of timing. It had been imprinted on your soul.

“Ja-Jake?” Now sitting up, the covers pooling around your waist. He sounded upset, distressed. “Jake, are you alright?” And you couldn’t stop yourself, no matter how much you wanted to, from giving a shit. You’d always care about Jake.

“You still speak to my sister?” He asked back, slumping his body against the brick wall of a building. “But you won’t speak to me?” He was hurt and he knew he didn’t have a right to be, but that didn’t stop him. His voice breaking as he spoke.

“Are you drunk?” Ignoring his questions, twisting your body to get out of bed and pad across the cold floor of your apartment. “Jake, where are you?” You were worried, he never rang you this late or this drunk. He didn’t need to tell you how drunk he was, you could hear it in his voice. 

“Some street.” He mumbled out.

“Gonna need you to be more descriptive sunshine, what does it look like? There a name for that street?” The nickname just came out, you didn’t think much of it until you heard Jake gasp, screwing your eyes shut and cursing under your breath.

“You called me sunshine!?” He beamed, his still slumped against the brick wall but now the goofiest looking grin taking over the soft features of his face.

Letting a soft sigh escape you pulled the phone away from your ear, putting it on speaker and opening the “find my friends” app, cursing yourself for never taking him off of it. When his location displayed on the screen you slipped on your shoes. “Stay put Jensen, I’m on my way.” 

“You know I don’t like it when you call me Jensen, I prefer Sunshine.” You could practically hear him pouting, making you roll your eyes. 

“Jensen.” You greeted the short, spikey haired blonde, his glasses now wonky, putting the window down and leaning over to the passenger side to open the door. “Get in.” 

You tried to ignore the way his eyes lit when they landed on you, how his smile turned wide, displaying his perfectly white teeth, crinkles forming in the corners of his eyes. But fuck, it was hard. 

Annoyance slowly creeping in when he remained seated on the concrete steps that lead to someone’s home. “Jake.” You hissed, not wanting to wake the street. A frustrated sigh bouncing around the car when he continued to stay sat, staring at you with those puppy dog like eyes. 

Grumbling as you unbuckled your belt, rounding the car and making your way over to Jake. It was too early for this shit, or too late, you couldn’t tell. 

“Jake. Up. Now.” You commanded, your hands resting on your hips.

“Nope.” He cheerfully protested, popping the ‘p’.

It took everything in you not to smack him, your fingers twitching at the urge. Your blood was starting to boil at how selfish he was being. How selfish he had been these past two months. Trying to worm his way back into your life instead of leaving you to heal and move on. Knowing you’d listen to every voicemail he’d leave you, read every text he’d send you. 

“Just get in the car.” You spoke through gritted teeth, your shoulders hunched.

“Just sit with me.” He replied, looking up at you. His eyes glossy and that small stupid, addictive small smile that had your body relaxing and moving to sit next to him in an instant. “Wasn’t so hard, was it.” He teased, using his shoulder to shove you a little. 

“How drunk are you?” 

“Drunk enough to call you.”

“You always call me.” You point out.

“But this time you answered.” He also pointed out, leaning back and resting his elbows on the steps behind him.

“I didn’t know who I was answering to, unlike you, I was asleep.” Turning your body to face him.

“So, if you knew it was me you wouldn’t of answered?” His brows frowning at the thought, his voice sounded broken.

“Jake,” you sighed out, resting your hands in your lap and focusing your gaze on them. “That’s not fair.”

“No,” he started, sitting up properly and turning to face you. “What’s not fair is me finding out that you still speak to my family, but won’t take my calls.” He knew it was wrong, what he was saying was unfair. To demand that from you.

“We broke up, Jake.” You rasp out, emotion taking over now.

“But,” you watched as he licked his lips, like he was thinking about what he was about to say. “You didn’t think how that would effect me.”

That pissed you off. Was he really saying this to you right now? Would you get arrested if you knocked him around? Honestly, you weren’t a violent person but Jake Jensen was doing an amazing job of making you into one.

“And you didn’t think about how it would effect me when you told me you didn’t want to marry me, how you weren’t ready for that type of commitment.” Shaking your head you stood, turning to face him. “Find your own way home.” You sneered, turning back towards your car and getting it. 

“Bubba-” The sound of your car door and your engine starting cut him off. His shoulders slumped when he watched you drive away. “Shit.” He cursed under his breath, using the back of his hand to wipe away tears he didn’t know were falling. 

[titan-fodder]

The Warrior Experience; ft. the Marley Warriors

Rating: Explicit; mdni

Pairing: Zeke, Reiner, Porco, Pieck x fem!reader

Word Count: ~5.3K

Warnings: mildly dubious consent (reader isn’t exactly there of her own free will but is still dtf), multiple partners, voyeurism, virgin Colt, rough blowjob, rough sex, unprotected sex, mentions of unpleasant contraceptives, lots of cum, clear bias toward Reiner

A/N: I don’t know what happened today. I just got possessed by the horny ghost. Enjoy~

It’s always Magath who retrieves you, the sour-faced General swinging open the door to your small room without any type of knock or warning. 

On most nights, he takes a look at you, frowns, then grunts the name of whoever is actually calling for you—requesting your “presence”. This evening, however, he remains silent, leaving it a mystery that keeps you curious as you make yourself slightly more presentable, pulling on a skirt, running a comb through your hair, just enough to look a little more human. 

You walk in silence down the hallways, your hands clasped behind your back as the older man struts in his usual militaristic fashion. As you near the Warrior quarters, you do your best to prepare yourself, but without an idea of who you’re meeting, it’s difficult. 

Because they’re all so different. Galliard, for instance, usually starts the nights off aggressively. He particularly likes slamming you into various surfaces, pinning you down with a bruising grip, but his demeanor changes as soon as he’s inside you. The once careless young man turns to jelly underneath you, gasping and groaning as his adrenaline wanes and he unravels. 

Always tired and slightly unstable, Reiner is soft. Even when his thrusts are deep and harsh, his hands remain gentle, calluses feather light as they dance up and down your ribs, over your breasts. His stamina varies. Sometimes, when he’s a little more out of his head, a little more haunted, he ruts into you for what feels like an eternity. Most of those instances, he doesn’t even come. You’re just there for a distraction— “A nice one,” he tells you quietly, gratefully, but you still know where you stand with him. 

There are nights when he’s desperate for release, however, taking you with quick, sloppy thrusts, spilling inside you within minutes then rubbing your clit until you squeeze him back to full hardness so that he can do it all over again.

Zeke is the hardest to predict, on far ends of one, sadistic spectrum: he either wants you to do all the work while he smirks up at you with a cigarette between his lips, occasionally blowing smoke into your face, or he wants to dominate you entirely. When he falls into the latter category, you’re in his bed for hours, sniffling or sobbing, biting your lip to keep yourself from begging him to stop—one, because he won’t listen, but also because it isn’t your place. 

The Warriors are honorary Marleyans which means they’re much more important and valuable than you are. Your opinion never matters, least of all in the bedroom. 

You’re more or less a toy for them to use, an Eldian plucked from Liberio and brought to the military base with no real say in it. The Warriors are all young and virile, after all. They have needs like anyone else, but despite their honorary status, they’re forbidden from sleeping with Marleyan women. 

So, you live here, at their beck and call with one purpose and one purpose only. 

To your surprise, Magath stops before you can get to the sleeping quarters you are very familiar with at this point. You stand outside of a closed door, raise an eyebrow at the General but don’t dare question him. 

“They’re in there,” he grumbles, nodding to the door before turning around and walking away.

They…

Raising a suddenly very heavy hand, you knock lightly then shift awkwardly until the door opens and reveals Galliard. His perpetual scowl is in place, but he nods his head in acknowledgment then moves to the side to let you in. 

Galliard isn’t the only one in the room—what looks like some kind of conference area with a sizable wooden table surrounded by chairs, a window on the far end displaying the night sky and twinkling stars. Nearly all of those chairs are full, one scooted back from the table that you can easily assume belongs to the redhead standing behind you.

Zeke is lounging comfortably, feet kicked up on the table as he puffs on a cigarette. Reiner is sitting in his chair backwards, slumped forward to rest his head on the wooden backing, though he lifts it to look at you with bloodshot eyes. Pieck, who you do not see often at all, is slouched with her arms pillowing her face, offering you a lazy smile that’s laced with something you cannot place. 

There’s one more person in the room, the vaguely familiar face of Colt Grice, Warrior Candidate slated to inherit the Beast Titan in a few years. You’ve seen him around the base, usually trailing closely behind Zeke, but haven’t gotten the chance to speak with him yet. 

You remain standing even as Galliard takes his seat again, nibbling on your bottom lip, waiting expectantly—nervously. The last time you were in a room with all of them at once was when you’d first been brought here, and that had just been for informal introductions. There had also been another Eldian with you at the time, a male to keep Pieck satisfied, but he’s… No longer with you. 

In true leader fashion, Zeke is the first to speak after taking a long drag from his cigarette, tilting his head back to blow it into the air and creating a haze over himself. 

“Glad you could join us tonight, sweetheart,” he shows a short, unconvincing smile, and that paired with the condescending pet name leads you to believe he’s in one of his more controlling moods.

“I’m just glad to be able to service the Wa—”

“Yeah, yeah, you don’t need to do all that,” he waves you off. “I’ll cut to the chase.”

“Let her sit down first, Zeke, geeze,” Pieck murmurs before holding a small hand out for you, beckoning you to take the seat next to hers.

Never one to argue or disobey, you shuffle over to it and lower yourself, but you can’t relax, not with so many pairs of eyes on you. 

Galliard is twitchy, bouncing his leg up and down, pushing his hair back too often. Reiner, unmoving, just blinks slowly at you, expression flat. Grabbing your hand, Pieck offers a nod that isn’t the slightest bit reassuring while Zeke pins you with an icy gaze. 

“Colt here is gonna be a big boy Warrior pretty soon,” he says, motioning to the boyish blond in the corner who suddenly seems more interested in the floor than anything. “And, he hasn’t been given the chance to have the experiences he deserves. You follow?”

You nod, easily putting the pieces together. They want you to sleep with him, some sort of sexual initiation.

“As I’m sure you’ve picked up, Titan holders don’t have the longest lifespans, so I figure he needs to enjoy what life he has left.”

Another nod, then you start to stand only to be stopped by Galliard who asks, “What’re you doing? Sit back down.”

“Oh,” you plant yourself back in the chair, eyes growing as your stomach sinks. “I thought you wanted me to show Colt—”

Zeke laughs around his cigarette, adding even more smoke to the air around you, and shakes his head. “No, you misunderstand. You will be showing Colt a thing or two tonight, but in here where we can all watch and… Lend a helping hand if need be.”

Mouth going dry, you can’t stop yourself from frowning. Sleep with Colt… In front of all of them? You don’t fancy yourself much of a performer, doubt you’ll be able to put on any kind of good show under so much pressure.

But, you can’t protest. You can’t go against their wishes or complain. You should consider yourself lucky, being able to service the Warriors. It means you’re a half-step above the other Eldians—a devil but a halfway useful one.

“Um. Okay,” you consent.

Zeke claps his hands together. “Excellent,” then tells you. “Bathroom’s down the hall. Go rinse off, do whatever you need to do to get ready, then meet us back here.”

You don’t dawdle, doing exactly what you’re told. The restroom is obviously for multiple people, a few stalls with cheap curtains to block you from view. You make quick work of bathing so that you’ll have time to prepare yourself, starting the process of stretching yourself while under the spray. With no idea how large Colt might be, and taking into account that he might be completely clueless about female anatomy, you make sure to work three fingers into your cunt, moving them as best you can until you’re a little loosened up and wet. 

When you return to the conference room, you’re just in a towel, folded clothes under your arm and placed in an empty chair. 

“Easy access,” Galliard smirks. “Good call.” You squeak when he slaps your ass then sit on the edge of the table as you’re directed to. 

Most of them have shed their boots and jackets, looking a little more casual now. It doesn’t put you at ease—if anything, it makes you think the others will get a little more involved than Zeke originally let on, and the thought alone is enough to overwhelm you. 

It takes some prompting for Colt to muster the courage to approach you. The others scoot to the edges of the room, giving the two of you center stage. It's daunting, but you do your best to forget about them, to focus on the nervous blond in front of you. 

Spreading your legs, you pull him by the shirt to stand between them then look up at him through your lashes and ask, "Am I allowed to kiss you?" You can never assume. Everyone has different rules. 

When you're with Reiner, he has his mouth against yours more than he doesn't, Galliard will nip and suck against every part of you that isn't your mouth, and the closest Zeke gets to your mouth is prying it open to spit on your tongue. 

Naturally, Colt looks to his War Chief for answers, but Zeke just shrugs. "Your choice, big guy. You're the one calling the shots."

Colt contemplates for a little while but eventually nods and swallows. "Uh, yeah. That's okay, I guess."

He seems to feel just as awkward as you do about this whole situation, would also probably prefer for it to happen in private, but you imagine he's doing everything in his power to show that he's worthy of inheriting Zeke's Titan. He's basically in the same boat as you. 

Reaching up, you lace your fingers behind his neck and pull him to you, pressing your lips to his slowly, softly, trying not to spook him too much. 

After gaining as much experience as you have over the last year or so, it's rare for you to feel shy when getting intimate. Three of the other people in that room have seen everything there is to see about you, your most private of body parts, your most visceral, primal reactions. You have nothing to hide any more. 

Colt is stiff against you. His hands are still by his sides, lips firm but unmoving. 

He has no idea what to do. It's almost disappointing, knowing you're about to spend the evening teaching this kid, fresh faced, twenty years old at most and completely clueless. 

You're saved when a gruff voice makes you pull away: "Alright, this is hard to watch." Reiner sits up and rubs his eyes, then swings his leg over the chair to stand and walk over. "Grice, have you ever even seen anyone kiss before?"

Cheeks turning red, Colt moves out of the way, stuttering out "W-well yeah, but I never watch." 

The taller man takes the vacant space between your legs, and you inhale sharply when he slides a large hand to the back of your head, tilting your face even further upward. Reiner kisses you in a way that makes your head spin. He has that desperate taste he always has, and even without opening your eyes, you can tell he's frowning. But his hand is cautious, careful not to tug your hair just like he's careful not to knock his teeth into yours when he parts your lips with his. 

"There we go," Zeke laughs, clapping twice and cheering, "'Atta boy, Braun!" 

Reiner's tongue dances with yours in a heated back and forth for a few seconds before he pulls back. He doesn't smile, but he does sigh in a thoughtful manner before turning to Colt and pointedly telling him, "That's how you kiss a woman."

Reiner softly scratches the back of your head in a fond gesture, then steps away and motions for Colt to try again. 

He's slightly more confident this time around, starting off slowly at first but eventually pushing against you harder and harder until it's a little much, and you just barely push at his chest to get him to let up. He replaces pressure with tongue, probing and curious but not awful. 

"Undo her towel, Grice. Get a move on," Galliard demands. 

Colt reaches up with a shaky hand, breathing through his nose while keeping his lips attached to yours as he pulls at the loose knot just above your breasts. The material falls and pools around you on the table, and before he can be criticized again, you grab one of Colt's hands and place it on one of the perky mounds. You move your fingers over his, showing how you like to be massaged then guiding him to your nipple. 

"Oh, this is very romantic," Zeke drawls, snapping his fingers to get someone's attention then addressing, "Pock," who grunts in response. "You're a tit man, right? Your turn to show him how it's done." 

The sound of a chair scraping on the floor rings throughout the room, but instead of pushing Colt out of the way, Galliard stands on the other side of the table behind you, bends forward, then grabs you by the hair to pull you down. The breath is knocked out of you as your back hits the table, and you blink up at the redhead in surprise. 

Upside down, your face is about level with his hips, maybe a foot away from his pelvis, but before you can dwell on it, Galliard's rough hands are on your tits, groping, massaging, then pinching your nipples so that you arch and moan. 

"Know I probably shouldn't like it so much, but you sound so pretty, baby," he growls, flicking over the hardened buds then squeezing again. 

"We're all devils here. You can like it as much as you want," Reiner gruffs. 

"Justifying your own feelings?" Zeke snarks. 

You aren't able to see or hear Reiner's response, too busy whining as Galliard starts to slap your tits over and over, making the flesh burn and sting. 

Porco groans, "Mm, love that bounce," hitting them a few more times then stopping and allowing you to take a shuddering breath. 

Your body is hot all over, especially your chest, and your pussy is starting to throb. After playing with yourself in the shower, the heated kiss you shared with Reiner, and now the abuse Galliard just showered on your tits, you're starting to get restless, ready to be filled with something. 

"While I'm right here, m'gonna show you somethin' else, Grice."

Galliard grips your upper arms and slides you closer to him on the table, then undoes his pants and pulls his cock free. As soon as you feel the tap on your lips, you open up for him, relaxing just in time for him to shove his length over your tongue and into the tight sleeve of your throat. 

And, pride actually wells up inside of you. That hardly ever happens. 

There's no time to acclimate really, your only choice being to just lay and take it, so you do, choking and gagging around Galliard's cock as everyone else watches. Tears stream down the sides of your face, but you feel them get wiped away and open bleary eyes to find Pieck peering down at you, soft hands catching the drops as she coos, "You're doing so good, love."

You squirm on the table, start to rock your hips into nothing—no one—in desperate need of friction now. 

"You want something stuffed in that pussy?" Zeke calls out. 

The vibration of your responding whine makes Galliard curse and thrust into your throat until your forehead is pressed against his heavy balls. Strings of spit leak from the corners of your mouth. You try to slurp and suckle, but the steady pistoning of Galliard’s hips just keeps pushing more out. 

“I’ll take that as a yes. Colt, you wanna go for it, or do you wanna watch first?” Zeke questions.

“Um, I—I’ll watch first, I think.”

“Good choice. See how it’s done before diving in.”

You’re barely aware of the conversation around you, mouth full of cock, gentle hands on your face. Pieck must not be fazed by being so close to her comrade’s privates because she just keeps stroking and praising you, like she thinks you might break or lose it. 

There are fingers on your wet folds, spreading them apart, then the harsh sound of spitting before a glob of thick fluid lands in your pussy. Zeke smears his saliva over your clit, and you buck under his touch, moaning when two thick digits are pushed into your heat all at once. Your cunt spasms around the intrusion, getting used to it as he continues the job you’d started in the shower. 

“I don’t always do this sort of thing just ‘cause I like the way she feels all tight and tense on my dick, but if you don’t want her to whine as much, I’d advise prepping her with your fingers or mouth.”

You squirm and writhe, the glide of his fingers getting easier with every thrust as your hole drools slick onto the table beneath you. Zeke’s palm grinds against your clit, pressure and friction where you want it most for half a second before it disappears—comes back, disappears—until you’re forcing yourself down on his hand. 

He lets out one of his standoffish little chuckles as you slide up and down Galliard’s length and fuck yourself on Zeke’s fingers, but the delicious sensation disappears entirely when Zeke pulls out, probably to work himself out of his pants, then presses the blunt head of his cock against your clenching hole. He pushes the tip in only to pull it back out, tap it against the swollen bundle of nerves a few times, then finally pushes in all the way. 

You’re a little too far up on the table now, and Zeke doesn’t bother warning you or Galliard as he tugs you back down to better situate you on his cock, causing the other man to slip out of your mouth.

“Fuck man, I was getting close!”

Without a care in the world, Zeke shrugs him off, tells him, “Come on her face or something then, I don’t give a fuck.”

Your voice comes out hoarse as you moan for all of them to hear, teary eyes cracking open to see Galliard step back and lean against the wall behind him. His fist is tight around his shaft, but he’s pumping himself slowly, like he’s suddenly pacing himself despite just having fucked your throat raw. 

A rough pinch to your nipple brings your eyes to Zeke, blond hair hanging in his face, glasses slipping down his nose. The top few buttons of his shirt are undone, but other than that, he’s basically fully clothed. He’s flushed from his neck down to his chest, jaw barely hanging open as his eyebrows raise. He’s certainly enjoying himself, and you can’t say you aren’t because the drag of his thick cock in your pussy is incredible. 

Your head lolls to one side and you find Colt staring at you with wide eyes, watching the way his superior sheathes himself in you over and over. It makes you blush, so you turn to the other side, see Reiner posted up in the corner, about half hard in his pants as he watches your face. 

Mouth dropping open, you shut your eyes, trying to will away the skin-prickling sensation of being watched. You raise your arms above your head, hands dangling off the other end of the table, and Pieck takes them, squeezing once before lightly running nimble fingers over your sensitive skin.

You’ve never been with her, not that you’d be opposed. She’s very pretty and seems kind enough. But you had guessed you weren’t exactly her type. Now, though, you second guess yourself since she seems more than content with touching you. 

The painful squeezes of Zeke’s fingers are batted away, replaced by the ghost of stimulation on your sore nipples. Pieck rubs over one so lightly you hardly register it, but it still shoots right to your pussy, makes you clench around Zeke. 

He’s holding you by the hips now, pulling you onto his cock, and it goes like this for a while. At some point, the wet sound of Galliard jacking off fades, but you doubt he’s come; he’s typically quite vocal when he climaxes. 

Zeke never lets up, fucking deep and fast and right over the spot that makes you leak until he suddenly pulls out and shoots strings of hot cum onto your thighs and the table between them. 

“You don’t… Inside?” Colt speaks up.

Rubbing his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt, Zeke answers, “Never. That’s preference, though. I just don’t want any accidents to happen.”

You would remind him that you go to the medic after every encounter you have with the Warriors to get checked out, given an unpleasant medicine that leaves you sick for a few days, but it’s hard to think straight right now. 

Before Colt can move toward you again or any more questions can be asked, Galliard is rounding the table, cock in hand once again, shouldering Zeke out of the way so that he can bury himself in your pussy. He’s a shorter length than the man who was in you just moments ago, but a little thicker. Veiny and curved upward, Galliard always feels good inside of you. Unfortunately for you, he’s basically been edging himself since you were pulled from him, so he doesn’t last long at all. 

Unlike Zeke, Galliard has no qualms about coming inside of you. You feel his seed fill you, mixing with your own wet arousal and making you drip with it when he pulls out. 

“Couldn’t help myself,” he grins before giving your pussy a slap, making you push more of his cum out. 

You hear someone suck in a deep breath, and Colt slowly shuffles over to you. He stares at your throbbing cunt for a while, raising a timid hand to stroke over now messy folds, and you let out a mewl, a very soft, “Please…”

Pieck places a tender kiss at your hairline that makes your heart jump into your throat, such a kind gesture as she murmurs against you, “You’re doing so well for them.”

“Can I—” You blink up at her face, floating upside down over yours. “Can I do anything f-for you, Pieck?”

She shows another one of those smiles, the kind that’s hiding a little something, and she shakes her head, wavy, black hair flowing over her shoulders. “I’m just enjoying watching. You’re very pretty to look at.”

You bite your lip, unsure of how to respond, so you just let her keep touching you, keep cooing and doting. You’ll never say no to affection like this. 

Colt doesn’t have any trouble finding your entrance, which is a relief. He lines himself up and pushes in painfully slowly, panting the entire time and letting out one very satisfying, “O-oh, shit.”

“Feels good, doesn’t she?” Zeke hums.

Colt nods, arms beginning to shake on the table. He seems to be holding himself back, whether it’s from coming or fucking into you is a mystery, but eventually he bottoms out and stays still save for his trembling. It isn’t uncomfortable, but you do feel very full, his hips flush against yours, cockhead nestled right up against your cervix. If he was any longer, you would definitely be in pain. 

“Grice, you can move, you know,” Galliard jabs, but Colt just shakes his head. 

“One second. Lemme just…” He shifts his hips some, not thrusting as much as grinding into you, and you cry out when he presses against that far wall. 

You can feel Galliard’s cum leaking down the curvature of your ass, pooling with whatever of Zeke’s is left on the table. You’re so wet, noisy when Colt finally does start slowly pulling out and pushing in. The squelches echo in the conference room and make you cringe, but Zeke seems to appreciate it as he hums, “Listen to that sloppy pussy.”

“Like music to my fuckin’ ears,” Galliard adds.

Colt has trouble keeping an even pace, his hips stuttering often, but the ridge of his cock strokes over the sensitive spot inside you—the one that makes you drool and babble—almost every time. Your muscles clench around him, changing the sensation for both of you, and when that rhythm becomes even more erratic, you know he’s close.

“Fuck, fuck, I—”

“Just add to the mess. We’ll clean up later,” Zeke reassures him.

Colt’s eyes find yours for the first time since he started fucking you, searching for something like permission, so you nod and show a lazy grin.

“It’s okay, you can come in me.”

That sends him over, a strangled gasp ripping from his throat as he milks himself in your cunt. You can feel the pressure of building liquid inside you, pushing on your insides, but it wanes when Colt pulls out. 

You feel swollen and used at this point, but your core is still hot with the desire to come. There’s a chance you won’t, especially now that Colt has finished, but you can always get yourself off in the privacy of your quarters if need be. 

The freshly fucked blond receives a couple slaps on the back, some patronizing comments from his War Chief, and you take the time to just breathe and melt into the table, enjoying the way Pieck is stroking your hair now, smiling at the other Warriors. 

Your eyes are just about to close when you see Reiner making his way over. He stands between your legs for a while, just looking over the damage, the slight discoloration of your chest, your raw nipples, mouth swollen from Galliard’s cock, then finally your used pussy. 

His fingertips brush over sensitive skin, making you shudder, and you nearly cry when he asks, “You ready to get yours?”

You nod, sucking in an unsteady breath. Reiner mouths the word, “Okay,” then unbuckles his pants and pushes them down to his thighs, and the tears really do start to gather in your eyes now because Reiner is big, and you're already getting sore from three other cocks you've taken. 

He rubs his hands up your thighs, tells you, “Wrap your legs around my waist,” which you somehow manage even though they’re weak with numbness. 

Reiner doesn’t push in just yet, though you can feel his warm cock rubbing between your engorged lips. Instead, he slides his arms under your back and lifts you, turning so that he’s sitting on the table and you’re in his lap, ankles still crossed at his lower back. 

“Just go at your own pace.” His voice is quiet, his mouth hovering just over yours, and here, like this, you almost forget about the others. 

You lift yourself just enough to line his tip up with your leaking entrance then lower yourself onto his cock inch by inch. His girth stretches you, always burns just a little, even when you’re well prepared. 

Your spongy walls make room for him, sucking him in even as you whine at his size. He waits for you to get settled, for you to start rocking, and only then does Reiner start moving. His cheeks are pink, light brown eyes nearly taken over by blown pupils, but the shift of his hips is slow and deliberate, hitting just where you need him to.

He keeps one hand at your back to help you balance, but his other moves down to press on the puffy flesh at the apex of your cunt. It forces your clit to rub against the coarse hairs on his pelvis, and you throw your head back as you finally, finally get that friction you were craving. 

Reiner lowers his face to your chest, warm tongue laving over one nipple in a soothing manner as it pebbles against the muscle. He moves to the other and does the same, suckles on it softly so that you dig your nails into his back.

You leak with every shallow thrust, various fluids getting pushed from your wet pussy, and the closer you get to your orgasm, the worse it gets. You squirt first, a juice thinner than your slick arousal dribbling from you and coating Reiner’s thighs. 

“Fucking—” He cuts himself off by kissing you, obviously uncaring of the fact that you had someone else’s cock in your mouth maybe half an hour ago. He licks into you, holding your body tight against his as your muscles tense, thighs rigid around his waist. You climb and climb, gut hotter and hotter until you reach your peak and moan into his mouth. 

Your hips start moving on their own accord, a little faster as you squeeze the thick cock inside of you until your body grows tired enough to stop. Reiner keeps the same, slow pace, rumbles, “Just keep squeezing me, and I’ll come soon.”

So, you do, clenching around him and trembling the more overstimulated you become because you’re so sensitive and so swollen and so full. Every part of you aches. Every shift of his cock makes you whimper, but when Reiner finally spills inside of you, holding you down on his spurting cock, you sigh and slump against him. 

You breathe heavily, and so does Reiner, his chest, now damp with sweat, rising and falling against yours. His shirt chafes against your nipples, making you hiss, but you’re too exhausted to move.

“Is that what sex is always like with you two?” Galliard scoffs. “That was some soft shit. I’m a little disgusted.”

If you were a little more lucid, you’d consider calling him out and announcing to the room how wanton he gets alone in the bedroom, but your brain is functioning at minimal capacity right now.

“Oh, leave them alone, Pock,” Pieck chides, and you glance across the table at her with tired eyes to find another one of those smiles on her face. “Everyone deserves some softness, especially this little angel after the way you guys treated her.”

“Didn’t treat her any differently than I normally do,” Zeke says, voice slightly muffled as he speaks around a new cigarette. 

“In that case, I offer my condolences,” Pieck tells you, pulling a little snort from you. 

“S’fine,” you slur. “I’m just happy to service the Warriors.”

Galliard rolls his eyes. Pieck hums thoughtfully. Zeke smirks. Reiner lets his head fall to your shoulder.

And, Colt croaks out a honestly endearing, “Well, I, uh, appreciate the service,” which makes you and all of his superiors laugh. 

It’s not an easy job, this one you've been given. You try to be grateful for the opportunity, but most days end with you struggling to find your own self worth.

Tonight is different, though. It’s rare that you feel genuinely appreciated, but right now, sitting in Reiner’s lap with Colt looking at you in both embarrassment and gratefulness, you feel that maybe you're worth something.

[levi-my-beloved]

Birds of a Feather

Chapter 4

Parings: Canon!Levi x F!Reader

Content Warnings: Violence, torture, this one gets a little spicy y’all, descriptions of sexual acts, hints of abuse (please let me know if i’ve missed any)

Word Count: 14.8K

Summary: You were the most notorious criminal in The Underground City. With your organisation of highly skilled professionals, only one man could take you down. He also happened be be Humanity’s Strongest... and your ex.

Previous Chapter

First Chapter

A/N: well, you guys wanted it all in one post! this is by far the longest chapter, yet, and possibly the longest chapter in the entire fic maybe? i’ve caught myself up now with the progress of writing, since i’ve only completed one part of the next chapter so chapter 5 won’t be out within the next three days like these last four have been. i’m thinking i’ll need maybe a week? not sure, but the next part has a little flashback section which i hope you’ll all enjoy!

god these a/n’s are really long aren’t they? asdfghjkl sorry i’ll make the cut off now. hope you enjoy!!!

𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔

Whether it had been thirty minutes or thirty years, you couldn’t tell. Struggling to stay conscious as the four soldiers brought your limp body back to your cell. Your legs no longer work, gathering dust as they drag across the ground. Your abdomen and back were on fire. You were convinced. They had simply thrown you into hell to cook for a bit before dragging you back out. There was no other explanation. Other than the countless, seemingly endless beatings you had just taken. Whether your legs were tired or if your spine was broken, you couldn’t tell as they tossed you back behind bars, removing the rope around your wrists. You didn’t have the strength to fight back. Didn’t have the strength to even raise your head as they left.

Broken, split ribs sent agonising jolts of pain as you shifted in a lame attempt to curl up into a ball. You hadn’t cracked like they’d wanted you to. You hadn’t screamed, cried, begged them to stop. And you wouldn’t. When they came back for you, you would hold your tongue once again. You had never broken in the past. Whether you’d been compromised during an assault on a rival gang, or whether it was one of your mentor’s training exercises to get you used to torture. You had never broken.

You weren’t about to start now.

Still, the throbbing in your body prevented you from sleeping. You didn’t know what time it was. Time had escaped you during that ordeal. You didn’t even know what time of day it was, pretty sure it was night when they had come for you.

Fuck, your body ached. But you knew comfort was a long way from here. It always seemed so far away from where you were. Did you ever have comfort?

You lay there for god knows how long, seconds turning to minutes, minutes to hours. Hours could have turned to days for all you knew.

When the now familiar echo of footsteps reached your ears, you didn’t move. You didn’t care. Whoever it was could rot in hell for all you cared. Wishing death upon these fucking soldiers was the only thing keeping you from giving up right now.

“The bed not good enough or something?” Levi. Shit. The one person you didn’t want to see you like this.

You didn’t answer, choosing instead to try and count as many marks on the wall as you could. It helped to keep your focus off the dull throbbing coursing through your body.

“Oi, ‘you seriously still asleep? It's almost midday,” the singing of metal caused you to wince slightly as he rapped on the bars in an attempt to wake you from a sleep you weren’t in.

“Get the fuck u—” You had a vague idea what caused him to stop his impending barrage of insults you knew were about to flutter effortlessly from his mouth, and you couldn’t tell if you were thankful or not. On the upside, you didn’t have to hear whatever colourful language he was about to spew. On the downside…

“What happened to you…?” it was the second time he’d asked that question, but from the tone of his voice, you could tell this was less a passing thought and more of a question prompted by horror.

Levi froze. His breath caught in his throat. He had expected you to be awake by now. To be up, with that crooked, cocky smile on your face. In fact, he’d half expected you to be leaning against the wall, the door flung wide open as you twirled the keychain around your finger, simply begging him to ask you how you’d done it.

The last thing he expected to see was you, on the floor, curled into a ball. The shirt on your lower back riding up enough for him to see violent, deep purple bruises, blood steadily streaming from your spine and lower back.

Still you refused to answer, or even move. Filthy fucking soldiers, you fucking hated every last one of them. How fucking dare they? How dare they string you up like a piece of drying meat. They had no idea what you’d been through. What you’d had to do to survive. How dare they assume.

And yet,

And yet there was still that little voice in your head. That little kernel of doubt, convincing you that you deserved this. You had killed so many. So much blood was on your hands.

You deserved this.

You didn’t even notice Levi had entered your cell until a hand rested upon your shoulder.

“(Y/N)—”

“Don’t fucking touch me,” your reaction was instant. Instinctual. Immediately wrenching out of his hand, throwing yourself forward. A yelp escaped your mouth without your permission, fire igniting in your body as you moved so suddenly. It caused you to falter in your movements, landing harshly on your side. “Shit!” your voice broke as you yelped, agony flaring in your entire midsection, hand flying to clutch your side as you backed up against the wall. “Don’t fucking touch me,” there was no conviction in your voice. It was more of a plea than anything. If you had raised your head to look at him, maybe you would have laughed at his expression of twisted shock.

But instead you let your hair fall in front of your face, masking your own expression. Teeth grit in silent pain, eyes screwed shut.

Levi’s worry turned to outright unsettling fear. Over the last two days, he’s witnessed you more broken than he’s ever seen you before. He remembered sitting up with you after you’d woken from one of your nightmares. The two of you sitting on the floor against the wall, sharing a cup of tea to not waste resources. He’d seen you angry. He’d seen you upset. But he’d never seen you shattered.

“(Y/N)...” you’d forgotten how soft his usual bored voice could sound. Even after yesterday, you hadn’t heard that tone from him in years. It was borderline unnatural.

It prompted you to raise your head ever so slightly, glaring at him through thick, matted (H/C) strands. You refused to let your guard down, even though the sight of him squatting before you, eyebrows gently creased with suppressed worry almost made you relax. But you weren’t about to be taken away and tortured again.

Any scrap of trust that may have manifested yesterday during the carriage ride and your conversation had been crushed.

“Get away from me,” you looked feral, bearing your teeth animalistically as you snarled. Though it didn’t seem to deter him. He knew a dog only bared its teeth when it was wounded, fearing to be hurt further.

Levi sighed through his nose as he stood. You flinched at his movement and watched as he made more of a conscious effort not to startle you. Your eyes squinted in suspicious confusion as he took a small cloth from his pocket and started running it under the tap.

It seemed the faucet did work. Good to know.

Returning to squat in front of you, his eyes flickered from your face to your abdomen.

“Show me,” he instructed gently, and you almost obeyed him. Almost.

“Go fuck yourself,” you spat instead, bringing your knees closer to your aching body. If you hadn’t been trained to withstand pain, you would have cried out as your abdomen begged you to stop constricting your muscles.

“I’m trying to help,” your ears caught the slight irritation in his tone, but you didn’t care. He could kick you for all you care.

Actually, you really didn’t want him to do that.

“I don’t want your help,”

“You need it.”

“Burn in hell, Levi,” it was the first time you’d actually used his name since you said it back when they first apprehended you, and Levi couldn’t deny that it cut deep. A sentiment he masked with a frustrated exhale. Clearly he’d expected resistance. Either that or he was just as tenacious as he used to be.

“Well, I'm definitely not going up,” he responded, that same softness in his tone and despite your situation, you couldn’t help the slight huff of amusement. It seemed to put him at ease too, content you weren’t about to lunge for his throat.

Slowly, you uncurled from your position, visibly wincing as your torn, beaten muscles relaxed. Levi took this as permission to inch closer and you felt a small appreciation for his trepidation.

Still, you couldn’t help but flinch every time he moved too fast. A simple reflex stemming from your training. It wasn’t really something you thought about, but it prompted the raven haired man to freeze every time you moved.

You refused to meet his eyes as he gently lifted the fabric of your shirt, hearing his breath hitch slightly.

“Holy shit…” He breathed. You hadn’t seen how bad your body was damaged, but judging by his reaction;

It sure as hell wasn’t good.

Levi felt he could kill someone. Actually, a lot of someones. Shit, when he finds out who was responsible for this he would make sure they wished they were never born. The same rage he felt when seeing you flinch for the first time once again coursed through his veins, and this time, he didn’t think he could just let it simmer.

“Who did this to you?” you blinked, his question caught you off guard. Didn’t he know? How didn’t he know? Surely every soldier in the damn military would revel in the idea of you being tortured all night. You clenched your jaw, refusing to respond. You didn’t know why you were being so stubborn. Maybe it was the sheer principle of not wanting to show any sort of weakness in front of him.

In fact, now you thought about it, it was definitely that. Whether Levi sensed it or not, he chose not to press you for an answer. Perhaps he did already know.

You hissed as the cold, damp cloth gently soothed your inflamed skin, glancing back to his face. You hated the way his focussed expression calmed your heart. Loathed how that crease in his eyebrows eased your whirling thoughts. Despised how, from this angle, you could see just how annoyingly attractive he had become.

“Can you move?” he asked, silver eyes rising up to meet your own. The low torchlight highlighted the heus of deep blue you knew he had hidden away. You pretended you looked away because you couldn’t stand the sight of his face, rather than the reality.

You were far too tempted to lean up and capture his lips.

“Yes,” Levi couldn’t tell if you were lying, shifting slightly to help you move but stopping immediately when you flinched away.

“Lie on the bed,” for the first time in ten years, you were compelled to follow an order. You weren’t even obedient towards Viper most of the time. But nonetheless, you found yourself struggling to your feet, an arm braced on the wall behind you.

Clearly respecting your independence, Levi took a step back, allowing you to find your own way. If you weren’t slightly delirious from the pain, you would have missed a kernel of respect flashing in his expression, before he swiftly turned away, washing the cloth again as you collapsed onto the so-called ‘mattress’ with a hiss.

Levi rung the small cloth out onto the floor, focussing on the way the droplets collided with the stone, rather than the way every movement you made caused you obvious pain. Once again, every fibre of his being was screaming at him to cradle you in his arms and whisper soft nothings into your ear. He wanted you to fall asleep next to him, your face buried in the crook of his neck. He craved to feel your soft hair through his fingertips, gently coercing you into dreams. It hurt so much that he could see you, but he couldn’t have you.

Turning to face away from him, you once again shrivelled into a ball. You didn’t want this. You didn’t want any of this. You just wanted to be left alone. But the dip in the bed behind you told you that wasn’t an option right now, muscles tensing on instinct.

he didn’t ask for permission this time as gentle fingers gripped your shirt, dragging up to reveal your brutalised back. If you could see his expression, you might have even been afraid. Darkness shrouded his face, teeth grit in utter hatred. A muscle in his jaw twitching from the effort of clamping his mouth so tightly.

His first touch felt like you’d been shocked by the static that built up on the bed clothes. The damp cool gliding across the welts and bruises across your back. Balling your hands into fists, you refused to make any sound. Still having the mindset of not wanting to give anyone the satisfaction of hearing you in pain. It was a mindset you didn’t think would leave you for a while.

Levi worked in silence, allowing you to settle and almost relax after a while. You wanted to trust him, but you didn’t. Not really. However, right now, you trusted him not to hurt you further. Simply content to relish in the way he soothed the pain. It didn’t come naturally. Every time he pressed too hard it took all your strength not to lunge for his throat, but he would stop upon hearing your sharp intake of breath, waiting for you to settle before continuing.

After what seemed like an eternity of silence, you finally broke it with a question that had been budding in your mind.

“Why are you doing this?” your voice came out a rasped whisper, almost as if you hadn’t used your vocal chords for weeks. You were sure he wasn’t going to answer, opting instead to simply continue to clean your bruises. Another blanket of quiet had settled over the two of you before he responded.

“I don’t know,” he lied. Levi wasn’t sure why he lied. Honestly, he thought it was obvious enough. He still cared about you. So fucking much. It burned him to see you in so much pain. He’d never felt the mind numbing fury he felt when he saw what they’d done to you.

You weren’t really happy with the answer. If anything, it simply gave you more questions. But you were too tired to press for more. Almost too tired to notice when he’d stopped. Pulling your grimy shirt back down to your waist, you felt the mattress rise as he stood. You didn’t turn. You couldn’t turn. After the night you’d had, the exhaustion from the last 24 hours finally catching up on you.

Noticing how you were almost already asleep, Levi decided to throw caution to the wind.

You felt a soft caress through your dirt ridden hair, the action sending a pleasant buzz through your system. It was an action so familiar to the both of you, you wondered why you kept flinching away from his touch when all it did was gently drain you of energy.

“Sleep.”

You didn’t have time to contemplate his tone before the comforting nothingness claimed you.

꧁ꨄ꧂

Levi hadn’t been this angry in a long, long time. Sure, he’d been annoyed. When a solider made a stupid mistake or when a cadet didn’t know how to clean properly. But he hadn’t been this furious in years.

Maybe since the deaths of Isobel and Farlan.

It was obvious when Levi was in a bad mood. Sweeping through the headquarters like a storm. Cadets could almost feel his presence before they saw him, swiftly making themselves busy as he paid no attention to any of them. He had one goal in mind. One destination. And he didn’t even knock when he got there.

“Out. Now.” it wasn’t an order to disobey. When he opened the door to Erwin’s office, revealing a small meeting, Levi didn’t think twice to dismiss them, even if they were his superiors.

“Levi, what’s—”

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll all leave the room for the next half an hour. Maybe longer depending on how this conversation goes,” his swirling eyes met Erwin’s and he swore he could detect the slightest fear in the man’s gaze.

Good.

He should be afraid.

Without so much as a mutter of goodbyes, the squad leaders and section commanders all dispersed, leaving the Captain alone with the Commander.

Erwin was the first to break the heavy silence.

“I’m assuming this is about Raven?” his voice didn’t waver, seeming to have regained his composure from the initial shock. But Levi wasn’t here for a dainty conversation. The unbridled rage pulsing through his bloodstream clouded his vision, almost seeing red.

“Did you know?”

“Levi—”

“Did. You. Know?” Levi hardly ever raised his voice. Usually it was only out in the field or on a mission, and that was only because it was easier to communicate that way. Keeping his bored, flat tones when slicing open the nape of a titan didn’t seem possible.

Erwin pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a deep, defeated sigh.

“Yes. I knew. But Levi, you have to understand—”

“I don’t have to understand jackshit. Don’t you think she’s been through enough? She’s led a life being treated like an animal and now you’re allowing her to be beaten like one?”

“It’s necessary, Levi.”

“It’s barbaric!” Erwin had never heard such venom in his voice. Not even when he vowed to kill him all those years ago. He’d seen Levi’s rage. Witnessed it from afar. The way he tore through flesh like it was paper.

Never did he think he would be on the receiving end. Leaning forward, the blonde folded his arms against the desk, clearly conflicted.

“I know this is a difficult subject for you. You two grew up in the same environment, it would only be natural for you to care for her,” the conniving bastard. Levi borderline snarled at the statement. He did care for you. Deeply. But Erwin didn’t need to know that.

“But please listen. As I mentioned before, ties between the Military Police and the Survey Corps are taut. Any discord between us would cause them to snap. I already tightened them further by not allowing them to execute her publicly. I thought if she joined the Scouts instead, not only would we gain an asset, but she would also be able to survive. That didn’t sit well with Niles. He wants her to pay for what she’s done. If not by death, then by various other methods. This was the only way to keep both parties happy, Levi. Trust me,” Levi was starting to lose what trust he had in the man.

Whilst yes, his explanation made sense, it still didn’t sweeten the blow. How long would this go on for? Would they take you everyday, or just some days? How badly would they hurt you?

As if able to read his mind through his knife-like glare, Erwin continued.

“It’s only for this week. Whilst she’s in her cell. They don’t have permission to permanently damage her, only—”

“Only break her ribs and crack her sternum. Yeah, I saw,” he responded bitterly, folding his arms as he leant against the door. Fuck this. Fuck him. Fuck them.

Levi had never been so conflicted. Whilst the sight of you, beaten and broken, had shattered him, he also knew it was for your own good. It was this, or death.

He didn’t like the second option much.

But the memory of what they had done had burned into his skull. Running his fingers down your prominent, bruised spine. So fragile, but so goddamn strong. Muscles spread disproportionately about your abdomen and shoulders. Your stomach was concave for fuck sakes. And they were still beating the shit out of you.

It made him wonder. If he wasn’t so lucky…

Would he have received the same treatment?

Would he have been thrown in a cell and tortured for a week?

He doubted it.

Erwin waited for Levi to gather his thoughts. Waited for him to say whatever he was going to say next. He had expected Levi to find out. Had expected the man to have some sort of reaction, but nothing quite to this extent. Maybe there really was something deeper between you and him that Levi was keeping to himself.

“So this will continue for a whole damn week?” Levi asked, almost exasperated, running a hand through his obsidian locks. This was a nightmare. All of it. Nobody deserves this treatment. Not even Kenny, but especially not you.

It was Erwin’s slow nod that had his stomach dropping.

“Yes,” he replied quietly. “This will continue for the whole week.”

That was all Levi needed to hear. Whether it was right or wrong, he was powerless to stop it. Turning on his heel and heading back down the halls to his office, he tried to push the images of your broken body and spirit from his mind. Maybe he was hoping you were the same bright eyed, mischievous woman you were before he lost you ten years ago. How had so much changed since then?

How much had you changed so much since then?

He no longer saw that spark of life in your eyes. No longer able to bask in your genuine smile.

If he hadn’t seen so many young, hopeful souls shattered by the paralysing fear of facing a titan, or the desperate heartache of losing a loved one, he’d be surprised.

But he wasn’t. Not at all. Who knows what you have had to do to survive? Who knows just how much of yourself you’d had to sacrifice to get where you are now. But he wouldn’t accept that you were gone.

He would never accept that.

But from the looks of you, only a small fragment of your true self remained. Levi thought he was over being hurt by the changes in people he somewhat cared about.

Maybe he was wrong.

꧁ꨄ꧂

The week was gruelling. Taken from your cell at night and being subjected to both physical and mental torture was one of the toughest things you’ve faced. It was brutal, having to fortify both your mind and body nightly against the blows from the MPs. Sometimes it would change. Sometimes the original four switched out. Sometimes they had an observer. But every time was horrific.

You were sure you’d be dead by now if Levi didn’t visit daily to soothe your broken and cracked bones. If he didn’t ask his monotonous questions, all of which you either responded to with something sarcastic, or silence.

Very few times you actually gave a real answer.

Unlike this time.

“How did you get that scar?” It was always the question he started with. Always wanting to know what happened to you during the time he was away, and that scar down your right eye.

“Don’t you ever get tired of asking that question?” you huffed, tucking your elbows beneath your head.

“Don’t you ever get tired of not answering it?” since you’d seen him everyday since you arrived, you were beginning to relearn all the tells you knew he had, but had changed over time. For example, this smallest lilt in his voice when he found something amusing. He waited for your body to stop twitching as you laughed silently, before resuming the treatment of the damp cloth.

“Not really, it’s fun listening to you get more and more frustrated.”

“As charming as ever, Raven.”

You didn’t know how you felt about him using your alias rather than your name. You knew you’d asked him to, or rather, harshly told him to, but he’d used your actual name a few times since then. But you didn’t want to ask, not wanting him to feel uncomfortable.

You let the quiet blanket the two of you, debating whether or not to answer. You’d refused him everyday, but as more time passed, the more you remembered just how much you’d loved him.

“There was a rival gang in the neighbourhood next to ours. Always fighting us for territory or supplies. Honestly, I wanted them wiped out, but Prongs insisted that would make us far too many powerful enemies,” Levi had paused as you started the exposition, genuinely surprised you’d actually decided to give him a full answer, rather that the usual “I entered a sword headbutting contest” or something equally as ridiculous.

“We were at each other’s throats for years, never really landing a solid hit on the other’s gang, until the bastard managed to take one of my Shadows, Diablo, alive. I owed those people everything. They took me in when you—” you managed to stop yourself, but not fast enough for Levi to avoid feeling the gut punching guilt he felt whenever you accidentally mentioned him leaving. You really didn’t mean to, you were just used to talking more openly about it.

“Uh, sorry. Yeah, they took me in, so I owed them a lot. Plus, I’d known them for years by now. I trusted them and they trusted me. I wasn’t about to abandon her,” Levi could hear your conviction and resolve in the cadence of your voice, and silently wondered when you’d become so strong. He’d almost forgotten he was supposed to be treating you badly damaged back, until you hissed slightly. Looking down, he realised he’d pressed a little too hard with the cloth against your tender skin.

“Shit, sorry.”

“‘S’fine. Just concentrate, yeah?” despite your condition, you still had it in you to crack cocky jokes. Levi had half the mind to swat the back of your head with his cloth, but he decided to be merciful.

You left it a beat before you continued.

“Anyway, I didn’t have a choice. But it turns out, all the creepy bastard wanted to do was to make sure everyone knew I wasn’t untouchable. Then maybe we’d stop having smaller gangs ally with us. I let him scar my face, and in return he gave us Diablo back, completely unharmed. It was really fucking weird now that I think about it,” Levi pondered this for a moment, before another question popped into his head.

“What happened to him?”

“Who?”

“The creepy guy, idiot.”

“Call me an idiot again, I fucking dare you.”

“What will you do? You can hardly stand.”

“I don’t need to stand to beat your sorry ass.”

Shit, he’d missed this. This playful banter between the two of you. He’d missed it so goddamn much.

“He found one of my blades stuck in his throat pretty soon after,” Levi grunted in approval, a small smile bloomed across his face at the thought.

Good.

Creepy son-of-a-bitch.

The two of you continued in a comfortable silence for a short while, before your slightly mischievous voice cut through it again.

“Okay, my turn,” you sounded far too nonchalant for his liking, Levi narrowing his gaze to the back of your head.

“Your turn?”

“You’ve been asking me questions for the last few days, and I haven’t asked you one once,” if Levi didn’t know better, he’d say you were almost pouting. He was tempted to turn your head to check, but it seemed you still weren’t entirely comfortable with the whole being touched thing.

He hadn’t asked you about that yet.

“Alright, alright. One question.”

“How come you get countless and I only get one?”

“Call it a Captain’s privilege,”

“Pffft, Captain my ass,”

“Just ask your stupid question.”

You laughed at his feigned frustrated tone, knowing he was loving this as much as you were. You allowed yourself to think about how you wanted to phrase this.

“Are they still here with you? Farlan and Isobel?” you had been slightly hesitant to ask this, since he hadn’t mentioned them once. You didn’t know them personally, only seeing them fleetingly when Levi would usher you into his room, or having sparing conversation with them when Viper sold them that ODM. And judging by his pained silence, you now feared his answer.

“Yes and no,” your question had definitely caught him off guard. He didn’t even think you remembered them, so for you to ask after them was a little out of the blue. Hence why he opted to mimic your response from a few days ago.

You had clearly caught on.

“The hell does that mean?”

Levi realised he probably couldn’t tend to your back and tell this story at the same time. He was going to need all his strength to suppress the torrent of emotions he knew he was about to unlock. Sensing his change of tone, you slowly shifted so you were sitting next to him, making sure you didn’t move too quickly or awkwardly so as to not irritate your painful back.

You searched his features in the silence, partially hidden by the bangs you used to love running your hands through. You couldn’t help but wonder whether or not they were as soft as they used to be.

“It was my fault,” he admitted quietly. You hated seeing Levi like this. You’d only seen him like this once before, when Kenny abandoned him. You vowed you would never let him feel like this again as long as you were by his side.

This is what happens when you’re separated.

“What was your fault?” you gently prompted, not wanting to push him, but rather wanting to let him know that you were willing to listen.

“It was our first expedition. I was naive, agreeing to let them come with us, rather than the original plan which was for me to go alone. Raven, the reason I— the reason we left, was because we were recruited for a job, and killing Erwin Smith was part of that. But none of us knew what to expect beyond the walls. We’d trained but, we didn’t know what to expect when facing an actual titan,” you didn’t press further when he took pauses or longer breaths. You were happy he was comfortable enough with you now to even tell you this. “Everything was going smoothly. Too smoothly, and it wasn’t long before it all went to shit. I lost sight of them when the storm hit, losing them in the fog. I was completely powerless to stop an Abnormal. Shit, I didn’t even know it had passed me. I just saw bodies and limbs everywhere and knew I had to turn back. By the time I got there, it was too late. They were both gone,” Levi’s fist clenched into a ball, taking his focus away from the pain in his chest to the one in his palm. He didn’t even realise his eyes were closed until he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. He stiffened under your touch, not quite able to believe how far the two of you had come in such a short amount of time.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there, Levi,” he didn’t really understand what you were apologising for, or why you felt the need. Afterall, it was him who left you.

“I vowed after that day I wouldn’t have any regrets. Some jackass said that if I did, their deaths wouldn’t mean anything. But I knew I would always have one. I knew I would always regret leaving you behind,” Levi looked to you through his bangs, an expression of guilt etched into his hardened face. You forgave him at that moment. You forgave him for everything.

“I’m here now, aren’t I? And whilst I may not be the same girl you left behind, I still have her memories,” your hand slid from its position on his shoulder to rest over his heart, feeling it flutter within his sturdy ribcage.

Levi faintly wondered if he was dreaming. If you could feel his heart rate increase with every touch.

“That’s why you said yes and no, isn’t it? Because they’re not physically here, but they are here,” Levi could do nothing but nod, his eyes trained on your face like a hawk. He wanted permission. Begged for it through his dark, swirling eyes. Screamed for it in the way his eyes flickered to your lips, your face so close he could smell that scent of freshly baked bread you’d always carried with you, even beneath all the filth. A few centimetres further and you would have what you’d wanted for ten long years. What you both have wanted.

“You sound ridiculous,”

“Your fault,” he could feel the flutter of your breath against his face, wishing nothing more than for you to close the distance.

Levi slowly brought his hand from his lap, his palm rising to cup your cheek.

It didn’t even get close before you flinched, eyes darting to his raised hand.

And just like that, all the tension dissolved. As if you hadn’t been busy getting lost within the storm that were his irises. Levi pulled back, as if he himself had been struck.

“I’m sorry… I wasn’t thinking,” he rose from his position next to you, wanting nothing more than for the ground to swallow him whole.

How could he be so damn selfish? It was obvious you couldn’t do anything like that right now. Maybe not ever. And he was getting way ahead of himself. You had already said the girl who loved him was dead, he couldn’t even think how or why he would assume just because your body was present, your mind was as well. Just because he was willing, why would you be willing as well?

Except you were.

So. Fucking. Willing.

And you cursed yourself for these instinctive reactions. Every sudden movement had your mind flashing back to training. Back to Viper’s brutal learning methods. It wasn’t even that much longer after Levi left you were made the Raven. After Viper’s death, it was almost instantaneous. But that didn’t stop those seven months of brutal punishments to leave a permanent scar on your psyche. You wished you could find your voice to reassure him that you’d get over this.

But you couldn’t.

And Levi was once again the first to speak.

“I should go. I’ll see you tomorrow Raven—”

“(Y/N),” you corrected him. After countless times of him calling you by your alias, you didn’t think you could stand it anymore. Levi raised his brow, seemingly a little confused by your interruption. “I’m not The Raven anymore. Technically that title belongs to Prongs now. So it’s just (Y/N),” despite the awkwardness of your recent encounter, you still felt that familiar warmth blossom in your chest at his softened smile, and quietly wonder if anyone else ever saw him smile this much.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, (Y/N),” you returned his expression, before lying back down on your side. This was your last night in your cell, before you’d be free to join the Scouts. You silently scoffed at the irony of that statement, but nothing could quell your small candle of hope as you listened to Levi’s footsteps get quieter and quieter. Maybe things weren’t so shit up here after all.

꧁ꨄ꧂

“You know, Raven, I’m going to miss our little nighttime meetings,” another harsh blow to your stomach sent you reeling, eyes screwed shut in both pain and defiance. They were trying everything they could to break you tonight. Blood running freely down your abdomen. Fresh bruises now blossoming over the wilted petals of previous nights.

Still you refused to break. Solid walls of spite had erected around your mind, and they wouldn’t be cracked or broken. Not by anything. So you took it. You took your punishment, only opening your mouth to hurl obscene insults or vile curses in their direction. Mocking the way they struck, laughing at their lack of strength. It only resulted in harsher blows, but it was worth seeing the frustration on their faces when you didn’t scream in agony.

“You know who you remind me of like this? I only made the connection a few nights ago. Strung up and beaten like your good-for-nothing father,”

That struck a chord in you. Your eyes flew open, staring at the ground in horror. This is what had happened to him? They had taken him and beaten him? Was he still alive? Was he here somewhere?

The man, who you’d dubbed Dirt, answered all your questions with his next jab.

“A shame he only lasted a few days. You on the other hand… you’re much more fun to play with,” a feral grin sliced through his face as he circled you, drawing back to land three excrutiating blows against your lower back. You grit your teeth, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes. You didn’t think you had a heart to shatter. You didn’t think any of it remained for it to be broken again.

The MPs had taken two father figures from you.

That grin still adorned Dirt’s face as he went to swing the metal bat again, only to be interrupted by the door behind you opening. Dirt’s eyes narrowed, before whoever it was seemed to please him. God you couldn’t wait for the day where you tore that venomous smile right off his fucking face.

“Captain Ackerman. To what do we owe the pleasure?” you froze. What the hell was he doing here? Why did he always have to arrive during the moments where you really didn’t want him to see you.

But you weren’t expecting to feel a kernel of hope as he spoke.

You weren’t expecting the small smile that etched into your sweat slickened face.

“I was sent to observe. Since she’ll be joining the Survey Corps, I’m here to ensure you don’t break her,” Levi sounded as bored as ever, and you almost huffed a laugh.

Dirt scoffed, in irritation that he wouldn’t get to sever your spine with brute force.

“Very well. However, I must ask you to stand back. She swings like a stallion’s cock sometimes,” If it weren’t directed at you, you would have laughed at the comment. In any other situation, it would have been rather funny.

Just not this one.

Levi had never felt so sick. As soon as he walked in, seeing you strung up like that, helplessly, he had to force down the instinct to rip every one of these torturous bastards to ribbons. He’d never had to have such a tight hold on his emotions in his life, because if that hold slipped…

This would become a blood bath.

“Anyway Raven, where were we?” he asked, though the question was rhetorical. You knew he remembered. He was just trying to provoke a response out of you. But knowing Levi was here gave you a strength you weren’t expecting.

Looking up through your hair, you shot a glare through the thick, matted strands.

“Choke on your own blood, fuckface,” you spat, kicking weakly towards him. It wasn’t the show of defiance you’d wanted, but it seemed to get the message across. You were prepared for whatever consequences there would be for such a demonstration.

The repercussions came immediately. Roughly digging his fingers into your chin, Dirt forced you head up to look at him, his face a picture of mock amusement.

Levi’s jaw clenched.

“Come now Raven. Not trying to impress Captain Levi now, are you?” your eyes flickered over to Levi, his expression unreadable, grey hues trained on the two of you. A rumble of laughter echoed around the chamber as Dirt took in your spiteful expression. “Now I’m left wondering, how somebody like you could come from somebody like your pathetic father. How somebody so defiant, so fucking strong,” —he harshly jabbed at your stomach with the hilt of his bat— “Could be the daughter of somebody so weak,”

“Shut the fuck up,” you rasp, hot fury surging through your veins. How fucking dare he? How dare he insult your father this way. He was a good man. An honest man. He did nothing wrong. Nothing to warrant his or your mother’s death.

“Hm. No, I think I’ll keep talking. This might finally break you.”

“I’ll fucking KILL YOU,” the hook keeping your arms above your head creaked as you thrashed, trying to free yourself to wrap your hands around his goddamn throat.

“You should have heard his cries. His pathetic whimpers as we carved into his flesh. They were… amusing.” No. This wouldn’t be your downfall. You refused. This wasn’t it. You would not be broken by this.

“At least tell me what he died for. At least tell me why you took him, you shit-eating pig!” you spat viciously, trying once again to get free. It was infuriating more than anything. You had so many questions, never knowing why your parents had been killed. Why you came back to your house in disarray, crimson staining the floorboards as your mother’s blood drained from the gash in her throat. Your father, nowhere to be found.

Though he managed to keep his expression neutral, Levi thought back to your father. For the short time he knew him, he was a kind man. He did what he could for the people around him, always feeding those who looked starving. He was convinced that was where you got your compassion from. Why the hell would they take him and torture him?

“Why? He didn’t tell you? Interesting. Your father knew the location of The Nest long before you became our problem. You thought it was a coincidence Viper just happened to take you in? Please, this job was enjoyable enough, don’t make me laugh with your naivety as well,”

“You’re lying. My father was a baker. He was a good man. He wasn’t involved in our criminal shit!”

“Have you noticed a pattern in your life, Raven? Have you noticed how we tried everything to prevent you from falling down this path?” your jaw flickered at Dirt’s tone, mocking you as if they had done you a service.

“We thought your father would introduce you to a life of crime, so we got rid of him for you. When you fell into the care of Viper; well, we got rid of him for you as well,” his smile was snake-like as flashes from that night plagued your mind. Pressed up against the wall as your mentor was savagely dealt with. Begging at them. Screaming at them to stop. To let him go. Only for them to raise a rifle to his head, and paint the wall with his blood.

Dirt imitated a gun with his fingers, putting them up to your forehead.

“Bang.”

Slowly, you stopped thrashing, though the hatred in your veins didn’t cool. You simmered silently, raising your eyes once again. No tears. No sorrow. Nothing but feigned indifference flickered in the low light.

Dirt looked at you for a moment, eyebrows creasing in irritation as he stepped back, twirling the bad in his hands before repeatedly cracking it against your empty stomach. Levi only just managed to control his breathing as he watched helplessly, flinching subtly as every blow connected with your too-skinny body. Clearly Dirt was taking out some intense frustration. He’d just managed to compose himself when the bastard’s eyes turned to him. That fucking smile poisoned his features as he extended the handle of the weapon.

“Captain Levi. She killed a few of your men, did she not? Why don’t you see if you can break the whore?” You almost scoffed in amusement. Levi wouldn’t do that. Not to you. Not after everything the two of you had been through.

You’d finally found each other again.

You were so sure.

You were so sure of yourself.

You were so sure of him.

You’d rekindled that trust over the last week.

You’d rekindled something you thought was dead.

You were so sure.

Until he took the handle.

And the white hot knife of betrayal twisted into your gut once again.

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck.

What the hell was he supposed to do?

Shit.

The weight of the bat felt ten times heavier than anything he’s ever held in his life. The weight of what he was about to do.

Fuck.

As excruciating as this was to watch, he knew it was ten times worse for you. He knew every blow, every crack, was undoing hours of hard work soothing your aches and bruises. Each thud against your body sent jolts of electricity through him. Nerve ends alight with adrenaline, heart beating as if he was about to fight every single one of these bastards just to get them away from you.

Still you have not broken. He couldn’t pinpoint the slight warmth in his chest, couldn’t comprehend what it was. Was he impressed? Surprised?

Proud…?

Levi wasn’t sure if the look of soul shattering betrayal in your eyes was worth it as his hands gripped the cool metal, slightly slickened with your blood.

He would explain it to you.

He would.

Once you were back in your cell, he would tell you why he did it.

But for now, his glare only darkened as he stepped forward. He couldn’t stand the expression on your face. Confused bewilderment, as if trying to work out what he was thinking.

Levi begged you to stop. Stop looking at him like that. Stop trying to work him out because not even he knew if this was the right thing to do.

It was almost a relief when your wide eyes clouded with heartbreaking realisation and acceptance.

A hiss escaped your lips at the first crack. Somehow, this felt more painful than anything those pitiful soldiers could do. Your eyes screwed shut, jaw clenched so hard you were afraid it would shatter into a million pieces.

Each blow felt so precise. So measured and controlled. It stung your heart more than anything else. You’d been betrayed. Again. For the second time in a week. Betrayed by the two people you’d ever loved. Scarlett, who’d picked you up when you were sure nobody else could. Who nursed your broken bones and your broken soul.

And by the first man who ever held your heart.

And truthfully, still did.

Was that all this last week had been?

A ploy just to fuck with you. To earn your trust only to immediately shatter you once again? To break your spirit? Granted, nobody knew the nature of your relationship between you and Levi, but that didn’t matter. The man you loved had just stabbed you in the back.

Again.

So much had happened in the last week. So much had been brought to the surface. It would take years to unpack it all, not that you had any intention of doing that. You just wanted it all gone. To bury it with your fathers. To never think about it again.

You were dragged from your thoughts by a shock of agony sparking up your spine, stemming from your lower back. It was Dirt’s favourite place to attack. Whenever he thought you were being too feisty, too aggressive. He would land as many blows to your lower back as he saw fit.

Admittedly, you doubted Levi knew you’d been snapping back spitefully all session before he arrived, but that didn’t quell the raging fire of hatred as your lips parted without your permission.

A broken cry of anguished agony wracked from your chest, chilling the air of the humid chamber.

Levi froze, horror flashing across his usually schooled features.

He’d broken you.

Levi had broken you.

And with it, any bond he’d managed to salvage over the last week. Any bridge he’d started to rebuild now came crashing down around him.

That one well placed crack had ripped away at your resolve, exposing the tired, hurt, beaten girl beneath.

The room seemed to have stilled. All falling into quiet awe at what had just happened. A slow clap split the stagnant air as Dirt walked up from where he was leaning against the wall. Levi was tempted to turn the bat on him, but he found himself unable to move.

“Your reputation precedes you, Captain. Striking her lower back like that after leaving it to simmer? Genius! We should have asked you to join us earlier,” Dirt cackled in delight as he produced a knife from his pocket. Reaching up, he easily sliced through the ropes binding your hands.

Stone rose up to greet your body as you fell uselessly to the ground, legs too weak to hold you.

“Oh dear. Are you dead? Maybe you and your father had more in common that I originally thought,”

“Enough.” Dirt’s jeering was interrupted by the no-bullshit tones of Levi, causing the soldier to whirl around. He’d finally managed to find his voice, once again reining himself in.

“But Captain Levi, Sir, she’s The Raven. Don’t you think she deserves some extra time with us tonight?”

“If you don’t leave now I’ll make sure it’s you who won’t be able to walk. Go,” you couldn’t tell if this was a blessing or a curse. If he was an angel or a demon.

Actually no, scratch that.

He was a demon, and this was a curse.

You couldn’t find it in yourself to move as you heard busy footsteps around you, assuming the four horsemen were gathering their effects.

“I do hope you make her crawl back to her cell, Captain. We all know your reputation for cleanliness. It would be a shame to dirty your hands touching this filthy whore,” Dirt drawled one more savage insult, before you heard his echoing steps get further and further away. You hoped the day would never come where you had to see his face again.

The silence in the room now was suffocating. You could both feel the emotions radiating off each other now the MPs were gone. He could feel your loathing, and you could feel his disgust. Or what you thought was disgust. What you assumed was disgust.

How could he not be disgusted? He must be. To do what he just did. You didn’t understand why he would come down everyday and help you if he felt such hatred towards you.

No, that’s a lie.

You did understand.

But that truth hurt so much more than anything else tonight.

It had sowed the seed of doubt in your mind. You knew you weren’t a good person. In fact, to most soldiers and nobles you were a devil. But you’d always clung onto the hope that everything you did was to help people. You stole medicine, you slit the throats of rapists, you provided weapons to those who didn’t have enough to fend for themselves.

There was a small part of you that truly believed you were doing good.

That small part had just been crushed, along with several bones.

Gathering what little strength you had, you extended a limp arm in front of you. Fuck it, you weren’t going to sleep here on a floor soiled by your own sweat, blood and saliva.

You would crawl if you had to.

“(Y/N)...” all he wanted to do was hold you. All he’d wanted to do since he’d found you again was hold you. He’d been so close yesterday, but he’d fucked that up.

Now he was sure you’d never willingly let him hold you again. The bat fell from his hand as if he’d realised it was covered in poison, heart clenching at the way you instinctively threw your arms above your head, terrified of some other attack.

You hated how his voice carried so much comfort. Hated how it soothed your raging mind. God you wanted nothing more than to rip his fucking tongue out and make sure he never spoke to you like that again.

A gentle hand landed on your shoulder, forcing you to stop.

“Get… get the fuck… off me… Get the fuck off me,” you couldn’t fight back as he tucked his arms under your legs and upper back, wincing as he lifted you into his grip. “Don’t… Don’t fucking touch me,” there was no strength left in you to push against him as he carried you back, but that didn’t stop you from weakly hitting the arms that held you.

You didn’t understand. One moment he was savagely beating you, and the next he was cradling you against his chest, holding you close as he took you to your cell.

Laying you down, he hoped you understood why he did what he did. It was a fool’s hope, he knew.

He realised you definitely didn’t understand when you started fighting back.

With a sudden surge of strength, you lunged for him. It was a weak attack, and you didn’t really know what you were trying to achieve as you threw yourself towards him with a cry of anguished rage, but you also didn’t care.

“I fucking trusted you,” you spat in between your flailing limbs. It really didn’t take long for Levi to pin your arms either side of your head, hovering over your body.

“(Y/N), stop,” He tightened his grip on your wrists as you struggled against his hold. It would have been a real test of strength for both of you had you not spent the last week having the life beaten out of you. You were weaker than you’d ever been, and he was taking advantage.

“I was right the first time. You don’t get to call me that. You don’t ever get to call me that. You sick, twisted BASTARD. So that was why you lied to me. That was why you didn’t tell me why you were helping me. You fucking coward, is that all you were doing? Convincing me I was safe with you? Tricking me into thinking you still actually cared about me you filthy fucking LIAR,” you barked a mirthless laugh, baring your teeth in a visceral snarl. “I swear to you Levi, I will not fucking stop until my knife is buried your goddamn THROAT!” you struggled again, twisting as much as you could beneath him, trying to free your arms, your hands, anything that could help you take him down.

He deserved this. He knew he did. Levi looked into the burning betrayal in your eyes and knew he deserved this. He would take every verbal blow you threw at him because he knew he deserved it. But he had to explain. He didn’t care. You could hurl whatever you wanted at him, but he wouldn’t leave until he had the chance to explain himself.

Then he would never see you again.

If that’s what you wanted.

“Just calm down, for a minute, please,” you hadn’t heard him beg like that in a very, very long time. Shit, you fucking hated what it did to you. In this position, your wrists held above your head, his arms caging you in, his legs either side of your hips...

The room suddenly felt far too warm.

“What could you possibly have to say to me? I fucking trusted you. You disgusting son-of-a-bitch. I can’t believe I actually thought—“

Levi finally lost his temper.

“What? You thought what? That just because we found each other again we’d play happy families? Grow the fuck up, Raven,” he spat your alias, finally releasing all the fury he’d pent up. He knew this was a mistake. None of this was your fault. He’d been angry with how you’d been treated. Utterly beside himself at Erwin.

And you were taking the fall for it.

“I didn’t lie to you, I didn’t have a fucking choice. If anyone saw me treat you any differently, they would start to question it. They would question why I was showing pity to a criminal. The Raven, no less. And I can’t—”

“Oh I’m sorry, I would hate to ruin your reputation, Captain,” you struck back with just as much venom. Just as much fury.

“Let me finish. I can’t let them get to you anymore than they already have. It was either them or—”

“Because I’m just so import—” you almost cried out as the grip on your wrists tightened, knowing they would leave yet another bruise on your body.

“Let. Me. Finish.” Levi narrowed his eyes, returning the glare you were holding on him and not continuing until you yielded, finally looking away and clamping your mouth shut. “It was either them or me. I could let them continue to beat the shit out of you mercilessly, or I could do it myself. I could try and make it better. I couldn’t fucking watch that shit anymore. I couldn’t fucking stand it. Those filthy bastards laying their dirty hands on you. Hurting you. Shit, you were half dead when I walked in. I was scared you were for a moment. Terrified they were just beating a corpse. But you’re so much stronger than I ever gave you credit for. They never fucking broke you. And they never will. Because if they touch you again, if they fucking look at you, I will go the the ends of the goddamn earth and tear them apart, because I care about you,” Levi hadn’t noticed he was panting. He hadn’t noticed the tears slipping down your cheeks. He didn’t think his self hatred could sink any deeper, but now he’d made you cry silent tears.

Loosening his grip on your wrists, he looked at you as though he’d been responsible for your murder.

“So, it was mercy? That’s what’s considered merciful up here?” you couldn’t really believe it. Twice in two days Levi had spoken more to you than you thought he ever did back when you belonged to each other. You didn’t think you’d ever sounded so small. So vulnerable. “Let me ask you this, Levi. Was it merciful on me, or merciful on you? Because you sure as hell didn’t make things better for me,” despite the quieter volume, your voice was still harsh.

But you had to know.

You wanted nothing more than to pull him in and thread your hands through his hair. To feel his body against yours. For his heartbeat to lull you to sleep. But you had to know whether he did this for you, or himself.

You understood now. You really did. And put in the same situation, you didn’t think you’d do any differently.

“Honestly…? Merciful to me. I couldn't bear it. I tried. I tried so fucking hard. But I couldn’t let them hurt you anymore,” his voice was no louder than a choked, guilt ridden whisper.

That’s all you needed to hear. Slipping your wrists free of his hands, you reached up. Cupping the sides of his face, you brought him down to you, since you couldn’t exactly sit up and go to him.

As soon as your lips returned home to his, you couldn’t stop the few tears from escaping your closed eyes.

Levi’s own eyes widened, and he was suddenly convinced he was dead. Was this actually happening? After everything he’s just done, everything he’s just said.

You forgave him?

When your tongue gently skirted his bottom lip, he decided contemplating forgiveness was something for later. Terrified of hurting you further, he rested his weight on his elbows, finally closing his eyes. He’d wanted this for so long. Since he laid eyes on you for the first time in ten years, he’d wanted nothing more than to envelop your mouth with his own.

With your eyes closed, you didn’t mind when his hand came up to gently caress the apple of your cheek. You didn’t mind when you opened your lips for his tongue to hesitantly slip in and explore your mouth, that slick muscle moving against yours. You didn’t mind when his hand travelled down to cup the side of your neck, tilting your head up to deepen the kiss.

Neither of you wanted to break away, having waited far too long for this moment. You reveled in the groan he emitted down your throat as your left hand found its way to his undercut, gently scratching and caressing in desperation. You hadn’t heard that sound in so long and you instantly craved more.

Levi’s eyes rolled back into his skull behind his closed lids, feeling your hands in his hair. God, he didn’t want to fuck you in a cell, but your hands and tongue were making it difficult for him to control himself.

He was the first to pull back, instantly missing the warmth of your mouth.

“I don’t understand,” he breathed, looking down into your eyes. You could see the swirling confusion in those sterling orbs as they flickered in the low light. You could see the arousal in his dark pupils. Feel it against your inner thigh. You wanted to take him right here and now, but not only did you acknowledge the fact you were literally in a prison cell…

You weren’t sure you were ready. Not yet. Not after everything.

“Levi… if you had done that for my sake, I would have shattered both your kneecaps,” you earned yourself a gentle laugh, his thumb coming up to smooth down your eyebrow. “But you didn’t. I know you feel selfish, and I know you hate yourself for it, but I also know that it was either that, or you beat them to death with that goddamn bat. I know you, Levi. You haven’t changed much yourself,” your left hand came back, softly carding through those ebony bangs.

Levi felt like he could fly. Felt as though you’d returned the wings he’d lost when he thought he’d never see you again.

(Y/N), I want to apolo—”

“Shut the fuck up.”

With that, you stretched up to capture his mouth again, instantly feeling like you’d come back home. You didn’t care about the surge of pain coursing through your abdomen and back. That’s what he was to you.

He was home.

You felt his length twitch in his constraints as both your hands found purchase in his hair, gently tugging at the black strands.

“Fuck…” he breathed into your mouth, his hips bucking involuntarily as you sucked his lower lip between your teeth.

You kept having to consciously remind yourself that you are in fact in a dank, filthy cell. And enveloping him between you increasingly slick folds was wildly inappropriate.

Levi thought it was entirely unfair how you were managing to drag whines and moans from him with nothing but your fingers and teeth. So he decided it was his turn to give something back.

His hand travelled down your body, almost instinctively finding the crease in your thighs. He swallowed his own groan of ecstasy as his knuckles grazed his arousal, opting instead to focus on the way your hips rose to meet the pads of his fingers, gently rubbing your swollen, clothed clit. His circular motions drawing out those small whimpers he’d craved to hear.

“Mmn, L-Levi... ACK, fuck!” your moan of pleasure turned into a small cry of pain as your abs contracted, sending yet another lightning bolt through your system. Levi withdrew his hand immediately, eyes instantly clearing and recognising your signs of discomfort.

“Shit (Y/N), your back,” you felt your heart swell at his concern, though internally cursed yourself.

“‘S’fine,” you insisted, rising up once again to grasp his lips with yours, only to be met with thin air and you ex(?) lover looking down at you.

“No, it’s not. C’mere,” Levi sighed and lifted himself off you, careful not to cause you any further damage. He looked for permission before gently turning you on your side, as if your tongue hadn’t been down his throat less than thirty seconds ago. He cursed his erection, finding himself a little hindered by it as he walked over to the faucet, allowing himself a few moments reprieve before removing the handkerchief from his pocket and running it under the tap.

Though the mirror was cracked, he could still see his slightly swollen lips, distorted against the spider webbing fractures. Could still see the mark you’d left on his face. Shit, he wished for those marks to be left elsewhere. His mind wandered back to the way you used to settle between his thighs, teasing him until you got him to crack. He loved the way you could coerce broken pleas from his throat. Adored the black-blue bites you left on the inside of his thighs, before your warmth enveloped him. Your flexible muscle flicking up and down his sensitive length, running over that prominent vein he hadn’t felt you caress in too long. He missed feeling the vibrations of your chuckle when he begged for you to let him cum. When he felt his balls tighten with release, and yet you denied him still.

But most of all he missed tasting you. He missed the way your arousal freely leaked onto his tongue. He missed the way your hips rose to meet his fingers, that breathy gasp when he found your hidden spot. The begs and cries you made when you wanted him to let you cum. When you whined for his dick to replace his fingers. Fuck, he missed the way your thighs locked his head between them as he brought you to climax with nothing but his tongue flicking over you little, sensitive button. Over, and over, and over again.

“Having trouble?” you grinned from your position on the sorry excuse for a mattress. You’d managed to turn yourself over to watch him, disregarding any agony you felt. You wouldn’t miss this for the world. You wouldn’t miss seeing Levi all riled up and unable to focus simply because of the administrations with your mouth.

“Shut up,” he grumbled, turning the faucet off and ringing out the cloth in the sink. You chuckled at his tone and his predicament, loving every second of it. Though you couldn’t miss the small glint of amusement in his dark eyes. “Oi, turn back ‘round. ‘Need to get to your back,”

“I bet you do,”

“(Y/N)...” he warned, with no real malice in his tone. If this was any other man, you would have lunged at them for taking that tone with you. But this was Levi. Your Levi. You knew he would never hurt you. Not unless absolutely necessary.

Case and point: hitting you with a bat to avoid a murder charge.

Begrudgingly, you tore your eyes from his face, haphazardly twisting on the mattress to face away from him.

“Hm, good girl,” Levi purred, eyes gleaming at the way your thighs clenched in reaction. But any spark of arousal was swiftly extinguished, when your body twitched away from his as he took his seat behind you.

You clenched your eyes shut, hating yourself for the reaction you couldn’t control. You didn’t blame Viper for your now primal fear. You knew he was just teaching you what you needed to know, but he had no fatherly experience, and possibly caused more harm than good.

“‘M’ sorry, it’s not you, I promise. I just—”

“No. No apologising. It’s not your fault,” you nodded, not trusting your voice not to crack if you spoke up now.

Levi thought hard about how he wanted to do this without causing any more reaction from you. Attempting to keep his mind from wandering too far, he tried to understand what made you comfortable enough to bring him onto your mouth. To gently tug on his lower lip. To thread your hands through his hair and--

“I have an idea… (Y/N), watch what I’m doing,” you did as he asked, turning your neck as much as you could to watch the movements of his hand. You tensed as his palm hovered over your side. But when you didn’t feel anything, you unscrewed one tightly shut eye, peering at him curiously.

“(Y/N), can you raise your body for me, just to reach my hand?” this might actually work. Levi had been wracking his brains for a way for you to feel comfortable again with touch.

Hesitantly, you slowly raised your body to meet his fingers, almost freezing as you felt no reaction. You didn’t tense, you didn’t instantly balk under his touch.

You hadn’t cried in years, and yet throughout the course of this long, long night, you had cried twice, the corners of your lashes growing damp as a tear slipped down the side of your face.

Growing increasingly concerned by your lack of response, Levi was about to move his hand from your side, but was immediately stopped by your own fingers covering his.

“Don’t. Stay. Don’t move away,” his heart burned at your broken plea, his worried expression softening in slight relief.

“I won’t. (Y/N), I’m not going to touch you without your permission. Ever. But, if you’re comfortable with it, we can do this. If you’re happy with this,” Levi gently moved his thumb against the fabric of your shirt, caressing your side. Your choked laugh of happy disbelief caused his small smile to broaden ever so slightly.

“Yes. Yes i’m happy with this,” still having trouble believing this was truly happening, you closed your eyes in bliss, allowing a few more tears to escape.

“Okay, I’m going to move your shirt up, alright?” your heart sung at his sincerity, nodding silently once again as you felt the fabric of your shirt bunch up ever so carefully. You loved how he always made you feel so precious. Nothing was precious in the Underground, but somehow he always made you feel worth diamonds and gold. You’d forgotten what that was like, until the damp cloth once again soothed your aching welts, chasing away the throbs of pain.

Those spears of guilt once again plunged into Levi’s heart as he saw what they had done to you. What he’d done to you. You were always so forgiving when it came to him. You always have been. He could lock himself in his room for days, not speak to you for hours on end and you would always be there to hold him when the pressure finally cracked. Always there to soothe him when he opened up after long weeks of isolation. When those memories of his mother dragged up again. When the day Kenny left forced him to hide away until he couldn’t take it anymore.

You always forgave him.

And could always sense what he was thinking.

He came back to the present when your hand squeezed his, as if you knew where his mind had taken him.

“It’s okay, Levi,” your soft reassurance broke his heart.

“I should be saying that to you,”

“Go on then,” you retorted, not even trying to hide the mischief in your voice

Levi chuckled, moving his hand from under yours to stroke your hair.

“It’s okay, (Y/N),”

“I feel thoroughly reassured,”

“Tch, shut up brat,” god, at this point your heart could have been a choir. Singing once again at the soft amusement gently lacing his tone. But you internally cringed as fingers threaded through your grimy hair, reaching up to move it away.

“Levi, don’t. It’s fucking filthy,”

“So’s your face but I recall sucking on it a few moments ago,”

“Levi!” you couldn’t believe he’d just said that. He was never one to make such jokes. But you couldn’t deny you loved it. Loved his low, breathy laugh at your indignant call of his name.

“What? Am I wrong?” you couldn’t see his slightly cheeky smirk behind you. Or the way one brow raised in feigned curiosity.

“Well no, but—”

“Didn’t think so.”

“God you’re insufferable. Anyone would think you’re— OW!” you turned to look back at him in mock anger. He didn’t actually hurt you, and by looking at your swiftly disintegrating expresion, Levi was able to decipher you were just fucking with him. Rolling his eyes, he continued his administration with the cloth, watching fondly as you settled back down.

You only spoke again when that hand in your hair started moving.

“Levi, seriously, it’s gross. Just focus on my back,” when he didn’t reply, you once again twisted back to look at him, unable to decipher the expression on his face.

“Stay here,”

“Like I’m in any condition to move, asshole,”

“Tch, don’t be difficult. I’ll be back in a minute,” with a final caress of your head, Levi chucked the cloth back into the sink before standing to his feet. You were a bit of a sorry sight, lying on your side, shirt ridden up to reveal your bruised, still bloodied back. He’d managed to gently scrub off most of the crimson staining your skin, but he wanted to provide you with just a little more comfort, if he could.

You didn’t even try to escape when he left the door open. Too tired to move. Your limbs felt like lead everytime you attempted to shift, exhaustion clinging to your bones like shackles. You didn’t know how long you waited, but you felt yourself start to drift in and out of consciousness, unable to help yourself marvel at how easy it would be to slip into a deep sleep. Your mind was far too heavy to sift through the lake of emotions you’d found yourself submerged in. Just as you were about to succumb to the call of rest, your faultless alert system brought you back to consciousness, adrenaline injected into your veins as you shot upright at the sound of footsteps.

“Calm down, it’s just me,” your brittle nerves settled at the sound of his calming voice, heart leaping when you saw what he carried in his arms.

Levi had brought everything he thought he would need. A small metal basin containing a small flannel, a wash-cloth, a small cup, the shower soap and hair conditioner from his own quarters and a large towel to spare the mattress of the water. Kicking the cell door almost closed with his foot, Levi crossed to the sink once again, setting out the contents on the cracked porcelain before filling the basin.

He left the faucet running, turning back to you with the town folded on his arm.

“Gonna need you to move if we want to set this down,” you raised a suggestive eyebrow, mouth pulling into a small smirk. Levi rolled his eyes. “Not like that, brat. Unless you want to sleep on a damp mattress. It’s up to you, really,” the amused spark in his eye betrayed his neutral, blank face as you gently shimmied down the bed, making a space for him to set the towel down.

You watched as he removed his jacket, mouth watering ever so slightly as his shirt clung to his back, unable to tear your eyes away from the movement of his muscles. They had certainly developed well.

“Oi, stop ogling,” he smirked to you over his shoulder, earning a sly grin from you in response.

“Can’t help it,” you chimed, eyes flicking to his forearms as he rolled up his sleeves. Fuck, if only you weren’t in a jail cell. Or utterly filthy. Or just not ready for that yet.

If only you didn’t have a thousand things stopping you from pushing him against the wall and engulfing his cock in down your throat.

But for now, you just had to settle with undressing and fucking him with your eyes. Something that clearly didn’t go unnoticed, if the way he writhed slightly under your pinning gaze was anything to go by.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Levi tried to steer his thoughts away from his length stiffening once again. Fuck, the way you were staring at him, he was starting to feel hot beneath his shirt, despite the naturally cool temperature of the room. Your heated chuckle only fueled the flames.

“Aw, why? Are you hard?” you teased, raking your eyes up and down his figure, lingering on the small tent in his crotch. You shifted slightly, almost groaning as the mattress below you rubbed against your swollen folds.

“Tch, obviously. And I’m not going to deal with it in this filthy prison cell, so don’t make it worse brat,” Levi marvelled at your laugh. A proper, head thrown back laugh. He couldn’t stop the fond smile spreading across his face at the sight.

“Alright alright, I’ll stop eye-fuckinig you,” you managed to say, after regaining some sort of composure.

“You’re filthy,”

“Isn’t that why you’re about to bathe me?” you tilted your head slightly, watching him lift the basin from the sink after turning off the faucet. He didn’t deem your comment worthy of a response, opting instead to look back at you with a blank, deadpan expression. Tucking everything else under his arm, Levi returned back to your side. He thought for a moment about how he wanted to do this before, wedging the water basin between his legs.

“Lie back, place your head on my lap. Gonna’ wash your hair,” he instructed, busying himself with getting the small, brown bottle of hair soap. But he paused upon sensing your hesitation. Looking back to you, he searched your face, before slowly bringing his hand up.

You shied away, closing your eyes instinctively, almost bracing yourself for the contact that never came.

“Hey, not gonna touch you without permission, remember?” you opened your eyes to see his hand hovering next to your cheek. He was waiting for your next move, and you could see the slight hopeful spark in his eye.

So slowly, you tilted your head enough to gently nuzzle into his palm, your own hand coming up to keep him against your face.

Levi smoothed the skin under your eye with his thumb, trying his damndest not to let any tears well up in his eyes.

Unbeknownst to him, you were attempting to do the same. Not wanting him to see you cry for the third goddamn time tonight. But it became impossible when he said something you didn’t know you needed to hear.

“I missed you so much, firefly,” your breath hitched in your throat at the old nickname. He’d only ever use it in the softest moments in the Underground. Stroking your hair whilst lying in his bed. Staying up and keeping you company when you’d shoot awake from a nightmare. He was never one for nicknames, so one day when he, out of the blue, called you his firefly;

you’d almost cried.

Your eyes widened, hand gently squeezing his own to ground yourself. You let out something halfway between a laugh and a sob.

“I missed you too. So, so much,” you hardly had to move forward before your face was nestled in the crook of his neck, his arms slowly tucking you against his body. “I missed you so much,” you whispered again.

Levi didn’t think he’d ever been this happy, at least not for a long, long time. Ecstatic you felt comfortable enough to let him hold you. Though he was usually so good at keeping his feelings to himself, so much had happened over the last week, he felt the walls to his emotional dam cracking ever so slightly, a few tears lining his closed eyes. He could feel the collar of his shirt dampen as you shed silent tears, his thumb rubbing small circles against your back.

Levi held you like this for what felt like hours. Content to just be in each other’s arms once again. In reality, it had only been a few minutes before he gently shifted you so the back of your head rested against his lap.

“Never known you to be such a cry-baby,” he lightly teased, gathering what he could of your hair and soaking it within the basin still wedged between his knees.

“I’m not. I haven’t cried in years. Literally. Probably since Viper’s—” you stopped yourself, not expecting the casual statement to hurt quite as much as it did. “Viper’s death,” you finished quietly, eyes avoiding any direct contact with his own.

Levi took note of your tone change, reaching for the hair soap. He was only vaguely aware of the relationship between you and the old Nest leader. Finding out through those vile MPs.

“Want to talk about it?” The tone of his question matched yours as he lathered the gel into your now cleaner locks to make sure the grime and grease was properly dealt with.

“Honestly? Not yet. Maybe not ever. I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to anyone about it. Not even Prongs, or Wolf, and they were his Shadows before mine,” you fell silent for a moment, before looking back to him. “How did you do it? How did you just… leave everything behind?”

Levi sighed at the innocence of your question. The raw guilt he knew you were feeling. Knowing you were up here, safe, warm, comfortable, whilst so many people down there were still suffering. Still dying from easily preventable illnesses.

“I didn’t. Not really. I still find myself thinking back to those poor sods down there. But I couldn’t think about it for too long, because I would find myself thinking back to you,” his hand stroked the top of your now damp forehead, smoothing down the wet locks of your hair.

The basin sloshed slightly as you nodded, disheartened by the fact that this feeling of suffocating guilt would probably never leave you. Levi saw this in your face. He saw the exact same swirl of emotions he felt when he knew he would never return.

But you’d left behind so much more than he did. You had a trusted group. A family who would only know what happened to you through the words of that young girl.

“They’ll be safe, (Y/N). He may be an asshole sometimes, but I trust Erwin. He wouldn’t break his word,” running his hands through your soaked hair, Levi gently teased the knots out with his fingers, easily gliding through the now freed strands.

His reassurance calmed your worries. Levi hardly trusted anyone, you only ever knew him to trust Isobel, Farlan and yourself. This Erwin guy must have really made an impression.

Reaching back to the small flannel he’d brought down with him, he began drying your hair, setting the basin to one side. You didn’t think you’d ever felt this pampered. This well looked after. You thought you could certainly get used to it. Returning your thoughts to the conversation, you exhaled a sigh.

“Yeah, I know. It’s just… My job was to take care of them. My job was to stop something like this from happening. Our entire operation was compromised because my shitty partner couldn’t get over some grudge she had against a boy she’d never met,” you poked his chest as he rolled his eyes, looking down at you with a brow raised.

“So it’s my fault?”

“I didn’t say that,”

“You implied it,”

“Oh don’t be so sensitive,”

“I wasn’t the one who cheated,”

You almost sat bolt upright at that, if it weren’t for him anticipating the movement. What did he mean ‘cheat’? You didn’t cheat. You would never cheat. Loyalty ran through your veins like blood, and if you weren’t so incredulous you would have spotted the smallest hint of mischief in his steely eyes.

“Wh— Cheat? I didn’t cheat. What makes you think that?” your genuine concern broke his heart, and he almost felt bad for teasing you like this.

Almost.

Taking your face in both his hands, Levi failed to suppress the fugitive smirk on his face.

“We technically never broke up, brat,” you breathed a sigh of relief, before turning back to scowl at him, tempted to lightly smack the back of his head.

“Don’t fucking scare me like that, asshole,” your scowl held no heat, too relieved that he was just being pedantic rather than actually implying you would ever be disloyal. But your glare melted away at the rumble of a chuckle emitting from his chest. You rolled your eyes, trying your best to feign annoyance and failing miserably.  

Removing the small towel from your now damp hair, Levi deemed it dry enough for you to sleep on without catching a cold.

“There. Think you can do the rest yourself? I don’t wanna… make you uncomfortable or anything,” it was your turn for your heart to break, his consideration for your comfort and wellbeing always seemed to be his top priority. You took his hand in yours, gently stroking your thumb over his knuckles.

“You’ve done more than enough,” earnest gratitude swam in your eyes and it was all Levi could do not to stoop down and kiss you.

Instead, he stayed put for a little while longer, stealing all the seconds he could. He’d realised, with you joining the Survey Corps, you two wouldn’t be able to do this anymore. The company you’d both enjoyed for the past week would be ripped away by expeditions, training and paperwork.

So he greedily took as much time as the two of you could spare, before you would inevitably have to part ways.

“I have to go, (Y/N),” Levi whispered, although every part of him was longing to stay, especially when your face slowly fell in realisation.

“I know,” you tried to mask your melancholy with a gentle smile, but your voice betrayed you, breaking slightly as you spoke. Neither of you wanted to be the one to move. Neither of you wanted to be the first to burst the protective bubble of familiarity you both knew you wouldn’t feel again for a long, long time.

But to save him from doing it himself, you were the one to shift, allowing him to rise from the bed.

“I’ll uh, leave all this here and collect it early in the morning,” Levi shifted slightly awkwardly on his feet, running a hand through his hair. You nodded, adjusting yourself carefully. Your midsection didn’t hurt as much, more of an echoing throb, but you were still cautious nonetheless.

“Right, yeah. Probably a good idea, before anyone sees,” you shrugged, avoiding having to look at his face. You knew it would break both of you if you’d asked whether there was any chance of him staying.

Just for a little while longer.

“I’ll see you soon… Raven,” you felt your soul crack as he replaced your name with your alias. You knew it was right. You knew it was for the best. But that wouldn’t stop every fiber of your being shattering.

Levi hated how you said nothing as he turned to leave. He pretended not to notice your heartbreak as he deliberately called you Raven. He suppressed the urge to pick you up and take you with him. To carry you to his bed and cage you in his arms as you both fell asleep in each other’s embrace.

He didn’t know your prolonged silence was because you were gathering your courage. Silently arguing with yourself over what was right and what was wrong until you stopped him by calling his name.

“Levi…” There was no turning back now. You took a breath, finally raising your eyes to meet his now on the other side of the bars. “I—” love you.

You immediately stopped yourself, finding those three words caught in your throat. You couldn’t say them. Shit, you couldn’t say them.

You were a coward.

“Thank you,”

Levi stayed searching your face. He knew. He knew that wasn’t what you wanted to say. Because that wasn’t what he wanted to hear. He let loose a breath he didn’t know he was holding, giving you one last look of badly masked longing, before turning away.

“Training starts tomorrow,” though the words themselves were cold, his tone was laced with mourning as his footsteps echoed out of earshot, leaving you completely and utterly alone.

Levi had managed all but three steps into the hallway before his name was called by an irritatingly familiar voice.

“Ah, Levi. Good. My office. Now, if you’re not busy,” Erwin had a way of saying ‘if you’re not busy’ that sounded like he was really saying ‘there is absolutely no debate in this, you could be bleeding out and missing an arm and I would still expect you in my office within the next five minutes’. Levi knew he didn’t exactly have a choice.

“Sure. Let me make some tea and I’ll be right there,” he knew he’d made a mistake. The look in Erwin’s cerulean eyes told him that the tall blonde had figured something out. Something dangerous that could compromise his relationship with you.

Actually, he’d probably figured out he had a relationship with you.

Shit…

He was in so much trouble.

[zenni-gotcha]

Hello! I’m on a quest to get as much Goemon stories as possible since its just criminal how little there is of him (nothing wrong with lup or jig just… idk man, samurai supremacy) how about Goemon with an s/o who plays a uke and brings it most anywhere they can? Maybe they can even busk (street playing) to get enough money for food for the gang if they are low on cash ? Please and thank you ❤️

[I love this so much! He needs as much attention as the others, you’re right! it kinda ended up being a fic on before he and s/o got together]

There was music floating through the air as the rest of the gang ate at a nearby cafe. “They know that we have enough money right now, right?” Lupin asked as he watched you playing from where you were standing behind the hat that you had sitting on the ground. “Sure,” Jigen started as he took a sip from his coffee, “but, I’m pretty sure that they just play because they like to. Ya’know, like how you thieve because you like to. Right, Goemon?” There was no response even though Goemon was sitting right next to the gunman. Jigen looked at him for a bit more expecting an answer before he got one from the wrong person. “I don’t thing our dear samurai heard you, buddy.” Lupin laughed. “He’s a bit preoccupied right now. Probably will be for awhile.” That was true. Goemon’s eyes hadn’t left you since you had walked over and started playing. He always loved to watch you play, and even more to listen to it.

It was actually how he met you. One day the rest of them were all scoping out a potential heist spots and told Goemon to wait at a certain area. You happened to be playing that town at the time and he found himself getting distracted by you. Eventually, he walked over and started talking to you. Or, rather, he passed you about five times and put money in you hat until you said something to him because talking to new people wasn’t something that he was the most comfortable with. As soon as you mentioned that you wished that you had the desire to travel around, but it was difficult to do with your income, he had a plan. It took a bit of convincing to the other two, but soon they warmed up to the idea of taking you along with them. It would help to have someone that the police didn’t recognize to walk around, and if you were ever questioned then you could use the excuse that you were just looking for a place to play. Even though he was the one that suggested that you tag along with the group, Goemon was super protective of you. He used the excuse that you weren’t as used to this sort of world as they were, but Lupin and Jigen knew there was more to it than that.

“God, just ask them out already!” Lupin groaned as he jabbed Goemon in the ribs, effectively pulling him from the trance that you and your music had put him in. His face turned bright red and he quickly pushed Lupin’s hand away from his body. “Don’t be foolish. They and I are simply friends.” After this denial it was Jigen’s turn to chime in. “Yeah, man, ‘cause you won’t take them on a date.” At that point Goemon decided that he was done talking to them, and turned his back so they both knew it. He wanted to ask you out for the longest time, but didn’t know how to really go about it. Just about that time you finished your most recent song. Goemon saw his chance to get away from the other two and walked over to you. Your face lit up when you saw him.

“That song was… nice.” He started, trying to think of a conversation as he went. “Thanks! You know I’ll play it for you just about anytime you ask. Just let me know.” Your smile about killed him with how sweet it was, and his faced burned even more than it already was. “I’ll keep that in mind, thank you.” He looked back at the cafe just see the other two giving him a thumbs-up which he answered with an eye roll. There was a moment where he about died when you tried to look around him to see what Jigen and Lupin were doing, but he quickly stepped in front of you field of view, not trusting what they might signal to you. “We, uh…” he tried to think of a reason for coming over here other than asking you on a date; getting cold feet once more. “we might need to leave soon. Don’t want to stay somewhere for too long and get too much attention.” It was a relief when you seemed to buy the excuse, with a quick, “Okay, sounds good. Let me just gather up my stuff.” With a defeated sigh he started back to his seat at the cafe.

Goemon about strangled Lupin when they crossed paths on his way back to the cafe. He wasn’t sure what Lupin was going to say to you, but based on how he was acting today it wasn’t something that Goemon was going to be happy with it. His confirmation came when Lupin briefly stopped and asked, “Sooo, did you ask them?” Goemon’s face scrunched in anger, and he gave a curt, “No.” With that Lupin was off like a shot and talking to you before it could be stopped. The two of you were just far enough away that he couldn’t quite hear what you were saying as you gathered up your stuff. He quickly decided that he wasn’t going to take this lying down and started to make his way back over to you. Before he could stomp his way over there Lupin came back over to him. “And, that’s how ya do it! By the way you need to figure out where you’re taking them pretty quick.” He gave Goemon’s shoulder a few pats before he walked back down the street. Soon you came walking up to him and happily chimed, “Hey, Lupin just told me that you wanted to show me something later. What is it?” Goemon didn’t know if he should thank Lupin or punch him. But, that choice would be something for him to make after he figures out where he and you were going to have your date at.