vennywrites

[vennywrites]

The Fallen

Part III

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Erwin Smith x Reader

Word Count: 3k

Summary: You’ve followed them into hell and back. What’s one more round, what’s one last push? So, when the final order comes, when Levi makes the impossible choice and Erwin’s dream lies shattered in it’s wake, you press a kiss to their lips and tell them you’re right where you need to be. It’s a good ending, a clean one. Your lives for the truth. Only that you wake hours later in the ruins of a battlefield. Your own personal hell - but your heart still beats.

Warnings: Canon Divergence, Return to Shiganshina Arc, Canon-typical Violence, Blood and Gore, Injury, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Trauma, Denial, Established Relationship

a/n: So grateful for your interactions with my work ♥ Only the Epilogue left, already shaking in my boots.

Ao3

-♦-

Day 3 after the Battle of Shiganshina - 850 - Inside Wall Maria

In your dreams, you are underwater.

In your dreams, you can’t swim.

In your dreams, you drown.

When you wake, you wake spluttering and coughing, your throat tingling, your chest so tight you feel like a titan has caught you in it’s grasp. Your skin is wet as you claw at your throat, your clothes heavy with water. Your lungs won’t work, your breathing fast and uneven. As you open your eyes, rain pours from the sky, the buzzing in your ears nothing more than the water hitting the world around you.

You feel worse than before. Erwin is asleep beneath you, so silent and still that you have to force yourself not to wake him just to see if he will. Water runs like teardrops down his face, hair clinging to his temples. What little shelter you have found is useless against the rainstorm.

Shivering and cold, you attempt to move the both of you to a dryer spot, somewhere where the rain won’t hit you right in the face, where you can curl back up and sleep. But lightning flashes above and thunder rolls across the sky and as Erwin refuses to wake and your lungs burn with enough pain to make you choke on it, you end up just curling back up in Erwin’s lap, wet and miserable.

Time creeps by and you do not sleep again. The rain does not let up. You sit until the light changes, until darkness turns to muted blues and sad greys.

Forcing yourself out of his arms and back out into the world becomes even harder. Your body is your greatest enemy, refusing to work, refusing to function as you drop back to your knees the moment you rise. Your head thrums with steps of dozens of titans, you chest squeezing you with the strength of one.

Some rational, detached part of yourself reminds you that time is running out. If you won’t find any gear or any help, if nobody comes to your rescue, both of you will die. Erwin will fall victim to his injuries, you will die of the infection or your head injury, maybe of pneumonia if your struggle to breathe is any indication.

So, you force yourself back to your feet, push yourself along the wall of your shelter and step back out into the battlefield, slower and weaker than yesterday.

Visibility is horrible. You stagger around aimlessly, find most bodies already covered beneath their cloaks, now dark and wet with water. When you find a soldier, half his body crushed and splattered across the ground, you feel the tears already well up again. He’s one of the few veterans you had left, one of the few who you know by name, a man with a family within Wall Rose. If you remember correctly, he has two boys, a wife who sings on the weekends. He’ll never see them again, neither will they ever see him.

What you find is his gun, still held tightly in his grip, nicks and dents but nothing that visibly indicates that it’s broken. So you take it. Inside is an unused smoke shell - red.

[Read the whole chapter on Ao3]

[vennywrites]

The Fallen

Part II

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Erwin Smith x Reader

Word Count: 4k

Summary: You’ve followed them into hell and back. What’s one more round, what’s one last push? So, when the final order comes, when Levi makes the impossible choice and Erwin’s dream lies shattered in it’s wake, you press a kiss to their lips and tell them you’re right where you need to be. It’s a good ending, a clean one. Your lives for the truth. Only that you wake hours later in the ruins of a battlefield. Your own personal hell - but your heart still beats.

Warnings: Canon Divergence, Return to Shiganshina Arc, Canon-typical Violence, Blood and Gore, Injury, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Trauma, Denial, Established Relationship

a/n: Second Part, hope you like it. Thanks so much for reading!

Ao3

-♦-

Day 2 after the Battle of Shiganshina - 850 - Inside Wall Maria

You wake to the sun rising, the sky tinted a tender pink. For a moment, everything is calm, beautiful even. There’s a flock of birds chasing across the sky, little orange clouds dotted where the crumbled house lets you look outside.

Then the pain sets in as your brain slowly wakes. It starts in your arm, for all it’s numbness yesterday it blazes like a wildfire as you as much as attempt to lift your head. The throb in your skull is still there, persistent, dizzying if you move too much. You shift as slow as a snail, working your way to move your head enough to gaze at Erwin.

He’s asleep, eyes closed, mouth agape as his chin rests against his chest. He’s horribly pale, the bandages around his midsection stiff with dried blood as your fingers brush against it. You reach for him, feel the stubble on his jaw as you trace the subtle lines on his face. He’s hauntingly cold to the touch and you’re left scared, mouth dry as you think about all the things that could go wrong - could have gone wrong.

You whisper his name as you stroke his cheek. Over and over you mumble it, until you’re speaking louder, almost shouting as he doesn’t react.

When his eyes wearily blink open, you exhale loudly, unaware you were holding your breath. Cradling his face, you push your lips against his skin, showering him in kisses from his temple to his jaw.

“You’re okay,” you tell him in hopes to make yourself believe it. He huffs a laugh, something that sounds so miserable you wish he wouldn’t force himself to try, fully aware he’s doing it for you.

“I’ll be,” he affirms, his eyes tracking you as you straighten, finally lifting your face from his shoulder. You can feel the indent of the embroidery on your skin, feel the remains of cracked blood that lingers on your cheek and temple.

He watches you as you slowly rise and settle across from him, your body feeling like one giant bruise, the skin on your good arm a splotchy mix of dark blues and purples. You wonder how your face looks, briefly wonder why there’s no bruises on Erwin’s face that looks so gaunt and haunted, but unmarked by broken blood vessels.

“How are you feeling?” He questions you as you carefully study your wounded arm. Whatever remains of the skin is taut to the touch, reddish and swollen. Where the skin has split open, where bone pokes out, the edges have taken on a darker taint - infection has already settled in. You make a weak effort of knotting a sling for your arm. The scraps of fabric you discarded the night prior aren’t enough and so you sit there hopelessly for a moment, before your eyes dart back to him.

“Like I was stepped on. But I’ll live.”

He hums in agreement, shifting ever so slightly, arm raising towards his cloak. “Take it,” he gestures, motioning to the clasp around his neck, “you can tie it into a sling. You’re the one of us who’ll be moving around.”

You don’t question him, you rarely ever have, and so you lean in closely, your fingers weak as you fidget with the clasp, knuckles brushing against his throat. He swallows, Adams apple bouncing as you apologize, helping him to shift his body forward as you pull the cape out from under him. His balance is off, his whole body sagging against you before you manage to help him ease back against the wall.

Another groan falls from his lips as you support his head, gently setting it back against the wall before clumsily folding and knotting the cape. It’s large, larger than yours and it takes you a while to adjust the size so it supports your arm properly, but once it’s done you feel steadier, your arm no longer randomly flashing with pain as it sits snuggly and securely in the sling.

“You talk like you have a plan,” you say, watching him. Despite his eyes being closed again, he smiles at your words, lashes fluttering and the tease of his dimples denting his cheeks.

“I think I do,” he admits and once again you’re relieved to find yourself alive, with him. Erwin’s the one who has a backup plan for the backup plan. He’s the only one you know who would have an idea of what to do in this kind of situation.

[Read the whole chapter on Ao3]

[vennywrites]

The Fallen

Part I

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Erwin Smith x Reader

Word Count: 4k

Summary: You’ve followed them into hell and back. What’s one more round, what’s one last push? So, when the final order comes, when Levi makes the impossible choice and Erwin’s dream lies shattered in it’s wake, you press a kiss to their lips and tell them you’re right where you need to be. It’s a good ending, a clean one. Your lives for the truth. Only that you wake hours later in the ruins of a battlefield. Your own personal hell - but your heart still beats.

Warnings: Canon Divergence, Return to Shiganshina Arc, Canon-typical Violence, Blood and Gore, Injury, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Trauma, Denial, Established Relationship

a/n: Here's part I. I'll post a chapter each Sunday, the tumblr post is just delayed bc I was on vacation. Thanks so much for reading!

Ao3

-♦-

Day 1 after the Battle of Shiganshina - 850 - Inside Wall Maria

The first sense to come back to you is your hearing and with it the utter silence surrounding you.

No wind, no birds, no screams or cries - nothing.

The second thing you notice are the smell and taste of blood. Iron sits heavy in your mouth, the stench of it lingering in the air around you. Your limbs are stiff and unmoving and when you finally find the strength to open your eyes, blood clumps your lashes together, turning the blue sky overhead a streaky red.

As you try to move again, something weights you down, so heavy and unmoving that you wonder if the stone that hit you still rests on top of you. You blink as best you can, try your hardest to make sense of yourself and the space around you.

Turning your head, you find death all around you.

Horses and comrades, stone and blood and blades all scattered across the fields where you lie, you’re surrounded by a self-imposed massacre.

Levi was right - Erwin led you straight into hell. You never expected it to be so quiet.

Who knows how long you lay there, staring at the sky above, waiting for the devil to claim you. But nothing happens. Silence reigns.

So when you find it in yourself to at least attempt to move, to sit up, you find not a bolder, but your horse collapsed atop of you, hear massive body, bloody and blown to bits, trapping half your body beneath.

You try your best not to remember your last moments.

So you sit up, only to find your left arm a bloody mess, crushed and twisted, pinkish bone sticking out in several places. Your head swims, your vision dizzy as you try to detach yourself from the very sight before you, from your very body that flares back to live with all it’s pains and all it’s horror.

You throw up before you even know what’s happening, bile rising so quickly that you spill your guts out into the trampled grass until you’re out of breath and wheezing, choking on your own spit and vomit.

A gust of wind gently blows across the fields, strands of loose hair, stringy with blood, stick to your forehead, Clover’s mane gently swaying in the breeze.

All around you, there’s only death.

Pushing at your horses corpse proves futile. Your whole body is shaking and weak, only one arm any use as you try to wriggle and scoot your way out from beneath her. You get a nosebleed somewhere along the way, spit blood every once in a while as you ever so slowly make progress in shifting out from under your dead horse.

You’re used to pain, used to the aches and the bruises and the broken bones from your missions. You’ve fallen before, bruising your whole body in the progress. Once, you got tangled in a stray cable, almost decapitating yourself in the process, the skin on your neck never fully recovering from the strain, still darkened and visible. You’ve been grabbed before too, a giant hand snatching you out of the air like a fly, squeezing enough to make your ribs crack like twigs. You’re used to the raw lines on your body where the harness sits, used to the bruising and the swollen redness that follows and lingers for weeks after a mission.

But this, this is death, it must be. While your arm is far beyond any feeling, immobile and so utterly ruined that you cannot even feel it anymore, the rest of your body makes up for it with a pain so ever-present and all-consuming that the slightest movement threatens to push you back into unconscious bliss.

Despite it all, you fight on. You’re a scout, you remind yourself. Not just that, but a senior member, one of the last remaining ones in your push to reclaim Shiganshina. You’re respected. And not only that, you’re loved. So loved.

Loved by two men who were willing to break protocol to ensure your survival.

Before your inner eye, everything in streaky red as if even your brain is bleeding, you see them both before you, Erwin with his easy smile, his handsome face and bright eyes. Levi, guarded and serious, but with hands that always linger, a voice that only softened when you were alone.

The thought of them is enough to make you fight on, to struggle against the carcass that weights you down and as a scream rips from your lips, you manage to get one leg free. Instant relief is something you weren’t sure you were capable to feel, yet with a leg free, you manage to free the other before collapsing back on the ground, grunting and spluttering from exertion.

Above you, small clouds drift by, unbothered by the carnage.

For a long while, you only lay there and shuffle the pain around, try to cope as best as you can. When you finally start moving, you roll slowly onto your belly before pushing yourself to a sit, you turn enough to spot the line of titans in the distance. You truly where one of the first to fall.

Where titans had stood steadfast and looming, now there’s only steam and crumbled bodies where Levi tore through them. In their midst, the giant ape lies defeated, enough steam rising to hide the horizon in a wavering cloud of smoke.

Pride warms your chest as you stare at the bodies. It wasn’t for nothing. Levi succeeded. You can only hope he made it back up the wall, joining Hange in her effort to stop Braun and Hoover.

Which leaves you with another task altogether.

Gritting your teeth, you push yourself up, bend your trembling legs to stand and feel the dizziness wash over you with a vengeance as you rise, vision blurring once more, nothing to hold onto as you fight for balance. You’re more than lucky - you’re aware - your ankles and knees, your legs overall still intact and unbroken. At your hips, your ODM gear hangs busted and broken, the metal casing bent, the device on your back lost somewhere along your downfall. You fumble with the straps, unclasp the buckles until the blade casings clatter to the ground, your body immediately lighter without the gear dragging you down.

When you lift your hand to your brow, the blood is dark and thick, coating your fingers like molten wax. You stain your dirty jacket in an effort to clean your face, to wipe the blood from your eyes, grimacing all the while as the fabric scraps over wounds.

Then, there’s only one thing on your mind. Somewhere in this field of death, Erwin lies. And you’re set on finding him.

With Titus being one of the only horses with a white coat, you know your best chance lies in finding the horse and not it’s rider, yet you catch yourself double-checking every blond soldier you find as you weakly stumble across the battlefield.

Remembering is a struggle. Everything blurs together in a toxic cocktail of adrenaline and brain fog, chunks of memory missing as you try to scrap together the past few hours. Figments of Erwin’s speech, the anxious shift of your horse beneath you. The click of your gun as you fire the first and last smoke signal. Levis lips pressed against yours, Erwin’s head resting against your lower belly. The flaring pain as a rock swipes Clover’s feet from under her and your world shifts upside down.

Everybody is dead.

Every last one of them.

[Read the whole chapter on Ao3]

[vennywrites]

The Fallen

Prologue

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Erwin Smith x Reader

Word Count: 2k

Summary: You’ve followed them into hell and back. What’s one more round, what’s one last push? So, when the final order comes, when Levi makes the impossible choice and Erwin’s dream lies shattered in it’s wake, you press a kiss to their lips and tell them you’re right where you need to be. It’s a good ending, a clean one. Your lives for the truth. Only that you wake hours later in the ruins of a battlefield. Your own personal hell - but your heart still beats.

Warnings: Canon Divergence, Return to Shiganshina Arc, Canon-typical Violence, Blood and Gore, Injury, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Trauma, Denial, Established Relationship

a/n: I've fallen back into Snk and here I am, sharing my absolute heartbreak with you. Thanks so much for reading.

Ao3

-♦-

Battle of Shiganshina - 850 - Inside Wall Maria

You do your best not to panic as stone rains down on you. Houses pulverize further ahead and one of the boys beside you screams, falling to his knees. Your own legs shake with fear, despair, hopelessness. Most of the kids have stopped their tasks and you find them in different states of anguish. Most of them are crying, others stare blankly ahead where the titans loom in the distance, unmoving and massive. Despite erasing most of the smaller specimen, you’re trapped with no way out.

A girl to your right presses her head to the ground, praying. You cannot find it in yourself to console her - or any of them.

This is it.

Despite the fear that sits heavy in your chest, it’s claws squeezing your heart painfully, there are no tears. You remember when your squad died, not even so long ago and how you found nothing at all from them besides torn fabric and blood.

Maybe your death will be kinder - quick.

“What do we do?” one of the kids shouts, shaking a comrade who has no voice left to answer as another hail of rubble falls over you. The horses scream and buck, fighting those who still hold onto their reins.

Your own horse, a brave and loyal mare named Clover, stands dutifully beside you, eyes wide and ears pushed back, her whole fur twitching with nervous shivers as she shifts on her feet. But she stays.

You’ve lost sight of Erwin and Levi a while ago, focus strayed by a boy loosing his horse, interrupted by a girl who begs you to let her go. As one of the last senior members left, you struggle to find any encouraging words.

They were never your specialty. With Erwin at your side, you never had to be good at talking.

Aimlessly you wander among the recruits, hollow words leaving your lips whenever someone begs you for them. In the end, all you can do is find Erwin’s horse Titus, the white stallion brushing his snout against you in recognition, the yellowish white of his eyes showing. You hand your own horse to the boy who’s tending to Titus, his face is grim but theres tear tracks running down his face. He silently nods as you wander off in search for your loved ones.

Years of fighting have gotten you to this point. You know this will be the end. You accept it.

When you find them, you hear them first. Levi’s voice is grim as you listen in, pressing yourself against the wall of the building, just around the corner. Something stops you from approaching, terror freezing your limbs as a thunderous bolder crashes into a house not far from all of you.

“I’ll make the choice for you,-“ you hear Levi say and what he says next breaks your heart. It’s what makes you finally crack, what makes the tears finally spill as you listen to Erwin’s agreement, as you strain your ears for the silence that follows.

A hand clasped over your mouth, you try your best to choke the sobs down, sound muffled but audible over the momentary silence between the bombardment. It’s Levi who eventually says your name, always too observant, too aware for his own good.

You know better than to hide from him - you don’t hesitate to step out of the shadow, body shaking as you approach them. His face is unreadable, eyes hidden behind black strands of hair. When he adjusts his posture, slate-grey eyes narrow in on you, you see the devastation in them.

Erwin sits before him, strong arm resting against his leg, his hair is disheveled, blue eyes downcast. He beckons you closer with an outstretched hand.

The sight is heartbreaking. Your heart thunders in your chest as you approach them and as Erwin’s hand ghosts over your hip, Levi stands. He does not look at you as he retreats, takes a step back to give you the space you need as Erwin maneuvers you between his legs, slotting you right there where he rests his head against your lower belly.

Instinctively you cradle his head, but reach out for Levi with your other hand, gripping his jacket as he’s just about to step out of reach. He silently shakes his head. The only time you’ve ever seen that look in his eyes was after Erwin’s return - with one arm missing and unconscious.

“I had my moment, you take yours,” he whispers so quietly you barely hear him. But for your sake - you know it’s for yours, not his - he grips onto your hand and squeezes before slipping away.

For a moment, panic is all there is as he retreats and you wonder if you’ll ever see him again. But walking after him is no option, no chance with Erwin’s steady grip on your hip and his forehead pressed against you. A heavy sigh escapes him, your finger digging into his hair.

[Read the whole chapter on Ao3]

[vennywrites]

Watching Over

Wandering the Fade while he sleeps, Solas encounters someone he did not expect.

Solas hasn‘t looked for her in months. But when he does, he finds her in a meadow full of flowers, Hope lingering nearby. He knows the spirit from other times and her other dreams, always staying close, watching over her. Considering Lienne is no Dreamer, her memories weave themselves together to form dreams out of her control, he feels reassured to know Hope is looking out for her.

He steps closer, just a bit, trying to catch a glimpse of her that reveals more than her slender back. Solas feels the faint brush of warmth against his cheek and knows that he caught Hope‘s attention. He lowers his head to greet the spirit, regarding it‘s moss-green form. The shimmer around Hope begins to pulsate, casting strange and twisted shadows in its nearest area.

Suddenly he hears Lienne laugh, a fragile sound, faint enough that he questions he even heard it in the first place. He focuses on her again, taking yet another step in her direction. She says something in elven, the rhythmic melody of the language interweaving with the rustle of the grass and the distant songs of birds.

She chuckles and Solas makes out another person. It is a child, a small boy sitting in front of her while picking flowers with clumsy hands. She takes the flowers the boy offers her willingly and adds them to the flower crown she‘s making. His heart gets heavy. He does not now this child, which memory of hers he sees in front of him.

Elven words fall from her lips once again and he can watch as she puts the finished crown on top of the child‘s dark hair. The boy giggles and reaches out to her. Lienne stands, readily picking him up. Tiny hands roam over her face, tangle into her hair and finally hold tightly around her neck. Lienne strokes the boy’s hair, whispering soothing words and slowly rocking from side to side. He nuzzles closer, burying his face into the crook of her neck.

Duty weights heavy on his shoulders, as Solas watches their close interaction. He sights, not able to draw his gaze from the two elves. Lienne turns away from him and he is granted a closer look on the child‘s face. The boy is no more than a year old, rosy cheeks and long lashes, framed by wild, dark curls. Something about him strikes Solas as familiar, but he‘s unable to put a finger on it.

The boy tugs himself closer, eyes shut tight and nose buried into her pale hair, he clings to her like his life depends on it. She starts to sing, an elven lullaby waking distant memories of lazy mornings and quiet evenings. Solas is surprised to still know the song by heart. She would sing it, in the faintest and softest of voices, while he read a book or painted. Hum it in the mornings, when he drew runes and sigils on her sun-warmed back. The boy sights, and Solas mirrors his action, breathing out heavily, somehow trying to get the tight feeling off of his chest.

Solas closes his eyes for just a moment, and when he opens them again, blue, large eyes stare right back at him. His heart starts racing in his chest, but he is unable to look away. The boy looks at him, eyes locked with his and otherwise completely still. Lienne is still singing, holding him tight but the boy is fixated on him. Solas remembers times where even Lienne noticed his presence, turning to his direction, holding her breath and listening to her surroundings but she soon carried on with her dream, his company nothing more than the rustling in the winds. But the boy stares and focuses on him and Solas unintentionally holds his breath, thinking, trying to understand what is happening and finding the only solution to be a cruel one.

Solas turns and flees the scene, flees the meadow, flees the child. He feels the boy‘s gaze long after he left.

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[vennywrites]

After the Inquisitor and her party encounter the Dalish Clan in the Exalted Plains, Solas and Lavellan find a quiet place to calm their thoughts.

He’d noticed her humming before. No real tune leaving her sealed lips, just a soft humm, virbating in her chest and through her whole body, making his skin tingle.

She did it when she thought herself alone.

Cleaning her armor, writing reports, stitching up some damaged chlothing of hers and even while reading one of the many books Dorian had recommended her.

And she did it to calm herself.

Sometimes she slumped against his side, in dim candlelight, after an exhausting day fighting demons and templars and other horrors. She often curled herself into his side, clutching his shirt or hand or arm - whatever she could reach - pressing herself against him with eyes shut thight, while he read a book or studied some of his papers and she started humming. Quiet first, and Solas had often enough thought it a trick of his mind, until the humming became a simple melodie, until the tension slowly left her body, her grib on him lightened and her racing heart slowed. Either she would hum herself too sleep or she would startle again, awoken from an unexpected noise, a flare of her mark or a lingering shadow in the back of her mind.

Whatever the case, her humming would stop and he would always feel a bit helpless, an aching feel of loss and regret and somehow melancholy overthrowing him. Her melodie was nothing like the songs of old Arlathan, but it seemed familiar nonetheless, a feeling just out of is reach, something he couldn’t quiet point a name to.

Lienne’s humming does not stop this time, but still he sees himself overthrown with an aching feeling in his chest, pressing him down and doubling the weight on his body and heart.

Forcing his eyes open, he looks into the vibrant blue of the sky.

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