#the way that if the titanic was not a known thing the whole sinking bit would be Such a random plot twist sdkfgs

[aroaessidhe]

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A Million To One

sapphic historical YA about four girls - a thief, artist, acrobat, and actress- pulling a heist on the titanic to steal a rare jewel-encrusted book

[dailyadventureprompts]

Villain: End Without Rest, Outer God of Ceaseless Apocalypse

How many times can a thing break before it can break no more?

The mummified corpse of a titanic dragon defies all laws of scale and destiny to sink its teeth into a bleeding sun, a fleet of ships like clockwork locusts stripmine a world for spare parts, angels gone feral parade down the road while scourging their flesh singing songs of the coming endtimes in a thousand witless tongues. All these things and more are the being known as “End without Rest”, an engine of destruction that wanders the multiverse without aim, a nomadic Armageddon looking to impose itself on the mythologies of other worlds.

End without Rest is a god for those who are convinced that final days are upon them, whether that be doom preaching madmen, the scions of crumbling empire, or religious fanatics convinced they alone will be saved. It is the impulse to ignore your own safety and the safety of others, and to instead heap all the good things of life upon a pyre and watch them burn. End without Rest senses these pyres like signal beacons, and descends on the arsonist’s innocent world to make good on all their fears.

Adventure Hooks: 

Exploring the ruins of a now forgotten city leads the party into conflict with a series of strange, rust-covered automotons that seem to have been haunting the site since its fall. Pushing deeper, they find the machines defending the wreck of a long grounded astral ship, with the surrounding evidence pointing to the city’s inhabitants having died defending against an army of these constructs a thousand years ago.

A few generations ago, a charismatic priest found a book of prophecies, and took his followers out to the badlands where they could be safe from the cleansing fire that was about to destroy their homeland. The apocalypse is now overdue, and the priest’s followers have gone a bit squirly in the meantime, living off the land in pious austerity and attacking travellers and native inhabitants of the badlands for supplies. The most recent head of their congregation has decided to take a more active approach to prophecy, and has begun a series of grisly raids with the intent of triggering the endtimes by orchestrating his own omens.

The stars bleed, the horizon seems to burn, and the party have to run for cover as a falling star makes its way directly towards their camp. Returning to the smoking crater they find a Planetar angel gasping for life, heavenly light bleeding from innumerable battle wounds. With their last breath, they recount their battle with a fallen angel intent on beginning the end of the world by blowing a sacred horn. This plannetar gave its life to avert this crisis, and with their last ounce of strength to knock the horn from their foe’s hands and sent it crashing to earth. Now the party must race to find where the second “falling star” landed before their fallen adversary completes their final mission.

Background: The origins of End without Rest stand as a testament for what happens when gods and mortals meddle with the ineffable nature of fate. It begins with a petty war god watching as a world reached the predestined end of its mythology, it sun devoured by a great beast to usher in the final age of darkness and dissolution that would spell that realm’s end. This wargod was not the type to see a whole world full of people and weep at the futility of all, or rush in to try and set fate onto a different course.... she was the type to see something that could destroy pantheons and start thinking about how it could be weaponized.

End without Rest is the result of all her efforts: The body of an apocalyptic dragon, mummified from its long time in the void, pulled from the dead realms and reawakened with a supernova burning in its belly. Around this monstrosity she set a legion of constructs to maintain, defend, and reign the beast, answerable only to her. She wielded her new weapon with glee and with pride, carving out an empire of worlds that bowed to hear in fear of the apocaylpse she could bring down on them... until she fucked up and brought it down on herself instead.

With its master consumed and her divine fire burning in its furnace of a heart, there was nothing to stop End without Rest from growing, of reaching the critical mass of its own godhood, of moving from world to world ending them based on instinct alone.  This process has repeated so long that the remnants of other apocalypses have got swept up in the apocalypse engine’s wake: routed legions of the endtimes pledging themselves to its service, orphaned harbingers following it in hopes of finding meaning after their task is complete.

Titles: The Apocalypse Engine, Suneater, the unready end

Signs: Confused visions of the enditmes, animals going feral, objects rusting breaking or unraveling before they should.

Symbols: The Jaws of a beast (often black, often skeletal) closing around a red sun. Iron locusts

[myfirstbreakcharacter]

Bloodsucker Brook

The first thing you spot from the distance is a titanic boulder. Away from the mountains - away from Peek Peak - it might overshadow many hills. It is rounded and bulging like a little sourdough bun. There are very old maps from previous aeons which refer to it as 'Child of Mountain.' These days, everyone calls it the Bug.

The Bug has been carved out where it meets the ground and the ground has been scooped away a bit. It might have looked like some great puffball mushroom if it was left that way, but enterprising individuals have ringed the mountain-child with an open-air tavern structure, akin to what one would see at some festival. This is an "always open" structure, serving different drinks and meals at any time of day or 'night,' cooled by the constant drafts between the mountain and the forest. Supporting bracers and buttresses keep the structure upright against any sinking or settling from seasonal downpours. Now, from a distance, it looks like a gigantic Bloodbug growing fat while feeding on the base of Peek Peak.

The structures that have grown up around the Bug have little concern for the fraction of the population who can be considered somewhat permanent residents. Instead, the whole of the place is given over to a transient population of travelers, outcasts, and thrill seekers. The last gasp of libertine lawlessness before entering the Vightran Wilds, Bloodsucker Brook more or less runs itself; however, when tough decisions have to be made, it's the bartenders at the Bug who make them.

Most Services and Downtime Activities are available at the Bug, though who is providing those services changes by the day. Permanent sales stalls exist but they are occupied by one traveling peddler after another. Permanent eateries of a sort exist but the cuisine changes with every meal. Smithies abound, never cold, ceaselessly ringing, with the hand that holds the hammer changing between strikes. In fact, the permanent din and smoke of the wing of smithies around the town are probably the best-known denizens of Bloodsucker Brook.

Thirsty work. Luckily, there's a bar open....

It's the kind of place you go to meet people. Whatever that means. It's the kind of place you either pass through or pass away from. It's rowdy and alive and dangerous and cozy, a permanent revel attended by the most lawless and daring people on the subcontinent. That makes it the ultimate destination for a small group of travelers to meet up with a larger company, or to ensure their safety by hiring armed security, or to employ esoteric specialists of all stripes....

This is all by design, of course. In reality, Bloodsucker Brook is strictly controlled by Vightre. A tax stamp from the security outpost here is required for entry into the Canopy Shrine. This keeps people from wandering off through the Wilds on their own and getting into trouble, causing fear and uncertainty on the trade routes supported by the Nocturne Crusade and tying up valuable rescue resources from the Vightran Wild Guard. A little lawlessness is a small price to pay for safety and order. Then again, Vightre has always excelled at taking the longer view....

[writertitan]

The Swan

pairing: levi x reader

word count: 2398

themes: musician!reader, v soft levi, just fluff, Levi’s POV

requested by anon

The day Historia was crowned was important to Levi for two reasons. One was that, of course, he felt a surge of pride at one of his cadets rising to her full potential and becoming queen. He had always been slightly concerned about Historia; she was small - even smaller than him - and admittedly, he’d always viewed her as the weakest of them.

The second reason that day was so important to him was a reason he wasn’t quite ready to come to terms with. 

That day was the day he’d noticed you. Noticed you fully. 

You had always kept to yourself and Levi hadn’t chosen you to be on his squad. He barely had time to keep track of his own squad, let alone remember all the other scouts. Not that there were many scouts left. Still, you’d joined right before this entire mess had happened. Most of those who had been around before knowledge of titans being humans were dwindling off now. Except for you. 

But you being a survivor wasn’t what had caught Levi’s attention. In fact, you hadn’t even been the one to catch his attention. Not literally, not physically. 

After the coronation, Levi had stepped away, just for a breather and to take a break from socializing. It was exhausting, being around so many people, and being around so much celebration. 

He walked down this hall and that one, turning corners and essentially losing himself in a maze. There wasn’t a soul in sight. 

And that’s when he heard it. Very soft and faint at first, and growing stronger as he made his way down the empty hallway. Someone was playing notes on a piano, and beautifully so. Levi couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard music like this, where it wasn’t being played by some drunk outside at the markets, or being played in jest on base by slapping pots and pans and bringing out a worn out guitar. 

Soldiers didn’t get to hear refined music like this. So, Levi stopped. He stopped walking once he was right outside the door to the room where the music was. He stopped and he listened. It was so...rejuvenating. The exhaustion and stress he felt seeped away just the slightest bit, but it was enough. 

Out of curiosity, he leaned in just the slightest bit to peek his head into the room and figure out who was playing the piano like that. To his complete and utter surprise, he knew who you were immediately, even though you looked...different. 

There was the you that he had seen in passing at base. The you who saluted him and carried an air of respectfulness. The you who gave respect and followed orders and did what a soldier did. 

And then there was this you. The you Levi would have never thought you to be. The you that demanded respect instead of gave it, just from the way you poised yourself over the black and white keys and moved purposefully, eyes closed and face peaceful but concentrated. He barely recognized you and yet he knew exactly who you were.

He shrunk back into the shadows and leaned against the stone wall, his head resting against it as he let himself, for once, relax. 

Each time you stopped playing, letting the last notes die out and fade away, Levi felt his heart sink in an unfamiliar way, only to swell in his chest when a new song began playing from your fingertips. He stayed like that all night, slumped against a wall and out of view while you played song after song as the night wore on.

Even though he understood that eventually you had to stop and everyone had to leave, it still pained him when you stopped for good, the dying song accompanied by the scraping of the bench you sat on moving on the wood floors as you shifted to stand up. Levi sighed to himself and let reality creep back into his mind. The stress that had melted away was slowly weighing back on his shoulders, and made him feel heavy again. 

He was gone before you left the room. 

-

After that, Levi couldn’t stop watching you. It was like you made music with everything you did. He noticed how you’d hum a tune to your horse. He noticed how you even managed to form some sort of gentle melody just tapping your fingers against a table. 

You were constantly making music. He heard music whenever he was around you now. It was starting to get ridiculous, because it wasn’t like anything had changed, really. You still greeted him the same way, treated him the same way, acted and performed the same way. You had absolutely no idea that Levi had changed towards you. 

He was good at keeping his distance, at masking all of his inner thoughts and feelings. That’s what he was good at. And he was good at convincing himself that his choices were sound. Maybe he’d just been a little drunk that night and your music had moved him because of that. There was nothing different about you. You were just another soldier. He didn’t know you. 

But why did it feel like he knew you? Why was he catching himself being more observant? The tune you hummed to your horse never changed. When you’d been put on stable duty, that was when another tune escaped you. He’d only caught it while passing by the stables, but he immediately noticed it was different. 

He also noticed how you stopped and listened to the musicians at the markets when you’d all ridden into town for some supplies. He saw the way you eyed the man with the fiddle, your eyes watching the way his hands produced music from it in an almost careless fashion. The music Levi once thought was atrocious was of course still not as good as the music you had brought into his life, these drunken fools were still atrocious in some sense, but now he listened to it differently. It wasn’t that bad. Not when it had you smiling. 

-

It drove Levi crazy that you still looked at him the same way when he was bursting at the seams with wanting to tell you his big secret. You looked at him the same, you talked to him the same. All surface level. Levi often caught himself staring at you. And, when he had a few minutes of spare time, he filled those few precious minutes with thoughts of you and what it would be like for you to look at him so serenely, the way you did when you made all that music. 

He hoped he wasn’t being too obvious. He had honestly convinced himself that he was the same as always and nobody knew his little secret. It didn’t matter that he was gentler with you, went out of his way sometimes just to say hello to you, made sure you were eating enough and sleeping enough. You didn’t notice, which calmed him down and also made him a little crazy. Although it was better, easier this way, he still hated that he couldn’t tell you what was happening to him. How could he tell you that he was constantly thinking about you, even when he wasn’t supposed to? How could he tell you that those songs you hummed were stuck in his mind? How could he tell you that he loved music now because of you? 

There was an irrational part of his brain that screamed at him to tell you, but it was not as strong as his rational parts that told him to never even take the opportunity should it arise. 

Levi was sure his rational brain was winning. Until the day he sat down next to you in the mess hall and handed you his bread when he saw you giving half of yours to Sasha. 

“Don’t starve yourself,” was all he said, and fought the twitch in his lips when you replied with, “I could say the same to you, Captain.” 

He ate quietly beside you, heart thumping wildly in his chest the entire time. He’d never said so many words to you all in one breath. 

-

It had taken so much work and, truth be told, he almost didn’t give it to you. Levi felt the rational part of him slowly succumbing to...hope? And he understood why so many people clung to this feeling. 

He hoped that if he gave you this gift, you would see. You would be able to understand what he was feeling and thinking and fighting himself about. And maybe, just maybe, you would be flattered. Maybe you would be willing to reciprocate. 

But Levi found himself not caring about what the endgame would be as he walked to your room, gift clutched tightly and clumsily in one hand as he knocked on your door. After a moment of waiting, he deflated, wondering where you could be right now. It was evening, after supper, and there was some down time to be had tonight. Could you have gone out, were you with someone els-

Then suddenly, you were there, surprise etched on your face at the sight in front of you. Levi hid his gift behind his back just in time, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d ever been this nervous. Had he ever been this nervous? 

“Captain,” you greeted him, voice trailing off so it sounded more like a question. And then a real question. “Can I help you with something?” 

A real conversation. Levi hadn’t really prepared himself for this. Whatever he’d planned on saying was suddenly forgotten and he cursed his now completely irrational brain. 

“I got you something,” he managed to say, shifting uncomfortably and no longer able to meet your eyes. He pulled out his gift from behind his back to show you, eyes snapping to your face at the gasp that came from your mouth. 

The look in your eyes was enough to make the whole endeavor worth it. But the way you were so gentle with taking it from his hands and examining it closely, it made any regret, any hesitance, leave his body. 

You scrunched up your nose and looked at him, violin close to your chest as you almost cradled it. 

“Captain, this looks expensive...I can’t accept it. Where did you get it?” 

“Don’t worry about it,” he assured you almost instantly, panicked at the thought of you not keeping his gift to you. “Really, nobody wanted the damn thing. I thought you’d like it.” 

“How did you know I could play the violin?” you asked him, genuinely curious. 

Levi gulped. He hadn’t known for sure, had only guessed based on one encounter, and hoped that you’d at least just like the gift. So, he told the truth as best as he could without incriminating himself. 

“I saw you eyeing one of those musicians at the market once, the one that always plays that goddamn fiddle,” Levi explained, voice as stiff as his body. “Figured maybe you knew a thing or two…” 

You broke out into a smile then, though it was bashful, and Levi looked away again before his face got too hot and he flushed in a way that gave him away. If you noticed anything amiss, you said nothing. 

“Thank you...this is the best gift,” you said earnestly, then paused, voice growing soft as you asked, “Would you like to hear a little something? I haven’t played in years so I can’t promise it’ll be any good. But maybe you could critique me.”

“I’d love to.” The words came out of his mouth before you could even finish what you were saying. 

You let him in your room and closed the door behind him, and suddenly, the atmosphere was much more intimate. Levi tugged at his collar, wondering why it was so hot all of a sudden, but kept a polite distance as he settled into a chair by the corner and you surprisingly got comfortable in the middle of your room. Levi didn’t know much about music, but figured it would have been more comfortable to sit down or something. 

When you started playing, it was a song he’d never heard before. Hadn’t heard you play it on the piano before, hadn’t heard you hum it or drum it with your fingers before. It was new. And it was beautiful. 

This was the song that told him he was in love. How silly was that? 

But he listened, enraptured by the way you put your heart into every note. He took note of how your eyes closed in that way that was somehow familiar to him now and how your brows furrowed slightly in concentration. But you still managed to look so serene. 

He never took your eyes off you. Levi watched you play out the entire song, feeling his heart move with the strings. You played his heart like you played the violin, in the most purposeful and melodic way. It was pure music. 

Even when you stopped playing and got a little shy, the confidence in the musician version of yourself slipping away, Levi didn’t look away. He was in awe and didn’t care if it showed on his face. 

“You’re not rusty,” he promised you. “You’re incredible.” He meant it in more than one way. 

He wouldn’t have been able to know the way your heart swelled at the sweet words of praise. 

“Thank you,” you whispered. 

He stood up slowly, not wanting to invade your privacy any longer, but stopped at your door and turned to look at you, that damned nervousness seeping back into his veins. 

“Do you think...do you think I could hear you play more often?” he asked you, the words forcing themselves out before he could catch them. But who was he kidding? He didn’t want to stop himself from asking. 

He didn’t fail to notice the way you brightened at his question. He was relieved at the eager nod. 

“Anytime,” you replied. Then you held up the violin; you held it so gracefully, and knew exactly how to handle it. Levi warmed at the sight. “And thanks again for this gift...I love it, Captain.” 

“Levi. Just Levi,” he corrected you. And you gave him a grin. 

“I love it...Levi.” 

It was music to his ears. 

[toastedside]

Banana Toast

Damian Wayne x Batmom! Reader

I was reading Super Sons the other day and this particular fic come into my mind right after. Just imagining the talk that come after sneaking out the night fighting Kid Amazo.

You watched Damian stepped out of the car with perpetual scowl on his face. He still wears his full armour Robin suit, with domino mask and all. You and Alfred had just picked him up from the Kent an hour ago after he snuck out for the night, roped Jon into an impromptu dangerous mission.

You suppressed a shiver. You didn’t want to imagine the worst, you had it all before. You were grateful that neither Jon nor Damian had suffered any lethal injuries. Few cuts here and there and probably a bruised shoulder, but nothing lethal.

Lois was livid when three of you had caught them climb up the window towards Jon’s room. You had been too, more so when you found out they were chasing after an Amazo wannabe and provoking Lex Luthor. Lois took all the shouting and scolding role that morning while you went full on injuries inspection and Alfred full on disappointed frown.

This is a mission where any one of them should have called their fathers. Jon argued that he tried to do so, but Damian was against the idea. It did not surprise you a little bit. If anything, you had always known the boy practically bleed for validation.

“In this kind of moment is the moment I truly believe that he is Master Bruce’s son,” Alfred’s voice came from behind. You whipped your head and smiled. “The utter stubbornness they both possess is astounding.”

“And their knack to make me worry is more or less the same.”

You found Damian fresh out of shower almost half an hour later, rummaged through the kitchen cabinet looking for some food. You silently watched him from behind, reading all of his body language from here. You knew he wasn’t exactly sorry about what he did, nor he feels the need to, but he was pretty pissed and awful with the consequence he brought after.

Or the reaction he received from others, for the lack thereof.

“Are you going to stand there all day or are you going to give me lectures too?” Damian asked without bother to turned around.

“Would you like some banana toast for breakfast?” You simply smiled as you went through the kitchen cabinet to grab some wheat bread.

“Banana toast?”

“Basically, it’s a toast with peanut butter and banana, add chocolate if you feel fancy,” you explained. “It’s a comfort food I invented during my college days. I eat it whenever I feel down or upset. You want some?”

Damian thought for a while. “Yes, please. That sounds good.”

You spent few minutes in silence as you put your comfort food on work. Damian sat behind on the chair watching you solemnly, probably went through hundreds of probable scenarios from this. Sometimes it’s hard to remember that he had always on high alert for a thirteen-year-old.

It gave you some time to think too. A part of you wanted nothing more but to yell to get the point across, but you also recognized that he had taken some blows from Lois before. Yelling to get the point across would be a contra productive thing to do where it would’ve done nothing but push him away further.

You were disappointed, nonetheless. A little betrayed at the fact that he had to snuck out and breach an agreement. And Damian didn’t try to look at you in the eyes, not even when you slid the warm toast towards him. Shame, probably, or guilt, you didn’t know.

“Damian, you do realize that you broke off an agreement with me and your father, right?” You started. Your voice was soft and calm, you tried your best to remain civil.

“I know,” his voice was firm. As if he had prepared for this inevitable conversation.

“May I know why?”

“Father hadn’t let me to go out for patrol with him!” Damian’s voice was thick with disappointment, a dash of anger, but surprisingly he didn’t raise his voice. “I just want to do good out there. I saved a family from their own demise tonight; you can’t blame me for that!”

“You do know exactly why your father didn’t let you go out for patrol with him. You’ve been ditching schools and is five assignments behind.”

“I don’t need school! It’s stupid! I already know the whole thing; I can easily have master degree by age seven!”

“I don’t doubt that a little bit. You’re indeed very smart. You can easily outsmart me and your father, even,” you nodded in acknowledgement. “But we need you to understand that school is not only for your academic learning, there are a lot of things to learn outside just knowing. Including gaining soft skills and build connections too. Befriend with someone your age.”

“I don’t do friends! Besides, isn’t that what superhero groups are? Isn’t me in Teen Titan enough?”

“Emphasize on the ‘someone your age’ a little bit more, darling. Most of the Titans are older than you. You don’t exactly call Starfire someone your age now, do you?” You smiled. “And you do friends. Jon is the living proof.”

Damian scowls a little bit. “We’re not friends.”

“That’s what your father says about Superman at first. Look at them now, attached by the hip if you ask me.”

Damian smiled slightly at that. Or anything that resemble a smile. He quietly munched on his banana toast, silently marveling at the taste and let the information sink in.

“We also need you to understand that your action last night, while outstanding in the field, still have consequences.”

“Am I grounded?”

“Yes.”

“Aren’t I already grounded for ditching school?”

“Doesn’t mean you’ll get out of this clean,” you said. Damian groaned. “No patrol for next two weeks, and you’re going to school. Catch up with your assignments.”

“Two weeks?” Damian screeched in protest. “That’s too long! What if–”

“Unless you are needed in the field out of immediate emergency, you are not allowed for patrol otherwise. I know you’re Robin, but you are also my and your father’s son. You live under our roof, and you go with the rules too. We’ve talked about this hundred times already and you were agreeing,” you pointed out. “I trust you, Damian. Your father trust you. And it would mean a lot for us if you able to maintain that. One of the ways is by not sneaking out in the night and fighting bunch of robots with your friend.”

“Right,” Damian muttered slowly, defeated. “I am sorry, Mom.”

“Apology accepted, darling. Now go finish your breakfast and catch some sleep. You can join me in the clinic this afternoon if you want to, you can bring Jon over if his parents allow him to.”

“Can I meet Peanut the clinic dog, then?”

“You can try to train her some tricks you taught Titus if you want to.”

Damian’s spirit seemed to be lifted up by the promise. He eagerly finished his breakfast and went straight to his room, this time to catch some sleep hopefully. You let out a relieved sigh, the conversation went better than you had anticipated. By the look Alfred sent you when you brought the empty plates over, you thought he was agreeing too.

Well, raising bunch of vigilante kids definitely never cross your mind, or even a life you expected to have. But looking back, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[clefairymuke]

oiiii i have a request for a oneshot or maybe something fun to add to your regrets fic (whatever you find better) I think it would be funny a reader x the scouts drunk and levi finding them and being all cute taking care of reader :3

thank you for this request!! sorry for how long it took, but it managed to pull me out of some writers block that’s been kicking my ass lately. thank you for suggesting it and reading!

as always, much love! <3

-----------------------------------------------------------

Red Wine | Levi x Reader

pairing: levi x reader

themes: fluff

tw: swearing, alcohol use

word count: 2511

True fun and relaxation is not something you typically experience.

Of course, when you signed up for this whole Scout Regiment thing, you weren’t expecting nights out in bars and plush queen-sized beds with wool blankets. You expected exactly what you got: exhausting days and mostly sleepless nights, demanding grief and waking nightmares. One thing you hadn’t expected, however, was how stale it would get. These thoughts are why you ended up where you are now: propped lazily against a wall surrounded by your friends, loud laughs bubbling freely from your ever-smiling mouth, and a bottle of wine in hand.

While the “why” is clear to you, the “how” is a bit more cloudy. Around the complete euphoria in your head stands a thick fog blocking your memory — that, or the fact that your drunkenly dwindling attention span can no longer support a thought lasting more than a second or two. All you know is that you’re here now, and you’re having the time of your life. Your eyes and ears skirt past Eren and Jean arguing without stopping to listen in as you pass the bottle to Mikasa.

For once, you aren’t thinking about how Levi could make this experience better. Although you love being in the company of your boyfriend, you can’t help but imagine his disdain if he were to witness your situation. You can almost feel the ferocity of his razor sharp-glare creeping up your spine as you picture it within your mind.

You lay your head back on the concrete wall that keeps you upright and close your eyes. Although you had shown to be quite social when the bottle first began to be passed, you now wanted nothing more than to take a nice nap — or to go vomit just to ease yourself of the queasy feeling that was overtaking your stomach. Either would suffice. You listen to your friends chatting mindlessly around you, their care to be inconspicuous slipping away with the wine. You watch Connie drain what was left in the bottle, leaving you to curse at the fact that you would be stuck in the uncomfortable kind of drunk that left you a bit nauseous while still conscious enough to be prone to anxiety.

You sit there in a dizzy oblivion for what could have been five minutes or fifty, tuning out the antics of the rest of the people in the room as they laugh and roughhouse. Your stomach stirs and turns, but your mind begins to clear: you notice Connie and Sasha choreographing a dance routine to music only they could hear; Mikasa and Armin sit quietly chatting behind Eren as he and Jean argue over who is more adept at fighting; Ymir and Christa are making googly eyes at each other over their giggles.

“Hey, guys?” you say, your brain lagging behind your mouth by at least a few seconds. “I’m probably about to throw up.” You quickly discover that you’re right, as your gut begins to bubble and your mouth begins to water.

“Oh, fuck,” Connie mumbles as he looks around the room desperately. Sasha looks disappointed as he stops dancing and approaches where you sit against the wall, gripping your wrists in his hands and helping you to your feet; with both of you being drunk enough to show it, stumbles are surely present. Time skips, and you’re kneeled in front of the toilet, Connie leaving to give you privacy — you’re decidedly much drunker than you thought you were.

Just as you start to vomit, you hear Eren defeatedly say, “Oh, fuck me.” That can’t be good.

The space goes silent save your groans. The most imaginative depths of your brain think that perhaps a titan is looking in the window, waiting to bring you all to your doom. How convenient for half of the newest scout recruits to be intoxicated and defenseless. When you hear Levi’s voice say, “Stupid fucking brats. Where is she?” you wish it were a titan instead.

A chorus of voices answer, “Bathroom.” What a bunch of fucking sellouts, you think to yourself. Your heartbeat begins to pound in your throat again as you hear his footsteps grow near; when he taps at the door a few times, you let it all out — out of fear or simple drunkenness you are unsure. “God damn it,” you hear him mumble before the door handle turns and his hands find your hair, pulling it back into a makeshift ponytail.

He rubs your back in a manner you can only describe as passive-aggressive. You can tell he wants to scold you — and you’re definitely in for it once you get to feeling better — but you can also tell that he wants to care for you. That’s why you try to pretend not to hear his curses as he lectures you on responsibility.

“Why the hell are you drinking with these idiots? I wouldn’t be mad if it was a glass or two, but there are three empty bottles on the floor in there. Three. No wonder you’re puking your fucking guts up,” he mutters, voice low enough for only you to hear despite his angry tone.

You feel your eyes watering as your stomach settles for another brief moment. “Levi,” you say, your breathing labored, “now is not the time.” You hear him scoff before you begin to dry heave, his hand moving a bit more caring across your back as he holds onto your hair. Your gut starts to feel a bit better as your brain realizes there’s nothing left. He places his hands under your arms and lifts you gently to your feet before flushing the toilet. You stumble awkwardly to his lead as he escorts you to the sink.

He reaches around you to turn on the water, which is cold to the touch as he holds your hand beneath it. “Clean your mouth out,” he says, nudging his hand around yours until you form a cup. “It’s disgusting.” You oblige him, lifting it to your lips. You feel it drip down your chin as you swish it around between your teeth, looking up in the mirror to see your blushing cheeks and droopy eyes. Levi stands behind you, dressed in no more than a grey t-shirt and some comfortable-looking pants. His hair is neat and combed, which doesn’t quite match the rest of his attire, but you aren’t complaining. He looks as ethereal as always. After you spit, he grabs your shoulder and spins you around to face him.

“You okay?” he asks, brushing the tears that had formed on your face away with his thumbs. You shake your head at him, your eyes trailing down to the ground. Here comes the scolding.

He sweeps you off your feet, to your surprise, holding you bridal-style as he carries you out of the bathroom. You lay your head against his shoulder, seeing the walls of the room and the faces of your friends go blurrily by as he strides to the door; they all look terrified.

“Laps,” you hear Levi announce to your friends, his voice icy. “At dawn. I don’t give a shit if you’re hungover.”

A chorus of groans is the soundtrack for your exit as the door slams shut. The walk back to Levi’s suite is spotty at best; you’re unsure of exactly how long it’s taking. The scenery around you feels more dreamlike than anything — you find yourself hoping that you’re still propped against the wall with your friends, sleeping soundly and dreaming of Levi catching you red-handed. When time jumps and he’s laying you down on his couch, you’re pretty sure you’re awake.

You hear rustling around as you lay there, still half waiting for a scolding. He rejoins you rather quickly, setting some things down on the side table and gently lifting your head. He sits, letting you back down slowly to lay in his lap. “I brought you bread,” he says, taking it from the table and placing it in your hands. “It’ll soak up the alcohol. There’s water over here when you need it.” You inspect the bread lazily before nibbling on it. The very idea of chewing something and swallowing it is enough to make you nauseous, but you trust his judgement.

You feel his hand fall atop your forehead and his fingers draw circles in your hair. You don’t fight the grin threatening your lips. “Are you okay, my love?” he asks, his voice soft. This is the tenderness you had fallen in love with many months ago; the one thing your friends are blind to. He carries himself with such coldness for the public — he is rude, and blunt, and insufferable, and unobtainable. With you, however, he could be kind. He could be loving. The speed with which his gentle voice melts your heart never lessens. This is Levi at his most vulnerable.

“I’m just drunk,” you tell him, your words slurring into each other. “I’m not dying.”

You hear a chuckle barely pass over his lips like a spring breeze, the sparkle in his eyes reminiscent of the way the sun reflects off the surface of a pond. The peaceful nature of your position is a worthy opponent to how your insides wage war on one another: nausea, dizziness, and the beginnings of what will become an absolutely splitting headache all contained within one disoriented body. “I would’ve gone with you, you know,” he says suddenly after a serene moment of silence. “I would’ve known when you needed to stop drinking.” He combs his fingers against your cheek, silvery eyes softening into pools of undeniable adoration.

“You would’ve been a complete buzzkill,” you reply, half joking as you close your eyes and enjoy the rare affection.

You hear a cross between a scoff and a laugh come from above you. “Keeping those brats from getting you so wasted that you start puking isn’t being a buzzkill. It’s called taking care of you.”

“I think I’m not drunk enough,” you say honestly. “We ran out of wine right at that stage where you could go to sleep or start throwing up, but there’s absolutely no chance of having a good time.”

He taps the top of your head with two fingers, prompting you to let him up. You oblige him, using the opportunity to lay down your bread and take a sip from the glass of water that rests on the side table. You watch as he saunters back toward the kitchen, wondering what he was doing somewhat, but mostly just trying to get a grip on your senses. You sit up as you wait on his return, laying your head back against the plush upholstery and taking deep breaths.

He’s back as quickly as he left, both hands behind his back in a feeble attempt to hide the wine glasses as their stems poked around to your view. You feel a smile creep onto your face as he unveils his master plan: a bottle of red wine and a glass for each of you. “Don’t expect this often,” he announces as he sets it all on the table, pulling a wine key from his pocket. He joins you on the couch, scooting in close so that your knees brush before you hear the satisfying pop of the cork and the relaxing swish of liquid on glass.

“You’re expecting me to believe that Captain Levi is offering to get drunk with me?” you giggle, almost nervous to reach for the wine in front of you. He laughs off your comment, reaching in front of him and lifting the glass to his lips; he takes only a sip before looking at you in expectation. You take yours as well, holding it up to his jokingly before you both bring them to your mouths.

After your first gulp, time begins to melt away. A movie-esque montage begins in front of your eyes: the sight of the man you love, once so stoic and so stiff, loosening and laughing the night away at your side; the feeling of typically isolated and scarce hands trailing carelessly along the length of your arms, warm against the sensitive skin of your wrists and your thighs; the smell of red wine spilled innocently on hardwood and upholstery without complaints or uprooting to clean it; the sound of his velvet and brass voice with his uncensored expressions of love, whispered and melodic; the taste of mint and jasmine tea on his unusually wandering lips.

What might be thirty minutes or three hours passes in a flash, leaving you sprawled across the couch with the drunken mess that is your typically reserved lover, legs utterly entangled so that you were unsure where you ended and he began. He’s whispering to you — that much you know — but his words are slurred, and you’re unbelievably distracted by the feeling of wet kisses being peppered along your jaw and ear. He grasps at your back, massaging and caressing and leaving no inch uncovered by his calloused hands as his touch reminds you why you breathe and laugh and plainly exist.

“Levi,” you whisper, your mind a tangled ball of twine save for the feeling of his breath on your cheek.

He hums in response, not bothering to look up at you. You can feel his grin against your jaw.

“We should get to bed, love.”

You’d be left to wonder how the two of you made it into the next room when morning came; rest assured there would be a trail from the couch to the bedroom door made from clumsily knocked-over knick knacks and your discarded clothes from the day to clue you in. If you were sober, you’d care enough about Levi’s wrath tomorrow to clean up behind the two of you; however, you aren’t sober, and you don’t care enough.

The two of you fall into the bed you share, intertwining your limbs like the threads of a tapestry, laying out plainly and beautifully the comfort you find in him. Your head finds his chest and his hands find your lower back, pulling you flush against him as his eyelids begin their threats to close before he is quite ready. He murmurs out your name, his hold on you growing more snug when it passes his lips. “I love you, s—” he falters, nuzzling his face in the top of your head. “So much.”

It’s short — and a pretty common thing for someone to say to the person they love — but it means everything coming from him. “I love you, Levi,” you tell him, praying to whatever is up there that you’ll remember this in the morning.

Soon, the two of you stop stirring and whispering. As you breathe him in, you try to hear his words in your mind as many times as you can before you slip out of consciousness. You begin to drift off to sleep, peaceful and content in his arms as you’ve ever been.

[kyberphilosopher]

Rᴇᴅᴀᴍᴀɴᴄʏ

Redamancy: (n.) the act of loving the one who loves you; a love returned in full.

After spending the night with Eren, you try to determine the future of your relationship. Eren complicates things.

Word Count : 1822

Contains allusions to sex. 

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

It was a miracle that neither of you had been caught. Truly. In fact, the sheer convenience of the whole thing was enough to make you raise your eyebrow in suspicion. Though, there was no reason for you to stop taking it for granted. 

It was the boy who had started it. 

Whether or not you had kissed first, or him, was irrelevant. What matters was that the mess hall was empty, and the air was quick to feel hot. The more of his lips you felt, the stronger the smell of sweat became. Not that you minded. Your head was too cloudy with a strong sense of growing lust to care. In fact, you reveled in it. But it was Eren who had given the word to take things back to your dormitory, and it was you who had given the word of acceptance. 

The night had been excellent, in short. The dormitory had been, similar to the mess hall, emptied out. The two of you had been blessed with a whole nights worth of twisting and stretching, without the confines of anxiety or embarrassment.

His skin felt like fire. His lips were wet from coats of saliva. In fact, like a Titan, he had given you little to no mercy in terms of bruising and marks made from a tongue. In turn, you couldn’t help the thin scratches your finger nails had given his back, and the final mess of his chocolate colored locks. Time blurred together. All you knew was warmth and steam. 

And then, you must’ve fallen asleep in the early morning. Your lover hadn’t been far behind you. Perhaps it was because your body had become numb or overly sensitive from all the heat, but you hadn’t recalled Eren’s arms being wrapped around you before drifting off. 

But now...

His hands are on you again. Not like they were the night before, but nearly just as intimate. Fingertips aren’t hot this time, but getting there. For now, they are warm. 

One of Eren’s arms is under your body, with the forearm out and hand reaching right under your breast. The other is draped over your shoulder, with the hand between the front of your throat and the center of your collarbone. This is the hand that is responsible for pushing your back closer against his chest and keeping you there. It feels like a trap, but a loving one. 

Love. That was the issue here. 

You’d had a certain admiration for Jaeger for a while. You’d known each other since your cadet years. He was hot headed, stubborn, but driven. You weren’t particularly bratty or as hard brained as he, but the two of you were easily in sync. You were friends. You joked like friends. Did favors like friends. Fought together like friends. Now you were wrestling together, and it wasn’t like friends. 

But you hadn’t considered what would happen after. Would you remain simply friends? Did you want this to be a one time thing, or not? Did Eren? If not, what was he keeping you so close to him for? Behavior like this is normally reserved for relationships. What are you to do with this?

Eren’s body shifts. You can feel the muscles in his abdomen roll and settle back into place with the curve of your back. Your eyes remain open as a sign of how wide awake you are, glued to all the other objects in the room you can see. 

Love. Eren is showing a sign of love. Is he? You could be mistaken. Is it right to read into the placement of his fingers, or not? Should you wake him up to discuss it? No. Not, let him rest. 

Your bottom lip sucks in between your teeth as you think. Eren’s grip on you feels as if it’s getting tighter by the second, though that might just be a figment of your anxiety instead of reality. Regardless, his touch is not one of hatred or lust, for the time being. It’s soft, but firm. Firm enough for you to have wiggle room if you need it, but soft enough to let you know he Eren has no intention of hurting you. It feels more like he wants you to stay. Which brings you back to your first problem- was this a sign of love?

Eren shifts again. His neck cranes around in a lazy stretch, than his face sinks into the back of your neck. You can feel it settle between the nape of your neck and your body of hair. Eren breathes out through his nose as he continues to grow comfortable, and for a split second, you’re ecstatic with your current position. 

The hand by your breast twitches, then slips lower. The palm rests closer to the side of your ribs now, making you hyper aware of touch all over again. Upon natural reaction, your toes curl tightly in stimulation, though not from anything sexual. Just from the intimacy. 

Swallowing, you decide to test the waters. 

Your legs detangle from each other and instead encroach on Eren’s territory. Your left heel grazes against Eren’s shin, and you push yourself closer against his chest, if it were possible. 

Erent doesn’t wake up completely. Instead, there’s a stiff “Mmm,” as his own legs move. One of his legs runs over your own, covering over it. Now you’re closer. 

He must be aware of his actions, right?

“Good morning.”

His voice is low and scratchy from sleep. If your mind hadn’t been consumed with the future of your relationship with him, you would’ve felt the vibration of his voice right to the core between your legs. 

You don’t respond. Despite your wide open eyes, you are turned away from him. If you’re quiet, you can feign sleep. Maybe then you’ll have time to think a way out of this. 

“Y/N, it’s time to wake up,” he says against your ear. You feel his body stretch, but remain in the same position. Eren is quiet for a moment. Then he speaks again. “I can tell that you’re awake, you know.”

Well, shit. 

Your mouth is quick to go dry. Your heart is thump, thump, thumping. You’re certain he can feel it just as you can. 

“I have to get up,” you say suddenly, without thinking. In your panic, you sit up, your legs uncurling from Eren’s and bending as an arm gives you leverage against the mattress. His hands fall from your form at once, breaking the contact. 

Now the air feels cold. 

Eren watches your bare back. His eyes are half closed from the drowsiness of morning, pieces of hair sprawled out against the pillow he rests against. Even from this view, Eren can see a fraction of temporary scars he’d left on your body from the previous night. Not to say that he caused you pain. He hadn’t. 

Absent mindedly, Eren’s left hand reaches up to trail his fingers along your spine. You tense up immediately, almost in a jolt. Jaeger must not think anything of it, though, because his pads of his fingers continue to ghost over the muscles of your back as lightly as a feather. 

“Did you sleep alright?” he questions, still tired himself. 

You had slept fantastic, actually. So warm, so safe, too exhausted to consider anything but being asleep. Eren Jaeger had been responsible for all three of those factors. You had the chance to argue that it was the best you’d slept in years. Dare you even say, all your life?

“I slept okay,” your mutter. You don’t know what his game is. You don’t know what he’s thinking. 

“Good,” Eren responds. “I’d hope so.”

There is a pause. “Did you have a good night, too?” he further questions. You can tell there is his version of a smile behind his words. One of those sick ones when he’s thinking something somewhat radical. 

The night, like your sleep, had also been fantastic. But was that all that Eren had thought about? Was that what he had been after this whole time? No. The relationship and comfort between the two of you was genuine, but so was the heated night of passion. What did you want? More importantly, what did Eren want?

Eren presses his entire hand against your back until it’s flat. If it were covered in paint, or more likely, blood, it would leave a perfect hand print against your skin. 

“Yes, I did,” you speak. 

Eren’s eyes soften. His hand pulls away from your skin, than returns to the light wisps of touching with his fingers. 

Some people, had they not known Eren, may have thought his touch resembled that of a painters, or a musicians. In fact, his touch and gifted hands were born from the training you had been put through. He would’ve had to be conscious of his finger placement, what with how often they’re balled into tight fists of rage. 

Then Eren frowns. His touch slows until it pauses completely. “Is something wrong?”

Perhaps you were thinking too hard about it. Perhaps whether him holding you meaning something or not wasn’t even really important. It could’ve been something done with little thought or emotion. 

You don’t answer. You’re staring at the wall parallel to your bed a bit away, remembering several of the expressions Eren had made just a few hours ago. The butterflies in your stomach are making an appearance again, and you’re forced into a corner of guilt over whether your entire relationship is now ruined. 

Jaeger, though, isn’t having it. In a clean motion, an arm wraps around your stomach and pulls you back down against the bed. You land with a thud against the cheap thing, and Eren is quick to apologize. 

Both his arms snake their way around your body, finding the best areas to hold in order to get you to stay there with him. Because, despite your beautiful, questioning, wondering mind, Eren is showing you genuine love. He loves you. He’s trying to let you know that he loves you. 

His head rests between your shoulder and your neck, his cheek by your ear and his face close to pressed against yours. “Just go back to sleep, then,” he advises lowly, his own voice lowering from another wave of drowsiness. With his eyes becoming heavy and fast, he places a kiss against your temple. 

And you, settling back into the warmth, do not even bother to fight it this time. You return the love in kind, accepting it and sinking in it. Drowning in it, even. You would worry yourself with questions of your future with Eren when you wake again, and the boy would worry he had not made his intentions of affection clear. 

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

I wrote this in an hour. I can’t think of anything more to do with it. 

[ashes-in-a-jar]

And I Owe it All to You

Hello! This is a fic I wrote based on @speakerunfolding 's wonderful Jonmartin scottish cabin comic which I couldn't stop looking at.

I wrote this while watching Dirty Dancing for the first time in many years. Quite an experience xD

Summary: It's a night in for Jon and Martin in the cabin and they decide to pop out the wine.

Rated: T

Word count: 2.2K

Tw: alcohol, drinking and being slightly drunk, minor injuries

Maybe it was the fact that neither of them had gone out much in the past few months. Maybe the Fears prefer their avatars lightweight. Maybe Scottish alcohol tended to be stronger than English alcohol. But the sparkling wine they bought on a whim at the village store shouldn't have had the effect on them that it did.

Having emptied two cups each (Jon was actually drinking out of a mug, since they found only one wine glass, and he conceded the honor of feeling classy to Martin) they have already become giggling messes over some dumb joke regarding one Peter Lukas and a computer that refused to boot.

It wasn't even that funny. But there they were, acting like complete fools leaning against each other on the couch, legs propped up in a completely uncomfortable position on the small living room table (dangerously close to the now nearly empty bottle), holding their cups precariously in one hand and holding hands with the other.

And enjoying every moment of it.

The giggling subsided. They took a moment of comfortable silence to regain their breath and enjoy another sip.

"Can't believe he didn't know he could just u-unplug and replug the whole thing. Even I know that." Jon's speech was ever so slightly slurred, his leftover wine sloshing in his cup.

Martin hummed and then snorted.

"Jon, you barely know how to do that either. I had to teach you how to open new tabs in the same internet window for christ's sake."

"It was a new laptop! All of the buttons were in the wrong p-place." Jon protested weakly, starting to hiccup.

"Sure."

"Prick." Jon nudged him fondly. "You underestimate my vast knowledge of 'modern' things."

Martin snorted again. "Modern, you say?"

"Yes Martin, what do you take me for?"

"An old geezer." Martin tousled his hair gently. Jon leaned into the touch. Then, the words sunk in.

"Hey! Why do you and Georgie keep thinking that? I can know pop culture!"

"Oh yeah? Tell me, what do you know?"

"Uh..." Jon struggled to straighten himself, which resulted in actually sliding further off the couch. "Um...I know S-Star Wars! And uh, Matrix? I think. I've seen it once. Oh! That, that dinosaur movie! And... Titanic?" He finished unconvincingly. 

Martin looked at him, raising an eyebrow. "Really, Jon? You're just naming movies now.  And not even new ones. Did you actually watch any of those?"

Jon avoided his gaze "I... I may have fallen asleep during uh, during some of these?"

Martin gave him a long look. 

"Yes alright, I fell asleep in all of them."

Martin huffed "Thought so". 

Jon gave up trying to salvage his dignity, taking a final long gulp from his mug, a small drop trickling down his chin. Martin swiped it away, absent-mindedly licking his finger, not noticing as Jon hiccuped, his face heating up considerably. 

"I-I did like the Princess Bride though— that was a nice film, if a bit sensational." 

"Hang on. You watched the Princess Bride? And liked it?" Martin asked, incredulous. 

"I'm allowed to like things, Martin. B-besides, Georgie made me watch it. Said it was a- a core staple of cinema history o-or something."

"Oh yeah? Did she make you watch those other movies as well?" Martin asked casually, swirling the liquid in his cup. 

"Unfortunately yes. She would cruelly  shake me awake when I finally managed to get some shut-eye for once in my life. I-it's not my fault the only times I could sleep normally were during those, those damn films! She woke me up for that ridiculous scene with the, uh, the bullets in the Matrix. And that lifting scene in that unseemly dancing movie."

"What lifting scene?" 

"That movie with all of the dancing? Th-the one where he lifts her at the end in the middle of the crowd with that song? At least, uh, at least I think there was a lot of dancing, I wasn't actually, hmmm... Focused at the time." 

"Oh my god Jon, do you mean Dirty Dancing? You fell asleep during Dirty Dancing?" Martin's delighted incredulity was plain on his face. 

Jon scrunched up his nose. "That's the name of the film? Good thing I fell asleep then."

"Jesus Jon. That's incredible, good on Georgie! Heh, at least you woke up for that scene. It's iconic, you know." 

"Yes, yes." Jon waved at him dismissively, reaching unsteadily for the wine bottle. Martin gently took it away from Jon and with a much steadier hand, poured the remaining bit of wine into his mug.

"Thank you Martin," Jon mumbled into the cup. 

Another warm silence fell on them, lulling Jon into a half drunken stupor. He nearly threw his cup in the air when Martin's words startled him back into awareness. 

"I can do that scene you know, that lifting part." He was looking intently at his glass. 

"R-really?" Jon hiccuped. "How?" 

"I… I had a boyfriend who wanted to try it. So we did. Turns out that I'm good at balancing large things that aren't stacks of paper."

Jon hummed. He suddenly imagined very vividly Martin lifting someone else in that way and felt a pang in his chest. What was that?

Another beat of silence. 

"Do. Do you want to try?"

"W-what?" 

"Do you want to do that lifting scene with me? I'm sure I could lift you." Martin suddenly sat up, his tone excited and anticipating. He looked at Jon. 

Jon shifted. "Uh, I-I guess it's fine? Sure."

"Okay! Let's do it then!" Martin got up on his feet, swaying ever so slightly. 

Jon looked up at him surprised. "W-wait, now? Shouldn't we wait? You know, to be less uh, inebriated? Don't you need to see the scene again for a reminder?"

"Mmm. We don't have reception so I can't exactly watch the scene again. But, but I'm pretty sure I can do it now, definitely sure! Come on." He held out his hand expectantly. 

Jon took it, stumbling only a bit as he got up. Martin took out his phone . 

"I might even have the song saved. Let me check."

A moment later he gave a whoop of success and the song began to play, filling the main space of the cabin with its soft, if slightly tinny sound. 

Jon stretched, releasing the tension in his muscles. "All right Martin, where do you want me?" 

"You need a bit of a running start, and then you need to jump high right as you reach my arms, so stand over there." He indicated towards the door of the bedroom. 

"Right." Jon stumbled only once as he made his way towards the designated spot. Martin moved across the room stopping right near the kitchen door. 

The song kept playing calmly in the background, slowly building up towards the upbeat chorus. 

Jon looked at him again "I dunno Martin. A-are you sure?" He suddenly felt a bit more fuzzy than he did sitting down. He hiccuped again. 

"Please Jon, you're thin as a rake. Have a little faith." His face wore that determined look that Jon couldn't help but love. 

"Alright, as you wish." He grinned, proud of his clever reference as he took his stance. 

Martin rolled his eyes as well as his sleeves. "Steady on Westley, this is the part."

Jon felt a rush of excitement as he caught Martin's enthusiasm. "Ready?" He asked, bouncing a little on his feet in preparation. 

"Ready." Martin crouched a little, holding out his arms. 

As the chorus neared Jon, with a wild drunken energy, took his running start, jumping up as he reached Martin, grabbing on to his shoulders for support. Martin firmly gripped Jon's hips, bent his legs and with a strained grunt lifted Jon in the air as the song reached a crescendo. 

Jon was flying. 

He laughed giddily, stretching out his arms in elation. 

As Martin continued holding him in his strong grip he looked down at his beautiful boyfriend. Despite the exertion, Martin looked up with the softest expression as the song kept playing for them in the background. 

For a moment everything was perfect. 

And then Martin leaned backwards a bit too far. 

In hindsight, they should have known this would happen. While Martin was better at hiding it, he was as drunk as Jon. And Jon's already impeded balance certainly didn't help. 

As they went down, Jon idly wondered if they could also recreate the rest of the dance if they practiced. And then he hit his nose on the floor. 

After a moment of stunned silence the pain rushed in and Jon grunted. 

Turns out that while most of him was protected from the fall by Martin's soft and sturdy body, his knee also missed the mark and crashed into the floor as well.

Muffled by Jon's body above him, Martin squirmed. "Ugh, Jon, are you okay?"

When Jon didn't respond, Martin groaned and picked himself off the floor, lifting Jon in the process. 

"Oh my god, Jon! You're bleeding!" 

Jon's face throbbed. And so did his knee. His hazy drunken state began fading away as the pain sharpened. 

"I-I think I hit something." 

"I'm so sorry Jon! God, where are the tissues?" Seemingly having sobered up considerably, Martin picked Jon up and carried him bodily into the bathroom. Jon allowed all of this to happen as the shock of the fall dissipated. He let Martin easily lift him onto the sink counter as he shoved a towel into his hands.

"Hold it against your nose while I... Jesus, your knee too?" He stepped back now hurriedly lifting the stained pant leg to reveal the damage. 

"God, Jon I'm so sorry. Hold still, I'm going to find the first aid kit. We shouldn't have done this. This was a complete disaster." 

He kept muttering irritably as he walked away. Jon sighed and pressed the towel to his throbbing nose. His foggy mind still felt as though it was trying to catch up to the recent chain of events. He spoke slowly, attempting to convey himself with clarity. 

"Martin, it's fine. Honestly, I think we both know I've had worse-" 

"You nearly broke your bloody neck! God, where's that goddamn kit." He shouted from across the cabin as Jon heard the rattling of drawers being forcefully pulled open. 

"Martin, please I-I'm okay. It's just a little bit of bruising. It honestly already feels better." 

And it actually did. In the chaos after the fall, they both forgot Jon's... situation. Jon watched as the cut on his knee slowly closed up, leaving only the drying stain of blood behind. The pain in his nose was slowly vanishing as well. 

By the time Martin came back holding the bag, Jon already put down the towel and was tentatively poking at the previously bruised spot. 

Martin stopped in front of him, looking at him with a mixture of emotions Jon couldn't parse out. He smiled at Martin hesitantly. 

"See? Good as new. No harm no foul, I say."

Martin let out a long suffering sigh and took the towel out of Jon's hands. He quietly dampened it in the sink and stepped closer to gently pat at his face. 

Jon looked at him. This close he could practically count his faded freckles, follow every line and trace every mark that was so beautifully Martin. He let himself smile. 

"I must say, I'm quite impressed by your strength, if we weren't so inebriated, I'm sure you could have kept me up there for quite a while," he said quietly, enjoying the fluttering touches. 

"It wasn't because I was drunk." Martin muttered. 

"Pardon?" 

"I said it wasn't because I was drunk that I dropped you," he said a little louder, oddly flustered. "I was looking at... At you. You just looked... I dunno, happy, I guess? I just never seen that expression on you before and it..." He trailed off, concentrating intently on Jon's knee, finishing up cleaning up the blood. 

"M-Martin, look at me. Please look up here." Jon gently tugged at his shoulders to pull him up. At this height, sitting on the counter, he actually came face to face with Martin, seeing his blush and ruffled expression right in front of him as opposed to slightly above him like he normally did 

He lifted his palms to bracket Martin's warm cheeks. 

"There you are," he whispered and leaned in for a quick kiss. He then leaned back slightly. "You know that I'm perfectly happy. Here with you. Y-you know that, right?" 

Martin looked at him for a few moments, then smiled. "Yeah, I do."

"Good. Now, help me down so we can clean up the wine stain, which I'm sure is growing on the carpet right now."

"Wha- oh," Martin said as he turned to see the fallen glass that apparently toppled during the mayhem. 

"Yeah. Let me down?" Jon said again, holding out his arms. 

Martin turned back to him, a teasing expression on his face. "As you wish." 

Jon groaned and allowed himself once again to be pulled, secretly enjoying Martin's burst of giggles as they both walked back into the crime scene that was their drunken night in. 

All things considered, it was a pretty good night. 

[rein4r1]

Mr. Artiste

Wc: 2.7k

Warning/s: Mentions of possessive behavior

Pairing/s: [Titanic AU] Jean x F!Reader, Floch x F!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut

Synopsis: Meeting him was like breathing fresh air in her already suffocating life. (Titanic Au)

MINORS DNI

“What is it? A sapphire?”

“A diamond. A very rare diamond, called the Heart of Ymir.” She watches Jean as he examines the exorbitant jewel. “I want you to draw me like one of your Maria girls.” He continues to examine the diamond, clearly finding it’s luxury unbelievable. “Wearing this.” She stared at him and smiled, “wearing only this.”

He did this many times before, drawing different kinds of women not only in Maria but in Rose as well, the place of his hometown. As an artist, women’s bodies were one of the greatest subjects to draw, they were intricate to draw but not intricate to understand. This kind of artwork is often shunned upon by the simplecrowd who were too fickle to understand, viewing this kind of art as licentious. Jean begged to differ, whenever he draws women, their eyes bore into his soul, as if whispering to him a secret that they can only emanate through their nude form.

Jean waited patiently, sharpening his set of pencil with a knife. His sketchbook open, ready to feel each stroke of Jean’s gifted hands. Seeing her withdraw from her room, he can’t help but swallow a lump in his throat; completely enamored by his lover in front of him, he could only look away. Wearing only a nightrobe and The Heart of Ymir underneath, she teasingly spins the tie of her robe, only to worsen the forming bulge in his pants. No matter how alluring and charming the woman is, he knew that as an artist, he must keep everything completely professional.

“The last thing I need is another picture of me looking like an oriental doll. As a paying customer, I expect to get what I want.” Quickly tossing him a silver coin. Jean could only watch as she parted her nightrobe in a teasing manner, the article of clothing slowly drops from her body to the floor. ‘Ah shit’, he can’t help but feel the tightening of his already harden bulge. Poor Mr. Artist, trying so hard to ignore the aroused pain in between his pants.

“Sit down, uhh yeah there on the… yup.” He awkwardly point for on the chaise lounge. She happily obliges, eyes never leaving his brown orbs. “What now Mr. Kirstein?” He then proceeds to give instructions on where to place her hands. “Keep your eyes on me, and try to stay still.”

“I believe you are blushing, Mr. Big Artiste. Do you like what you see?” He could only chuckle, the deep tone of his voice resonating the quiet room. She watches as he starts drawing on his sketchpad, looking at his seriousness adoringly. She cannot deny the affection she holds for this man, to her, Jean became the fresh air in her already suffocating life.

She spent her entire life conforming to her mother’s standards, doing anything to please the woman. Becoming the perfect Marleyan lady, she grew up in her mother’s strict surveillance, from hiring the best of the bestgoverness in Liberio to sending her to the most exclusive boarding school in Marley. She grew up a life of servitude to her family’s glory, she felt no different from a luxurious porcelain doll; handled with care for her expensive value.

After the death of her father, they were left with nothing but numerous debts under a glorious name. Needless to say, all of the wealth her family has accumulated throughout generations are gone, they were just a penniless family with a noble name.

The widower then met a young wealthy man and heir to a mining company in Paradis, Floch Forster. Since he had the money to salvage whatever dignity they have left, she immediately forcibly subjected her daughter to an arranged marriage with the young heir.

You see, Floch and her mother weren’t any different, treating her like some beautiful garment to parade in gatherings and parties, she secretly came to loath whatever her life became. And in order to please her mother and save her family’s face, she begrudgingly accepted the proposal. They were set to marry in winter, after their arrival to Paradis.

“So, this is the ship they say is unsinkable” Her mother noted as her eyes glanced at the large ship, taking its aesthetic and magnificence. “It is unsinkable. God himself couldn’t sink this ship.” Floch said condescendingly and bumptious. In front of them is the largest ship known to man, the Colossus. The servants proceeded to handle their possessions as Y/N could only marvel at its glory.

She couldn’t accept her mother’s selfishness and her fiancé’s possessive behavior any longer, leading her to the edge of the ship’s deck in a break down. She reluctantly looks at the ocean below with tears cascading her skin, she could only hope for a life where she isn’t treated less than a luxurious property.

“Don’t do it” She whips her head to see a young brunette man in white shirt and brown slacks. Glaring at the young man, she turns her head away, her sight getting blurry of the tears.

“Stay back! Don’t come any closer!”

“Take my hand I’ll pull you in.”

“No! Stay Where you are. I mean it. I’ll let go!”

“No, you won’t.” She whips her head back to the man, looking at him with an unbelievable expression. “What do you mean I won’t?” She noticed how calm this man was, but unbeknownst to her, the man internally panics and fears for the girl’s life. He could only retort her that if she really meant what she said, she would’ve jumped without having second thoughts.

She noticed him taking his boots off one by one. Carefully threading near her as to not scare the girl. “I’m a good swimmer” he said, “but I’m more worried about the water being cold. You see I grew up in Trost somewhere in Rose, and God the winter there is cold. I went ice-fishing with my father, well… Ice-fishing is where you-“

“For God’s sake, I know what an ice-fishing is!”

“I apologize, you don’t come off as an outdoor kind of girl. Well, you see, water that cold,” he points to the dark ocean below, “It hits you like a thousand knives all over your body. You can't breathe, you can't think... at least not the freezing pain that welcomes you.” He proceeds to offer his outstretched hand on which she could only look with a bemused expression.

“I know I look crazy, but I don’t really look forward to jumping with you… That’s why can you take my hand?” She reluctantly reaches for his hand, “My name’s Jean Kirstein, and I promise I won’t let go.” He pulls her away from the railings, resulting in falling together onto the deck with Jean below her. She could only wrap her arms tightly as she whimpers on his neck, he then brought his hand to pat her head, hoping it would stop the tears that continuously descend from her eyes.

Jean knows of the girl, well not her name, but how could he forget such an ethereal lady that managed to entrance his artistic eyes, ‘the lady from the upper deck’ as he dubbed her. Just a few moments ago, he was just lounging around some bench, smoking as he thought of the winsome girl from the upper deck, clearly a place that penniless folks like him could only dream of.

After a couple of minutes of sniffling on his shirt, she looked up to Jean. And in an instant, she quickly stood up, failingly brushing off the creases that already formed on her dress. They quietly studied each other’s appearance, feeling as if there’s something there. Their moment only lasted a short while when Floch came in running towards her, dragging her away from Jean.

“Who are you? And what did you do to her?!”

“Floch stop! He saved me! It was silly actually; Mr. Kirstein was there when I almost slip from the deck.” She had her arm around Floch, tugging him to appease his anger. He eyed at him suspiciously, as he took her hand to drag her off the deck, she could only look at his retreating figure, hoping that he could see the man in the morning to thank him properly.

She saw him again, at the interior part of the third-class general room, talking to some fellows she assumed he’s acquainted with. “Hello there Jean” she glanced at the two men beside him, they quickly stood up to leave the both of them to converse alone, clearly not wanting to intrude. They quietly walked along the deck, her eyes wondering at the laughing faces of the children who passes them.

“Uhh, so you got a name by the way?”

“Y/n, Y/n L/n” She paused for a bit, as she completely turned to Jean to look at him. “Jean... I feel like such an idiot. It took me all morning to get up the nerve to face you.”

“Well, here you are.”

“Look, I know what you must be thinking! Poor little rich girl. What does she know about misery?”

“That's not what I was thinking. What I was thinking was... what could have happened to hurt this girl so much she thought she had no way out.” She could only smile at his statement. Truthfully, she ranted to him how tiring it is to stand still like some wired doll, how disrespected she felt when they used her. She truly felt used, but this man didn’t invalidate her feelings, rather, he listened to her attentively. This was the first time she was able to talk to someone like this, it felt refreshing. Conversing with Jean brought comfort she didn’t knew existed.

“That turnip yesterday, is he with them?”

“Turnip? Oh, Floch! Ugh he is them.” She displayed her engagement ring, symbolizing the beautiful prison chain on her finger. “God he’s much worse than being just them.”

“So, you felt trapped in a loop ‘cause you’re marrying turnip?”

“Yes! Exacty!”

They continued to converse, more about how she should just run away and not marry the turnip looking man. If only it was easy, then she would’ve been away from those snobbish people, away from the circumstances that led her to this. The feeling she felt with Jean was… different, she spent her whole life being dismissed by the people around her. Having someone to listen to you in a genuine manner was stimulating.

“What’s that on your hand?” Glancing at the brown envelope on Jean’s hand.

“It’s nothing…”

“No let me see.” She then snatched the envelope away, revealing a sketchbook with sublime artwork. With her already existing fascination in art, she can’t help but feel astonished.

“These are really beautiful Jean…” she continues to flip the pages of the sketchbook, “you have a gift.” As she flipped to the next page, she saw drawings of women, wearing nothing but themselves.

“Amazing… are these drawn in, you know, real life?”

“Yup, that’s what’s great in Maria girls, willing to take their clothes off.” She then noticed a reoccurring subject in his artwork.

“This woman, you used her as your muse several times.”

“Well, she really did have beautiful hands.”

“If I may presume, you must’ve had a love affair with her.” She looks at him playfully at his rather defensive demeanor.

“No! I swear, just with her hands.” He laughs. Jean feels the erratic beating of his heart as he gets lost at the depths of her eyes. He felt it, this woman, no matter how imprisoned she felt, is a someone strong who can handle even the harshest of waves and the most blinding light from sun. He could only stare at her elegance, feeling the heat rising up to his cheeks, Jean felt different from this young lady, like he knows her all along. He wanted to take her away, no he didn’t want to save her, because he knew that the only one who can save her is herself. But he wants her to depend on him, become her solace and provide her the serenity she deserves.

They spent their days together in the Colossus; learning about each other and teaching each other knew things. They could not deny the growing feelings that’s starting to form, she knew it was wrong to fall in love with him, considering her engagement to Floch. But she doesn’t love Floch, how could she grow to love such a chauvinistic man. Floch viewed her as a possession, but Jean viewed her as a person. It wasn’t long when they acknowledged their feelings for each other, sharing a kiss on the bow of the ship, the setting sun becoming a witness to the couple’s profound love.

“It’s finished” He gestured her to see the finished artwork. She wrapped her arms around his neck, resting her head on his shoulder as she studies the intricacies and pencil work on the drawing. They turned to look at each other with loving eyes as they shared a slow but sensual kiss. They pulled away from the kiss as Jean’s hand found place on her face, rubbing his thumb on her cheek affectionately, as their foreheads press together.

In fear of Floch and his lackey learning Jean’s presence in their cabin, they quickly ran away to God knows where. They arrive at the ship’s luggage room as they saw a car parked at the middle. Jean pulled her hand towards it as he sat on the driver’s seat, and she sat the passenger’s seat just at the back of Jean.

“Where to Ma’am?” He playfully asks as his hands are placed on the wheel, pretending to drive her to places. She wrapped her hand around him, as she whispers to his ear, “to the stars.”

She pulls him inside, sitting on the backseat of the car, they stared at each other with a loving but lustful gaze. With a growing desire to embrace each other, Jean felt her hands travel to his already bulged member, rubbing it slowly as if to tease him.

“Fuck Y/n don’t tease me.” He proceeds to kiss her full of thirst, like a starved man, starved of her. She sat on top of his lap, she knew she needed him now, she guided his hands to her breasts as she slowly grinded on his clothed dick. “Want you know, please Jean, I want you to make love to me.” He instantly discarded their clothes as he left wet kisses on her neck, treading his hands slowly on her back to her already wet core as he rubbed small circles on her hardened nub, she could only burry her face on his neck, face contorting in pleasure as she continues to grind on his hardened cock.

“Feels so good, your cock feels so good” Grinding to their high, Jean shoots his cum towards his stomach. He lifted her up to position his member on top of her core.

“Are you sure you want this? With me?”

“Yes, fuck, Jean hurry!” He then proceeds to enter her throbbing core, feeling her walls tighten around him. Placing his hands on her waist, he slowly began to buckle his hips. “Fuck Y/n you’re so tight, so fucking tight around my- ugh” he holds her hips only to slam it back down on his cock, eliciting a moan from her pretty mouth. He started to quicken his pace, her hands around his shoulders as she they traveled towards his chest. His thrust hitting that one spot that made her drown more in pleasure.

“Baby you feel so good around my cock, fuck.” He felt her tighten around him, signaling the coming of her second high.

“Jean ‘m coming! I’m coming!”

“Cum baby, don’t hold back,” As his thrusts getting faster and deeper, she felt the height of her sex and she came around him. He continued to thrust into her as he chased his own high and he shot his load of cum inside her. Jean then slowly removed his member, as he places her once again in his lap. He wrapped his arms around her figure while he kisses her temple, embracing her like it’s his last day on earth.

Not knowing that their first night together will also be their last.

An: I had to rewatch some of the clips from the Titanic aaohaoigha anyway I'm still trying to learn how to write smut sooo

[vintage-writes]

Come here, Captain Levi Ackermann x Reader

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Reader

Summary: Getting kidnapped by the Scout Regiment was not on today’s agenda. Levi Ackermann being the one to watch you was an unexpected turn of events. However, don’t be fooled, You’re still in charge.

Warnings: NSFW, Smut, Oral (M. receiving) Fem!Dom!Reader, Sub!Levi, Corruption Kink (if you squint). 

18+ ONLY

A/N: This was originally just supposed to be fun and then I decided to add some spice.

Word Count: 2 070

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The streets of Trost were quickly filling up with people. The crowds were letting loose a series of cheers and shouts, all jeering in excitement for the King’s generosity. His decision to open up the royal food supplies to Trost was like a saving grace to the starving. 

Or rather, it’s excellent bribery. The king has been desperately trying to garner support from the lower class. This is most definitely due to the rising conflict within the government. Erwin Smith, Commander of the Scout Regiment, has been placed behind bars and will most definitely be executed. Whether or not that would be today or tomorrow, I’m sure they wouldn’t let me know.

Two days ago You approached the higher ups about the arrest of the Scout Regiment. They were uninterested in what You had to say, fully believing that the anomaly known as Eren Jaeger would be the end of humanity. Their fear is driving them forward and the Scouts were apparently plotting to harbour this secret titan power for themselves. You pointed out that that was ridiculous and was immediately slapped for my ‘insubordination’. 

Whatever the case. You’re now patrolling around the Trost district. The watchful eyes of a few of your subordinates are keeping you in check as many apparently believe that you’re a step away from chasing after the scouts and pledging my loyalty. All information regarding the situation has been kept away from you, you feel as though you’re being locked up in a cell despite your freedom to walk down a street.

This is ridiculous. A General shouldn’t be monitored by a bunch of recruits. They’ve even confiscated your gun, leaving you vulnerable with nothing but a knife. 

You adjust your jacket, the military police insignia sewn proudly onto the back. The Unicorn, the perfect creature for the biggest joke in the military. 

Glancing behind your back, you notice that one of your ‘babysitters’ is currently occupying themselves with a lost child. A young boy was tugging on his pants while he awkwardly tried to pull him off.

Perfect.

You duck behind the nearest corner and dart into the alleyway. Your boots thudding gently on the pavement. The thrill of finally dodging the watchdogs was like a fresh breath of air. And then.

“Don’t move”

Of course you would run into the only dumbass in the world willing to rob an MP. A knife’s sharp edge presses at your throat. The hand that grasps it connects to a young boy with blond hair and sharp eyes. Although, despite the fiery look in his eyes your instincts tell you that he wouldn’t follow through with his threat. He quickly grabs a ball of fabric from his pocket and stuffs it into your mouth. You let out an indignant shout but it’s muffled by the cloth, however before You can grab the brat You hear another voice, this time from behind you.

“Lift up your arms.”

Behind you, a heavy metallic object nudges you slightly forward. A Rifle, no doubt.

You slowly raise your arms as you feel the presence shift forward and grab them. You expect him to tie them together but instead he hesitates. It feels as though he is unsure of himself. Instead he brings your arms behind your back and simply holds them.

Well this is certainly awkward.

“You’re coming with us.”, says the blonde in front of me. 

You raise your eyebrows at this. Robbing an MP is certainly a bold move but kidnapping is a whole other ball game. Whoever these guys are, they’ve certainly got guts.

About an hour later You’re sitting in a remote part of Town in a stuffy warehouse. Luckily, you’re gagless as it appears no one here has anything to tie my hands together with. After the long faced asshole with a stupid hair cut tossed me into the corner you pulled out the gag and threw it at him. It smacked his head with a wet thud before rolling away. He let out a high pitched wail before vigorously rubbing at the spot, tossing insults at you like they were going out of fashion.

“Oi, Brat!” shouts a rather familiar voice. “Quiet down.”

In walks Captain Levi of the Survey Corps. The pieces begin to click together as you realize what’s going on. Despite the missing Wings of Freedom sigil on everyone’s back, you can tell that you’re looking at the Scout Regiment or more specifically, the Levi Squad.

Humanity’s strongest soldier is currently staring down at you, completely uninterested. You, on the other hand, are very interested to see him. Despite being a relatively strong soldier and Erwin’s right hand, he’s generally rarely seen around the Capital. His appearance has been described as plain but I disagree. His features are sharp and he’s incredibly lean and muscular. His dark eyes never miss a thing, an air of constant alertness surrounds him. He’s certainly the most attractive man you’ve seen by far.

You shift backwards a bit, your back now resting on the table. Two Glasses sit atop the wooden surface, completely empty. Levi notices the slight movement and turns to the two boys. 

“Why isn’t she tied up?” he says, face remaining stoic.

“Because I’m not into rope”, You respond dryly.

He sends you a glare before ordering them away to find something suitable to keep you still. You roll your eyes at this before fixing them on Levi. He leans on the locked door, the only other exit besides a window barely small enough to crawl out of three meters above you. His eyes feigning disinterest but any soldier with a brain can tell that he’s watching very closely. 

“So-”, You begin to say.

“Shut up.”

Excuse me?

“I thought I was here to answer questions?” you say instead. Why else would they go through all the trouble of kidnapping you?

His eyes study me and you can see he’s contemplating something.

“I figured Daddy’s little girl might have other uses.”

Ohhhh, You get it now, somehow Levi has figured out that one of the King’s dear advisors is your father. Little does he know, that man will likely rather leave me for dead. You couldn’t be a worse leverage. Although the phrase “Daddy’s little girl” coming from those lips have you smirking up at him. How very kinky, Captain.

“Well you know-”

“Quiet”

Oi. Let me speak.

“Captain”, You say with warning.

“General”, he retorts. His voice is surprisingly rough and low.

Who do you think is in charge here Captain? Despite what it may look like, You don’t think he has as much power in this situation as he thinks he does.

You shift forward preparing to stand up. You’re done being stuck in this stuffy place, you need to escape before everyone else comes back. Levi immediately straightens up in front of you. Despite his size, the amount of danger radiating off of him is immense and you don’t have a weapon on hand. The slow sinking feeling that maybe you’ve underestimated him begins to settle in. 

“Sit back down. You’re not leaving.”

Reluctantly, you shift back into place. Maybe escaping right now isn’t the best option.

He begins again, this time his voice drops considerably deeper, "If you move one more time, I swear I’ll choke you until you pass out”

His eyes have turned to slits. Suddenly you feel as though you’ve made some kind of mistake. However, despite his pretty face staring angrily into your soul, you feel incredibly excited. 

Leaning your head back, your eyes spot the two glasses sitting on the table. You tip your head to make eye contact with him. You hold his gaze. Warning signs flashing in his eyes as you turn your body to face the table. Eyes still locked on his own. You raise your right hand and sweep it across the table, knocking them onto the floor. The glass shatters instantly upon hitting the ground.

The look of surprise on his face sends your heart racing. Eyes widening as his face flushes red. You turn back to face him

“Alright”, You say.

You tilt your head back, looking down your nose at him. You brush your hair away from your neck and continue to stare intently at him.

“Come here, Captain”

He backs away a step. Excellent, you’ve caught him off guard.

“What’s wrong, Captain?” You taunt, “Are you not going to keep your word?”

He straightens up quickly and presses his lips together. 

Good. Let him put his mask back on so You can rip it off again. You quickly straighten up and hop onto your feet. Slowly, step by step, you make your way forward, until you stop right in front of him. His eyes burn into yours.

You lift up one hand and bring it to his chin. He exhales sharply. You bring your lips to his ear. Gently breathing in his sweet musky scent.

“Are you not the one in charge here, Captain? Or have you finally remembered that I outrank you?” You breathe against him before moving your head back. His face has completely reddened.

With the hand still on his chin you gently tilt it upwards and apply pressure, effectively pushing him back into the wall. 

“As a General, I don’t particularly like taking orders”, You say moving both hands to his shoulders before beginning an achingly slow descent. “I’d rather be the one giving them. Now stand still and be a good boy.”

Both hands finally reach the top of his pants and with a single finger begin to slowly trace the inside, moving across the inside until you reach his pants button. He jerks his hips towards you. He releases a sharp breath as you begin to unbutton each one before opening them. You run your hands back around to his waist and tug them downwards. They softly thump against the floor. You look into his eyes as you drop to your knees, he still hasn’t said or done anything to stop you. Excitement flares within you. The idea of having humanities strongest wrapped around your finger has heat flooding downwards.

You pull away the last layer of clothing separating you from his dick. His hand flies to the back of your head. Fingers tangling into your hair. You stare up at him. He doesn’t make a move to push you forward or away. The ball remains in your court as he simply stares down at you, licking his lips, breaths short and heavy. 

“Levi”, You say gently, breath brushing against his member as he begins to squirm. You smirk, “Do you have any idea how sexy you are?” 

You place a kiss to the inside of his thigh. Another slightly higher, and higher again. His hips buck forward.

“Stop moving”

He stills beneath your hands as you decide to finally grab onto his hardened member, dripping with precum. Slowly but surely, you pump him up and down as he sighs out. you lean forward and place another kiss at the base of his cock. You run your tongue from the base, to the underside and all the way to the top where you twirl your tongue around the head. The grunt that accompanies this action urges you on as you begin to suck deeply.

He Whines out, “Y/N” 

You pause and he squirms some more. Hands gripping your hair harder. 

“Yes?”

“Please”, he blurts out. “More”

“Do you want to cum?”

He nods vigorously. Good, let Y/N break him. You do your best to relax your throat and breathe deeply through your nose. With a slow push You push forward all the way to the hilt. He Gasps. He’s panting now.

“Please”, he breathes out. Mumbling over and over again. You pull back slightly and let your tongue swirl around the head again. You look up and make eye contact. Mouth hanging open, eyes wound shut. His lips let out moans and whines.  

“Oh God!” He lets out before releasing in your mouth. You swallow everything before standing up again. You run your tongue over your lips before looking at him.

Pants pooled around his ankles, eyes glossy, mouth slightly open as his breathing begins to slow. His face is of pure ecstasy. 

“So are you willing to listen to me now?” You smile at him gently. “Or do you want to take a minute?” 

[sergeantsporks]

Hiya! If requests are open, could you write a fix-it-scene where if Jim never reset, the whole reason Douxie doesn't grieve over his loss in the movie is because there just wasn't any time / the shock of everything happening all at once. And maybe later, when it finally hits Douxie, he's with Zoe when he breaks down for some Zouxie comfort? :0

I'm always open for requests :D Your angsty wish is my angsty command >:)

Douxie watched through a haze of pain as Jim destroyed the time stone. Someone was supporting him-- someone big, but his vision was blurring, and he couldn't tell who. That fight had... really taken it out of him. The fall, especially.

"Douxie?" Claire asked. Her voice sounded like it was at the end of a tunnel.

He tried to respond, but the result was a slurred "I'm okay" that he wasn't sure she could understand.

And then the world blacked out.

He woke up in a hospital bed, stiff with bandages. Jim sniffed and tried for a smile. "H-Hey. Looks like I'm not the only one who can break ribs around here."

"Hngh--" Douxie started to sit up, but fell back down with a whump. "Ow."

"Yeah... my mom says you should take it easy for a few days. Couple broken ribs, a nasty concussion, and a whole lotta burns. Buuuuuut, someone came to sign for you, so you're good to go! Everyone else is still getting checked out-- you were the worst of it, besides--" He broke off, twisting his amulet in his hands.

"Who came to-?"

A pink blur flew towards him, shaking him by the shoulders. "OH MY MAGIC, DOUXIE, YOU ALMOST GOT YOURSELF KILLED!"

Jim grabbed her shoulder. "Whoa, there, treat him nicer, he just--"

"Fell off of a titan, I know. Broken ribs, concussion, blah, blah, blah, he's had worse before." Zoe nudged Douxie's shoulder. "C'mon, let's get you out of here, it's depressing."

Douxie hobbled after her. She slowed down so that he could keep up. "The doctors say rest for you! Also that I should keep you away from particularly bright lights. And you should drink lots of water. Anyway, let's go to a movie set in the middle of the desert, what do you think?"

"Very funny."

Zoe's hand slipped into his. "Seriously, are you gonna be okay?"

Douxie rolled his shoulders, wincing. "Yeah, I think so. I died that once, so this is a walk in the park, comparatively."

"Okay. Then let's go home."

Home. Something about the word felt... empty. Hollow. Missing.

"C'mon, let's take a shortcut!"

Zoe ducked into an alleyway, and Douxie started to follow. A missing cat poster was pinned on the wall, and the floodgate he hadn't known he was putting up broke, and all of the feelings he'd been pushing back for the battle rushed him all at once.

Archie was gone.

Nari was gone.

There was no home, there was no going back, because his home was gone, it was destroyed, and there was no fixing it!

"Douxie?"

Zoe's voice sounded far away, and the world turned blue. The posters on the wall started to burn, and Douxie felt tears running down his face.

He'd lost everything. And for what?

What good was saving the world if the ones he loved were no longer in it?

"Douxie!"

Zoe grabbed his hand, and he snapped out of his wizard aura, sinking back down to the ground. She caught him as his legs wobbled and gave out, lowering him to the ground.

"Archie..." he half-sobbed.

She pressed her forehead to his. "I know. I know, Douxie."

"Nari's gone!"

Zoe helped him to his feet. "Come on. Come with me."

She led him away from the city, out to the bluff that overlooked Arcadia Oaks, and then into the trees, all the way to the kissing tree.

He half-laughed, half-sniffed. "No offense, Zoe, but I'm not in the mood for kissing."

"Offense. Offense definitely taken." Zoe grabbed his hand and put his palm on the tree. "Nari... Nari helped build this world. She's still part of it. In the trees, the flowers. The thorns, the poison ivy, the beautiful hedges-- that's all her. You helped save the thing she loved, the thing she helped build. Nari's with you in the things she made. Her soul, her spirit lives on in them."

The wind whispered through the trees, and the fireflies lighting up the branches of the kissing tree looked almost like magic.

Like her magic.

Zoe took his hands. "She's still with you. So is Archie-- every monster you trap, every lesson you learn-- that's him, with you." She swung their hands gently side-to-side. "And... they weren't the end. You still have Claire. Steve. Jim." She gave his hands a squeeze. "And... you still have me."

He bent down and kissed the top of her head. "I do. I just..."

"Miss them," Zoe finished softly, "That's okay. That's normal. But... if you need to talk about it, if you need a shoulder to cry on... I can be that, okay? You don't have to go through it alone-- aren't you always saying stuff about relying on others and the power of friendship? Take your own advice. People will be there for you if you let them. You don't always have to be the protector-- let me protect you for a bit, okay?"

Douxie managed a grin at her. "Who are you, and what have you done with crabby Zoe?"

Zoe swatted him. "Hey! No using humor to deflect the situation!" She softened again, giving his hand another squeeze and brushing away a tear. "Promise me you won't try to carry this alone, Douxie."

Douxie leaned into her hand, tears still rolling down his face. "Promise."

Thanks, non :D

[coltsbitch]

last love ~ pieck finger x reader

pieck finger x reader; 1.9k words; fluff; nsfw summary: you may not be first, but you could be last

part of @murmikaa phases of love collab! masterlist

Pieck Finger has loved a lot of people in her life.

First there was the girl down the block she shared kisses with when her dad wasn’t looking. Of course she crushed on Zeke hard in warrior training, even convincing him to be her first fuck after the others left for Paradise. Then there was her whirlwind romance with Yelena that left her a little more heart broken than she would like to admit. And Porco was always a cute distraction with how flustered he would get from her teasing.

There were the random people who dotted themselves in Pieck’s romantic history between those four, and she wouldn’t say she loved them any less.

She had learned from a young age that nothing was guaranteed, watching her mother die from the same sickness that’s now plaguing her father. Not to mention the ticking clock she has on her own life now.

What’s the harm in letting herself feel more for as many people as she can?

So when Pieck is introduced to the newest member of the Panzer unit, it’s almost instant that she decides you’re next.

You were nervous when they brought you to meet the cart titan. For all your years in the service you had never actually seen any of the titan shifters in their human form. Even at war, Marley did their best to keep Eldians as separate as possible.

“She’s able to stay in her titan form for months at a time!”

“Longer than any cart titan before her!”

“It’s truly amazing how dedicated to Marley she is!”

You nod along while the rest of your squad surrounds you, talking your ear off about how amazing Pieck Finger is. Titan shifters had always been honorary Marleyns, but you were surprised to see the intense devotion and admiration they held for Pieck.

“Not to mention she’s the cutest warrior.” One of them says with moon eyes.

Another bops them on the head, “Don’t talk about Ms. Pieck like that! She’s more than cute, she’s ethereal.”

The door cracks open and a woman in a long skirt and untucked shirt comes in. She’s relying on a cane to help her through, and the soft smile on her face means she’s in a good mood.

“I hope you’re not scaring our new member.”

Your fellow Panzer unit scramble and turn around, saluting Pieck, apologizing for their ignorance of her presence, offering her something to drink, groveling for her attention really.

But Pieck waves them off with a flick of her wrist, telling them she’d like to spend some time with you alone. They grumble but make their way out of the office.

“Tea?”

You shake your head, “No thank you, ma’am.”

Pieck throws a smile over her shoulder while she’s pouring the water, “Ma’am? I can’t that much older than you.”

You feel your face heat up, “I, uhh. I didn’t mean any disrespect.”

Pieck makes her way to the sofa, setting her cup on the table before stretching out on the cushions, “None taken.” She buries her head in the crook of her elbow, eyeing you as you shift awkwardly, “You’re cute.”

You open your mouth to respond but Pieck closes her eyes, snuggling deeper into the sofa.

In time, you get used to her sleepy and strange behavior.

Pieck steals you from trainings in guise of going over strategy, instead you trade information bit by bit. Spends days off tickling your chin with flower petals while you lay next to her on a picnic blanket. Uses your lap as a pillow when she invites you to her room telling you she wants to read you poetry.

Magath keeps her in titan form for almost two weeks, preparing for the battle at Fort Slava. The first night she’s human, she has you ride her face while her fingers are buried in her own cunt.

“Cumming is the one thing that always makes me feel human again.” She whispers into your ear, arms wrapped around your body while you try to catch your breath, “Being in my titan for so long wouldn’t be so bad if I could get off every once in a while.”

You huff out a laugh, “I’m sure that would be a sight.”

Pieck smiles, pressing a kiss to your neck. Shifting, you slide a leg between hers, tilting her head for a kiss. You go to press your lips to hers, but you’re met with soft snores instead. A smile forms on your lips and you lay your head against hers.

It’s less than three days later that your shipped off to aid in the fight against the Mid-East Allied Forces. Pieck pulls you in for a kiss before she transforms, right in front of the rest of the panzer unit who watch in surprise, awe, and jealously.

It’s not that you two intentionally hid your budding relationship, but you tried your best to be as professional as possible. Even if Pieck made it difficult with the sneaky hands during meetings or coaxing you into the cart titan artillery, fingers playing with your clit instead of checking the equipment like you said.

But Pieck gripping your chin and capturing your lips in a heated kiss before giving her tired smile and transforming right in front of everyone? It keeps you on a high during every battle over those two months.

And while you’ve practically been by her side the whole time, volunteering to keep watch most nights and laying against her sleeping form, riding her every day (although not the way you wish you could be riding her).

It’s still a rush when you see her coming towards you with only two legs.

“I don’t think we have much time.” You whisper between kisses.

Pieck has you pressed up against the side of in the infirmary, tucked down the alleyway. “Don’t worry.” She smiles against your mouth, “They won’t leave without me.”

A train horn sounds, and you raise your brow, “You sure about that?”

“They love me too much.”

You giggle at her confidence, “I know I do.” Your eyes flutter closed and wait for Pieck to continue, but you notice she isn’t moving. Opening your eyes, you see Pieck is intently staring at you, soft smile as always, but there’s the twinkle she gets in her eye when she has one over you.

You think back, body freezing when you remember the words that you spilled. “I, that’s not what I, I mean,” You stutter.

Pieck presses a finger to your lips, “I love you too.”

It’s like you’re on cloud nine in the weeks that follow. After returning to Marley, Pieck is given a reprieve and the two of you spend it attached at the hip. Lazy mornings, lazy afternoons, and lazy evenings.

When you are able to drag Pieck away from bed you stroll through the market, feeding each other bites of pastries and giggling when she nips at your fingers.

It’s there that you overhear Porco making jabs.

You had gone back to get a second tart after Pieck had flashed you her big eyes that you’re powerless to. They must not have heard you return because Porco continues with his remarks.

“So, you’re really taking her to the festival?”

“Why Pokko? Jealous?”

Porco scoffs, “I’ve moved on. Just surprised, don’t think I’ve ever seen you with the same person longer than a month.”

Pieck smiles, “I love her.”

This time Porco can’t hold back his laugh, “Just like all the other ones!”

You feel your heart skip at his comment, sinking even further when Pieck doesn’t contradict him.

Your feet are stuck, but you’re knocked into Pieck’s back when someone shoulders past you.

“Babe!” She cries, catching you by the arms, “You okay?” Nodding, you hand her the bag, voice still caught in your throat. She smiles, peaking inside, “Thanks baby!” Pieck presses a kiss onto your cheek, “Pokko, you should pick one up for Colt! Do something sweet for once.”

Porco rolls his eyes, “I can be sweet.” He grumbles, stalking off in the direction of the stand you came from.

“C’mon.” Pieck pulls you to a bench between a few trees. She offers you a piece, but you just shake your head, “What’s wrong, love?” You flinch at the pet name, “Babe?”

“What were you and Porco talking about?”

Pieck cocks her head, “What do you mean?”

You bite your lip before continuing, maybe you’re overthinking things, “Just what Porco said, about not being with someone longer than a month.”

“Don’t listen to Pokko.” She smiles, “I love you.”

Pieck tries to press her lips to your cheek again but you pull back, “Have you said that to a lot of people?”

Pieck pulls her hand from yours, “Is that a problem?”

You open your mouth before closing it, thinking over her question. “I suppose not. I just, you’re the only person I’ve said it to.” You tell her shyly.

“That makes me feel special.” Pieck says. And from anyone else it would have sounded sarcastic, but the sincerity in her voice seeps through, “You know I only have three years left, right?”

You frown. You don’t like thinking about Pieck’s impending end, and you’re unsure why she’s bringing it up now.

“I’ve known that my life has an earlier expiration date than most for quite some time now.” She turns to look ahead, “Which is why I do and say what’s on my mind.” She looks at you again, a small smile playing on her lips, “It’s why I told you were cute when we met for the first time.”

You feel your face heat up at the memory, how forward and honest she’s always been with you.

“And yeah, I’ve loved a lot of people in my life. But I think I’ve loved you the most.” Pieck picks at the tart in her lap, an uncharacteristic nervousness washing over her, “And with the time I have left, I think you’re it for me.” She continues to avoid your gaze, “So while I might have been your first love, I’m hoping you’ll be my last.”

“Oh.” You whisper, heart filling with warmth and tears pricking in your eyes. Pieck looks back to you.

“You don’t have to say anything, but there is something I want to ask you.” You nod, throat still a little tight, “I want you to take the spot above my nape in the cart’s artillery.” You frown, that’s the most vital spot, protecting Pieck’s weak point, “I know what you’re thinking.” Pieck cups your cheek, “But I trust you.”

“Okay.” You nod, and she smiles at your answer giving you a deep kiss in response. “You taste like raspberry.” You mumble against her lips.

“It’s the tart!” She exclaims, gesturing to the sweet that’s still in her lap. You giggle as she picks a piece off, offering it, and you close your lips around her fingers.

“You think the festival tomorrow will have a tart flavor I haven’t tried yet?” Pieck asks, eyes dancing while she pulls her fingers from your lips.

Shifting, you let Pieck rests her head on your shoulder, and you press a kiss on top of her head, “Not sure, but I’ll get you which ever ones you want.”

Pieck hums softly and closes her eyes. Even if she only has a few more years, at least she gets to spend them with you.

[xxdragonwriterxx]

🔥The Angelus Mortis (1/2)🔥

A/N: Hey everyone, I’m back! I apologize for the really long wait but I wanted to try something different where, instead of posting one story at a time as soon as I finish it, I wrote five stories and then I went back and edited them in the order I wrote them. It took so long because I’ve been writing a ton in the past week.  Hopefully I can make up for the long wait by giving you guys several stories in the next few days or so. Thank you so much for the support on “Scalding”, I was not expecting it but it makes my really happy to know you guys liked it ❤️. Now, without further ado, here is my next Levi x Reader fic!

Warning: This one is super long so I actually had to split it up into two parts so it wouldn’t be such a huge pill to swallow. I will post the next chapter asap though, so keep an eye out for part two!

Summary: Erwin finds a dangerous assassin in the Underground while Levi is on a solo mission.

~~~

Erwin sighed and rubbed his temples to try to dispel the headache that was already building there, the message from the Military Police on his desk, mocking him. He glared at it, his eyes scanning over the words again.

Gods they were so incapable. He would never voice his frustrations aloud, but he wished, for once, they could deal with their own issues. Fight their own battles without having to drag the Survey Corps back to do all of the hard work for them. 

Despite his annoyance, Erwin would not have normally been so frustrated, but this situation was different than usual due to the fact that Captain Levi was gone from the base. He had been sent off on a solo mission to get some more information for Erwin on the movements of the violent gangsters that were fighting with one of the Military Police branches.

“What’s today’s headache about?” The loud, chipper voice of his girlfriend, Hanji, made him look up and grunt at her and the stack of finished reports she held in her arms.

“Oh, I just received a message from the Commander of the Military Police. There is a dangerous assassin who has been cutting down the MP’s that venture into the Underground. Apparently, this guy is impossible to catch and incredibly ruthless, known to leave pieces of the soldiers around for the officers to find later. They want us to go down there and find them, put an end to them before they wipe out an entire regiment.”

Hanji leaned her hip against Erwin’s desk and raised her eyebrow at her partner as she listened to the gruesome things the assassin had done.

“Holy shit…, who are you going to send? Levi is on that solo mission,” Hanji said.

“Yeah that’s the problem,” Erwin responded. “I’m going to have to be the one to go. I’m not going to send someone who will lose their life on this mission. There is no need to waste lives on something as trivial as catching this guy. Also, if he’s impossible to catch, the only one other than me who has enough experience with the ODM gear to navigate the Underground would be Levi, who you pointed out is not here at the moment.”

“Well, I’m coming with you then,” Hanji said. “Someone will need to watch your back, and be there to bring you back to the surface if you end up getting your ass handed to you.”

Erwin smiled at her as he shook his head.

“I’m not going to lose this fight.”

“Oh ho ho, tough guy! Such confidence, I can’t wait to watch your ass hit the ground when that assassin shows you a couple of choice moves,” Hanji chortled.

“Your obsession with my ass is noted. Now go get ready, we are leaving in an hour,” Erwin said, his eyes twinkling as he teased her.

Hanji’s laughter bounced around the halls as she exited his office to pack her things and prepare for the trip to the Underground.

__________________________

Levi grumbled lowly to himself as he nursed a glass of whiskey, his silver eyes appraising the other people in the bar in annoyance. The Captain was not normally one to drink, especially back at the base, but after having to deal with some of the most annoying people on the planet, he felt as if he deserved to relax a little.

At least neither Erwin nor Hanji were with him. That was one of the only reasons he was able to convince himself to go into the old bar; not having to worry about Erwin pressuring him to loosen up, or Hanji trying to wrestle secrets about his life out of him while he was drunk.

Levi took a sip from his glass. The alcohol slid down his throat, leaving a fiery trail in its wake to settle in his stomach, the warmth spreading throughout his gut. The whiskey was starting to loosen the headache that was holding his skull captive, allowing the usually stoic Captain to settle a bit more in his seat, enjoying the relative silence of the dingy establishment.

All day he had been forced to fight with violent gangsters, helping one of the Military Police branches arrest the most aggressive ones and scaring away the others. The whole day had been a loud, frustrating, exhausting experience, making Levi almost miss his normal expeditions outside the walls with the Titans. At least it was his last day in this shit hole, finally able to return to the base in the morning now that all of the criminals had been successfully rounded up.

Thinking about the men and women he had helped put away that day, combined with the alcohol that was circulating through his system, made his mind stray back to memories from his Underground days. For the most part, he tried to forget about his past, thoughts about his time down there, only bringing up bitter emotions. It was like reliving a nightmare over and over again. 

He huffed as he tried to lead his train of thought elsewhere to no avail, his mind flooding with images from his childhood, his struggle as he and his friends fought for survival. His mind even dragged up a foggy image of a beautiful face from the dregs of his past before he quickly diverted his train of thought, refusing to think about that face, that loving smile.

Levi didn’t know if he was lucky or unlucky when his spiraling thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the appearance of a woman. She wearing a severe red dress that pushed her cleavage up so her breasts were almost spilling out over the top, her lips pursed as she sat herself across from him.

Levi refrained from groaning aloud in frustration, wanting absolutely nothing to do with the woman in front of him, but also recognizing that a tiny part of him was grateful for her intrusion, distracting him from sinking further into the dark memories of his past. Now, he just had to figure out how to shrug this woman off as she leaned forward, so obviously trying to get into his pants he was surprised there was not a ‘FUCK ME’ sign strapped to her chest.

Levi scowled and pulled away from her when she went to touch his arm. To his annoyance, the woman laughed instead of moving away, her eyes sparkling with barely disguised lust as she looked him up and down.

“Look, I’m not interested,” Levi said bluntly.

“Come on, handsome, it won’t hurt for you to relax, why don’t we ditch this joint?” the woman purred.

Levi rolled his eyes so hard he was worried he’d strained something. The situation reminded him of all of the times Hanji had tried to set him up, ignoring his protests and forcing him to meet women from all walks of life despite the fact that he turned them all down without a second thought. It bothered him to no end, not only because it was annoying as hell, but also because there was only one person he had ever given his heart to, and she was gone. Nobody could ever replace her, it didn’t matter that she wasn't around to love him anymore, he refused to be with anyone else.

He figured some people would probably see this as childish, but he didn’t care. To him, he didn’t have a heart left to give, the organ dying with his lost love all those years ago.

“Not interested.”

The woman pouted but moved closer still, practically leaning into him despite his grimace of disgust.

“You don’t mean that, baby, you look like you could use a good time. Here, let me help you. I know exactly how to make you feel better. Have you ever felt the stars? Because you’re about to…,” the woman said boldly, her hand slowly drifting downward.

Levi stood up so fast he almost knocked the table over. His glare was fierce as he slammed his empty whiskey glass on the table. Piercing her with his sharp gaze, Levi snarled lowly at her.

“Not. Interested.”

Grabbing his cloak, Levi stormed out of the bar in even worse spirits than before, memories of the face that haunted his dreams floating across his mind to tease at the edges of his broken heart. Growling to himself, Levi was only grateful that he was leaving in the morning as his feet carried him back to the shitty inn he was staying in for the duration of the mission.

____________________________

This was a bad idea. Scratch that, this was a horrible idea. Erwin laid on the filthy street of the Underground, hidden in the shadows of an alleyway, holding his hand to his shoulder where a dagger was lodged, gritting his teeth as he fought back the bile that rose in his throat at the pain swelling in his body. 

He had no idea where Hanji was, the pair having been separated when they were attacked out of nowhere. Erwin realized now as he lay in the dirt that he had severely underestimated this man, the assassin who got hired to kill the most powerful soldiers and officers in the military. He had read about his strength, but even with that information, he had not expected the fight to be so overwhelming.

This man was dangerous. Very dangerous. Erwin knew from the reports that the killer worked alone, using wit and cold, calculated cunning to attack in ways that not even the veteran soldiers had seen before.

Erwin’s thoughts were suddenly cut short when he heard a pained shriek, one he immediately knew to be Hanji, and watched in horror as a figure slowly came around the corner, holding the limp form of his comrade in his grip.

Hanji let out another pained noise as the figure threw her right at Erwin, the Squad Leader hitting her Commander, causing them both to grunt. Looking down, Erwin saw that Hanji had a long gash down her side, but it didn’t look very deep and she didn’t seem to have any more wounds other than some bruising. A warning.

Erwin managed to hide his nearly imperceptible sigh of relief at the thought that this assassin was considering sparing them if they only left him alone. He knew that he could never leave the assassin alone forever, but if it gave them the chance to get to safety, he could come back another time with reinforcements. It was only one man. A very powerful man, but a man nonetheless, he wasn’t invincible.

Forcing down the whimper that bubbled in his throat when Hanji moved against his shoulder, shifting the blade in his flesh, Erwin locked his eyes on the figure that was still watching them, the darkness of the alley covering any distinguishable features. The only thing Erwin was able to make out was that the figure looked smaller than he imagined. But the seasoned Commander wasn’t stupid enough to determine his threat level based on size, not when one of his best friends was Levi Ackerman, one of the shortest yet deadliest men alive.

The pair tensed when the figure suddenly started towards them, his arm reaching back to procure a wickedly sharp sword from underneath his black cloak. Erwin’s mind scrambled for a plan but he came up blank, his mind ceasing all thoughts when the figure suddenly charged them, sword held aloft.

Erwin and Hanji closed their eyes, clutching each other as the killer came for them, both of them waiting for the quick sting of pain before death, waiting for their remains to be scattered around the Underground like Easter eggs for their friends to find when they came back to their empty offices and cold beds.

Erwin sucked in a breath when he felt the cold, harsh tip of the sword touch his throat but slowly opened his eyes after a moment when the feeling stayed there, the blade hovering just above his delicate wind pipe.

From this distance, Erwin could tell that the assassin was wearing a mask in the shape of a wolf over his face, his body poised to strike as he hovered over the pair of senior officers, his breathing labored.

“Are you Commander Erwin?” The man suddenly asked, the voice deep and distorted thanks to the mask.

Erwin contemplated lying for a second, but knew he didn’t really have a choice in the matter when the man pressed the tip of their blade a little bit harder against his flesh, even causing a pinprick of blood to bubble up from under the steel point.

“Yes.”

The man hesitated for a moment. It was almost as if he were remembering something, Erwin’s name bringing up memories from another time. The Commander had no fucking clue what that could mean for them, but he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to find out.

The assassin opened his mouth to say something when all of a sudden, several ropes were thrown from the darkness, catching the killer by surprise. He leaped out of the way, dodging the ropes at a speed that could only be rivaled by Captain Levi, almost making it out onto the street before he ran headfirst into a trap of chains, the metal clinking as it wrapped around his lithe form and tightened, forcing his arms to snap to his sides and his legs to buckle.

Erwin and Hanji scrambled into a standing position and smiled in joyful surprise as a familiar Mike, Nanaba, and Moblit rounded the corner. Erwin sighed in relief and Hanji let loose a little cheer as the three other veteran officers surrounded their quarry. The pair had no idea how their friends had found them or even why they had thought to follow them, but neither cared as relief filled their systems.

The assassin snarled at them and continued to struggle against their bounds, his mask making the words coming from his mouth sound nearly animalistic in nature.

“Fuck you!” The assassin roared, somehow finding the energy to fight harder as the veterans leaned down to detain the criminal. The soldiers ignored the assassin as he continued spewing profanities while they made their way towards the stairs, their mission complete.

___________________________

Erwin blinked in utter shock as he stared at the assassin through the bars of the cell they had shoved him in underneath the Survey Corps HQ.

Only, it wasn’t a him.

Erwin could only gawk as the reality of the situation settled in, his eyes roving over the assassin’s (h/l) (h/c) hair, feminine curves, and beautifully angled face. The strongest assassin in the Underground, the one that had been dubbed The Angelus Mortis, The Angel of Death, was a woman.

He never doubted that women were strong, he trained and fought beside a whole legion of strong, battleworn women that could take down anyone in a heartbeat any day. But this woman had come from the Underground. While not impossible to gain strength in the Underground, most women, and many men for that matter, that lived in that cesspool merely ended up rotting away, their legs destroyed by the lack of sunlight and their bodies wracked with disease. Even if a woman managed to avoid the severe malnourishment, most of them were forced into brothels to be used by the wealthy merchants and nobles who decided to flaunt their wealth in the poorest part of their cities.

But this woman had fought. She had fought like an animal, a wolf, as her mask had suggested. She had used her impressive intelligence and strategic mind to avoid getting caught, all while clawing her way to the top of the food chain, making herself such a feared symbol that nobody would touch her. She was cold and vicious but not at all feral, her mind sharp and her eyes clear as she stared right back at the giant blonde Commander, her gaze never drifting from his.

Erwin leaned back as he appraised her. He could tell that despite her strength, her body was severely malnourished and neglected, the lack of proper food and water paired with the intense physical labor she pushed herself through every day, rendered her body weak and thin. Erwin could tell right away that if she were given the proper commodities and nursed back to health, she would be stunning and very powerful.

He had to think about this carefully. He had sent in an after action report to the MP’s telling them that the Survey Corps had done their dirty work for them, and they had already responded with a message telling him to bring her to one of their prison cells the next morning to be tortured to death for her crimes. He knew she probably deserved a punishment like that, she had killed a lot of soldiers, but he felt a strange tugging on his heart, like he knew, deep down, that there was more to her story, something that would make her worth much more than a street rat to be thrown to the dogs.

He had no idea why but he wanted her in the Survey Corps. He knew that she was dangerous, knew that most people would call her insane and then call him insane if he brought this up. But he felt something, like he knew that if he didn’t get her into the military, they would be losing something priceless.

“Are you going to keep staring at me like a perverted fuck or are you going to tell me when I’m being taken away?”

Erwin’s eyes snapped to hers from where they had drifted to her ribs, which were jutting out of her chest prominently. 

“I knew you were going to be testy, sassy even, maybe downright insane, but I didn’t expect someone so close to death to be so confident,” Erwin said, a smirk teasing the corner of his lips.

The assassin rolled her eyes.

“I’m from the Underground, idiot, death is always a constant companion on your shoulder. I’m not scared of death, scared of the torture before death, maybe, if I decide I care enough, but not of death.”

“Is that why you killed all of those people? Because death is your friend?” Erwin asked.

“Don’t be stupid.”

“That is what you said.”

“I only said it is something I am used to, the constant threat of death and suffering, not that I enjoy it. Death is not my friend,” She growled with a sharp glare in his direction.

“So why did you kill all of those soldiers? Besides being hired to, I mean. I’d understand your motivations a little more if you had started killing other people who lived in the Underground, to give yourself an advantage, but you chose soldiers.”

The assassin was silent for a minute, breaking his gaze for the first time since he had come down to see her. He could’ve sworn her gaze clouded over slightly, as if she were remembering painful memories, but the fog in her gaze was gone as quickly as it appeared, making Erwin question whether it was even there to begin with.

“That’s personal,” she said after a heavy pause.

“They didn’t compliment your outfit?” Erwin teased, flashing a smile in her direction when she snarled at him.

“Fuck you.”

“Alright fine,” Erwin said. “Why did you ask about me? About my name?”

“That’s personal too.”

“Well you’ve got to answer at least some of my questions.”

“Why should I care about you and your inquiries?” She asked, leaning against the wall and crossing her arms in a way that reminded Erwin so much of Levi he almost smiled.

“Because it might guarantee you your life,” Erwin said.

“Who says I care about living?”

Erwin was silent for a moment this time as he scanned her with his bright blue eyes again, really taking her in. She was something, he could say that. She was unlike anyone he had ever met before. Even Levi, with his similar distrusting nature and sharp, piercing gaze was never this witty, never this sassy.

“I say you do,” Erwin said.

“Oh really? And what makes you the authority on that?”

“Nothing. You are the authority on yourself, on your emotions and instincts. I am merely an observer in this matter. I can see it in your eyes, I can read it in your posture and spot it even in the methods of your actions. In why you became an assassin, and the best one at that.”

She stayed quiet, watching him.

“I know you want to live. I don’t know anything about the personal shit that went down between you and the Military Police but I’m assuming that whatever it was was crippling, which was why you went to such drastic measures to make it to the top, to do whatever it took to make them hurt and scream. Why you never even attempted to hide the bodies. I know some people claim it was because you are cocky or egotistical, but I know better.”

Erwin leaned forward, his eyes glinting in the dull golden light of the lantern hanging on the wall. The assassin again said nothing but she never stopped watching him, playing into this game they had started, dancing on hot coals.

“Just from the fact that you did all of that. That you chose to fight back against your grief rather than succumb to it, rotting away in a forgettable corner of the Underground, shows me that you want to live. That you want to give yourself a purpose to cover up whatever loss you have felt in the past, and use it to fuel your own future.”

The assassin’s eyes narrowed on him as she pushed away from the stone wall of the cell. “I’m impressed.”

“Not quite so much of an idiot anymore, right?”

She glared at him and the smirk that spread across his face.

“(Y/N).”

“What?”

“My name is (Y/N).”

[hopeymchope]

Complaining about the final chapter of SNK/AOT and the post-timeskip mess as a whole

At the end, my belief in what Timeskip Eren was up to was proven to be very close to correct. The Watchmen gambit plays out as expected, and much like we were ultimately told in the sequels to Watchmen, it also... doesn’t really change anything. Timeskip Eren’s big gambit to make his friends look like heroes in the eyes of the world succeeds, but in spite of soldiers from both sides of the war uniting to take him down, the unifying battle against a single foe doesn’t change the world. The world remains divided and Paradis/Marley stay locked in a war of immense hatred where neither side will back down unless the other is wiped out. It’s slightly more hopeful than it could’ve been, but overall, still a very depressing ending. Nobody really learned that the other side was human after all.

It’s currently a bit unclear if Timeskip Eren wiped out 80% of humanity with his Rumbling or if he REFRAINED from doing that much of it. There are differing attempts to translate some of the dialogue now, so that could really change how evil Timeskip Eren actually was in the end... but it sure looks like he did it? He just killed 80% of society somehow? HOW? He goes on a rampage, sure, but he never gets to travel the whole GLOBE, and it’s not like titans just emerge PLANETWIDE to mash and stomp everybody. And if it wiped them out in an instant, but all the characters we know turned out to survive? What are the fucking odds of that? How stupid and lazy would that be? Either way, if he believes he’s gonna kill 80% of the world - he’s a genocidal psychotic, then. But Isayama makes his sacrifice to become the enemy of the world seem like it’s some heroic action. Christ... I guess Isayama would celebrate a character who slaughters 80% of humanity. I shouldn’t even act surprised. 

Ultimately, Isayama’s increasingly facist undertones are most blatantly embodied in Historia, who leads her people in never-ending war to wipe out Marley. I mean, it’s not like Marley wasn’t portrayed as an extremely blatant analog to Nazi Germany, so they are logically the bad guys, but... Isayama has spent a lot of time over these past 40 chapters trying to build sympathy for Marley in spite of their obvious Nazism, so they get to continue on as they are. Nothing changes for Marley here. I can’t help but suspect that Isayama wanted to leave himself room to follow up with future stories about the ongoing war? The idea of him wanting to tell a story that’s just about military actions and battles without the monstrous titans or any supernatural elements does seem like it’d be in-character.

Timeskip Eren never did feel like the original, real Eren... not even at the end, in his final conversation with Armin. He still reads as a totally different character than anyone we ever knew before... which I find disappointing. Even seeing the “real” Timeskip Eren here, I don’t feel like we were really shown how he changed so much over the timeskip (and meanwhile, everyone else changed so very, very little). It hurts because of how much I loved the original Eren. But this guy sucks.

I did like when Timeskip Eren breaks down crying about how he doesn’t want to die. It’s his own plan. He chose this death. But he doesn’t want it. And it hurts. It’s a great, emotional bit.

Some kind of props go to Isayama for both making a ship canon and then sinking it in the exact same chapter. I mean, that’s a hardcore move. Next-level.

With some of the ships he makes canon here without really hinting at them for years prior, it does kind of feel like Isayama was reading some fanfics or hunting the fandom for ideas. That’s not exactly a bad thing, but it certainly feels like he was late to the party in deciding upon these relationships.

As I fully expected, Toxic Gabi gets to live a long and happy life with no repercussions for her years of being a dyed-in-the-wool hardcore Nazi who murdered someone that took mercy on her, tried to kill a child for sheltering her and feeding her, etc. This is fully cementing Isayama’s message of “mercy is a weakness and violent bloodshed will be rewarded.” Super gross, but again, this is in keeping with his increasingly militaristic and facist messaging.

Timeskip Eren becomes a bird. Cheesy I know, but it’s drawn so beautifully and it feels kind of sweet. I liked that in spite of myself.

I don’t know how I feel about Mikasa leaving the group and just sitting around, talking to Timeskip Eren at his grave years later. It kind of feels like she’s forever bound to him and forever unable to move on in yet another tragic outcome. But it’s kind of sweet for how much she loved him, too. I don’t know. 

Not really about the finale but more about the entire timeskip: 

It’s once again worth mentioning that the radical timey-wimey spiritual “Paths” and Goddess Ymir bullshit of the post-timeskip story feels WILDLY out of place with the first 90 chapters of the story. It’s a huge flying leap that never managed to feel true to the first 2/3 in retrospect. You just have to go with it, because I guess he didn’t see another way out. 

I always believed that Isayama would never take a major character like the Survey Corps’ Ymir and just kill her off casually in a single flashback panel. For one thing, it made her final choice to go back home with the Marleyans make no sense at all because she would’ve known what was going to happen and that she was going to accomplish absolutely nothing in her quest to protect Historia. But it also just felt really lazy and half-assed to take such a central character and toss them away without a longer flashback detailing how we got there and what she was thinking at the time. Well, guess what? It never happened. He never circled back to expound on how she was written out. He really did that shit. One-panel flashback. The equivalent of “oh she died somehow.” Embarrassing.

[wheresmynaya]

Lost in the Lights Ch.11|Brittana

A/N - The 10 month work drought is finally over! A little bittersweet since I won’t have as much time to write as I once did so make sure you have notifications on for this story on whichever site you use so you don’t miss an update whenever it comes next. Thanks for your patience ❤

PS - Have you seen the amazing artwork that accompanies this fic made by @haru-snixx ? No? Check it out here! It’s VERY cool. 

Available on ff.net (x) ao3 (x) & under the cut

Santana’s jaw drops when she sees those two players tackle Brittany to the turf. The crunch of bodies colliding is engrained in her memory and pulls an audible gasp deep from within the brunette. Santana knows that Brittany wears all sorts of padding and protection under her uniform but when she sees the quarterback motionless on the ground, her heart plummets.

The next thing Santana knows, she throws down her pompoms and runs for her life out onto the field.

Santana can faintly hear Quinn calling after her but it doesn’t slow her down one bit. She has heard stories about concussed players and broken ribs and punctured lungs and whatever else could go wrong on the field. She can’t just stand on the sidelines and watch this happen in front of her eyes; she has to get to Brittany, she has to make sure she’s okay for herself.

She’s bound to be breaking some kind of rule, but she doesn’t give a shit about that – not when Brittany’s just lying there.

There’s already a crowd of players gathering around the quarterback and Santana pushes past Puck and Karofsky before sinking down to her knees next to Brittany’s head. The blonde’s eyes are closed and there’s this pained expression on her face. Santana is so used to seeing Brittany as this invincible, gorgeous girl that it breaks her heart even further to see Brittany hurting like this.

She leans over the quarterback, trying to blink away the tears starting to well in her eyes.

“Brittany,” Santana urges, awaiting some kind of movement, “Are you okay?”

Santana can feel someone trying to pull her away but she blindly pushes them off of her.

“Santana, let the Trainer look her over.”

The voice belongs to Quinn, but Santana’s not moving until she sees the blues of Brittany’s eyes again, even if that means one of these assholes has to throw her tiny body over their shoulder and haul her away.

She’s not moving until Brittany does too.

The Trainer crouches down on the opposite side and Santana eyes him up and down.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” Santana questions bitterly.

The Trainer looks surprised by the question, “This isn’t my first rodeo, kid.”

“That doesn’t mean you know what you’re doing,” Santana bristles.

“Santana,” Quinn chastises with another tug on the brunette’s arm, “Let him do his job.”  

“What?” Santana huffs, “Who knows what kind of medical experience he has? He could be a drop out for all we know!”

The Trainer scowls at her, “I’m right here.”

“And?”

The Trainer shakes his head and continues his examination.

The longer Brittany keeps her eyes squeezed shut, the more worried Santana becomes.

She thinks about every moment, every word she has said to Brittany over the past couple of days, and she doesn’t want them to be the last Brittany hears. She doesn’t know if she’s being dramatic here or what, but in this moment it feels like her whole world is falling apart.

“Britt,” Santana begs, her voice cracking as she does, “Come on.”

This time, Brittany’s slow to blink but her eyes open nonetheless. She looks to the Trainer before she settles on Santana. There’s a surprised and confused look on her face before it turns into a sly smile.

“Did you just call me Britt?”

Santana’s lips part for the right thing to say but she fails to find the words. She’s just relieved that Brittany’s eyes are open and she’s talking. The Trainer takes over and Santana pushes to stand before she rounds on the players that surround them.

“She forgot her name!” Santana yells at them, “She forgot her goddamn name!”

“Wait, what?” Finn looks from Santana to the Trainer, “That can’t be true.”

The Trainer glares at Santana, “It’s not.”

The Titans look a mix of confused and worried and scared while Santana continues to fume.

“You have to get off the field,” The Ref says. Coach Beiste isn’t too far behind either.  

“I’m not leaving until I know she’s okay!”

Azimio shakes his head at Santana, “This is exactly why girls shouldn’t be playing this kind of sport. They ain’t strong enough, ain’t as athletic for a game like this!”

“Shut the hell up!” Santana growls, “You sound as stupid as you look.”

Azimio looks at her like she has lost her mind.

“Santana, we need to get back to the sidelines,” Quinn tries, “We shouldn’t be out here.”

Santana doesn’t budge as she looks to every Titan surrounding them, “Which one of you imbeciles was meant to guard her?!”

No one makes a sound; the players just shift side to side and look around at each other.

Karofsky seems the guiltiest, “Shouldn’t be playing if she can’t take a hit.”

Santana looks shocked by his comment as she pushes Quinn’s hands off of her. Despite being the smallest on the field, Santana steps up to Karofsky like she’s ten feet tall.

“You shouldn’t be playing if you can’t do your goddamn job.”

Karofsky waves her off, “How about you just head on back to where you came from and keep waving those pom – “

It surprises everyone when Santana lunges at him fist first.

She’s not sure where she’s aiming because the guy still has his helmet on but she doesn’t care at this point. She’s so angry by the lack of concern for Brittany that all she sees is red. If you’re running your mouth to her right now, you’re going to get punched.

“Get off the field!” The Ref orders.

“What about him?” Santana challenges while Quinn holds her back, “He should be thrown out or cancelled or whatever you call it!”

“Ejected?” Sam offers.

“Whatever!” Santana yells, “He did this to her! Throw one of your little yellow flags at him, I don’t give a shit. He’s the one that needs to go!”

“Santana, stop!” Quinn tries harder.

“Get off me, Fabray! I’m going to end him! He had one fucking job: protect her! He couldn’t even do that so now I’m going to go ALL LIMA HEIGHTS on his sorry ass!”

Everyone starts to get restless the angrier Santana becomes. Mike and Sam try to help Quinn with wrangling Santana while Puck’s looking curiously at Karofsky. He starts to see Santana’s point and steps up to him.

“You let that Linebacker get the jump on you. Didn’t you?” Puck accuses before looking to Azimio, “You both did!”

“Prove it,” Karofsky mocks while still avoiding Santana, “You can’t.”

“I was the only one blocking for her!” Puck argues, “I was the only one there! Where the hell were both of you?”

Karofsky brushes him off and glares at Santana, “Get the lesbo out of here so we can play some real football! I’ve over this!”

“That’s right!” Azimio adds, “Too many damn emotions out here.”

Quinn loosens her grip on Santana at that, “On second thought, I’ll help you.”

The pair of them go to tag team Karofsky and Azimio while Mike and Sam try to break it up. Puck’s going after Azimio with Quinn and Finn’s just looking back and forth trying to make sense of everything. Coach Beiste is trying to help break up the fighting while Coach Sue looks on at her Co-Captains with a satisfied smile on her face.

Everyone’s so wrapped up in the commotion that they don’t see Brittany sitting up with the help of the Trainer.

\\\\\

Brittany’s nodding to every question the Trainer asks about how she feels and other routine questions that could spot a possible concussion. In all honesty, it’s not the hardest she’s ever been hit but it has been awhile so she can see why she’s a little slow to recover.

Hearing Santana call out her name so many times really helped though.

“I’m good,” Brittany assures the Trainer, “Just a hard hit.”

The Trainer seems satisfied with Brittany’s responses so he helps her get back on her feet.

Brittany wiggles out the slight soreness but she feels good – she can keep playing, no need for a Concussion Protocol. What she doesn’t expect to see is Santana and Quinn trying to take on her Right and Left Guards. Actually, she doesn’t expect to see all the arguing going on between everyone.

Crawford County is just staring at them while the officials and coaches try to get everyone under control. It might be the rowdiest game this stadium has ever seen and that’s including the game against Carmel High where Puck was ejected for swinging at a player.  

Santana’s the feistiest one there and it doesn’t look like she’s backing down any time soon.

Brittany doesn’t understand why she’s here though – well, she does and she doesn’t. Santana was the one who said there were no feelings here; if that was really the case then what’s the explanation for this? Because despite everything she said that day in the locker room, Santana is once again showing the opposite of what she truly feels.

There’s no time to sit and overthink it though, there’s still a game Brittany needs to win.

She thanks the Trainer for checking on her before jogging over to the feuding players.

“We don’t discriminate based on gender!” Coach Beiste shouts as she pushes Karofsky back after something he said. Her face is beet red as she says, “What’s the matter with you?”

Brittany raises a brow at that but Karofsky isn’t her main focus, Santana is and the girl is still trying her hardest to fight through Mike in order to get to Azimio. Santana doesn’t falter in her advances until Brittany makes her presence known by standing in her way.

“Santana, stop,” Brittany tells her calmly with her hands on the Co-Captain’s waist. The touch seems to surprise Santana and she instantly relents enough that Brittany can guide her back even further.

The more distance Brittany can put between the team and Santana right now, the better.

Santana only stares blankly at Brittany like she has just seen a ghost.

“Should you be up?” She asks worriedly, “You need to sit out or something?”

“I’m fine,” Brittany assures her, “I need to finish the game.”

Santana laughs in disbelief, “Seriously? You were hit hard, Britt, I don’t think – “

“So I wasn’t hearing things.”

Santana frowns, “What?”

“You called me Britt.”

Santana softens and Brittany swears she sees a hint of a blush, “That’s your name, isn’t it?”

Brittany starts to grin despite wanting to keep her expressions to herself, “Just the first time you’ve ever said it.”

Santana crosses her arms and her brows furrow as she says, “You shouldn’t play through an injury, you’ll only make it worse. I can call my dad and have you checked out by an actual doctor – not this guy who probably learned everything from episodes of Grey’s Anatomy.”

“I told you. I’m fine,” Brittany insists before she knocks on her side, “See? Rib protector; the pads took the brunt of the hit. I barely felt a thing.”

“Then why’d you look like you were in so much pain?”

“Reflex,” Brittany shrugs, “You try being hit by two Linebackers who weigh twice as much as I do. It’s not fun.”

Santana looks warily but nods in the end, “Just…be more careful, okay?”

Brittany quirks her brow at that; such a change in Santana’s tune compared to the other day. She really doesn’t sound like someone who isn’t capable of having feelings for someone else and she’s dying to know if Santana can see that too. Brittany doesn’t point it out though; not while they’re still on the field. Besides, she thinks it’s kind of nice how much Santana cares, whether she wants to admit it or not.

“I don’t know,” Brittany tries to joke instead, “Seeing you run out here trying to fight the whole team in my honor? Kind of cool.”

“I wasn’t trying to fi –"

“Alright Rocky, let’s go,” Coach Beiste interrupts as she and Quinn walk up, “We have a game to get back to.”

Santana looks at them and nods before turning back to Brittany, “Win this thing, Britt.”

Hearing Santana say her name gives Brittany another endorphins boost. She liked when Santana called her Pierce, it was their thing, but this hits differently. Brittany can’t help but think about what they could be if Santana would just give them a chance. She’ll take her little wins instead though because to have Santana checking on her like this, in front of everyone, and they’re sober? That’s big.

But, one thing at a time. It’s one play at a time, one touchdown, one win.

Brittany only winks before Coach Beiste starts to escort the Co-Captains off of the field.

\\

A few minutes later, the teams are brought back together to continue the game. There are no penalties for the interruption since Santana isn’t a Titan and they’re able to pick up where they left off.

After Brittany’s sack, the Titans are now on their fourth and final down.

That means it’s their last try to make something happen this drive before the ball is given back to Crawford County. They either play it safe and have the special teams come out to punt it away or go for it and at the very least get enough yardage for a new set of downs.

It’s a tough call because they’re about three yards away from a first down.

If the Titans can turn this into something, that’ll be amazing. If they can’t, it puts Crawford County in really great field position and with just six minutes left on the clock and the Titans only leading by 3 points, no one wants that.

There’s also the issue of Karofsky and Azimio and what the hell happened that last play. With how fast she was taken down, it really makes her wonder whether or not they let the defenders slip by on purpose. It all happened so fast though, it would be hard to tell. Still, if she can’t trust the guys meant to protect her then it really throws a wrench in the overall confidence she has in her teammates.

She can’t get hit like that again either, once was enough, but she needs to make a decision: go for it or play it safe?

“I can get three yards,” Puck says confidently as if he could sense the QB’s dilemma.

Azimio shakes his head and Puck shoves at him.

“I don’t need you to do it either,” Puck barks, “You and Karofsky might as well play for the other team!”

“What?” Karofsky looks to Puck and gasps, “I’m not gay.”

“I meant literally, dumbass.”

“Enough!” Brittany orders, “I’m over the arguing. Let’s just win the game first and deal with this later.”

The Running Back doesn’t waver though as he squares his shoulders off with Karofsky. He’s the one looking for a fight now, but Brittany can’t take any more interruptions.

“Puckerman!” Brittany urges, “Focus.”

“Alright,” Puck flinches at Karofsky and Azimio one last time before turning to Brittany.

“I know the perfect play,” The quarterback says, “We haven’t practiced it much but I don’t think they’ll expect it.”

“Okay,” Puck nods resolutely, “I’m down for whatever, Cap. Just give me the ball.”

\\

Brittany has Mike and Sam get into position on the far left side of the field and their defenders mirror them. Puck’s situated behind Brittany hoping to get a running start once he’s handed the ball.

Brittany gets up close to her Center and gets her hands ready for the snap.

“Down,” She calls out as she eyes the defense’s movement. She stomps her left foot and Matt comes rushing across from the right side, “Down…HUT!”

She grips the ball tightly as she spins around and hands the ball off to Puck who is already running to the left side of the field. The handoff is smooth and Puck’s able to bring the ball in to his chest, his arms blocking the defenders from punching it out to force a fumble.

All Brittany can do is hang back and watch the play unfold.

Puck continues to run fast and hard, bouncing off a defender, then slipping through the break in the defense that Mike and Sam are able to create – something that Karofsky and Azimio haven’t been able to do all night!

The receivers stay with Puck and offer some protection as he continues to up field, leaving Crawford County in his dust. The Titans only needed three yards for the first down and Puck’s just crossing over for five!

Brittany’s jumping up and down, pumping her fist, as she watches him haul ass. Mike gets tripped up as he throws his body in the way of a defender that nearly got his hands on Puck, so now it’s just Sam that’s chasing after him. Two Crawford County players are closing in on Puck but the endzone is just a few yards away now.

He could go all the way!

Suddenly, one of the defenders leaps forward and gets his arm around Puck’s waist and soon his heels are digging into the turf to slow him down. Puck keeps fighting though and he’s able to get an extra yard until Sam and the other defender collide into him.

“Hell yeah!” Brittany cheers as she runs up to meet the rest of her team. She jumps up in time to bump shoulders with Puck and when they land to the ground in time, she slaps him on the helmet, “Way to step up, Puck!”

Puck tosses the ball to the Ref before turning to Karofsky and Azimio with this smug grin on his face, “Told you I didn’t need you.”

“Quit it,” Brittany chastises although she’s also pretty proud that they were able to pull off that play without relying on her guards.

Now not only did they get the first down, they’re also just yards away from the endzone!

A great turn of events for the Titans, but she can’t let that get to their heads just yet. It wouldn’t be the first time they’ve been able to get this far and not come away with a touchdown. They need to be more focused than ever – especially with the game clock still ticking away.

“Alright let’s keep the momentum going,” Brittany says in the quick huddle, “We made it this far, let’s have something to show for it. Okay? Titans on three. One…two…three!”

“Titans!”

\\

Brittany sets her mouthguard back in place before rubbing the towel that dangles from her waistband between her bare fingers to wick away the sweat. Her heart races in anticipation for being this close to the endzone but she inhales deeply to try and slow it down. It’s important that she remains cool and composed because stress on the field right now is like blood in the water and Crawford County are the sharks.

This next play was meant to be a simple run up the guts by Puckerman but Brittany reads the defense’s formation like an open book. They’re going to blitz – not good. Defenders are going to rush at them from all angles at full speed to flush out any possible run game, so Brittany has to opt for Plan B: a slant route.

“Alert! Alert!” The quarterback yells down the line in both directions to warn the team that she’s going with Plan B. From the corner of her eye, she sees #89 creep towards the gap in her O-Line and quickly points it out, “Watch #89!”

Matt adjusts his position so that he can block the defender before Brittany’s calling for the snap.

The ball is hiked and Brittany secures it in her hands. Within seconds, she quickly fires it at Mike, but his defender is able to bat it down before the receiver can bring it in for a catch. Mike looks to the turf and shakes his head as he jogs back to the line of scrimmage.  

Brittany brushes it off though and they reset for the second down.

“Shake it off,” She tells her team as she readies herself for the snap.

This time Brittany fakes the handoff to Puck before running in the opposite direction. No one is open though and the defense is quickly closing in on her. She looks left. She looks right. Still no one can get open. To avoid a second sack of the game or a possible interception, Brittany throws the ball over the heads of Sam and his defender out of bounds.

She starts to feel the pressure as the Titans head into their third down.

Brittany of course still has hope that they’ll make something happen. If anything, she can always bring out Kurt and the special teams for a field goal instead. That’s 3 extra points on the board, but being this close to the endzone? Brittany has to do everything she can to bring in a touchdown.

“This is it, boys,” Brittany says to her team in the huddle, “This is the moment Coach was talking about. There’s only a couple minutes left of this game and it’s looking good for us, but we can make it look even better.”

The guys look battered and bruised but they all nod along with Brittany.

“Big Wheels,” The quarterback calls before looking to Mike and Sam, “Run fast, get open and I’ll find you.”

Mike and Sam knock their fists together and nod.

Brittany then looks to Karofsky and Azimio. She heard Santana and Puck’s claims about them while the Trainer was looking her over. Honestly, she’s never been in this kind of situation where there’s a possibility that her own teammates would purposely let her get hit.

She looks at them with her jaw tightened, “Now’s the time to prove to everyone on this team – including me – that you deserve to be here.”

“What –“

“Don’t,” Brittany stops them, “Show. Don’t tell.”

The guards look taken aback but the rest of the team sides with Brittany on this. It’s one thing to be an asshole, but to upset the balance of the team on purpose like they’ve allegedly done? It doesn’t sit well with anyone.

“Let’s go Titans!” Brittany claps before everyone walks out of the huddle and into position.

Big Wheels is a passing play, that means Brittany has to sit in the pocket long enough for her receivers to get into position up field then it becomes a jump ball. She launches it to whoever she thinks has the best chance at jumping up and catching it despite their coverage.

Usually, the play is used for Hail Mary situations – for when they’re so far away from the endzone or first down that Brittany just has to chuck it and see if it’s caught. It’s a ballsy play, especially if coverage is tight but Brittany has faith in her receivers.

After all, they won their first game against Crawford County with this exact play. It’s kind of fitting that they do it again.

\\

The Titans walk up to the line of scrimmage and the energy in the stadium spikes. Time is quickly ticking away and this could potentially be their last play of the entire game. The Cheerios are shouting Go! Fight! Win! and the spectators pump their fist in time with each word.

Brittany looks to Santana in what feels like the first time since she left the field earlier. She’s the only one not cheering along with the squad, but instead anxiously awaiting the Titans’ next move. The incoming play relies heavily on Karofsky and Azimio doing their job correctly so it can buy Brittany some time in the pocket.

If Santana knew that was Brittany’s plan, the blonde can probably guess that she wouldn’t be too pleased with her – especially if she’s meant to be careful. This isn’t a careful sport though and Brittany can’t live in her fears. For the overall success of the team, she has to put herself in risky positions sometimes.

But it’s endearing to see Santana worry about her, so Brittany gives the Co-Captain a thumbs up before readying herself for the snap.

“Down…hut. Down...hut,” Brittany calls out coolly before leaning in again, “HUT!”

The ball is instantly in the quarterback’s hands and she drops back, keeping an eye on the defenders trying to squeeze their way through her O-Line as well as her receivers crossing into the endzone. She’s able to avoid a defender’s arm as he tries to slap the ball from her hands before Azimio pushes him back.

It’s that move that gives Brittany enough room to step up in the pocket and fire the ball towards Sam. He and his defender both jump up in the air, arms outstretched towards the incoming ball. Brittany watches with her breath held as the ball is juggled then caught and the two land in a tangled mess in the endzone.

She isn’t able to breathe again until the Sam pops up from the ground with the game winning ball in his hand just as the Ref signals the touchdown is good!

\\

Crawford County gets the ball back with just over two minutes left in the game and they are unsuccessful in scoring against the invigorated Titans defense.

The McKinley Titans end up winning the game: 38 – 28.

They’re off to the Championships along with Carmel High for the first time in who knows how many years and they couldn’t be more excited! The Titans shake hands with the opposing team before returning to their sidelines to celebrate. They’re spraying each other with drink bottles and dancing to the music that’s blasting through the stadium speakers.

Brittany steps back and takes it all in with a proud smile on her face.

The sights and sounds and this feeling that can’t be replicated; it’s like no other and she soaks it up. Her family is chanting her name from the stands and it makes her laugh when she sees Pete with his entire face painted red and white. Her little brother is something else, it warms her heart to see him cheer for her so passionately. It reminds her a little of their dad and she’s glad that Pete’s carrying on his legacy.  

Then there’s Santana who stares at her with this quiet kind of content. Her face is relaxed of any expression, but a storm cloud looms over her as she watches Brittany stand alone on the field.

Those on the team that have girlfriends are being hugged and kissed and congratulated, but not Brittany.

She just looks at Santana, waiting and willing her to do something – will she surprise her even more than she already has tonight? Will she finally blow off whatever anyone has to say about her or them and just do what feels right? Will she just come over here and kiss her already?

It’s like Brittany’s giving her this unspoken second chance and it really does look like Santana wants to do everything Brittany’s hoping she would. The Co-Captain is looking around at Quinn and Mike, Sugar and Sam, even Puck is making googly eyes at some random Cheerio. They’re both surrounded by everything they wish they could be, but Santana never makes a move.

Instead, she deflates – as if to say I can’t – before leaving with her head hung low and that just about answers Brittany’s questions.

\\

Despite the win under her belt, Brittany’s spirits never get quite as high as her teammates’. She wishes they would, anything to make this sinking feeling go away, but it never does. Brittany can only watch as Santana and the other Cheerios leave the field and the stands begin to empty.

This is the place Brittany blooms, right here on this field, but for the first time ever that doesn’t happen. She doesn’t feel whole even after the win and she hates that she knows why that is. She just saw the reason walk away from her and there’s nothing she can do about it.

She just looks up at the bright stadium lights and wishes on them as if they were stars. She wishes that things would right themselves. She wishes for courage and strength, but not for herself. She wishes for things to get better because she doesn’t know how to make that happen on her own.

Brittany keeps wishing because in the place she used to feel so sure of herself, she has never felt so lost in the lights.

\\

After finally going over to see her family and listening in on Coach Beiste’s post-game speech, Brittany makes her way to the girls’ locker room to get changed. She’s starting to feel those couple of hard hits she took during the game as she sets down her scuffed helmet and gets to work shedding her pads.

Brittany’s muscles are tight and her throwing arm is a little sore but it’s a nice relief once she gets her shoulder pads off. She strips down to her leggings and sports bra as she wanders over to the showers to get the water going. For once, she’s grateful she is the only one there because that means she won’t have to compete for hot water.

Brittany’s setting down a change of clothes on the bench by the shower stall when the locker room door creaks open. Brittany looks up and is stunned by who she sees creeping in.

“Hi,” Santana greets, her voice quiet as she closes the door behind her. She looks like a meek little mouse with her hands hidden in the pockets of her Cheerios jacket.

Brittany swallows dryly. She didn’t expect to see her here after the look they shared on the field, but Brittany greets her nonetheless.

“Hey. What are you doing here?”

Santana takes a couple timid steps closer, “Just wanted to say great game.”

“Thanks,” Brittany nods before turning back to hang her towel on the hook. She has to keep busy so she doesn’t try to turn this into something bigger than it is, “Have you been hanging around just to tell me that?”

“Kind of.”

“Could’ve texted me,” Brittany shrugs but Santana only nods.

“I didn’t want to. I…I also wanted to apologize about running on the field,” Santana adds to Brittany’s surprise, “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“You were worried.”

Santana lets loose a nervous chuckle, “No, I was – “

Brittany sends her a tired look and it has Santana stopping in her tracks. She looks as if she’s just been scolded although Brittany didn’t even say a word.

“Okay,” Santana relents, “I was worried. You weren’t moving and I just…I thought the absolute worst.”

Brittany sucks in a shaky breath and watches as Santana carefully takes another few steps closer, “And that made you run out on the field?”

“Well yeah,” Santana says easily, “I couldn’t just stand there and watch you like that. What if it was serious? You never know it’s the last time until it is and I didn’t want that. I don’t want that.”

Santana’s words strike a sensitive nerve within Brittany, but the quarterback continues to stand there with this look of indifference. She’s not sure whether Santana’s still talking about the game or what and it frustrates her.

“You don’t want that?” Brittany lets out a bitter laugh, “I don’t get you, Santana.”

Santana’s shoulders fall slightly, but she moves closer again. Now that they’re just an arm’s length away it overwhelms Brittany to have her so near, but she stays focused.

“Your words and your actions don’t add up,” Brittany continues, “You say you don’t have feelings but you rush the field when you think I’ve been hurt? You can see how I’m struggling to make sense of that, right?”

Brittany can see Santana trying to form the words but she moves too slowly.

“I don’t know what to think anymore,” Brittany adds, “I don’t know how you feel about me and it’s confusing and I don’t like it. I don’t like these kind of games. I don’t want to guess, Santana. I shouldn’t have to. If you don’t really like me then spare me the heartache and the runaround and just tell – “

Santana’s lips are on hers in an instant.

It’s like that same sigh of relief and Brittany hates how she relaxes into it out of habit. Santana cradles Brittany’s face in her hands so gently and she kisses her like her whole life depends on it. She kisses Brittany impatiently, like she’s trying to put everything she can’t say out loud behind it – but that’s what’s wrong with them, isn’t it?

Sometimes this isn’t enough, sometimes people need to hear it for themselves too.

When Brittany reluctantly pulls away from Santana, her whole body is a buzz. Her heart tells her to get back in there, to press Santana against the wall and kiss her hard, but her head says no. She can’t go back on her stance, she needs a real explanation – not a kiss that can be interpreted however the heart wants.

“This isn’t an answer,” Brittany says with her lips still tingling from the searing kiss.

“I know it isn’t,” Santana sighs. She sounds desperate as she drops her hands from Brittany’s cheeks to rest on her hips. Her thumbs smooth over Brittany’s bare skin, “But it’s all I’ve been thinking about doing as soon as you opened your eyes after that hit.”

Santana starts to lean in again and Brittany lets her, because she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t thinking about doing the same thing too.

“I wasn’t brave enough to do it out there,” Santana husks; her eyes are steady on Brittany’s, “I’m sorry. I wish I could be the kind of person you deserve to be with but I don’t think I am…not yet.”

Brittany bites the corner of her lip in thought. It’s the worst idea because she can taste just a hint of Santana’s lip gloss there and it distracts her for a moment from taking Santana’s words in. It’s the first time she’s hearing Santana be honest about her feelings and it breaks her heart a little to think Santana doesn’t see what Brittany sees in her.  

“I want to be though,” Santana adds, “I want to be brave enough to hold your hand when we walk down the hall together. I want to take you out on dates and buy you all the flowers that make me think of you, but most importantly I want to be able to kiss you whenever and wherever. Whether it’s between classes or out on that field in front of everyone after you’ve won the big game, I want to be brave enough to do it…I just don’t know how to do that.”

“I can help you,” Brittany offers, “You don’t have to do this alone.”

The tears welling in Santana’s eyes are unexpected, but the Co-Captain blinks them away as smile graces her lips, “So I’ve heard.”

“It’s true, Santana.”

“I know,” Santana replies, “It’s just taken awhile for me to believe it. You came here and everything changed, I changed. But it isn’t enough. You deserve someone who isn’t afraid to show you that they…that they like you. A lot. I want to be that someone someday.”

Brittany’s so moved by Santana words that she surprises herself by being the one to lean in first. She inhales sharply as their mouths crash together once again. It’s everything that Brittany has been trying to pull out of Santana and now that she finally heard it, she doesn’t know what to do but kiss her long and hard.  

Santana’s hands are gripping Brittany’s sides while the blonde frowns at not be able to feel more of Santana too. As if Santana could read Brittany’s mind, she starts to shrug out of her Cheerios jacket. Brittany helps with pulling it all the way off before it’s tossed to the floor. Neither of them are thinking too clearly about where this is going, but the shower steam is filling the room like a sauna and it’s make their clothes feel too tight.

“Fuck,” Santana whines when Brittany nips at her lower lip.

“Take this off,” Brittany groans as she tugs on Santana’s top. The brunette’s hands have been all over Brittany and it just isn’t fair that she can’t feel Santana too.

Santana obliges without a second thought and the top falls to join her jacket on the floor.

Brittany gulps when she sees Santana’s lacy, black bra while her hands move on their own to roam. Her breath hitches though when Santana hooks her fingers into the waistband of her tights.

“These too,” Santana whispers against Brittany’s swollen lips.

Brittany quickly sheds them, trying her hardest to keep from breaking the kiss but it’s nearly impossible to do. They giggle when Brittany hobbles around on one foot trying to pull the last of the tights from around her ankle, but then it’s not so funny.

She’s standing there in just her bra and boy shorts while Santana mirrors her doing the same. The Cheerios skirt is the last layer Santana has on and it falls to pool around her ankles.

They’re equal now and Brittany’s chest is heaving at the sight. Her head is begging to know is this really happening but she’s pressed snooze on it for the time being. In this moment, she can’t help but follow her heart and it’s telling her to go for it.

Whatever it means.

“I’ve never,” Santana whispers a second later.

Brittany’s heart pounds but her voice comes out surprisingly even, “Ever?”

Santana gives her a look that makes Brittany want to laugh. It’s the perfect way to break up such a nerve racking moment.

“With a guy, yes. With a girl…no.”

“Well I figured considering I was your first girl kiss,” Brittany jokes and it has Santana smiling bashfully. Brittany softens, “We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”

Santana steps closer and her eyes flicker between Brittany’s piercing blues.

Then Santana leans in and the kiss that follows is softer than the ones before. It’s slow and methodical and Brittany melts into her yet again, but it doesn’t last for too long. The kiss turns needy and before Brittany knows it, she’s stepping backwards into the shower. She can’t tell if she’s the one doing the guiding or if it’s Santana, maybe it’s just a mutual thing, but when the warm water hits their bodies they pull each other closer.

They still have their bras and underwear on and the water is starting to soak through, but they don’t seem to notice as they continue to trade hungry kisses beneath the spray. After such a rough game in the freezing cold, this is the perfect way to warm up. It’s like Brittany can feel everything and it would be so overwhelming if she didn’t love every second of it.

Her hands smooth over all of this newly exposed skin, memorizing each and every curve of Santana’s body as if she was never going to see it again. Who knows, maybe she won’t? It’s one thing at a time and right now that one thing is showing Santana how great they could be together.

“Good thing you picked this one,” Santana mumbles breathlessly about the stall.

Brittany shakes away the daze of her thoughts, “What?”

“I pay the janitor to deep clean it twice a week,” Santana smirks, “No one else is meant to use it but me.”

“Whoops,” Brittany snickers, “I wondered why it was always so clean. There’s always really nice smelling body wash in here too.”

“You’re welcome.”

Brittany and Santana giggle as they share one more kiss, but this one isn’t like the others. It’s sweet and chaste and happens almost out of reflex.

Santana’s the first to break it this time, “So are you going to like…wash yourself or?”  

Brittany quirks a brow, “You saying I stink?”

Santana gives her a look and Brittany sends it right back.

“Why else would I be in the shower, Santana?” Brittany teases, “There are many walls in here that I could’ve pinned you against other than this very clean one.”

“Smart ass,” Santana smirks as she grabs the shampoo, “Turn around. I’ll do your hair.”

“Really?” Brittany grins but Santana just shrugs. The blonde turns and lets Santana get to work washing her hair like it’s the most natural thing in the world for them.

“I’ve never showered with my clothes on,” Brittany admits.

“You can lose them if you want.”

Brittany looks over her shoulder at Santana to find her with this smug grin on her face.

“I doubt you could handle that,” Brittany flirts.

“You’re probably right.”

The blonde feels that same familiar sense of floating that she’s been so desperately missing the past couple of days as Santana scratches at her scalp. Even if they’re not doing anything too risky, this is much more intimate than they’ve ever been. It’s a nice change and it almost makes up for the last couple of days they’ve been apart.

\\

Once Santana rinses Brittany’s hair, they go back to kissing lazily. They shift back and forth from hungry and needy to soft and slow, but their last layer of clothes is never shed. Despite their bras and bottoms being a sopping wet mess, no one crosses that barrier. They just stand beneath the spray like that until the water starts to lose its warmth.

Brittany finally feels like herself again, like maybe things will be okay but there’s an odd moment of clarity and it has her pressing pause.

“We should still talk about things,” Brittany reminds Santana, “This doesn’t count.”

Santana pulls away and looks Brittany in the eye again, “I know.”

“Okay.”

Santana gives her a shy smile, “Soon.”

Brittany nods before Santana steals another kiss. She has high hopes, because that’s just who she is. She always searches for the best in people, she always gives third and fourth chances. Whether or not that’s her greatest trait or her biggest downfall, she’ll never know. But when it comes to Santana, she just has to keep her head up.

Santana said they’ll talk soon, so she’s going to hold her to that.

[prinxlyart]

Oh thos warm moments of redemption hit me right in the feels >///<. (I'mma definitely gonna compile all your headcanons in one doc and you can't stop me!). Anyways, now getting back to lumity (prepare thyselve because I'm HUNGRY): How does the redeemed Odalia's relationship with Luz and Willow develop? And regarding our three girls in particular, how do they act right after their proposals, during the wedding and on their honeymoon?

(Lmao please, lord knows I’ll never put any of these into a doc)

Hmmm, that’s a really good question. Er, several questions. Imma go in order of how they were asked.

[tw: for mentions of severe depression /thoughts of suicide starting with bullet #4. I’ll be sure to add the warnings before and after the section as well. Please continue with caution.]

Blight Parents’ relationship with their daughters-in-law:

I think just due to how they got to where they are by this point, they both have a soft spot for Luz. She’s the one that reached out to them in the first place after all of their kids left the family. They feel a v specific gratitude towards her and Camila both because these humans work so hard to get shit done. It’s an admirable trait. One they’re glad the Nocedas aimed at them. It’s taken so much time and energy to get the Blights be, like. Tolerable people? And then even more to get them to actually act like parents.

I think at first, any time they’re unsure of how to act or react to a situation, they’ll go to Luz for guidance. They’ve gone their whole lives up until just a few years ago acting a certain way and just flipping all that? It can be difficult to break those habits. Any time they feel they should react in anger or irritation or disgust, they stop and think “no, wait. What would Luz/Camila do? Would they get mad...?” And they just give her a look of confusion and guilt before Luz mimes the sort of reaction that would be healthiest. Any time Amity catches them literally looking to Luz on how to act supportive she just rolls her eyes. They’re trying and that’s what matters.

I think at first they just don’t know how to interact with Willow. They apologized for how they treated her in the past at great length, but Willow just sort of nodded along quietly. They weren’t used to that sort of reaction (granted they’ve only just started doing this “apologizing” thing for a few months at this point in time. They’re still getting the hang of it). So they sit uncomfortably for a while until Willow sighs and sort of sits up straighter. She’d resolved to tell them about how their careless and cruel treatment of Amity was the first step in a chain reaction to Willow’s life becoming absolutely miserable for years to follow.

Not only was she forced to lose her best friend at that birthday party, but she had to do so in the cruelest way possible. Amity explained to her years back that she pretended to not like her because she couldn’t do magic to hide the fact that her parents threatened Willow. Because the Blights are supposed to be perfect. Amity has always been smart and she knew what would happen if she let it slip that they had threatened her. If Willow knew the truth, she’d tell her dads and her dads would try to confront them about it. It would end up turning into a scandal (although Amity admitted she wasn’t familiar with the word at the time; it was just one of those words she heard her mom use a lot for situations that were bad). So as a result of Amity doing her part to “protect” the Blight name, she shunned Willow from her life and broke both their hearts in the process.

[TW: discussion of severe depression and thoughts/intentions of suicide. If you’re in a vulnerable headspace right now, please scroll until you see the next notice signaling the end of the section. And please, if you’re struggling with depression and/or thoughts of suicide, please please please seek professional help.]

Willow recounts the years of endless bullying, not always by Amity’s new friends, but often by them. She tells them how Amity wouldn’t necessarily participate so much as observe with a carefully schooled expression. And then there were times when Amity did bully her, and that hurt so much more than everyone else combined. All so she wouldn’t be publicly shamed or get in trouble with her parents for associating with someone like Willow.

She tells them that it literally took Luz coming into their lives for any of that to change. Amity had turned 7 on the birthday she cut Willow out of her life, and they were 14 when Luz showed up. Half of Willow’s entire life up to that point had been friendless (or nearly friendless) and so severely bullied that she was actually debating growing a Graveleaf plant to brew tea with. She still has to take a daily healing potion prescribed by her doctor to keep her mind from falling back to that same state it used to be in. Yes, her life has greatly improved ever since Luz showed up and helped repair her friendship with Amity. Yes, it’s only gotten better since then. Yes, she loves her fiancées with everything she has. But that doesn’t mean all that pain has suddenly been erased and it doesn’t always stop her brain from sinking back into its depressed state.

Needless to say, the Blights are absolutely floored with all of this information. They’re both frozen in shock, they don’t know what to do or say to such an admission. Willow just continues though. She tells them that she’s so grateful to have Amity back in her life. That with therapy, her daily medicine, and time, she’s come a long way from where she once was. Her bad days aren’t nearly as bad as they were when she was a kid. She has both of her fiancées to support her and love her when she’s feeling down. She tells them that no, she can’t forgive them for what they’ve done. But she accepts their apology and appreciates them making the effort to make things right. Seeing Amity happy because her parents are actually trying to be better makes Willow happy.

I think......Alador would be the one to go to Willow and kneel before her and take her hand, apologizing with as much intent as he can muster. He’s a little more in touch with his emotions these days than Odalia is, and he’s lost a family member to suicide before. He knows how devastating it can be to everyone around them and he’s mortified at the fact that Willow had almost done the same. He understands how much she means to Amity and he comes to the realization mid-apology that he could have very well lost his own daughter in a similar fashion had Willow gone through with that. Odalia goes white as a sheet at hearing that, steadying herself in her chair and it makes Willow feel queasy, but she’s glad that he understands the severity of what they’d done. She does put a hand to Alador’s shoulder to comfort him as he reels from this realization and he stands properly again to wrap Willow in a hug as he cried, still muttering apologies through his tears. I think it takes a while for Odalia to be able to speak again, but Willow is able to see that that struggle means it’s rocked her to her core. Once Odalia is able to also stammer out her own apologies, Willow just gives her a small smile and nods.

[END OF SECTION. Now it’s all fluff from here on out. Have fun, kids.]

After that discussion, Alador and Odalia double down on the whole “being better” thing. During one of their weekly tea meetings, they ask Camila how they might start doing that in their daily lives too, not just for their children. Camila doesn’t know the first thing about their jobs or what they do or the people they work with, so she tells them to make a list of things they can think of that might’ve been considered hurtful to some degree. The tea definitely goes cold long before the list is done; Camila actually needs to leave before they finish it. The next meeting, there’s a comically large scroll of shit they’ve done sitting on the table and they are sitting with their heads cowed in shame. I think Camila pops an ibuprofen before her headache settles in.

They still don’t know how to do nice things without throwing money at it first. That takes a while for them to wrap their heads around. Luz and Willow aren’t ones for like. Big, extravagant, expensive things. They prefer the heartfelt stuff, like hand-made gifts or thoughtful acts of service. (Amity, however, insists they accept her parents ridiculously expensive weekend getaway trip to the Iliac Crest Hot Springs; the top of the left hip bone of the Titan. A well-known vacation spot for romantic getaways. Willow only accepts because she knows they’d never be able to afford that on their own and Luz accepts it as a wedding gift and an opportunity to go to a part of the Boiling Isles she’s never explored before.)

Alador is like every dad ever; he loves talking about random trivia shit to anyone who will listen. Luz is literally the only person that will listen because even though she’s lived in the Demon Realm for years now, she still doesn’t know all the “fun facts” that everyone else has grown up with. Sometimes she’ll bring up points about random trivia bits Alador is going on about and put in her own two snails about something she’s experienced regarding it, and she and Alador will go back and forth for a while like that, talking about the stuff they’ve experienced relating to that thing. Willow thinks it’s adorable and Amity is mostly just exasperated (but she also thinks it’s cute and she loves watching her dad bond with her fiancée like this).

Odalia will occasionally ask Amity about her abominations and they’ll sort of awkwardly talk for a while about the technicalities and ingredients and Odalia will mention adding an ingredient Amity’s never even considered before. When she inquires further, Odalia tells her that she’ll sometimes work with a friend in the Emperor’s coven that specialized in the plant track to experiment with creating abominations with different kinds of ingredients for different tasks. Amity is shocked and impressed to hear about her own mother mixing magic and teases her for breaking the rules right under the emperor’s nose. Odalia stammers at that (she’s still getting used to Belos no longer being in power and the stigma against mixing magic still runs strong in her mind), but eventually admits that yes, technically she’s mixed magic. Amity makes her promise to show her how with Willow and they make a whole day of it.

Spending the day making weird abominations with Odalia Blight was Not something Willow thought she’d ever say she’d done, but hey. She didn’t think King could beat Luz in that one eating contest either because where does he put all that food, but he ended up winning anyway. Willow and Amity are actually super excited to try mixing their knowledge of magic together; it almost feels intimate in a way. It’s something neither have tried before and are able to try for the first time together because it’s their specialties. Odalia guides them through the process of mixing different types of plants into the abomination mixture to make abominations specific for extra strength or abominations that help enhance healing magic just due to its properties. They all end up having a lot of fun that day, just making all sorts of varieties of abominations. By the time the day is done, they’re all covered in abomination goop because one of them accidentally exploded. Luz managed to get a picture of them all laughing together and covered in goop before they go to clean up. It’s one of her favorite pictures.

As time goes on, things get less and less tense between the Blight parents and Luz and Willow (especially with Willow). They grow more comfortable with being good parents, good people, and just kinder and more loving in general. There’s one day when the Blights come to visit and they greet each girl with a hug and kiss without really realizing it. They all go to settle down in the living room, but Amity’s still frozen at the doorway, covering her mouth and trying desperately to wipe away the tears that crept up at the display of affection. No one else had thought anything of it, but that was the first time her parents had shown the same and love and affection to both of her wives without any hesitation or fear of crossing boundaries. She cherishes the memory of that moment often.

Proposal Reactions:

I genuinely don’t know how these girls would propose to each other. There’s any number of possibilities; they’re all so creative. The part of me that wants to make funny cartoons would have them each scrambling to figure out the best way to propose to each other and getting into ridiculous hijinks when they try to get their friends’ help (Amity would ask Emira and Edric [and the detention gang by extension; Viney’s remained best friends with Jerbo and Barcus after all this time]. Willow I think would recruit Gus and oddly enough, Lilith [she sees Eda as too much of a mother to Luz to feel comfortable with asking her to help her propose to her daughter]. Luz would definitely ask Eda, King and Camila to help but regret it almost instantly). Of course everyone would end up tripping over one another and each proposal attempt would end in disaster but all three girls would see the resulting destruction (maybe several things on fire?) and just laugh their asses off. Because wow, this could’ve gone so much better, but hey, you guys wanna get married?

The sappy romantic in me tho. Would want them to discuss it thoroughly before hand; agree that yes they’d love to get married, they’re just not sure if it’s the right time. But Luz, being the person she is, would go and recruit everyone’s help in coming up with the best proposal ever. Willow and Amity are both busy with their respective jobs just enough to not notice all the scheming going on. And then one day when all 3 of them have the same day off, Luz takes them out for a fun day (whatever that entails; maybe a day at a carnival or just wandering around town or something). At the end of the day, she takes them somewhere significant (this could literally be anywhere, Grom Tree is a good place because of the view it has over the cliff’s edge, but yknow. Whatever suits their relationship as a trio) and everything is decked out in lights and decorations. And Amity and Willow are both stunned and enthralled by the display and they turn to see Luz down on one knee and holding two small boxes, holding one out to each of them and a super nervous smile on her face. Amity and Willow maybe accidentally tackle her to the ground when they tried to hug her.

During the wedding:

I think they’re all stressed during the wedding itself. They’re excited, of course, a whole ceremony dedicated to the three of them vowing to spend the rest of their lives together. They aren’t capable of imaging a life without each other at this point. But that doesn’t stop the nerves from settling in.

Eda’s constantly telling Luz to calm down before the ceremony actually begins; Luz is found pacing and coming up with doomsday scenarios out loud at light speed like she always does when she’s nervous. Camila and Eda are also nervous, but they’re doing their best to keep it together for Luz’s sanity. Camila’s making sure (with Emira, as Em is the Maid of Honor) that everything is going smoothly and according to plan. But she has similar nervous habits to Luz when she doesn’t have something to focus her attention on. She ends up fussing over Luz’s hair and getting rid of any imaginary wrinkles in her outfit, making sure her makeup is perfect until Eda tells her to quit treating Luz like a dress up doll. Eda’s really good at pep talks, even when she’s nervous, but she manages to calm both Nocedas down with her patented Soft Encouraging Voice.

Amity’s freaking out in her own way in a separate room with all of her girls (Emira, Skara, a fully and properly redeemed Boscha). She’s freaking out similarly to Luz in that she’s mumbling to herself all sorts of ridiculous what-ifs and wishing desperately that she could just be with Luz and Willow already because they bring her the most comfort. She’s not pacing like Luz though, she’s sitting while Emira and Skara do some intricate thing with her hair while Boscha’s doing her makeup but that doesn’t stop her from wringing her hands and bouncing her leg (something that Boscha has to tell her to stop doing every 30 seconds or she’ll mess up the makeup she’s doing). Emira’s giving her advice for every little “what-if” she can hear coming out of Amity, with some silly remarks from Boscha and Skara that actually puts Amity somewhat at ease. Having her girls acting calm and natural did help. She thanks them for doing as much at the reception.

Willow’s trying to get herself into game mode with a pep talk. No place for nerves, only well-thought action. She’s actually got Viney there with her (who had to kick Gus out because he was crying at just the sight of Willow in her wedding dress), as well as Bo and Kat (I think those are the names of the two healing track girls....someone tell me if I’m wrong, but I think Bo is the one in the Human Appreciation Society and I think Kat is the one with the glasses that played on Boscha’s team in the Grudgby match). Willow’s girls are all hyping her up like she’s about to enter a Grudgby match rather than a wedding ceremony, and the ridiculousness of it all is staving off her nerves. Viney’s also giving her own personal experience as advice; she may or may not have tripped during her own wedding and is making sure Willow knows how to avoid that at all costs.

I genuinely don’t know what the role of the Best Man is, but I know in one of my past headcanon posts I mentioned that both Edric and Gus are asked to fill that role (there’s no such thing as rules when you’ve got a human and two witches getting married on the boiling isles). I think while Emira and Camilia are helping their respective brides-to-be get ready, Edric and Gus are taking over making sure everything is running smoothly and all the guests know where to go. When they’re just sort of standing around and waiting for their next task, Gus starts tearing up again at the thought of Willow in her dress. Willow’s like the big sister he never had and now she’s getting married. Gus is constantly having to perform minor illusions on his face to make it look like he’s not about to cry or has already been crying. Edric hasn’t seen Amity yet, but he’s secretly doing the same thing whenever their minds aren’t preoccupied with whatever Event Tasks they need to focus on.

I think.....rather than a one-by-one thing, all three of our girls enter at the same time from different doors. Luz comes in from the left side door, Amity comes in from the right, and Willow comes in from the main entrance at the back. Luz is practically vibrating with nerves and excitement and the only reason she doesn’t run to the front to sweep her beautiful girls into excited, passionate kisses is solely due to her own mother’s iron grip on her arm as she walks her up. I actually don’t know if Alador has redeemed himself enough at this point for Amity to allow him to walk her up to the front, but I also think Edric would be too much of a mess to do so. I think a lifetime of keeping up a mask helps Alador maintain his composure long enough to get Amity up to the front and to take his seat before he lets the waterworks take over. I actually don’t know which of Willow’s dads would walk her up; we don’t know enough about either of them to make personality judegement calls. Whichever dad can hold it together for longer, probably.

Polyamory isn’t a new thing on the Boiling Isles; it may not be practiced as often among witches, but demons do it all the time, so the person officiating their wedding (it could be literally anyone, I have no idea. Maybe principal bump, just for funsies) knows exactly how this ceremony needs to go. They all planned beforehand exactly the order they’d kiss one another once they were proclaimed officially married: Luz would be too excited to wait and would kiss each of her girls first, Amity then Willow, and then Amity and Willow would share their own kiss once Luz had gotten that out of her system.

Honeymoon:

I don’t know enough about honeymoons to know if there’s a difference between a honeymoon and a normal vacation except Now You’re Married. Maybe they go on a grand expedition around the Boiling Isles? Maybe they honeymoon in the Human Realm? That’s exactly like the proposal situation; it could be literally anything. Far too many variables and ideas that could make it perfect for each of them. Hell, they could probably just say they’re going out and doing all sorts of stuff and actually just locking themselves in their house so they can just be together and relish in the relief of no longer needing to plan such a large and important event. They can just enjoy each other’s company as Wives now. I really don’t know.

Regardless of what they do, I think they’d be like any other person on their honeymoon: absolutely love struck and over the moon with how much they love each other. Sometimes they’ll catch one another staring and tease each other about it ( “awww you liiiikkkke meeee” “we literally just got married” “yeah I know but stiiiiiillllllllll”)

I actually don’t know what else you expect me to put here, so I guess I’ll just say they lived happily ever after, the end.