#brought it upon myself after naming him maria but like

[soulofapatrick]

The Set Up - Tommy Miller x Reader

Summary: Joel and Ellie set up Y/N with Tommy sick of their pining for each other

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: none; all fluff

Y/N’s POV

Ever since I arrived at Jackson with Joel and Ellie I’ve felt Tommy’s eyes on me. Whenever he’s in the same room or area as me I feel his piercing green eyes boring holes through me, unabashed when I catch him. It’s never predatory, more studying or protecting. Not the looks I’ve seen other men give me before Joel’s glaring at them, scaring them away. 

Joel’s like a brother to me, a protective older brother who wants the younger sister to stay innocent. Everyone thought we were a thing when we first arrived all those months ago but we quickly dispelled that despite Ellie calling us a mixture of our names and ‘Mum’ and ‘Dad’. It threw up for a loop at first but neither of us denied the joy it brought to us hearing her introduce us as her parents. 

I’ve never really talked to Tommy as he’s usually on patrol or he’s at the electricity plant, checking on it and helping Maria run the town. I’ll admit Maria makes me see green because she’s always by his side despite them always saying they’re not dating or anything. The way her gaze softens whenever she’s looking at him or talking about him and it makes me want to turn and storm away or punch her. Joel knows this, always telling me to just talk to Tommy. Joel’s younger brother. Tommy Miller. Leader of Jackson and the first man in a very long time who seems to have captured my attention. 

“Muuuummmm,” Ellie’s bounding over, joining me at the bar with that excited grin on her face and a glint of mischief in her eyes, “Come danceeee.” 

“You want your own mother to dance with you?” I ask, putting down my beer, “I’m getting too old,” I tease, laughing as she rolls her eyes and drags me onto the dance floor, grumbling something about me only being five years her elder. Today’s what the settlement call ‘Party Night’ or something but the old barn is done up with a band and multitudes of fairy lights strung up. It’s an evening every Friday where people can let go of everything and just be themselves, teenagers get to be just that: teenagers. 

Ellie’s laughter is like music when I spin her, watching the way her messy auburn hair bounces, having grown to surround her round face. She looks so happy and it’s great to see her be able to be a child after everything we went through just to get here. The guilt of Sam and Henry still weighing heavy in my chest but I don’t let it show because I never want her to stop looking happy. Her eyes shine brighter as her attention seems captured by someone over my shoulder as I playfully sway us the way a mother and child dances together when they’re alone. 

“Her names Dina right?” I ask, following Ellie’s gaze, a knowing smile playing on my lips as she blushes. Ah, young love. I wouldn’t know of it myself but it’s so touching to see the way Ellie seems to soften when she sees or talks about the other girl, “She likes you back, you know.” 

“How…” She trails off, rolling her eyes as the song ends, “I’m going to go talk to her.” 

“Atta girl.” I squeeze her shoulder reassuringly before making my way back to the bar where I begin to feel those eyes piercing through my skin. I scan the barn for them, quickly finding Joel, Maria and Tommy sat in a booth near the back. Maria and Joel are poured over a map or something, probably discussing new patrol routes as Joel quickly took on that role upon being welcomed into Jackson. 

Tommy’s heated gaze meets mine and he doesn’t turn away, just studies me before his eyes flit down my body then back up. There’s no shame in his action and I don’t try and hide from it because it feels weirdly right. Joel breaks the stare off by catching my gaze with a wave of his hand, beckoning me over so I comply. As much as Joel and I have a sibling like bond I could never say no to him. He became my constant all those years ago after my brother got shot and I lost the other. I would go to the ends of the earth for Joel and it’s starting to feel like I’d do the same for his brother. These stupid Miller brothers and the power they have over me. 

“What’s up Joel?” I ask, sliding into the booth to see I was right about the paper spread out in front of them is a map with pen marks in different colours of routes to take. 

“How would you like to take Ellie on her first patrol with Tommy?” There’s that same glint in his hazel eyes that Ellie had when asking me to dance. They’re up to something and I think I know what. I flick my eyes to Tommy, being able to take him in properly without it being weird as it why I’m looking at him. 

He’s so different from Joel yet there a small things that are exactly the same like their noses are the same and the way they have such boyish and cheeky smiles, like they know they’re about to say something bad but they’re also about to get away with it. Tommy’s got dirty blonde hair that reaches the back of his neck and his eyes are the colour of jade, he looks tired but there’s a rugged handsomeness about him that has me a little weak at the knees. The scar across his left cheek adding mystery to him. Except Tommy is far from mysterious, he’s an open book and like to push his luck with anyone but he’s responsible with morals. 

“Y/N?” Maria nudges me slightly and shake my head to snap myself back into reality instead of staring at the younger Miller brother.

“Y-yeah, sounds good.” I smile at her despite everything in my being wants to sneer at her. Joel kicks me lightly under the table, raising an eyebrow at me and I raise a shoulder to let it drop in response. He’s asking if I’m okay and I’m suddenly not sure because the intensity of Tommy’s gaze is making me feel nervous and queasy. Joel sighs before sliding out the booth and grabbing his jacket which he wraps around my shoulders. 

“Come on, I’ll walk you home.” He’s catching my hand and I follow pliantly, knowing there’s absolutely no use arguing with Joel, especially when he uses his older brother/fatherly voice. It doesn’t escape me the scowl on Tommy’s face pointed in the direction of mine and Joel’s hand before he seems to relax, guessing he knows Joel’s tone of voice very well from all the stories Joel’s told me.

The cold winter air is a nice relief as we step outside, finally feeling like I’m able to breathe again. I do love these nights at the barn it can still get a little overwhelming after being used to just Joel and Ellie for a little over a year to then be thrown in a bustling town. There are times I won’t even realise I’m panicking until Joel and Ellie are removing me from the situation: like right now. 

I don’t speak, matching Joel’s strides as he walks towards the outer area of town where all the houses have been fixed up to make a small housing community within the settlement. Tommy and Joel are helping repair more and more houses as more and more people stumble upon Jackson. 

Joel’s huffing as he unlocks the front door before following me inside so he can make sure my clumsy ass doesn’t like fall down the stairs or anything. He has every reason for that to be a worry as it’s happened before, more times than I’d be happy admitting out loud. 

“Go get changed.” Again with the not being able to say no to a Miller. I’m already making my way upstairs, knowing exactly what he was going to say. My pyjama shirt and shorts are already set out for me, glad I did that before I left because I’m racing back down the stairs in double time it usually takes me. Joel’s got a mug of what smells like hot chocolate ready for me and I sink into the couch before taking it from his hands. 

“Ellie seems to have a thing for Dina.” I tell him as he joins me, sitting on the other side of the sofa but letting me put my feet in his lap with only the smallest of complaints. 

“They’ve been hanging out a lot, that Jesse guy always with them too.” Joel confirms. Of course he knows about Ellie’s new crush, nothing escapes his eagle eyes. Probably from all that time spent as a smuggler and him being the protector when things get dangerous. It’s burned into his skull to catch everything he can see or it could be used against him and that in itself is a very dangerous thing. 

“I think she’d go well with Dina.” 

“Like you’d go well with Tommy?” I choke on the drink, spluttering and trying to form coherent words which doesn’t seem to help my case at all because Joel’s letting out a chuckle and rolling his eyes, calloused hand squeezing ankle as I recover. 

That’s how the rest of my evening is spent, talking to Joel about things that have been happening around the settlement as well as gossiping about some of the people. Upon meeting Joel you would never have been able to tell that he is an absolute whore for gossip and tries not to hang off your every word but fails miserably. He also always has his own tidbits to add to my gossip and it makes everything so much better. 

———————————

I must have fallen asleep at some point while talking to Joel last night because I wake to a knock at the door. I’m still on the couch but a blanket has been thrown over me so I wrap it around my shoulders as I pull myself up, heading for the door to see who is bothering me at this hour. Screw that, I don’t even know what hour it is. 

They knock again and I sigh, hating answering the door but pulling it open to see none other than Tommy. He’s got baskets of what looks like food and drinks with him, that charmingly boyish grin on his face as I step aside to let him in. 

“Morning sunshine,” His southern drawl strong as he places the basket on the counter and begins putting everything away in the right cupboards, “Joel decided to take Ellie on patrol and sent me over to make sure you don’t hurt yourself.” 

“Oh god,” I scrub a hand over my face, knowing Joel must have told Tommy some of my most embarrassing stories. I’m not sure how I’ve survived the apocalypse this long with how uncoordinated I am. I don’t mean the cutesy ‘oopsie’ kind of clumsy, I mean the turn around and slam straight into a door or trip over an invisible rock kind of clumsy. The type of clumsy that gets you killed in horror movies but then again none of those characters had a Joel who was always there to catch my elbow as the ground barrelled towards me. 

“I heard you once tried to slap a clicker and survived,” Tommy’s talking and I’m groaning, collapsing back on the couch, “And that you almost fell down an elevator shaft. You almost shot your ass off and ended up shooting yourself in the leg.” 

“Shut upppp,” I’m whining, burying my face in my hands so I don’t notice the blond approach or crouch in front of me until his gun-calloused hands are prying my own from my face. I meet his gaze, feeling my breath hitch as we’re inches apart and it would be nothing for me to just lean forwards and kiss those wind worn lips. 

His own gaze seems to drop from mine to my own lips and back before he’s darting his tongue out to wet his bottom one, “Well I think it’s cute.” 

Cute. He thinks I’m cute?! 

“Tommy.” His name rolls off of my tongue in a whisper, not wanting to break this moment. His knees hit the wooden floor as he mutters a ‘fuck it’ and surges forwards. His lips are soft and  there aren’t any fireworks but it’s so goddamn perfect. It’s cautious and clumsy, our noses bumping and he’s smiling into the kiss before we have to pull away for air. 

“They set us up, didn’t they?” He breaks the content silence settling and it sends us into laughter. 

“I think they did.” I nod, pulling him towards me surprised at how willing he is to let me lead him. He understands what I want and is kicking his boots off haphazardly before laying on top of me, his head resting over my heart as I begin to card my fingers through those sandy lock. It’s perfect.

“Let’s just stay like this forever.” 

“Okay.” 

#tommy miller #tommy miller x y/n #Tommy miller x reader #tommy miller x you #tommy miller fluff #tommy miller smut #the last of us #the last of us 2 #Joel Miller #Joel Miller fluff #tommy miller fanfiction #the last of us fluff #the last of us fanfiction #tlou tommy #tommy tlou #Ellie williams #the last of us x reader

[rusakkowrites]

I promise I'm almost done (I'm not but I shouldn't bother you so much) but please, another DVD commentary if you don't mind because I love Charlotte transferred to Mansfield Park:

“Well,” sniffed Mrs Norris when the news of the engagement first became known, “I wonder at Dr Grant’s going to such trouble and expense to find himself a wife. Gadding off to Hertfordshire – and travelling post by all accounts – when he might just as easily have married a local woman. And inquire where I will, I cannot find out that this Miss Lucas ever had more than five hundred pounds to her name!”

Lady Bertram, less prejudiced against Dr Grant, was not so severe. She might in fact have been inclined to forgive Mrs Grant’s lack of fortune entirely, had the young lady proven to be sufficiently pretty. The first sighting of the new arrival, however, hardened her heart. Mrs Grant was plain, absolutely plain, and could not deserve to be so well settled. The sisters were thus agreeably united in their disapproval.

It was fortunate that neither of her aunts thought to ask Fanny Price for her opinion, for she would not have known how to reply. Mrs Grant, she was obliged to acknowledge, was indeed plain; but as their acquaintance progressed, Fanny began to suspect that she was also rather clever – and very good at managing those around her.

Being frequently called upon to sit with her aunts, Fanny was often present when Mrs Grant came to call on them. She thus had plenty of opportunity to observe how Mrs Grant, though never betraying any consciousness of their antipathy, methodically began to overturn it.

“I will say one thing in her favour,” said Mrs Norris grudgingly after one such morning call. “She is not brought up too fine. A clergyman’s wife should not be afraid of stepping into the kitchen now and then, and Mrs Grant’s receipt for mince-pies proves that she knows what she is about there. Besides, she has a good sense of economy for one so young. Dr Grant could have done worse for himself.”

“And she is very good with Pug,” added Lady Bertram. “Some young ladies, you know, do not care for dogs, but Mrs Grant quite dotes on him. I think it a sure sign of good taste.”

Mrs Grant, indeed, seemed to know how to please those around her without drawing attention to herself. She managed to avoid irritating Mrs Norris while making herself quietly agreeable and useful to Lady Bertram. She made intelligent conversation with Edmund, smiled at Tom’s jests and was always ready to listen to Maria’s and Julia’s tales of the latest balls and dinners they had attended. To Fanny herself she was unfailingly civil and pleasant while never singling her out in a way that might attract Mrs Norris’s notice.

There was nothing obsequious or insincere in Mrs Grant’s manner. Still, Fanny could not be entirely easy in her company. Mrs Grant was by no means unbecomingly reserved, but try as she might, Fanny found it difficult to discern her true thoughts or feelings. Yet she could not entirely suppress a peculiar suspicion that, beneath her mask of pleasant politeness, Mrs Grant was shrewdly observing them all – and that they might not have liked how much she saw.

Yay, it's fun to talk about the latest fic I've posted because the writing process is still pretty fresh in my mind. For this one, though, a significant share of the credit must go to AO3 user Sandel, who left such an intriguing prompt in the Non-Canon JAFF Ship Prompt Meme. The idea of matching Charlotte with Dr Grant came from them, and I found myself delighted by the possibilities that this match opened up.

“Well,” sniffed Mrs Norris when the news of the engagement first became known, “I wonder at Dr Grant’s going to such trouble and expense to find himself a wife. Gadding off to Hertfordshire – and travelling post by all accounts – when he might just as easily have married a local woman. And inquire where I will, I cannot find out that this Miss Lucas ever had more than five hundred pounds to her name!”

Lady Bertram, less prejudiced against Dr Grant, was not so severe. She might in fact have been inclined to forgive Mrs Grant’s lack of fortune entirely, had the young lady proven to be sufficiently pretty. The first sighting of the new arrival, however, hardened her heart. Mrs Grant was plain, absolutely plain, and could not deserve to be so well settled. The sisters were thus agreeably united in their disapproval.

I had so much fun with Mrs Norris and Lady Bertram. They had a bit of a comic relief role in this story, but they also provided a convenient way of showing how Charlotte was perceived in her new neighbourhood before and after her arrival. The opinions voiced here are pretty close to their thoughts about the canon Mrs Grant, just tweaked slightly to fit Charlotte's circumstances.

It was fortunate that neither of her aunts thought to ask Fanny Price for her opinion, for she would not have known how to reply. Mrs Grant, she was obliged to acknowledge, was indeed plain; but as their acquaintance progressed, Fanny began to suspect that she was also rather clever – and very good at managing those around her.

Being frequently called upon to sit with her aunts, Fanny was often present when Mrs Grant came to call on them. She thus had plenty of opportunity to observe how Mrs Grant, though never betraying any consciousness of their antipathy, methodically began to overturn it.

Fanny, as we know, is quiet but not blind. She sees a lot more than everyone else and is not blinded by flattery. (Maybe it helps that people rarely try to flatter her - she isn't influential enough.)

“I will say one thing in her favour,” said Mrs Norris grudgingly after one such morning call. “She is not brought up too fine. A clergyman’s wife should not be afraid of stepping into the kitchen now and then, and Mrs Grant’s receipt for mince-pies proves that she knows what she is about there. Besides, she has a good sense of economy for one so young. Dr Grant could have done worse for himself.”

“And she is very good with Pug,” added Lady Bertram. “Some young ladies, you know, do not care for dogs, but Mrs Grant quite dotes on him. I think it a sure sign of good taste.”

We know that Charlotte had to help out around the house more than the Bennet girls did (as Mrs Bennet makes a point of mentioning in canon). Unlike the canon Mrs Grant, I also think Charlotte would try to be fairly economical. I imagine she would plan ahead and try to save some money for her potential future children and herself, particularly as her husband is quite a bit older and her own dowry was very small. This would help her earn Mrs Norris's approval. As for Lady Bertram, she's very easy to please - just make her life easy and be nice to Pug.

Mrs Grant, indeed, seemed to know how to please those around her without drawing attention to herself. She managed to avoid irritating Mrs Norris while making herself quietly agreeable and useful to Lady Bertram. She made intelligent conversation with Edmund, smiled at Tom’s jests and was always ready to listen to Maria’s and Julia’s tales of the latest balls and dinners they had attended. To Fanny herself she was unfailingly civil and pleasant while never singling her out in a way that might attract Mrs Norris’s notice.

There was nothing obsequious or insincere in Mrs Grant’s manner. Still, Fanny could not be entirely easy in her company. Mrs Grant was by no means unbecomingly reserved, but try as she might, Fanny found it difficult to discern her true thoughts or feelings. Yet she could not entirely suppress a peculiar suspicion that, beneath her mask of pleasant politeness, Mrs Grant was shrewdly observing them all – and that they might not have liked how much she saw.

Charlotte is pragmatic enough to realise that a good relationship with the wealthiest family in the area is worth pursuing, no matter what her private opinion of Mrs Norris and Lady Bertram may be. She's not obsequious, but she's not above a bit of flattery to ease her way.

I also think Charlotte is pretty good at making herself agreeable to people - we see in canon how quickly she catches Mr Collins, and she's clearly working on the de Bourghs. She also seems to swallow a lot of unpleasantness from Mrs Bennet without complaint to keep the peace. I think Charlotte is the sort of person who doesn't let her pride get in the way when she sees an opportunity to improve her lot. There's nothing malicious about it, though - she's just looking out for herself and using the few advantages she has.

Fanny and Charlotte are both shrewd observers of other people. Does it stem from the fact that they've often found themselves overlooked - Charlotte due to her plainness, Fanny because she's the poor relation who's living on charity? It's possible, but nevertheless their motives are different. Charlotte is confidently and strategically looking for ways to turn every situation to her advantage, while poor timid, emotionally abused Fanny is constantly on the alert for threats.

I think Fanny would be simultaneously fascinated by and uneasy about Charlotte, kind of like she has mixed feelings about the Crawfords. She's pretty good at sensing when people have hidden motives, and they make her suspicious. But at least Charlotte can have no matrimonial designs on any of the Bertrams - until her single friend comes along... :D

#ask games #my writing #wurzelbertzwerg

[besotted-eros]

Visit from a Ghost

Eren x Fem!Reader

Content: Angst, smut, unprotected sex, oral (f! receiving), pining, overstim, dirty talk, slight blood, bruising, established relationship, canon compliant

A/N: so this is a companion piece to my obsessed! Eren headcanons and fic. References to manga spoilers, heavy on the angsty sex. Very self indulgent. Hope you enjoy!

When you saw the figure at your bedroom window, lounging upon the sill as though he was meant to be there, you drew your gun.

It was a small, angry thing, wrestled from the grasps of a Marleyan soldier and entrusted to you to help protect the queen. You had yet to use it, but levelled it naturally now, letting out a growled command for the shadowed being to raise his hands.

When you saw the figure turn from your bedroom window, lazily leaning his head back so his viridian gaze met yours, you dropped your gun.

It hit the floorboards with a metallic thud, and in a better context you would have held your breath, jumped away from the risk of a bullet discharging from the fall. But you were motionless, staring at the apparition in front of you. That was what he felt like. A ghost, conjured from beyond the veil.

"Eren." You said it like one calls to the dead, your voice shaky and unconfident. But brimming, with hope. With fear.

"I come all this way to see you, and your first reaction is to shoot me?" He murmured, his rich voice creeping through the dark to find the holes in your heart.

 Moth bitten, hung up in a closet and forgotten, you had lost the memory of the pain and euphoria that Eren brought you. But you could feel it now, searing your chest.

"You deserve worse. Months. It's been months." The words tumbled from your throat as you fought the urge to cry. "I didn't know where you were. For months. And they won't tell me what what happened, no one will." You felt like a child, choking on your words as your hands bunched into fists. The only thing you knew is that you were meant to raise the alarm as soon as you saw him. But you couldn't. Not for him. You wanted to fall to your knees, to see how he'd rush across the room to gather you in his arms.

"You don't want me to answer that truthfully." He moved from the windowsill, feet silently hitting the ground as he faced you completely.

You didn't recognize him. Those were the eyes of your lover, those the lips you kissed, the brow you rested yours upon. The man who was once the boy you slept beside, you fought beside, you grew beside. The face you had seen overcome with passion, with pain and glory. But he was stoic, as grey as the three walls. You had felt him slipping before Marley, but now?

Even though he was in the same room, breathing your air, he felt gone.

"I do. I know you're the one who pushed me onto this duty, you made Hisu call for me, and for what? To keep me stupid and ignorant?" You spat the words at his feet, and it made him bristle.

"To protect you, why else? This stupid farm house is the safest place on the island. Safer than any of the walls, or the inner castle, or-"

"Safer than with you?"

That touched him. The repetition of his vow, that as long as you were by his side you would come to no harm. That he would hold you with his heart and protect you with his life. As long as you stayed within reach of him.

"Yes. Safer than with me. So much safer." He didn't want that to be true. He wanted to be where you belonged.

But he needed to make the world safe for you.

"I needed to make sure you were taken care of, that I could do the things I was meant to do without risking you." He crossed his arms in front of his body, and the tone of his voice bordered on petulant. But despite his stoic face, you could tell he was nervous. The clench of his jaw, how his eyes looked past you instead of at you. This wasn't a man who had forgone emotions. Just a mask.

Maybe that was your Eren after all.

"I know you hate me-"

"I don't hate you." You cut him off sharply, reaching up to touch the pendant at your throat. It was a piece of sea glass, tumbled by the waves to the colour of his eyes. You had picked it up on a beach patrol, and told him how it matched him perfectly. He had stolen it out of your pocket that night and fashioned a cage with stolen wire. The next morning it hung from the leather cord his father's key once did, and found its permanent home upon your neck.

He told you it was his eye and his heart, and to keep watch over it as he kept watch over you.

He had been so gentle. You remembered how the sea breeze rustled the hair, grown to the nape of his neck, how he had given you a smile that had become so rare. He had known then that the boat would be returning without him.

"I don't hate you even if I want to. I never could. I... I miss you." The dam in your throat broke as you hiccuped a single sob. And the dam in his face broke, eyebrows upturned with remorse.

He had made you cry. 

"No, no, no." He murmured, crossing the floor to take you in his arms. He was taller, his body somehow even more wiry than when he had left. Toughened by hardship. But the way his fingers curled around the back of your head, the way his arm wrapped around your waist. That was how he held you. How he always had. The familiarity made you weak, and you clung to him desperately, fists mangling the fabric of his shirt as you buried your face against him.

"Y/n." He said it through gritted teeth, and then repeated it. And then again.

You thought back to every time you had embraced after being apart. The sound of his feet pounding the stone of Wall Maria to throw his arms around you, his cries of your name loud enough to send birds flying. How he had whispered your name when you saw him after Shiganshina, his face buried in the crook of your neck and the weight of the world suddenly so much more heavy upon his shoulders.

"Eren." You reached up, taking his face delicately in your hands. His malachite gaze was wide, wild with desperation and hurt. "What happened to you, 'ren?" You asked, and his eyes shut tightly. "What did you do?"

"Please. Don't ask me. I'll answer to God, but I can't answer to you."

You could have pressed. He would have given up, at least... The Eren who loved you a lifetime ago would have. But the darkness in his mouth when he pressed his lips to your forehead convinced you not to.

He had followed you so diligently when you were young. Seeking the peace he had somehow found in you. And as you pulled him towards your lips, you knew it was that same comfort he was searching for. Peace, amongst his life of nothing but war. So you kissed serenity onto his lips, knowing that this may be the last taste of it he would ever have.

He groaned softly against your mouth, still for a moment before pressing into the touch. His fingers were gentle as they brought you closer, and closer still. Tugging at your hips, your shoulders, your hair, coiling around your neck. He was rediscovering you, reminding himself of the map of your body. It was like he was finding his way home again.

"I missed you. I thought about you, so much." He exhaled over your lips, and you tried to keep the welling of your tears from spilling over again. You had needed that. Needed to know that he still breathed for you. "Even when it hurt. I thought about you."

"I thought about you too." You whispered, stroking your hands through his silken hair. "I hoped... I didn't think it was smart, but I hoped. You would come to me."

Your hands traversed his chest and back, running down his shoulders and muscular arms. You grabbed his wrists, feeling the bump of your hair tie still upon it. He lifted for you to see, and you pressed a kiss to his hot skin, unable to hold back the tears anymore. You watered his skin with them. 

"See? I kept you with me. Always." his mouth was against your forehead, tendons in his wrist flexing. "I lost a lot of myself. But I never lost you."

You let out a choked whimper and he pressed his cheek to yours, murmuring your name softly. Finally your knees gave out, but his arms were vices around your waist, holding you as you leaned against him. But he came down with you, kneeling with you in the puddle of moonlight. It painted him white and black, his shadows so much deeper but where it graced him, he glowed.

"I'm sorry." You sighed into his shoulder, all but pawing at his back. "I just... Am I dreaming, Eren? Are you going to be gone when my eyes open in the morning?"

He didn't answer for a moment, face buried in your hair. "I'm real. This is real. I promise."

"Prove it." You whispered, turning your mouth to his ear like a bloom to sun. "I've had this nightmare, every night since you've left. Prove this isn't one."

His fingers curled around your upper arms as his eyes bore into yours. They were shadowed, haunted by things you knew you'd never know. "Tell me how. I'll do anything for you."

Almost, you wanted to correct him. He'd do almost anything for you.

"Love me."

"I do." He murmured, voice strained as he moved to cup your face, his thumb stroking across your lips. You parted them, inviting his digit to press against your tongue. His eyes widened slightly, and you saw something spark. It encouraged you to wrap your lips around him, suckling at his first knuckle. You let it pop from your mouth, dragging your tongue from his palm to the pad.

"Show me. Show me the way only you can." You spoke softly against his skin, and he let out a soft groan, from deep deep within his chest.

"Only me?" He whispered hoarsely, hands squeezing the sides of your face. You nodded as best as you could. "You haven't touched another since I've been gone?"

"Of course not. Since that first night, since that first kiss..." You gripped his wrists tightly, voice thick with emotions you couldn't name. "It's only been you, forever just you."

He kissed you like he wanted to consume you. Open mouthed, hot breath, all teeth and clawing fingers. You fell into him, letting him pull you up and push you towards your bed. You fell backwards, welcoming the soft mattress against your back. A stark contrast to his body, all hard lines and firm hands.

Eren's heat was enough to melt you. You didn't realise you had been so cold. Your legs wrapped around him, pulling his warmth further against your core. He grunted softly against your mouth, jutting his hips forward so you could feel how you made him.

Your lips trailed from his, kissing along the sharp line of his jaw, up to his ear. You didn't need to say anything into it, just your breath made him wild. He tore at your shirt, sending buttons flying across the room as the moonlight met your skin. In response you pulled at his, unhooking your legs to push at his pants. You wanted skin, you wanted bare vulnerable touch. You wanted to see the parts of him he kept hidden.

He never scarred. Your hands traced the unmarred landscape of his torso as he flexed underneath you. No matter what horrors his body faced, it would never leave a lasting impression on him. The titan in him assured that.

You wondered if it was the same for love, as your teeth pricked at his skin, making him shiver. You marked him, delicate and light. In the sun it would look like stepping stones, tracing the path of a lovers touch. If it would even last till morning.

But you loved him anyway, even if it was temporary.

"So beautiful." His voice was guttural, hands cupping your breasts after yanking your bra down. Your nipples didn't have time to harden under his thumb before his mouth was upon them, suckling gently. You gripped his chestnut hair in response, letting out a soft whine of pleasure that encouraged him to suck harder. He switched sides, leaving the cold air to caress the wetness at your precipice.

"I can hear your heartbeat" he murmured, pausing for a moment to press himself against your flesh. "It's so fast."

Your nails traced vows on the back of his neck, down his back as far as you could reach. "You make me like this." You whispered, and his teeth sunk into your skin, making your back arch. "You scare me. You turn me on. You make my head dizzy and my st-stomach fill with butterflies." He stripped you as you spoke, pushing down the soft fabric of your pants, then the cotton of your panties. You felt the kiss of the cold night air for a moment, drifting through the window. And then his fingers were upon you, slowly stroking along your aching entrance and your slick lips.

"I make you wet." He murmured against your skin, and you flushed, nodding.

"Yes, you do." You responded, moving your hips along his hand, encouraging him. He obliged happily, digits wet with your desire now sliding into your hole. You had been so long neglected, not feeling the desire to even touch yourself without him there to see. He could feel your tightness, how you gripped his fingers.

"My sweetheart," he purred, lifting his face to gaze up at you. His eyes were heavy lidded, almost hiding the jade irises that haunted your dreams. "You're so tight, spread your legs." You obeyed him as easily as breathing, opening your legs as he began to kiss his way further down. You whined again, and his fingers gripped your thighs, forcefully enough to close them slightly.

"The fucking noises you make..." He hissed, breath hot against your pussy. He dragged a tongue from the bottom, to the very top, glancing off of your clit in a way that made you cry out. "I want you to keep quiet so we don't get caught but..." Another languid lick, another lewd gasp. "I want to make you scream too."

Your hand came down hard on the back of his head, gripping his hair tightly. He groaned against you, sending vibrations through you. You didn't mean to be hard, to have tugged so roughly. But Eren loved it, eyes glinting as he sank his tongue into you, letting your plush walls envelope the muscle eagerly. Each time your hand twitched, responding to the waves of pleasure he drew from you, you'd pull more. And it would drive him forward, tongue sliding across your lips desperately, lips closing around your clit to suckle at it.

Your body was uncontrollable, hips lifting from the bed and chest heaving. At points it felt like he was drinking from you, loud slurps as he thumbed your clit. The movement repeated, becoming faster and faster. The pleasure mounted, a  knot tightened where his tongue touched you.

"Do it." He purred against you, feeling how your legs trembled and thighs touched his ears. He knew you, knew what every jerk of your body meant. "On my tongue, want to taste you."

That was what made the bud burst, your hips rocking desperately against him as your pussy fluttered, overcome with its first orgasm in months. It coursed through you, and you felt the bed wet with your love. 

Your toes curled with pleasure and you moved onto your elbows, staring down at him.

"Eren," you whimpered, and his eyes opened once more. From your vantage point you could see how his hips moved, thrusting slowly against the mattress. He was as desperate for you as you were for him."Eren I need you. I need you so bad." With a final pop of your clit, one that made you gasp, he pulled back and straightened up. His cock bobbed as he looked at you, eyes filled with a dangerous mixture of love and lust. He was dripping, your wetness from his chin and his pre-cum from his mushroom head.

"How badly?"

You brought your legs to your chest slowly, and his eyes dropped from your face to your heat. Your hole closed around emptiness, so desperate to be filled. "More than anything."

His fist closed around his shaft, stroking slightly as he stared at you with a slack jaw, face softened with awe. He always looked at you as though you hung the moon. As if you were responsible for everything soft and wonderful in the world. You watched as he touched himself and his mouth twisted into a grin.

"Did this..." He whispered, his hand moving faster, the noises filling the room. They were hot, lewd. The hot slick of his skin, your moans rising to meet it. "Did this when I thought of you."

The thought of him, so far away from you, deep in trouble but still overcome by his want, the aching need of you. It was enough to make you gush visibly, and Eren moaned at the sight. Before you had the chance to beg again he was at your entrance, hands pushing on the backs of your thighs. You pulled at him, bringing him to your lips so you could kiss your moans into his mouth.

Because the moment he started pushing, moan you did. Loud and desperate, feeling how he spread you. How he made you stretch to fit him like a glove.

He was mumbling in your ear, alternating between sweet calls of your name and darkened swears. Your nails dragged down his back, digging into his smooth skin and making steam rise. His hips were slow, but only for a moment. The need took over quickly, and you bucked to meet him as best as you could. But he was long, long enough to make you start each time he bottomed out in you.

"Eren, Eren, Eren," you whispered into the dark, each iteration becoming more and more sloppy. He grabbed your face, pulling himself up so he could stare at you. Sweat beaded on his elegant forehead, his long hair slicked back. But his eyes glowed in the lowlight, focusing on your face as though nothing but you existed.

He pounded you in time with your chants, each drill concentrated on getting as much of himself into you as he could. He filled your needy hole like he filled your heart. Wholly, fully. Enough to make your eyes well with tears.

He caught one that trickled down the side of your face, lapping it up with his long tongue. You gasped for air, twisting his hair in your fingers as legs wrapped around him desperately. You wanted to stay like this, stay connected to him forever. His hands traversed you, finding the places he had made home. The curve of your waist, the precipice of your hips, the valley under your ass as he pulled you up further, hitting you now at an angle that dragged across the nub on your inner wall.

And then he lifted you, pulling back to sit on his heels and to suspend you in his arms. You grasped his face as you looked down at him, your hair falling like a curtain. Hiding him from the world, the world that would take him from you. He was beautiful. All wild eyes, soft pouting lips. His fine features were shadowed, his expression twisted with pleasure. You kissed him, once. Twice. Three times. Each time deeper.

Stay here.

You wanted to say as he began to bounce you, sliding you upon his length, fingers digging into the soft plush of your ass.

Stay here, we can be okay.

His mouth was hot on your neck and shoulders, leaving bruises that you worried would outlast him.

Stay here, I can love you safe here.

But all that came out of your mouth was a keening moan, your walls fluttering as you came like a river, washing over him. Your head was thrown back in ecstasy, the wave of euphoria making you tremble and making him growl. He bite your shoulder, drawing soft droplets of blood, and you felt his hips stutter, and the telltale wetness that heralded his own cum. Filling you, as it should. He moaned, vulnerable and wanton into your shoulder.

"That's fucking it, baby. Cream on my cock." He cooed, his pace unrelenting as he fucked you through both of your orgasms. You were relieved when he let you fall back onto the bed, eyes opening to pull in for a kiss.

But he didn't stop.

"Er-eren..." You whimpered, and he kissed you hard, enough to bruise the pulp of your lip.

"Hold on... Hold on to me..." He whispered, teeth dragging across your sensitive flesh. You obliged, throwing your arms around his neck, legs circling him and pulling him in to the hilt. He pulled back, snapping in quickly, his pace sloppy and hurried.

"Need more...need more of you and I..." A gasp, a throb from deep within you. "need to give you all of me."

You were seeing stars. Bursting across your vision like supernovas. Though your limbs clung to him, the pleasure grew almost unbearable. A burning fire twisting between your legs, making you jerk and throb. It's like you could feel him in ways you never could.

The drip of his sweat, watering the forgotten lands of your body. The way his skin soothed yours, healing empty wounds. How his hair shifted, a lock falling to caress your cheek.

And his heartbeat. You felt it. Inside you, beating as though it was your own. The sensation drove you wild, clawing at his shoulders and yanking at his ochre locks.

"Gonna- it's gonna..." You whimpered, unable to form coherence. He drove into you faster, nodding against you. You were reduced to a babbling mess, eyes rolled back, mouth slack.

"Yeah, yeah baby yeah me too. Gonna cum in you again. Take it, take me. Take it all." He said, his voice thick with lust as he clawed into you, the slam of his hips hitting you in the most unimaginable of ways. He reared back suddenly, gripping your face hard enough to hurt as he placed his brow to yours.

"I love you." He whispered.

"I love you too." You replied, and with that you were both over the cliff, bodies shaking with pleasure. He filled you, his hot cum spurting from the slight space between you. His hand slammed against the head board, chest heaving, hips stuttering. But his eyes never left yours, gaze glazed with pleasure. His weight collapsed against you, and you cradled him, murmuring as his lips pressed to yours.

"Say it again." He demanded, hand moving to cup your cheek. "Say you love me."

"I love you." You turned your head to kiss his palm. "I love you, Eren. I love you."

He let out a soft sound, resting his mouth against your cheek. "More." He demanded, rolling over now and pulling you with him. His arms caged you, in a way that made you never want to be free. "I want a lifetimes worth."

"I'll give you a few months." You muttered, and could feel him smile against the top of your head. You wondered when was the last time he did that. When would be the next. "Just to catch you up." His hands stroked through your hair, teasing knots from it. You laid your ear flat to his toned chest. "You'll have to get the rest next time." His hand faltered and then tightened, pushing you into him. You could hear his heart pick up speed.

"Y/n-"

"Don't." You interrupted him. It was sharper than you intended, but you thought you had the right to it. "Don't say a word."

He went silent, resuming his grooming of your locks.

"Tell me we'll see each other again. Even if it's for a moment. Just once more. I don't want this to be it." His hands flattened on your back as he held you.

"I promise." He murmured. "We'll see each other again. But by then you'll hate me."

You didn't argue. Somehow you knew.

"For now, I love you." You pulled yourself to him, kissing his mouth with sweetness. You whispered it, over and over. Like a promise. Like a prayer. You said until your voice was hoarse, curled up on your side as his body surrounded you. You fell asleep with it on your tongue.

And you woke up to an empty bed.

#eren jaeger #aot #attack on titan #eren x reader #snk eren #attack on titan fanfiction #eren jaeger smut #eren x y/n #aot angst #shingeki no kyoujin eren #eren yeager #eren yaeger smut #angst #aot reader insert #aot fanfic #snk smut #snk #shingeki no kyoujin #eren jaeger x reader #attack on titan eren #blood tw

[drosera-nepenthes]

A Royal Recluse: Princess Clotilde

Just at the time when, in consequence of the weakness and folly of the republican government, certain French Monarchists are looking to Prince Victor Napoleon Bonaparte as the possible savior of their country, the Prince, whose marriage to Princess Clementina of Belgium recently brought him before the public, was watching by the deathbed of his mother, Princess Clotilde of Savoy, who breathed her last on June 25. The story of this royal lady is a pathetic one and, apart from the interest that is attached to her as the mother of the imperial candidate to the French throne, her personal character was one of rare beauty.

She was the daughter of Victor Emmanuel II, first King of Italy, and of Adelaide, Archduchess of Austria, and was born at Turin on March 2, 1843. Her mother died in 1855, leaving five young children, of whom Clotilde was the eldest, the others being Humbert, the future King of Italy ; Amadeo, Duke of Aosta ; Maria Pia, the queen dowager of Portugal, and a son who died in childhood. The Queen of Sardinia (Victor Emmanuel had not at that time laid violent hands on the independent states of Italy) was an exemplary wife and mother, and her orphan daughters were carefully educated by the attendants whom she had placed about them.

Never was a princess more ruthlessly sacrificed to political interests than the eldest princess of Savoy. When a mere child of sixteen, Clotilde was chosen to cement the alliance between France and Sardinia, and was promised in marriage to Prince Napoleon Jerome, nephew of Napoleon I and first cousin Napoleon III, the reigning sovereign. Princess Clotilde was connected with the Bourbons, her very name was French and was given to her in memory of the French Princess Marie Clotilde, sister of Louis XVI, who married a King of Sardinia ; but allied as she was by close ties of blood to the Bourbons, she had nothing in common with the Bonapartes who occupied their place, and a more ill-assorted couple never existed than the middle-aged, violent, cynical and free-thinking Prince Napoleon and the daughter of the most ancient royal house in Europe, who traditions and surroundings were strictly conservative and religious. Their marriage took place at Turin on January 30, 1859. The bride was sixteen and the bridegroom thirty-seven. He had a handsome presence and was intelligent and well informed and well informed, but neither his private life nor his freely expressed opinions on public matters made him estimable or lovable. His attitude with regard to his cousin, the Emperor, was one of constant opposition, and it was reported that his anti-religious views led him to take part in the banquets organized by a group of free thinkers on Good Friday. Under the Second Empire the French Government was officially Catholic, and Prince Napoleon's hostile and aggressive attitude was pronounced ill-bred, if not worse. Throughout France he was distinctly unpopular.

The young bride, married to this unsympathetic nephew of the great Napoleon, probably had few illusions as to the sum of happiness that awaited her in her new home. There are still some old men living who remember her when she took possession of the Palais Royal, Prince Napoleon's Paris house.: a slight, pale girl, with fluffy, fair hair and bright eyes, not pretty but singularly attractive. Her high breeding stood her in good stead in the somewhat parvenu atmosphere of the Court of the Tuileries, she had a royal dignity all her own, and her simplicity of heart was combined with much quiet firmness. From the first she ordered her life according to the principles in which she had been educated. An early riser, even at the Palais Royal, she gave much time to prayer and to works of mercy, but her piety, says M. Emile Ollivier, a former minister of Napoleon II, “never made her tiresome or intolerant. She believed that the most useful sermon was the practice of the virtues that are taught by faith.” Her husband, although so widely apart from her, acknowledged her goodness. “Clotilde is a saint,” he sometimes said ; “if there were many like her, I believe I myself should end by becoming devout.”

When the disastrous war of 1870 brought terror and shame upon France, the Princess was in Paris. During that fatal month of August every day came news of a fresh defeat, and the revolution that was to break out on the 4th of September was already distinctly perceptible; the infuriated and terrified people made the imperial government responsible for the reverses that so keenly wounded their patriotic pride.

Princess Clotilde was alone at the Palais Royal ; her husband was with the army, her three children she sent to Switzerland, where Prince Napoleon had an estate; but she steadily refused to leave Paris while the Empress Eugénie remained at the Tuileries. There was not much personal sympathy between the two; it was Princess Clotilde's feeling of loyalty that chained her to the post danger as long as there was a semblance of imperial government in Paris.

In vain her husband wrote imperious messages bidding her join her children at Prangins; in vain her father sent the Marquis Spinela to Paris to escort her ; the Princess so yielding in everyday life, was unbending in her decision to remain at the palace as long as the lonely woman at the Tuileries was the nominal ruler of France ; she had shared the splendors of the Empire, and it went against her noble spirit to desert the Empress.

The letter this young woman, a stranger in a strange land, wrote to her father on August 25, 1870, has been quoted by the French papers. It is a right royal letter worthy of the daughter of kings:

“I am a French woman,” she says. “I cannot desert my country. When I married although so young, I knew what I was doing and if I did it, it was because I wished to do so. The interest of my husband, of my children and of my country require that I should remain here. The honor of my name, your honor, my dear father, and that of my country also demand it. Nothing will make me fail in what I believe to be my duty to the end... You know that the house of Savoy and fear have never gone together, and you would not wish that they should meet in my person.”

At last, when the Empress was driven from her palace by the mob, the Princess considered that she was free to follow, but how different was the departure of the two women!

The brilliant and beautiful sovereign, closely disguised, was only able to leave Paris owing to the assistance of her American dentist, Dr. Evans; her young cousin made her exit as a princess. In an open carriage, accompanied by her lady in waiting, she drove to the railway station in broad daylight. The excited people, awed by her courage and dignity, saluted her as she passed out of their sight, a truly royal and saintly figure.

Princess Clotilde lived for some years at Prangins, near Geneva, where she devoted herself to the education of her three children; then, when her husband was allowed to return to France, the difficulties of her married life were such that by mutual consent she retired to the Castle of Moncalieri, near Turin, with her young daughter. Here, in the home of her childhood, she spent nearly forty years. They were years of peace, largely marked by sorrow. Four times only did she emerge from her retreat, once in January 1878, when she heard that her father lay dangerously ill in Rome. She had suffered cruelly from the spoliation of the Holy See by the house of Savoy, and the remembrance of her father's part in the matter prompted her to fly to his bedside. On the way she heard that he was dead, and she sadly returned to Moncalieri. In 1891, she again started for Rome, this time to visit her husband, who lay dying at the Hotel de Russie. Those who saw the Princess during those solemn days can never forget her sweetness, earnestness and gentle patience. What passed between her and Prince Napoleon none can tell, but Cardinal Mermillod a frequent visitor to the sick room, professed himself satisfied, after two private interviews, that the dying man was fully conscious. The Princess, whose married life, it is well known, had been a via crucis, remained near him to the end, praying incessantly for the soul that probably owes its salvation to her intercession. Again in 1903 and in 1904, she left Moncalieri to visit her sister-in-law, Princess Mathilde Bonaparte, whose deathbed she attended.

Her life, as it neared the end became more and more that of a recluse. Her sons lived their own lives in Brussels and in Russia; her daughter, having married a Prince of Savoy, was near to her, and their visits, occasionally brought an element of joy into the silent castle. Last autumn, Prince Victor Napoleon's marriage to the Princess Clémentine of Belgium gladdened his mother's heart. It was celebrated at Moncalieri, and to those who attended the ceremony the most striking figure present was the slight, gray-haired lady, plainly dressed in black, whose eyes had the far-away look of those who are nearing the eternal shore. Even in the days of her youth Princess Clotilde's spirituality struck M. Emile Ollivier. It gave her, he says a singular insight into all questions that touch on right and wrong; she possessed the gifts of the true mystics, “who judge human affairs with a clearness and rectitude born of detachment.” Her chief link with the outer world during the long, silent years of old age was her love for the poor, to whom she gave royally, with a loving kindness that made her gifts more precious. Their grief was great when they heard of her death, and their prayers will follow her remains to the royal mausoleum of La Superga, near Turin, where the daughter of the Sardinian Kings sleeps with her ancestors.

America. United States, America Press, 1911.

#princess clotilde of savoy #italian royal family #bonaparte #napoleon jerome bonaparte #biography #french royal family #house of bourbon

[wayward-mikaelson]

I Still Want You, I Still Need You- I. Civil War

Word Count: 2576

About: You are on Steve’s side of things and that upsets your brother,Tony. Showing that you and Tony are two different versions of your guys father, Howard. 

Characters: Reader, Bucky, Tony, Steve, Natasha, Sam, Clint, Wanda, Zemo, and T’Challa

Pairing: None

Warnings/Trigger Warnings: Language, Blood, Injury, Mention of past death

A/N: This has been in my head forever. So while I write both this mini series and Winter’s Doll, please bare with me. 

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The two sides were lined up like the soldiers in during war time way back in the day. You couldn’t see it, but you knew that your brothers face was upset and disappointed in you. He knew that the two of you were similar but, yet, so much more different than each other. There was nothing he could say or do to make you change your mind. He was wrong and you knew it. He was just too blind to see it.

“Really, Y/N, you too? You’re on the wrong side of the line, dear.” Your brother said shaking his head. “I thought you were smarter than this? Dad would be so disappointed in you.”

You couldn’t help but let out a fake laugh. “You’re right, Tony,” You gave him the look that you knew pierced through his mask. The look that many people have said to have been a look that Howard Stark gave, to make himself so intimidating. “I’m smart. I’m smart enough to make decisions for myself and darling, this one is the right one. And bringing Dad into this isn’t going to change anything. You Know that.”

“Is that what Cap told you?” Tony pressed. “That his way is right and mine wrong?”

From the corner of your eye, you saw Steve shift his feet around. “He didn’t have to,” your voice grew cold. The way it always did when you and Tony bickered. “I came to that conclusion myself.”

“Well, then, that’s make you a criminal like the rest of them,” Tony stepped back with both his hands up. “It’s not too late to change your mind, Y/N/N.”

You could hear it in his voice when Tony called you by the nickname he gave you when you were little. He was trying everything he could to get you to step out of this and join his side. He didn’t want to fight his little sister. You didn’t want to fight your brother. 

But yet, here the two of you are.

“I’m sorry, Tony,” you pulled out your retractable bow staff and opened it.

“I’m sorry too,” Tony said.

“What do we do?” Scott asked Steve.

“We fight,” Steve answered starting to lead the way. “Y/N, make sure you guard Bucky. Everyone knows that if they hurt you too bad, Tony will not hesitate to return the favor. Doesn’t matter what side you’re on.”

“Got it Cap,” you said. You knew that Steve was right. Didn’t matter what side you were on, if someone on Tony’s side hurt you to the point that you were hospitalized or near death, he would not hesitate and return the favor. He was still your big brother after all. You had your differences and disagreements. The two of you wouldn’t let the other get seriously injured.

You guessed the new kid didn’t get that memo.

While both teams were fighting, you and Bucky were weaving in and out of the fighting. The new kid, who shot out webs and talked way too much, threw something very large at you. But Bucky tackled you out of the way. The kid came at you again but when you swung your bow staff at him, he caught it and tossed you off it a good ten feet away. You were sure that you were going to wake up sore in the morning. You stood up and then saw red surrounding the new kid who as tossed into a giant pile of boxes. Your bow staff breaking in half.

You nodded your head towards Wanda who nodded back. She ran back towards the fighting.

“You okay?” Bucky asked.

“I’m fine, let’s keep moving.”

The two of you weaved in and out of the fighting again until Steve caught up with you. The three of you crunched out of the line of fire. You looked back to see your friends fighting. One side to be regulated by the government despite what happened to SHEILD a few years back and to bring Bucky in for something he didn’t even do. The other side, to help you and Steve get Bucky to safety, because you, too, believed he was innocent.

“We’re not going to be able to get everyone to that jet,” You told Steve. “It’s going to be impossible with everything thing going on.”

“Some of us are going to have to loose this for us to win it,” Clint’s voice is heard in your coms.

You knew he was right. You hated it too. The three of you ran towards the hanger. A few tiny missiles whizzed passed you guys from above and hit the hanger. That didn’t stop you guys from running, Wanda managed to stop the debris from the building long enough for the three of you to slide right under it.

“He’s innocent, Nat,” Steve said.

You turned around to see Natasha, your best friend, who was almost like a sister to you, standing there. A firm and disappointed look in her face. Natasha rose up her arm and you knew what was coming. You were prepared to tackle the female Russian assassin. “I’m going to regret this,” she said and slightly moved her arm to the side and shot out a taser. It whizzed passed your head.

You looked to see that Natasha’s taser hit T’Challa. “Go,” she yelled and shot another at the Wankadan king. Making him hit the ground once again.

You guys board the quinjet. You strapped into the pilot seat and started to press all the buttons you need. Even disabling the tracker. Steve and Bucky strapped in and soon, you had the aircraft in the air and flew through whatever you could. Looking down at the airport below, you saw law enforcement showing up. You still knew that you made the right choice in taking Steve’s side.

While you flew to Serbia, Steve and Bucky talked. You drowned them out and thought about your brother. A brother you knew all to well. You’d be on his radar until he found you. Until he had Bucky in his clutches. Until you and Steve were behind bars. Unless something there was something that gave him a reason to stop looking. You just hoped that you can get the information you needed before that ever happened.

Bucky needed his name cleared.

“We should be coming up on the base here soon,” Bucky’s voice brought you back to reality.

You looked a head and saw a snow covered mountain. At first you didn’t see anything but after the fog lifted you saw what looked like a bunker. As you landed the aircraft, from the corner of your eye you saw Bucky’s body stiffen up. You could only imagine what was going through the super soldiers head.

“You got this, Bucky,” You turned to him once the quinjet was landed and secured.

Bucky gave a small smile before he and Steve left the aircraft.

Then you were alone.

With your thoughts.

Time passed slowly as you literally twirled around in the pilot chair. You thought about your only memories of your father, Howard. You were really young when he took you in after your mothers death. Gave you the Stark name and all but that didn’t stop people from calling you his bastard child from one of his flings. Even after his and Maria’s death. But Tony had put a stop to that when he was asked what he thought about having a bastard sister. Let’s just say that night, Tony almost ended the night in handcuffs.

Some movement made you stop turning in your chair. You squinted your eyes to getting a better look through the snow being blown around the wind. The movement seemed to be black and upon a clearer look you saw that it was the King of Wakanda himself.

You gathered whatever weapons you could find in the quinjet and ran outside. The cool brisk air hit your face and tingled your nose. You didn’t let that stop you, you slowly followed T’challa to the door.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Your Highness,” you snapped open one of Clint’s bows.

The Wakandan king turned around slowly. “And why is that?” The thick accent came out slow and firm. You didn’t want to go up against this man at all but you would if you had to.

“Barnes isn’t who you want,” You noticed your voice started to shake. “All the answers we are looking for, it’s in that building.”

“I’m sorry, but I have to do what I must do,” T’challa started to open the door.

You reached behind you and pulled out a random arrow. You loaded it on the bow string and shot it. Luckily, for you, it had been one of those electric arrows. It shocked the Wakandan king and he fell to the ground. “I’m sorry too,” you ran passed him and into the building.

You wandered around looking for Steve and Bucky. Abandoned or not, the place gave you the creeps. You didn’t want to think about what this place did to Bucky. Then you turned a corner and saw a huge contraption that looked like the thing that Steve and Bucky talked about.

That thing that shocked the shit out of Bucky when he was under Hydra control. Suddenly your heart fell a million feet when you thought about the constant pain Bucky had been put through.

“Poor Bucky,” you whispered as your hand touched the torture device. “I’m so sorry this happened to you.”

You moved on and began to hear voices. You slowly followed the voices until you found them. The voice that spoke had an accent. He talked about the Battle of Sokovia, a battle which almost took your life. Then he spoke about the Vienna bombing and how that was all his doing.

“I told you it wasn’t him,” you spoke as you approached the group. “But you didn’t believe me or trust me.”

Tony turned to you. “I know and I’m sorry.”

“Oh good, the whole family is here,” the strange voice said. “Now the show can really begin.”

There was soft click and hum somewhere in the room. Everyone looked around and spotted an old television set. You guys approached it and when the screen popped up of an old road, you heard Tony suck in his breath.

“I know that street,” he said.

You watch the events unfold on the screen before. Your father dying at the hand of Bucky. You shot a look at Bucky whose entire face had fallen. Your eyes shifted to Tony who looked like he was about to either snap or pass out. You turned to the tv and stopped the video.

“Tony,” you turned back him.

“Don’t you dare say anything,” Tony snapped at you.

“Tony,” Steve cut in.

“Give him to me, Rogers,” Tony’s mask flew back on and turned toward Bucky. You knew he meant business.

You jumped in front of your brother. Bow loaded with an arrow.  “Tony, no,” you rose your voice. “It wasn’t really him. He was brainwashed.”

“Stand aside, Y/N,” Tony started to fire up his suit.

“It wasn’t him,” you yelled as you rose the bow up and aim it at him.

“I don’t fucking care,” Tony yelled back. “He killed our parents. No move or so help me.”

You let the arrow go and it hit Tony’s armor and stuck to it. Before he even had time to grab it and toss it, the arrow exploded, sending Tony back into the television set.

“Go,” you told Bucky and Steve. “I’ll be able to hold him off.” You loaded another arrow and pointed it at your brother who slowly got up.

“Are you sure about that?’ Steve asked.

“He won’t hurt me too much,” you stayed focused on Tony who stood and stared at you. You could only imagine that thoughts of anger and surprise he had. “Just go!”

“You don’t want to do this, Y/N/N,” Tony held up his hand again. “You’re giving me absolutely no fucking choice.”

“Then don’t fucking make one,” you kept your weapon in place. “Drop all of this and let us go. No one has to get hurt anymore.”

Without warning or any other word said, Tony hit you. With what, you weren’t sure since he upgrades his suits whenever he’s bored. You flew back into something hard and smacked your head hard enough to put you out.

***

When you came to, your sight was fuzzy and your side was killing you. You were still in the old Hydra base so that was good, Tony hadn’t thought about taking you back. You looked down and as you saw a piece of metal poking out of your side. Biting your lip as hard as you could until you tasted blood, you pulled the metal out of your side.

You placed your hand over the wound to clot the small blood flow. You stood up and swayed some. It felt like your brain was rolling around in your head. Tony must have used some force and it pissed you off.

In the distance you heard the clanging around and yelling. You knew that Tony cornered Steve and Bucky. You followed the the sound and when you found them you saw Bucky on the ground. His metal arm blown off. Blood flood from his head and nose.

“Bucky,” you ran and slide over to him. You checked his pulse and pressed an ear to his chest. “Thank God,” you breathed when the soft sound of his heart reached your ear. “We’ll get you fixed you up.” You swore you saw a small smile on his face when you said that.

Then you looked up.

Steve had Tony in the air and threw him into a wall. You gasped and stood up only to fall to your knees when the pain in your side ran sharp through your body. Steve straddled Tony and grabbed his shield and started to hit his mask with the edge of it. The shield managed to break the mask. You saw fear in Tony’s face as Steve rose the shield once again.

“Steve, no!” You screamed as Steve brought the shield down. But it didn’t hit Tony’s face. It his the arc reactor in the suit. Making the suit shut down.

Steve looked back at you and got up. Pulling the shield out of Tony’s suit. Steve walked over to where you and Bucky were. He pulled Bucky up and looked at you. “Are you okay?” He asked softly.

You nodded as you stared at Tony. Tony stared back at you. His eyes on your bloodied hand that covered your wound. His shifted to Steve who started to walk away. “He gave you that shield,” he yelled. “You don’t deserve it.”

You turned to Steve, who stopped and drop the shield where he stood. You slowly and painfully got up and began to follow Steve you.

“Y/N!” Tony yelled after you. You turned to him. “You leave with them, you won’t have a home to come back to. You’d be forced to be on the run. A criminal. Dad would be embarrassed by your actions.”

You stared Tony in the eyes. “No, Tony,” your voice firm and full of anger. “Dad would be embarrassed by you.”

You turned on your heel and walked away with tears threatening your eyes.

#I Still Want You I Still Need You Story #Shy's Marvel Masterlist #Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes x Reader #Bucky Barnes Smut #bucky barnes fluff #Bucky Barnes imagine #Bucky Barnes daily #Bucky Barnes Story #Marvel #Marvel daily #Marvel Imagine #Marvel Fanfiction #Marvel Fanfic #MCU #MCU Daily #MCU Imagine #MCU Fanfiction #MCU Fanfic #MCU Story #Marvel Story #The Winter Soldier #The White Wolf #Iron Man #Captain America #Black Panther #Zemo

[captainarminarlert-me]

|Levi x Reader| Eternal Confinement of the Heart

The dreariness you felt upon entering Levi’s office turned your visage sour within seconds. A reprimand almost slipped from your lips, but the teeth that sunk themselves into your cheek drew enough blood to keep your mouth sealed.

He’d noticed. Your hesitance to approach him, that is. His eyes fell from your figure to his paperwork once more.

Casualties.

Letters to the deceased’s family.

Gear loss.

“Look at me, for fuck’s sake, would you?” The words cut through the thick tension like a knife. 

An impalpable growl came from his throat, hovering along the lines of aggravation and vexation. His stoic temperament was toying between apathy or irritable disposition. But he remained fixed on the piles of papers.

The words he read blurred together, creating an ocean of seemingly meaningless letters.

The effect you had on him was intoxicating. The kind that left him wanting more, but the one poisonous enough to kill him in due course.

“Levi...” The name was threateningly spoken. Fixed with the tone of a thousand hammers crashing down against his skull at once, and he clicked his tongue vehemently before the grey irises behind his raven colored lashes fixed upon your form.

“What?” No remorse laced words found themselves stuck in his throat this time, or apologies coated with the endearment he held only for you.

It felt as though your world was ending. But had it even begun in the first place?

What did you even have to say to him? Your words had fallen on deaf ears once before, and like Hell would anything change now.

“Please...” A plea. But he scoffed in derision at that and stuck his eyes back onto the pile of... what was it again that he was reading? “You’re killing yourself.”

That was enough to warrant a violent jerk of his head in your direction. It was clear to you now the bags that drooped from underneath his lids, or the slight twitch of his right eye, or even the way his left hand frantically itched the side of his face every couple of seconds.

He was beyond tired.

The casualties of the expedition beyond the wall had been the greatest since Wall Maria was reclaimed, and even then, Levi refused to admit he did wrong by his squad. 

It wasn’t on him, per se, but he’d either fall into guiltily accusing himself of all casualties... or none.

And for the past week, he’d been hauled up behind closed doors, mulling over the past incidents that led up to him feeling as weak and shaky as a crumpled leaf, and without you by his side, his condition had deteriorated from bad to worse.

Previously, he would have at least accepted an offer of tea from you, but the fasting he’s done had warranted an urgent dismissal of his actions towards you and an extreme change in his unhealthy habits.

“What?” He’d said it this time with a slight shakiness to his tone, as though the harsh facade he’d portrayed was slowly—tiredly—crashing down against your perpetual attempts to ease him of the grasp he had around his throat. Surely, at this rate, he’d suffocate to death.

“Just... Just stop, Levi.” You’d found enough energy to walk the distance between where you stood near the mahogany door and the table situated at the farthest end of the room. His exhausted figure, hunched over his desk like his life was dependent solely on him completing these papers, looked as though he’d taken a special run through Hell, and like he’d left all sense there, too.

A hand came crashing against his desk, sending a couple of papers scattered around the room, landing near your feet from the impact of your small palm.

Levi’s eyes shot up to you, and he finally had the strength to lift himself from his chair and face you at your level. “What don’t you get about leaving me alone?”

A helpless man was what you once thought he was. Powerless against the fleets of love, coiled in its hold as though he was a prisoner and not a willing captive.

It disgusted you what he’d become. But you remained silent against his cutting tone. The least you could do was grant him a floor to speak.

When his eyes left your face and landed on the ring you wore on your left hand, his expression softened—reminding him of the day he’d proposed. He wasn’t more untroubled back then—life to him was all the same—but he felt... safer. In your arms. He’d felt as though he could stand against the world with you at his side. 

But now... The withering leaves of the rose he’d handed to you, his heart, had become a constant reminder of the agony that was gradually replacing his hope of a somewhat normal life.

And it pained you.

“Listen,” he began, as though you’d given him the floor to defend his toxic actions, and not to simply apologize and move on. It was your turn to discontently click your tongue against the roof your mouth, but he continued anyway, “I won’t repeat myself again. What happens in my office is my privacy. I thought you’d understand that by now, but apparently, after being by my side for years, you barely comprehend simple commands.”

It was like he’d dug a knife through your heart, pierced your only source of life, finished off whatever remained of your love towards him, and triumphantly—you’d assumed—brushed you off like you were merely dust on his boots.

“I’m just worried about you,” you finally managed to say after what felt like hours. The ticking of the clock in the room was the only sound shared besides your rhythmic breathing and Levi’s clicking of his boots.

“That’s not why I married you. Dismissed.”

It was as though the last statement he’d professed was so minuscule to the way he’d so easily repudiated your words and rejected your advances that the shakiness of your palms was now conspicuous enough to draw his attention.

But he wouldn’t bring it up. He knew he’d been the result of countless nights of tear-filled sleep, and perhaps a couple of tormenting nightmares, that a trembling hand was nothing but a merely obscure result of a dissension between two selfish individuals. 

“Dismissed?” You let out an airy-breath, something mixed between a laugh and a sneer. “What am I? One of your fucking cadets?” 

In any other occasion, he would’ve found your words amusing, but as you stood before him now, he wanted nothing more than to find his solace by quietly pondering on his own... without your constant nagging in his ear.

What you did was for his own benefit, he knew, but the toxic habits that brought him back into this mess were enough to win over in his brain and allow the continuous cycle to torment him until he fell into a dark abyss of virulence. 

He carried some form of rancor within him against you, but he’d held it back. Up until now, he’d been taming those feelings inside him, but it was only a matter of time before he let them leave his grasp and fall upon you.

“Baby,” you called for him, finally realizing that the shakiness of your hand ceased the moment you touched his cheek. “Levi, my love...” At those words, his breathing slowed down, and he subtly leaned into the palm slowly caressing his left cheek. “For me, take a small break. Drink tea, change your clothes, just do anything but sit on that god forsaken chair of yours.”

Your voice was barely above an audible whisper, on the verge of hushedness. 

But his ears strained hard enough to make out those words, and it felt as though the gears in his brain finally started once more.

He called out your name, his steel orbs finding peace in staring at your own ones, and the guard he let down before you finally allowed him to realize he could be vulnerable.

The glassy stare he gave you from behind half lidded eyes sent shivers up your spine at the helplessness on his face, and in return, realization struck you that this man hadn’t given up on you.

He’d given up on the world.

The vulnerability he portrayed was indicative that the animosity of his words directed at you wasn’t because he lost hope in what you two had created for yourselves, but in what the world held in store for him.

“Thank you.”

The sudden gesture appeared seemingly out of thin air, but you understood his thought process and what led him to form those two words. 

It was his way of reminding you that all yearning he had for an end to this Hellhole was being held by a single thread. 

You.

And that through the ups and downs of the eternal confinement your heart had in relation to the man you harbored all the love for in the world, a flutter of desire for one another would always rise against all odds and against all likelihood.

#levi x reader #captain levi #levi ackerman #fanfic #aot #attack on titan #angst #hurt #comfort #aot x reader #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #shingeki no kyojin #reader insert #levi ackerman x female! reader #levi ackerman fic #aot x you

[breathings-of-the-heart]

Imagine Levi Confessing his Love for You

A/N: THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT PLEASE READ THE TEXT BELOW BEFORE PROCEEDING THANK YOU :))

HERE IS A TIMELINE /  EXPLANATION / BACKGROUND INFORMATION BECAUSE CASE THE TIME SKIPS OF THIS STORY ARE CONFUSING: I’m sorry for that everyone, I know the dates are sloppy and as a whole this fic doesn’t make too much sense; I tried to edit this piece as best I could to make the story as easy to follow as possible, but seeing as I can’t unpublish part 1 or 2, the cleanup still leaves things bit unclear. These imagines were originally chapters of a longer Levi x Reader fic that I decided to discontinue, which is why there are so many loose ends. Here was my original intention for this story, broken down for the few who choose to read the Author’s Notes lol.

We are going to do this in the order of the 3 part fic (I also put attached all the links to the titles)

Part 1: Imagine Relating to Mikasa About Loving Someone in the Military

The scene is set during the events of SEASON 1 of Attack on Titan, BEFORE the Female Titan Arc. (Y/N) was also hand selected by Levi to be part of the original Special Operation Squad; she bit her hand at the dinner table along with Petra, Gunther, Eld, and Oluo to show their dedication and understanding towards Eren wayyy back in the beginning of the series. The Survey Corps is making preparations for their first attempt to go to Shiganshina since the Fall of Wall Maria and not only uncover the mole who killed captive titans Sonny and Bean, but also to get to Eren’s basement.

Part 2: To Love Another

The flashback and opening scene in the beginning of this writing piece (where (Y/N) and Hange are talking to each other) occurs shortly after (Y/N) wakes up in the infirmary room, before anyone breaks the news that she, aside from an injured Levi, is the last surviving member of Squad Levi after Annie killed the others in the Forest of Giant Trees in her female titan form. Hange’s intentions were to bring the (Y/N) and Levi together so they would be able to support each other during this mutual loss. But alas, (Y/N) accepts his rejection and the two suffer the aftermath of this tragic news alone. To read this arc for context/bonus content to get a better understanding of this mini series, see my posts (as a sort of prequel, if you will) Imagine Levi Finding you Injured on an Expedition and Imagine Being the Last Member of Squad Levi To Survive to fill that time gap :)

In real-time, all of Season 2 and Season 3 Part 1 have gone by with limited interaction between (Y/N) and Levi. This part of the story is occurring during Season 3 PART 2, (spoilers) after the Coup D'etat, and after Historia becomes Queen. (Y/N) is no longer an active soldier, having sustained injuries too severe to be reliable in combat. She remains useful to the Corps as a battle strategist, however, which allows her to stay. The Scouting Regiment is currently preparing to go to Eren’s basement in their second attempt, knowing Reiner and Berthold will be waiting for them there.

Part 3: Imagine Levi Confessing his Love for You (YOU ARE HERE)

This part takes place pretty much a week or so after the events of “To Love Another.” It is revealed how much (Y/N) has isolated herself in the months between Parts 1 and 2 from not only Levi, but Hange, the only one besides Mikasa who knew about her feelings for Levi prior to their falling out. (Y/N) confesses her feelings for Levi before the mission to Shiganshina in Season one, and the fic parallels itself and comes full circle once their final interaction occurs before the second and final mission to Shiganshina, for which, (Y/N) is unable to go for her death would be almost certain. She seen to be more valuable inside the walls, where she can carry on the duties of the Survey Corps should the entire regiment collapse during the mission. This is the final part :)

I HOPE THAT CLEARS THINGS UP!

requested by @a-single-uwo @dracq and @little-diva-gurl and a lovely anon who def isn’t the happiest that this took so long. Deepest apologies! Hope this was worth the wait. I also hope this post finds everyone safe and in good health during these crazy times <3

~~~~~

Dread bottled up in the bottom of your stomach, which threatened to fall down to your knees. Even Hange’s eyes brimmed with concern when she informed you that Levi requested your presence in his office; all of which was out of the blue, uncharacteristic, after months of him being accustomed to giving you your space.

Feigning annoyance, you stared at the soldier dummy two paces ahead, dented heavily with the marks of your punches. The sun was beating down on the early autumn day, and heat waves rose from the ground. It illuminated the glistening perspiration sliding down your figure, torso rising and falling in short breaths of exhaustion.

Hange watched you carefully from a distance. She noticed your tense muscles, clad in a sports bra and boxing shorts; the lack of attire made it impossible to hide the sudden tension and stiffness embedded in your lean muscles, a tell tale sign of distress. As a creature of observation and analytics, the Squad Leader could sense your discomfort as if it was written across your forehead.

The brunette watched you wipe the sweat off your forehead and yell in frustration, turning towards her direction and moving to land a kick at her head.

Unfazed and in possession of sharp reflexes, Hange took a step back, only to watch as you twisted mid-air and landed a 360 Crescent kick to the dummy-shaped bag, which broke open on impact under the force of the blow. Sand poured out of its opening and spilled onto the ground in a steady stream that grew less heavy as the seconds passed.

“I’ll have to admit, you are getting better, but (Y/N), don’t get your hopes up,” Hange cautioned. “The problem does not reside in your muscles. No matter how well you learn to fight like you used to, Annie crushed your ribs and threw you to the ground: it's your lungs that will never recover. You can’t come with us to Shiganshina tomorrow like this.”

Hunched over with hands on your knees, you regained a regular breathing pattern and began to feel the explosive pain in your chest. Airways blocked, you began coughing, willing the oxygen to enter your body.

“Let me humor myself, Hange-san. If I don’t try, I might go insane.”

It was almost tragic that such a young soldier was out of commission; you were full of promise, rivalling Mikasa in skill. Hange knew you were itching to do what you trained for your whole life: Coming to Shiganshina and putting it all on the line had always been your number one goal. You didn’t want to be left behind again, to die bitter and alone without the only people you cared about.

“Regardless, (Y/N), you’re stalling,” Hange smoothly shifted the topic of conversation back to what brought her to you in the first place. “He still has that power over you, huh?”

"It'll pass eventually," you sighed, hoping the words were true.

You bowed towards the tall female. She smiled in return, shaking her head softly.

Whilst pacing away, said person stopped you once more.

“(Y/N). For what it’s worth, I stand by what I said before. Don’t look so nervous, okay?”

Her words replayed in your head, a haunting ghost of the not-so-long ago past. Time was strange, that way. It seemed like everything happened yesterday yet in another lifetime, all at once. “He loves you, more than he’s ever loved anyone. Surely you know that.”

Stupid, you thought, how I might have believed it once.

As you made your way down the hall, numbness crept into your body once again. You were too proud to admit you were afraid, especially with the Section Commander’s radiating sympathy, but everyone knew the once friendly dynamic between you and the Captain transformed into one more distant and cold. With each step towards the door, you felt the icy chill grow and that fact alone shook you to the core. 

But it didn’t matter, seeing as Levi was of superior authority. There was no way around it.

Your hand shook as it raised to knock.

~~~~~~

“Name and business,” Levi spoke, voice muffled by the closed door.

“It’s (Y/N), sir. I was hoping to speak with you.”

There was a pause, and in that time you considered the option of fleeing back to your room and retreating back to a life of emotional safety, normality. It wasn’t too late to forget.

It had been a week since you spoke to Mikasa on the rooftop, after realizing the deep shit your heart decided to put you in. You didn’t think Levi would notice the distracted nature of your behavior-- tried to make it as subtle as possible whilst you figured out what you felt for him. 

But before you could explore other options, Levi muttered a stern “enter.” You knew with the first expedition back to Shiganshina tomorrow, and the prospect of death closer than it has ever been on a mission, it was now or never. 

The room was dim, small, warm, and thick with building tension. Shadows danced across the Captain’s face, sharp features lit by an orange flame. Only candlelight, sourced at his desk, assisted your adjusting eyes. 

Your nose was hit with the smell of tea and cleaning products upon entry. This fact made you smile despite your bundling nervous energy. It was a familiar place, filled with memories of late night conversations (granted, of mostly you speaking and him listening), witnessed only by the large piles of paperwork. It started here and resulted in a natural, growing fondness kept secret to all except you two and the moon looking in from the window. 

This man was your squad leader, your commander, your trusted comrade. There was no need to be afraid-- Not unless of course, you held the potential to shatter such damn a delicate relationship.

And you did. 

Was it worth it?

Your gaze gravitated towards the center of the room where the Lance Corporal sat. And in that instant, your smile evaporated instantly. He placed his pen down, gracefully resting his cheek on his fist and lazily tossing the raven locks out of his eyes-- they landed on you, piercing yet drowsy and indifferent upon first glance. He was beautiful, as always. The allure was nearly sickening; unfair to the rest of the world.

Looking closer, however, he was anything but relaxed. The observant eye could see his countenance stirred something different. He seemed sharp and focused, ready to dart out and wrap himself around your heart, squeezing tighter with every breath you took. And you felt it-- the heart palpitations, which got worse at the sight of him.

He seemed… different. Dangerous, like a storm stirring in the distance, and the inevitable downpour that comes with it. The dark circles under his eyes told tales about the insomnia; a fresh cup of caffeinated black tea even rested on his left, steam rising out of it. And whilst attraction was undeniable, your concern always came first.

Levi was never quite good at getting proper rest before a mission.

“(Y/N),” The word was breathy, yet his voice was rough.

You shuffled in your spot, your name on his tongue making your stomach churn with desire.

Levi seemed to pick up on your affliction, getting out of his chair and gliding towards you. Everything happened fast and slow all at once, starting off with a momentaneous rush of air and  the collision of your back with the office wall. A small shriek filled the air, out of place against the silence; was that your voice? The pain should’ve been there, but it wasn’t.

Then the seconds dragged out. Levi was a new person, setting your skin aflame as he gripped your wrists and pinned them against the wall. His lips brushed your eartips, which turned red the instant the raven’s breath fanned over them. This normally reserved, disciplined man unleashed something you had never seen before.

“Finally ready to talk to me about why you’ve been acting so strange, brat?” he whispered.  

This wasn’t supposed to be so dirty. He was angry, but the mood was established in layers: something more sinister existed beneath.

The scent of fresh pine filled your nostrils until your brain went foggy. Levi was close--so close, and with the fact that you’ve been avoiding him mixed in with the fact that you missed him for it, all bets were off: there was no stopping the words that came out of your mouth next.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” you whispered back, looking him dead in the eyes, no fear this time.

His grip on your wrist slackened.

“Hm?”

You took in a deep breath, ready to leave it all on the line, and spoke.

“I like you a lot, sir. And not in a comradery type of way. I-I just thought I’d tell you before, you know, we leave tomorrow.” Your gaze found the floor again, too timid for your own good. But the statement was said, and it was finite; there was no turning away from it.

The Captain’s eyes went wide and gleamed brightly at you. His chest felt lighter and as he looked down at you in speechless awe, staring at anything but his face in your adorable embarrassment, he realized exactly why your absent look irked him those days ago. Why your lack of enthusiasm and lighthearted-ness gave him a strange sense of frustration. 

Levi never felt more awake, more hyper aware of his surroundings. 

The feeling of your chest pressed against him, the heat of those rosy cheeks, the pounding within his ribcage, the moon hitting your pretty face. With your figure in his arms, after the blissful seconds passed, everything felt, for once, okay.

Until it wasn’t.

Gaining the courage to look back up at him, you all but tore apart at the scowl on his face as demons flitted through his beautiful brain and polluted the image of happiness. Levi grew more indignant by the second, all but throwing your arms he held back at your sides like they were poison to the touch. 

Tears pooled in your eyes as the soft expression you didn’t get to see turned sour, disgusted-- the Captain’s lips curling into a snarl as he imagined what he could lose if he opened up his heart for this girl in front of him to take. The risk and pain of falling for someone, in the world the two of you lived in. And all the stoic man could think was how he allowed this charade to come so far.

No, he wouldn't allow it.

“Get out, (L/N)” he commanded, harsh and unforgiving.

You were trembling, body feeling detached from reality as it moved, convincing itself that it was simply a nightmare. Levi’s cruel demeanor all but shattered you as you looked wide-eyed and his anger grew, the short man pacing behind his desk and bringing a hand over his face. His free one crumpled into a fist, knuckles turning white as he slammed it on the wood, the loud bang making you jump; the fear, grief, confusion coming all at once until it choked you and your vision spotted black.

“I said GET OUT!”

The room stilled and Levi looked up to face you cowering near the door, a single tear rolling down your cheek. He stilled at the sight, the weight of his words dawning upon him.  

“I-I’m sorry,” you gasped before racing out of the room.

Had you looked back, you would’ve seen Levi’s outstretched hand betraying his body, desperately reaching out for you, gray eyes filled with pain.

But you knew now you’d never be dumb enough to spare him that second glance-- and maybe that was the right call, seeing as his feet moved in the direction you left, only to shut the door left askew in your wake.  

~~~

The Captain’s gaze was on you more than necessary, but it was clear the two of you had the same thought: You focused everything into this discussion, melting into the emotionally-detached soldier your duty commanded, just like Levi did. His words had no ulterior motive, no deeper meaning. They were monotonous and empty.

Or so you thought.

Levi stood up the second you came in, but your gaze fell to the ground in submission.

“Hange said you needed to see me, Captain?” your voice was small and weak; you kicked yourself for it. How pathetic.

“Damn you...”

The man said nothing more, brushing his fingers along your cheekbones and you everything hit you like whiplash, the memories. Levi ran them along your face, down to your chin to lift it gently, so that for once you’d let your eyes meet instead of looking at the ground like a coward.

When they did the man’s breath hitched in his throat, because although your (eye color) orbs were no longer as vibrant, they were still beautiful and entrancing; why hadn’t he ever appreciated them before? 

"I missed you, brat," he spoke firmly.

You felt a churn in your abdomen as you watched his eyes study the details of your face and take in every feature, committing it to memory painfully slow. You were paralyzed, his face inches away from yours and forcing buried emotions to resurface as months of restraint came undone. He didn’t speak, holding you delicately after not being this close for far too long and discerning what he’s been missing.  

“Um, Captain? What are you...?"

You bit your lip, feeling puzzled and confused as you remembered the hate in Levi's orbs the last time you saw him like this.

All you could see now was how quickly his emotions shifted from serenity to fury that fateful night, and as you recollected the way Levi lashed out, all chaos and fury, he retracted his hand.

And you flinched away.

The Captain froze.

“Don’t-- don’t fucking do that,” he growled, his urgency startling. “I would never hurt you, (Y/N).”

Your eyebrows furrowed, all inhibition thrown out the window the second Levi’s countenance flashed with hurt at your response to his touch. You let your fear go and emotions free at the irony of the raven’s statement. Your mind went into overdrive, recounting every instance you wanted to give up and leave, drown in yourself, give up on finding purpose in the aftermath of rejection and Squad Levi’s death and your permanent injury changing your way of life. Things you faced alone, because instead of rekindling any semblance of a relationship, Levi tossed everything away and berated you for feeling.

The man who resided here cut your heart expertisely like the countless swords he wielded then disposed. He did not have the right to look at you so kindly; did not have to right to fan the flames of false hope. But here he was, procrastinating until the very last day to take initiative regarding those actions.

“Why are you doing this?” you whispered, forgetting your composure.

“I’d advise you not to speak in riddles,” Levi spoke in a low and even voice, no real malice as he addressed you and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

You took a deep breath and fought to remain calm, grabbing Levi's wrist to keep him from touching you.

“Please don’t toy with me, or mock my feelings like this. Why did you call me here? You made it plenty clear how you feel about me, Levi. What else is there to say?" you begged, the lack of closure driving you insane.

This was the first time you used his name, an unprecedented amount of spite and pain expressed through it, because you wanted Levi to remember this moment. It was over: that time of feeling sorry and ashamed of yourself for being nothing other than human. The remorse was gone, and the heartache was fleeting.

“Tell me, dammit!”

His was overflowing.

“You want to know how I really feel about you, (Y/N)!?” the Captain shouted, voice rising because for a man who relied on impulse and action on the battlefield it was fucking frustrating, watching the woman in front of him live this way for the simple reason that he was not good with words. "The thoughts that go through my head when you can't even bear to look at me?!"

"No, that's not what I asked. I already know that you don't--"

"--Fuck this."

Relying on instinct to guide him, Levi leaned forward and kissed you.

The second his lips met yours, you melted on the spot, knees giving out beneath you. Tongue sliding into your mouth, Levi simultaneously lifted you into the air, feeling lightheaded as you moaned into him, eagerly returning the kiss. His hands were everywhere, grasping at your waist, clutching the back of your head, running down your thighs. You were in such a state of euphoria that nothing else existed.

Your own digits threaded through Levi’s raven locks and pulled needily, emitting a growl from his throat as he bit down on your lower lip. He reveled in the feeling of your legs around his waist as your soft lips worked against his own, hungry and relentless. The kiss was passionate and you’d imagined it a million times over, but this-- Levi successfully ruined you for any other man.

The need for oxygen pulled you apart, Levi’s strong arms keeping you in the air as his eyes remained shut; he pecked your lips once, then twice, savoring the moment until it mournfully passed.

He was hesitant to break the silence, but you deserved it. You waited long enough to hear the truth, and he knew his time was running out; you weren’t going to wait for him forever.

“(Y/N)...” he began to speak, forehead resting on yours as he panted softly to catch his breath. “I dreamt of you last night. I have been for days.”

“Levi--”

“--Just listen,” he interrupted, unable to stop himself from kissing you softly once more. “Neither of us are running away this time.”

You fell silent as the man let you down, pulling you into his solid chest as you buried your face in his shirt, patiently listening. His calm heartbeat thrummed soothingly in your ears like a metronome.

“Isabel, Farlan, Oluo, Petra, Gunther, Eld. They all knew that what they meant to me. And I them."

One of the only things that made it easier to say goodbye, you thought with a bittersweet pang in your chest.

"With us, it's different. I died in every dream, (Y/N). Every one. And in every single one, you lived on believing I never loved you. Call me selfish, but I...”

You pulled away from the stoic man, searching his gaze as he trailed off. Shyly, you interlaced your fingers, his larger hand enveloping yours and you prayed to whoever was listening upstairs that all of this was real.

“I just can't leave until you understand...”

He clutched you impossibly tighter, eyes squeezing shut.

"...that you, are everything."

~~~ Extended Ending ~~~

A soft hum filled the air, the tune dreamy and sweet as you repeated the melody once again. You smiled warmly as hands wound around your waist, pulling you closer to a toned and shirtless Captain Levi, silken sheets tossed haphazardly on top of the two of you. His breath sent goosebumps on your neck as he kissed your shoulder gently, warmth deliciously intoxicating. 

Giggling now, you turned around to face him, the man’s onyx hair ticking you softly. You captured your lips in his with one smooth movement and snuggled closer, taking in the small slice of heaven that was home in his arms, legs tangled together. Feeling unbelievably content, like your heart might burst, you leaned forward and rubbed your nose against Levi's. 

Although he wasn't smiling, the look he was giving you revealed his own sensation of happiness.

“I never thought you’d be the cuddling type,” you remarked devilishly, scrunching up your nose as you teased him. 

Though your tone was lighthearted, you were painfully aware that the moment was ending. You internally cursed the sun as it started to set, orange light peeking in through the window shades to signal the coming of night. Levi said nothing, looking deeply into your eyes, and like always, it felt as if he could read the contents of your soul. 

But it wasn’t vulnerability you felt: on the contrary, you knew you would never find as safe a place as here. With him. Finally.  

“Levi...” you swallowed, humor all but gone. “Now you have to come home.” 

To emphasize your point you sat up on the bed, legs tucked neatly underneath you as you stared imperatively at your lover. 

“Mhm. We’ve wasted enough time,” he agreed, taking you by the wrist to pull you back on top of him, to bask in this personal paradise if only for another minute. 

#levi ackerman x reader #lance corporal levi #LEVI ACKERMAN #snk #shingeki no kyojin #AoT #attack on titan #attack on titan imagines #attack on titan x reader #snk imagines #Captain Levi #snk season 3 #aot x reader #levi x reader #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi ackerman imagine

[pettyprocrastination]

Panty & Bambi

Francisco “Catfish” Morales x Roller Derby!Reader

Summary: Helena Morales celebrates her 12th birthday at the roller rink, where she plays cupid for her kind father who’s attention has been captured by a confident skater that danced about the rink. 

Warnings: profanity, uhhh mention of alcohol?? Frankie being a fucking BOTTOM about buff thick women lmao. 

Word Count:2.9k

Perm Taglist: @honestlystop​

authors note:Wrote this because I’m sad about not being able to do derby this season and i’ve been watching lots of bouts to comfort myself in it lmao. Big inspiration to @qveenbvtch​ who wrote a fucking MAGICAL javi rollerskating fic called Ring My Bell!! It’s so fucking good read it here !!!!!! Big thank you to my boo @captainsamwlsn​ for reading this for me ILY Thais so fkin much <3

“For her next birthday could your daughter pick something that isn’t fucking murder on my knees?”

Frankie stared at his friend and god father to his now twelve year old daughter under the flashing fluorescent lights of the roller rink before taking a sip of the cheap beer in his hand. “Don’t whine Santi.” Frankie laughed.  “We both know you’d do anything for her.”

Which was true. 

Helena had only been a baby when the group went to Columbia to take down Lorea. They had always been a close-knit group of friends, but what happened on that trip, that shit-show of a mission, made them appreciate having each other even more. They visited Tom’s family when they were able to, the first few months after his death his ex-wife wouldn’t even let them on the front lawn. She took to screaming and cursing at them for his death, they didn’t tell her about the teenage boy that took her ex-husband’s life to avenge his brother. 

Tess did in fact get into Harvard. She sent Pope letters from time to time. She didn’t blame him or the others for her father’s death like her mother did. The boys couldn’t say the same for themselves. 

But the family they did have, the sweet chunky cheeked little infant girl Frankie was proud to call his daughter? Oh they all worshiped her. Little Helena had them all wrapped around her finger from the moment they set eyes on her. 

The men had been there for every tea party, fairy tale, and birthday. They watched her go from mashing cake into her mouth at one years old to laughing at a skate rink with her friends at twelve. 

Frankie had been there for everything and his boys were there to help him. 

He couldn’t say the same for Liana. 

“Twelve years brother.” Pope remarked. Frankie groaned and let his head fall forward. 

“You don’t have to tell me man. Where did it all go?” He looked out on the rink with a smile, watching his daughter skate with ease on the polished wood floors while Ben wobbled along next to her, looking more like a baby taking its first steps than a grown man. 

“It feels like just yesterday I was changing her diapers, now she’s in eighth grade.” Frankie sighed, released the vice like grip he had on the neck of his bottle. “Fuck man, I’m not ready for her to go to high school, I don’t know what I’ll do with myself.”

“You’ll do what you’ve always done for her, ‘Fish.” Frankie looked up to see Will standing at his side, setting a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You’ll be there for her. Which is more than I can say about half of the dead beat dads out there now.”

“Dad!” She called out, her pigtails swaying as she turned to him, hands held out with a big grin. “Come on!”

Frankie ignored the pop of his knees as he stood up with a groan. 

“I’ll pray for your back hermano!” Santi called out with a barking laugh as his friend slowly stepped onto the rink with shaking legs

Frankie couldn’t give his little girl the world no matter how much he wanted to, he was just one man. But damn if he wouldn’t skate with her at her birthday party. 

Helena took his hand in hers as they skated, which he knew was more for his safety than hers. But he still felt his heart clench at seeing just how small his daughter’s hand was compared to his.

“How are you so bad at this!” She giggled upon seeing his knees buckle for the third time in two minutes. While Helena had taken to roller skates with ease, the same could not be said for her father, who clutched onto her hand like a lifeline. 

“Mija, the last time I was on wheels like this was before I broke my ankle skateboarding.” A woman skated by them, the wheels on her skated lighting up a bright pink each time they made contact with the floor. You turned, skating backwards for a moment with a carefree smile before turning forward again. 

Frankie’s knees buckled when Helena’s hip bumped against his.

“God-” His daughter snorted. “Maybe if you stopped staring at that lady and focused more on skating you wouldn’t be wobbling like an old man on a walker!”

His head snapped to his daughter like a whip, for a moment uncaring how he nearly lost his balance. “I am not-I wasn’t-did you just call me an old man?”

His daughter simply stared up at him with that smug little grin that he swore Santi taught her. 

“She’s pretty.” His daughter noted, he spared another glance up, feet sliding across the floor as he did. 

You skated around another couple, hips swaying to the song playing over the speaker and hands raised high over your head. You brought one foot in front of the other in a sashay along the rink, gliding over the floor with grace that Frankie couldn’t even try to get as he gripped his daughter’s hand for dear life while they skated along the inner rim of the rink. 

His daughter tugged at his hand, which had gotten arguably more sweaty when he realized that you would be passing them once more. “You should say hi.”

Frankie shook his head and offered his daughter a smile. “It’s your birthday ‘lena.” He reminded her. “You should be having fun with your friends instead of worrying about your old man’s dating life.”

Helena tilted her head in thought before smiling and letting go of her father’s hand. “Okay!”

“Wait-wait!” Frankie shot his hands out to balance himself, without the help of his daughter he felt even more off-kilter and out of his element. “Where are you going!?”

His daughter laughed before joining her friends that had skated ahead of them. “You told me to have fun with my friends! So I’m going to!” She looked behind him and smiled so wide he felt his heart drop. “Have fun dad! You got this!”

“Helena Maria Morales if you don’t-” Frankie’s threat was cut off when his legs wobbled against, one foot shooting out to steady him, except he was on fucking roller skates, which only caused his foot to slide out from beneath him and send him tumbling onto the hard floor beneath him. 

Had it not been for his skating savior that is. 

You shot forward, one hand gripping the collar of his shirt meanwhile the other grabbed the waistband of his trousers to steady him. On instinct his hands gripped your hips like you were a life preserver and he was a man lost at sea. 

“You alright there buddy?” Frankie simply stared at you, throat tight and mouth wide open as his bright wracked for a single thought, a single word to say to you. 

“Jesus Christ.” Santi groaned from the other side of the rink. He and the other boys sat watching in equal parts awe and dismay at their friend being caught like damsel and then absolutely flounder in front of you. “Say something you idiot!”

“Oh this is painful.” Ben snorted. “I don’t want to look away!”

“I’m uh, yeah I’m good.” Frankie realized as you pulled him upright how fucking strong you were, and it made his knees knock together for a whole different reason. His hands tensed and he realized he was still holding onto your hips. “Oh fuck, I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s fine, really.” You held up a hand to silence him, his mouth snapped shut as if it were a trained command. “I know you aren’t some creep trying to cop a feel, I’ve been watching you skate for a while now.”

Frankie looked down at the floor. “Yeah well, the last time I was on wheels was when I was sixteen and tried to impress a girl at the mall by grinding on a rail with my skateboard.”

You slowly took his hand in yours and began to skate forward, slow smooth steps that he did his best to mimic. He was so focused on not falling he hadn’t realized that the pair of you were skating like a couple. “Did it work?”

“Fuck no!” He laughed. “I broke my ankle, lost a tooth, then she and her friends all laughed at me.”

You smiled at his story, noting the way the multi-colored lights bounced off his profile. “Well, I’ll do my best to make sure you don’t break an ankle or lose any teeth tonight, alright Bambi?”

Frankie’s feet wobbled again and tightened his grip on your hands, marveled for a moment at how soft they felt against his. “Bambi?”

“Yeah.” You offered him a slight shrug, he still wasn’t sure how you could skate around others with such ease while also maintaining a conversation, but was thankful for it either way. “You both have brown hair, both have shit balance-”

“Gee thanks.”

You giggled and flicked the tip of his cap. “Let me finish.” You scolded. “You both have shit balance, and you're both pretty fuckin’ cute.”

Frankie felt his heart race and his lips curl into a shy smile. He watched the colors that danced over your form like a kaleidoscope. “Well my actual name is Frankie-” The tip of his skate dipped forward, catching on the floor and sending him careening right into your arms. You kept your feet together at an angle to keep from falling, hands grabbing onto him as he barreled forward, arms thrown around you and nose pressed against yours. “-but I guess Bambi is pretty fitting too.”

“Well Bambi-” Frankie felt a tingle down his spine every time you called him that. A nickname so sweet and innocent had no business making him feel so hot under the collar. “How about we take a break from trying to keep you from falling flat on your ass and go sit down for a bit? If your daughter doesn’t mind that is.”

He looked over your shoulder, where Helena stood with two of her friends, smiling wide and flashing her dad two thumbs up. 

“I don’t think she'll mind.”

```

“A pilot?” You whistled, leaning back in his chair. “Damn, you’ve got me beat. I’m just a high school English teacher!”

Frankie shook his head, toe tapping on the linoleum floor of the little snack corner of the rink that pair of you were sitting at. “Now I wouldn’t say all that. I mean, spending your entire day dealing with teenagers who definitely don’t want to be there? You must have the patience of a saint.”

You bumped your knee against his. “We’ll now you’re just trying to flatter me.”

Frankie held one hand up and the other over his heart, as if he were taking an oath. “All truth here, coming from a former AP English kid.” You gasped and held one hand over your chest and pretended to swoon. 

“An honor student of my subject? Be still my beating heart!” Frankie snorted into his drink, which caused you to in turn laugh loud enough for the people in front of them to turn and glare. 

He had always hated dating. It felt so forced, so uncomfortable. The icebreakers were only met with bland replies of women who clearly weren’t interested in him, and only became less interested when they learned he was a father. That or they would praise him for being so “brave” to raise his daughter on his own. What, as if he was supposed to walk out on her just like her mother did? It turned him off to the whole situation. 

But this? Sitting in the tiny snack corner at a roller rink, sipping overpriced sodas and laughing loud enough to annoy people while staring at the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen? Oh it was better than any date at a four star restaurant he’s been on. 

“Trust me.” He told you. “You would’ve hated me as a student.”

“I could never!”

“Oh yes you could!” He laughed. “I fell asleep in class all the time, never answered questions and uh honestly?” He pulled his hat low over his face with a shy smile. “If I had you as a teacher? I’d never get anything done.”

His eyes flicked to the sleeve of your shirt, seeing your biceps strain against it as you leaned over for your drink. The shorts you wore hugged the thick muscle of your legs and he felt his throat tighten up at the thought. 

You smiled and pushed his cap up so you could see his brown doe eyes. “I’m gonna take that as a compliment, Bambi.”

 Santi watched the pair of you, nearly nose to nose when you leaned in close to toy with his hat. He smiled and bumped Will’s shoulder. “Look at ‘em go. ‘Fish still has it.”

“That’s our boy.”

They had all gotten the call when Liana left, she had simply packed her bags in the middle of the night and vanished. Leaving Francisco and their six month old baby alone. They knew how much it hurt him to see her leave, how much he blamed himself and wracked his brain for how to fix it, how many times he called her and pleaded for her to come home. If not for him, for their daughter. Their little baby girl who wouldn’t stop crying because she was hungry and mommy was gone. 

But to see him now, blushing like a school boy while talking with a woman who his daughter practically pushed him into, they all felt a swell of pride. 

If any of them deserved a happy ending, it was Catfish. 

“If he doesn’t ask her out-” Ben sighed. “I’ll kill him. Just fucking murder him.”

Sadly, just as Frankie was about to ask that dreaded question, if he could get your number or hell, if you’d like to get a drink sometime, a woman with bright pink hair poked her head over your table. 

“Hey panty!” She called out and Frankie damn near got whiplash at that nickname. “Can you give me a ride home? My car is busted and my boyfriend can’t pick me up.”

Your shoulders deflated at her response and Frankie couldn’t help but feel a little prideful that you felt dejected to leave his side. “Yeah no problem Jammie.”

“Thanks!” The girl chirped. “I’ll meet you outside!”

When she left, Frankie turned to you with a slow smile, his eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “Panty?”

“Ughh I know!” You groaned into your hands. “It’s not some weird nickname or anything it’s just my derby name I swear!”

Frank leaned back, eyes wide in admiration. “You play roller derby?”

You grinned, shoulders back and confidence oozing off of you at the mention of your sport. You tucked your hands behind your head and Frankie took that moment to marvel at the muscle that strained against your shirt. “Damn right I do. Not to brag but I’ve been the MVP for the last three seasons.”

It was absolutely a brag and he loved it. 

“You know-” Your eyes flicked to his, shy and skittish. “-we have a bout, a game, this Saturday if you want to come. It’ll be here, at eight. You don’t have to-”

“I’ll be there.” He promised. The thought of you in those spandex shorts on skates, being positively brutal to other women on the track with that confident grin? Christ, he wouldn’t miss it for the world. “I’ve never watched roller derby before but, it’s recently piqued my interest.”

You smiled, raising your foot to knock it against his. “Well I hope it keeps you interested Frankie, because you’ve piqued mine too.”

Frankie felt a swell of pride in his chest at your shy smile and sweet words. He felt like a kid back in high school, trying his best to woo the girl in his biology class with passing notes in hopes of getting a date. 

Only this time he had more experience and a lot less acne. 

“Panty!” The woman shouted. “Lets gooo! I work the morning shift tomorrow!”

Your face fell. “Looks like that’s my que to head out. I’ll see you Friday though?”

“Fuck yes.” Frankie breathed out, before regaining his composure. “I mean uh yeah, yeah I’ll uh, see if I can make it.” You laughed and stood up from the table, turning on your heel at the final moment to press a quick kiss to his cheek. 

“I’ll see you then, Bambi.” You purred, before walking out of the door and past His daughter and three grown ass men, who stood in a circle nearby like a bunch of gossiping old women.

Frankie didn’t even have a moment to realize you kissed him before his daughter bounded over to him asking eighty questions within two seconds.

“What's her name? Is she cool? She seems cool! Are you guys dating now? Did you ask her out? Did you get her number?”

He brought this daughter in for a hug, bringing his hand down on the crown of her head in a playful nuzzle. 

“Alright speedy gonzales.” She laughed into his side and tried to wriggle out of his bear hug. “No more matchmaking, you hear me?”

“But it worked! Didn’t it?” His stern facade melted away at the excited grin on Helena’s face.He sighed, letting his chin fall onto the top of her head. 

“We’ll just have to wait and see mija.”

His daughter whooped in victory, throwing her hands high in the air in celebration. 

“That means it worked!”

#Panty & Bambi #frankie morales #catfish morales #francisco morales #francisco morales x reader #catfish x reader #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #the meaning of her derby name will make more sense in the next chapter i SWEAR

[levai]

Maybe In Another Life

Erwin Smith // reader

synopsis : late at night, you come to say goodbye. i listened to "the night we met" by lord huron when writing this. i recommend you do, too ;)

If there was heaven and hell, you weren't sure where Erwin would find his place.

You found yourself pondering upon that question quite a lot the past days.

Perhaps he'd fit somewhere in the middle.

To you, that man was an angel. He had a vision, something to look forward to. In your eyes, he was the embodiment of hope. The hope for a better life, one where humanity wasn't plagued by everpresent death and sorrow at the hands of monsters.

To others, he was the monster. A ruthless Commander, willing to step over mountains of corpses, striving to complete a seemingly unachieveable goal. A lot of people badmouthed him, cursing him to the Walls and back.

Some days, you questioned his intentions yourself.

Still, you never failed to put your trust in his decisions and follow through with his commands.

Maybe that was why you were searching for his office in the middle of the night. Your boots made no sound against the carpeted floor, your kerosin lamp illuminating your path. He had made his decision once more.

The upcoming mission was to reclaim Wall Maria, to get to the basement that seemed to hold the answers to their questions.

That's why tonight, you came to say goodbye.

You stopped before his office, knocking three times to announce yourself. You stood in silence. For a brief moment, you thought he was asleep. Then you heard a faint 'come in'. He never was, not at this hour.

With one last swallow and a racing heart, you let yourself in. The office was dark and smelled of wood. Over the years, it hardly changed. Never had it been any different- clean and almost empty, except for the needed necessities.

Now, the angel was sat right across from you. His previously hunched over form straightened, and his gaze met yours. It was as serious and professional as it always was. His blonde hair had lost it's shape throughout the day, loose strands falling over his eyes.

Now that you were right there, standing face to face in his office, you didn't know what to do. You'd been there countless times, but back then the circumstances were different.

You cleared your throat.

"Good evening, Commander Smith."

He observed you quietly, dropping the pen he'd previously gripped in his hand.

"Good evening- What brings you here at such a late hour?" he asked.

Your heart skipped a beat when he said your name. Indeed, tonight was a special night.

"I just came to say goodbye," was your blunt response.

Erwin smiled, looking down at the papers below him. Those documents seemed so irrelevant now. Then he looked back at you. He knew what you meant. He himself had thought about it one too many times- the upcoming mission, that is. He didn't want to admit to it, but he knew.

The closer he got to it, the farther it seemed to stray from him, his dream. He didn't want to admit it to his comrades, nor to himself. For the longest time he hadn't questioned himself. Now he found himself wondering if that was really what he wanted. If every decision that he ever made at least had a purpose. 

For a brief moment he wanted to ask what you meant, to feign ignorance. He knew how to persuade his subordinates to sacrifice their life. But with you, he never could. You knew too much, you've seen too much.

He stood up, saluting as well as he could with one arm missing.

"Goodbye. Thank you for sacrificing your life. Your death won't be in vain!"

You looked tired.

"Drop it, Sir. I don't need any of this," you said.

Slowly, his arm fell by his side. You rose your chin, walking closer.

"But if I am giving up my life, I want to request one last thing."

"That is?"

"I want to take you to my most favorite place in the world."

Erwin didn't know how to respond. Instead, he found himself walking past the desk, offering his arm to you. It was as if his body moved on it's own accord. Your warm touch was stark against his cool skin, your heat seeping right through the thin material of his shirt.

You looked up at him, your eyes glimmering under the dim light. You were so familiar to him, his lady. Your presence was his comfort.

He smiled down at you softly, a smile you returned.

"Lead the way, Cadet," he mused.

He should be sleeping right now. Or at the very least prepare himself for the upcoming mission. But he didn't. For once, he wanted to enjoy himself.

You lead your angel to the very top of a hill, where the cool breeze wafted through your hair and your mind felt free.

You were about to sit down, but the Commander stopped you.

"I brought a blanket," Erwin said.

"Right, I forgot," you giggled, helping him spread it out.

Only then you laid down, directing your gaze to the sky. To your luck, the stars were twinkling brightly. And how many of them there were!

You felt the man shift- and then he was next to you, shoulders touching. Your smile only grew wider.

For a while, you stayed silent. The only sound came from cicada chirping in the distance. You imagined you were far away with him, far away from any danger, any despair, any pain.

You layed there, in the tall grass, the wild flowers tickling your skin.

You looked back at him, trying to remember his side profile. He had grown a bit of stubble along his jaw. In a daze, you reached out to caress it.

Erwin turned to look at you. Your face seemed so close now. He swallowed, basking in the intimacy of your touch. Your eyes were glazed over, your lips slightly parted.

Realizing what you were doing, you pulled back, but you didn't apologize. After all, you didn't regret what you did.

"Do you remember the day we met?" he asked, seemingly out of nowhere. But the truth was, he'd been meaning to ask this for some time.

You took a moment to recover, but the corner of your mouth curled up.

"Getting sentimental now, are we?"

"If that's the way you see it. I was merely curious. I still recall it like it happened yesterday," he replied with sincerity.

You thought for a moment. Memories of all your previous interactions came flooding back. In all that time, not once have you thought about the relationship you had with him. Just like many things, it must've been somewhere in the middle. Somewhere in the middle between friends and rivals, Commander and subordinate.

"Me too," you admitted, "How many years have passed since then? Nine?"

"Nine and a half, to be exact."

"I'll never forget the day you first asked me to dedicate my heart, Commander."

"I meant our first real encounter, y/n."

"You mean the day I stumbled into your office off my rocks, and in a drunk stupor, challenged you to a chess duell just to prove a point?"

Erwin chuckled.

"Exactly, that one."

"Do you want to know what point I needed to prove?"

He hummed, waiting for you to elaborate.

"My bunk mates dared me to- they really thought I would chicken out, hah. So I proved them wrong!"

"Where are they now? I don't recall having seen you around anyone else than Hange these past years."

His question caught you off guard. It should have hurt, as blunt as it was, but  it didn't. Erwin knew to choose his words more carefully, usually. He didn't know what drove him to pry, but he couldn't back down.

"In a better place, I hope," you replied, your thoughts drifting off to somewhere else.

You turned on your side so you could see him better. The little fireflies dancing next to his head made it look like he had a halo. You sighed, feeling the tears come to your eyes. Erwin was silent, watching you.

"Do you think I'll see them again?"

The corners of his mouth twitched as if he wanted to say something, a forlorn look in his eyes. He thought about his own comrades. The one's he had sacrificed, the one's he had seen die right before his very eyes. Were they watching him now? It felt like they were.

You didn't wait for an answer.

"I guess I'll have to find out for myself."

It pained him how accepting you were of your fait. But you knew you couldn't change it, you knew the very day you applied for the Scouts Regiment. And so did he, it was just the way things went.

Everything and everyone had their place in the universe. And you were certain you would have yours, too.

"I am enjoying this quite a lot, Captain."

"Please just call me Erwin," he pleaded, his voice almost cracking.

"After all those years, I've finally made progress! Wohoo!" you cheered, raising your fist in the air in lazy victory.

"But let's not move too fast, shall we?"

"I wouldn't dare dream of it," you laughed.

The banter slowly eased away the tension. You wished you had fessed up earlier.

Another gust of wind hit you, and you shuddered. But Erwin pulled you close, resting your head on his chest. He wished this moment would last forever.

It was quiet, the both of you just enjoying eachothers presence. To you, it felt like he was wrapping his wings around you, encasing you in warmth and safety.

What an irony it was, feeling secure in the arms of a man that would send you to your death.

You clutched onto his flimsy shirt when you felt him cover you with his jacket.

"You know," Erwin started. His voice was deep, soothing as you felt it rumble in his chest. "I was hoping I could be the father of your children."

"Maybe in another life," you muttered, your voice thinning.

Erwin felt you flinch, trying to hold back the sobs that shook your body.

He held you tighter, afraid to let you go. You would have rejoiced at his confession, had it come earlier. Now it was just too late.

At that moment he realised; Even if he survived the mission, even if the sun still rose above the walls, the days still went on , the planet kept spinning and the world was rid of titans, he would miss you. Without you, he was a broken man.

You fell asleep in the arms of your angel that night. He whispered sweet nothings into your ear even when you couldn't hear him anymore. And when he made sure you were fast asleep, he wept himself into a dreamless slumber.

The next morning you woke up in your bed, as if nothing had ever happened.

But that couldn't be the case. You held his gaze as you mounted your horse, smiling at him with sweaty palms and a heavy heart.

At that time, no one knew what they were getting themselves into. You were on the other side of the wall when everything spun out of control. You ran along the rooftops, following the mission. But your mind was elsewhere; it was stuck with him.

You would always remember the last time he told you to dedicate your heart.

You were right among them as you flew towards your certain death, your comrades falling at your sides. You pressed further, bitter tears streaming down your face.

And you were right there, when Levi told Erwin to give up his dream. You were there,watching with sad eyes, seeing his life flash before his eyes as he made his final decision.

You stood there in the small crowd, listening to his motivational speech as rubble fell around you.

But you weren't the only one. Moblit, Petra, Olou, Gunther, Mike... everyone was there, right at your side. They knew better than to speak. It was too early for you to realise.

You followed your angel, watching him go. Everything was in shatters, everything was aflame. You watched him go down and to you, he was the biggest hero. You held his head in your lap, gently moving the wet hair from his pale face. And like a loyal guard dog, you stayed by his side as he was carried to the roof by Floch.

Hange was there, Levi also. His three children as well, the new recruits of his squad. Only this time, the shifter cried for him to rescue the burnt blonde, instead of the Commander. Your heart ached at the sight.

Levi had no choice, Erwin rejected the syringe.

He had been through hell, it was cruel to bring him back for a rematch with the devil.

You held his hand until he woke up, while Armin devoured the Colossal titan.

"So we meet again, Commander Smith," you greet him with a soft smile.

He looked up at you, dazed. He was no longer in pain, and he was surrounded by the one's he cherished the most.

Slowly, you helped him rise and look around. For a while, you just stood there, watching the scene unfold in silence.

It was subtle, but you felt his pinky hook around yours.

He looked down at you, tired. You met his gaze right when he felt a weight on his shoulder. It was the hand of his fallen soldier.

They all stood behind him, scattered across the many buildings. They were there, they always had been. And now they were so close you barely believed it.

Everyone was watching, and you caressed his shoulder. An arm wrapped around you, startling you. It was Petra.

"Enough tears, already. Let's go! We have a lot of catching up to do!"

You looked at your Commander, tugging at his hand.

He looked back one last time, letting go of himself and the people he held closest, and spread his wings.

"Fair enough, love. So we meet again."

#erwin smith #aot imagines #attackontitan #erwin smith x reader #angst #fluff #shingeki no kyojin #Spotify

[scribblingfangirl]

GLOWING IN THE DARK #1 | The Punisher - Billy Russo

not my gif!

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Author’s Note: Thank you so so much for the wonderful reactions to the first part of this series! I’m so happy you’re enjoying it and are interested in reading more! I honestly wasn’t expecting that! I hope you enjoy this part as well! I know it’s a bumpy ride: English is not my first language, I’m slowly trying to ease myself back into writing and this wasn’t beta-read. So please excuse the horrible mistakes! Also: As I’ve been asked I’m now including a taglist for this series at the bottom. If you want to get added to it just shoot me a message! (:

word count:  ~ 3k

summary: A few years after making the deal with Frank Y/N arrives on a new base and promptly runs into a handsome dark-haired man, or rather he into her, as a game of British Bulldog is played. 

warnings: suggestion towards rape (if I forgot anything, please tell me!)

| previous part | - | next part | - | series masterlist |

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The silence was almost deafening and the cold humid air a relief after sitting in the loud helicopter, earmuffs could only do so much, and the hot dry air the rotators and motors brought to you for the past four hours. You were the first one out the helicopter, the rest of your crew with the exception of the pilot following suit.

"Welcome home... I guess?" Kosky, your crew chief, threw you your bag from the helicopter.

You heard a desperate sigh and turned around to see Dane, the co-pilot, poking at the ground. “That’s… that’s sand-like. Where the hell are we and how long are we going to be here? I didn’t pack for… whatever the hell this is,” he complained.

 “Don’t be like that Dane,” Garth muttered as he leaned out the pilot door of the helicopter. “Don’t you have beauty products for all kinds of environments in your bag? Anyway, nothing to worry about. I’m sure Y/L/N will lend you some of hers if your sensitive skin breaks out or something.”

You snorted, closing the door behind him as he stepped out of the helicopter. “You’ll better be glad if I find an old, still usable Chapstick in the depths of one of my pockets. That will be the best thing I can offer you.”

“Anyway,” Kosky tried to bring your attention back to him, “I’ll go and talk with the commanding officer of this base and try to figure out why we were stationed here and if we’re going to be the only ones or if others will follow later. You guys try to find someone to show you around.”

“Sure, I’ll just quickly-,“ you started to say while you moved towards the helicopter again to get your mechanic kit, but shut your mouth when you felt, and then saw, Kosky glare at you.

"No. Pete's been a good boy. He deserves his rest and so do you. One that involves a good shower and some food. Let's go!"

x-x

Freshly showered and in clean clothes you made your way around the camp, catching some of the last sunrays of the day. You had lost Garth and Dane after running into a fellow Marine that showed you around and left you in front of the showers. Seeing as there were no other women on the base, and therefore, no need for separate showers the boys had proposed to stand guard while you showered after them. Why or when they decided to leave you alone was a mystery to you.

Braiding your wet hair, you walked around trying to recognize or remember anything you were shown or told during your quick tour. However, you only managed to catch a glimpse of Pete through the tents. ‘Better than nothing. Might as well quickly check him out and then go find someone. Who knows? Maybe someone will find me.’

As if your thoughts had manifested him a tall man with slicked-back dark hair and a rather well-groomed beard appeared from the other side of Pete. “They told me I’d find you here.” He gave you a once-over and chuckled. “Well, this certainly explains their usage of ‘she’ and ‘her’. Come on. You’re probably just as hungry as them.”

You followed the man quietly through the different tents until you started to hear noises. They grew louder and you finally realized that you were hearing voices and the clinking of kitchen utensils. A nice scent filled your nose the moment you entered the dining tent and almost immediately your stomach let out a loud grumble.

“Yeah, that’s what I guessed. Don’t worry. There’s still plenty of food. We eat in shifts and you’re just in time for the last one.”

You turned to face the man beside you and saw that he was already smiling down at you. ‘His eyes are just as dark as his hair. But they can’t actually be black, right? I’ve never seen such a deep brown in my life. They’re beautiful.’

“Y/L/N. Nice to see you found your way to us as well. I guess I’ll have to talk to Jandro and Dane tomorrow about team spirit and human manners. They’re back there,” he pointed to the back of the tent where you could make out Danes blond hair and a man with his face deep in his food, who was looking like he’d be eating his plate as well. Probably Garth. “They’ll show you to your tent. You three are roommates. I’ll brief you tomorrow about everything. Have a nice evening.” Leaving the tent, he nodded at the dark-haired man and disappeared from your view.

“Damn, a whole tent for just three soldiers? Normally I’d be jealous but seeing what nice friends you have there I’m not so sure anymore. I prefer knowing they got my back and don’t run away at the first sign of food.”

You laughed and waved that comment away. “You see the guy who’s currently almost eating his plate as well? That’s Jandro, but we all call him Garth, which is short for Garfield. I’m used to food being chosen over me. Hey, I don’t think I caught your name-”

“Y/N!” Dane and Garth shouted simultaneously over the heads of the soldiers as they saw you. “We’re so sorry! We were going to wait, but then someone passed by and told us it was dinner time. You’re a big girl, so we weren’t afraid of you drowning in the shower.”

Letting out an exasperated sigh you rolled your eyes as every last head in the tent turned towards you. Great. Pressing your lips together you just gave them two awkward thumbs-ups and thankfully everybody turned their heads back to their food.

“Come on, looks like they’re going to eat me next if I don’t finally deliver you.” The man pushed you through the space between the tables until you were seated next to Garth who pushed a full platter in front of you. Eyeing this gesture the man faced you one last time before disappearing somewhere in the dining tent. “Name’s Billy by the way. I’ll be around if you ever… decide on upping your friend game.”

x-x

After dinner, the boys showed you to your tent. Dane started to do his nightly routine while you and Garth decided to enjoy the early night exploring your new temporary home for the time being.

“I’ll go search for some of the guys who were sitting at our table. Don’t," he grabbed your wrist and raised his index finger to emphasize his words, “go checking on Pete.”

Walking around the base you once again saw Pete in the distance, crossed paths with familiar faces from dinner, to whom you nodded politely and even passed the showers. It would take you one or two days and seeing the base in broad daylight, but you knew you’d soon be able to find your way around.

A familiar tune caught your attention and you followed the sound of a guitar being played, accompanied by an oddly familiar, but really beautiful, singing voice.

“Blackbird singing in the dead of night Take these broken wings and learn to fly All your life You were only waiting for this moment to arise.”

Without any second thoughts, you pushed aside the plastic tarpaulin covering the entrance of the tent and stepped inside. The first thing you saw where the lined-up beds on either side of the tent. Somewhere occupied with men reading or writing something, but most of them were vacant, as their owners were sitting together either on or around two beds towards the end of the tent, creating a circle.

And then you saw him. There, leaning carefully against the tent wall, his trusted guitar in his hands, was Frank. But he wasn’t the one singing. Your eyes slid over the flock of men until they rested upon the dark-haired man – Billy – who was sitting on the bed beside Franks and just finishing the song.

An old memory shot through your head. Maria, Frank and you sitting in a car going to the airport. ‘That's why you've been pestering me into introducing her to Billy.’

Frank’s voice brought you back to the present. “You always have a guitar in deployment. Sit around, you got time to, uh, you know, learn new songs, come up with new shit."

Smiling you decided to make yourself known and stepped forward. "Yeah. You were always really good at the shit part. Though honestly? Where the hell do these new guitar skills come from? This actually sounded good!"

Frank’s head shot up and a smile took over his facial features. "Y/N!"

"She’s just being honest here, Frankie boy. This was by far your best- Wait, hold on. You guys know each other?"

But before either of you could answer Billy or anybody else could say something as well, Frank had thrown his guitar into the lap of the guy next to him and himself around your neck. “I knew it! When they told us a UH-1Y Venom with the callsign Blackbird would be arriving shortly I thought it might be you. But I didn’t want to get my hopes up. And then I saw the helicopter but couldn’t find you at dinner…” He had led you back to his bed and waved the guys away who begrudgingly dispersed back to their own beds or left the tent altogether.

“Billy, this is Y/N. The marine friend I told you about. She was a foot soldier as well but betrayed us for the sky. Not that I think it’s any better up there. Down here you can be naïve and only see what’s right in front of your nose, but up there… well. Anyway, met her through Maria. She was actually one of the women who had the guts to laugh at my excellent guitar skills. Y/N, this is Billy-”

“The guy you’re only allowed to introduce me to if you beat me in a round of friendly combat. At least as far as I remember.”

Billy smiled at that exchange and looked at Frank. “Ah yes, the deal. I heard stories about that. Didn’t think there’d actually be any truth to that though. I guess it’s a good thing we already met. You can’t possibly think of ignoring your knight that saved you from starvation by leading you to the glorious dining tent, sweetheart.”

“No, but I could try to arrange for you to be eaten by my boys if you keep calling me sweetheart.”

Raising his hand in surrender Billy turned around to lay completely on his bed and grabbed a book from the ground. “She’s got fire Frankie boy, gotta give her that.”

You got a quick glimpse of the title page of the book. The Picture of Dorian Gray. ‘A man that knows his literature, interesting. Would not have given him that one’.

“Though, sweetheart,” Billy said as he lazily opened the book and flipped through it, searching for the right page, “As much as I think I could handle your boys. We wouldn’t want that, would we now? God made me this way for a reason. Would be a real shame if I weren’t able to share the complete wealth anymore.”

‘Ah well, there it is. Never mind. Just another dude who is full of himself.’

Sensing your eye-roll from a million miles away Frank turned you towards him. “We like to call him ‘Billy the Beaut’. He still has to grasp the ‘quality over quantity’ concept. And! Before you ask, because I know you will, Maria hoped you’d become the quality. Frank leaned closer and shot a quick glance at Billy who kept on reading, “Deep down Billy’s a great guy. It’s just his defence mechanism.”

Sighing you stretched your arms into the air to relieve your back of some of the tension accumulated by the long flight and you didn’t even realize that your shirt raised a little bit to reveal the skin underneath. You did feel the looks the other men gave you though and felt how Frank quickly pulled the shirt back down.

“Watch it!” His tone made Billy look up from his book and take a confused look around. “This ain’t a space for a woman. They’re hungry, like feral dogs. Not that I like to think like that about my fellow Marines, but we are surrounded by war. Wouldn’t be the worst thing they do.”

“Fine…,” you stood up and faced the rest of the tent. “If you’re such dogs, let’s play fetch! This way I can show you that you shouldn’t cross my path… or of my boys.” You added that part specifically for Billy. “But don’t worry, we’ll go easy on you.”

You moved to face Frank again. “After all. You do kinda still owe me a friendly round of combat.”

“Tell us. What did you have in mind kid?”

x-x

It had started to rain in the time it took you to gather the majority of the base, including Garth and Dane. Laughing you shook your head, spread your arms and greeted the cold and heavy rain on your warm skin.

Garth, Dane and you were positioned opposite to the rest of the men (thanks to your big mouth), or where you guessed they would be. The dying light and lack of any other light source in addition to the rain didn’t make this an easy game. But a fun one.

“The rules are simple!” Frank’s voice boomed over the playing field and not even the rain was able to quiet him down. “Only one bulldog per player – we’re all grown-ups and do not need help or serious injuries – and to turn a player into a bulldog they have to be restrained to the ground for three full seconds. Be it on their back or their stomach, both count! Ready? Set. GO!”

At first, the splashing caused by multiple boots running across the playing field was the only thing you heard. Then came the first shout, shortly followed by another. Out of the corners of your eyes, you saw Garth and Dane crashing into two soldiers, taking them down with them and just in front of you, you were able to make out a shadow running straight towards you.

With a yell, Frank dove to the ground and knocked your legs out from under you. Creating a splash, you fell on your back, already trying to flip yourself to the side to have more possibilities to block anything Frank might throw your way. But Frank wasn’t there anymore.

Confused you stood up, blinking against the merciless rain trying to find Frank. Around you, several silhouettes were fighting each other. Some were still standing, others rolled around on the ground. Lone shoes and some t-shirts were spread on the playing field, almost undetectable under the rising level of water on the ground.

You heard him too late. With another yell Frank sprang on your back, making your knees buckle under you due to his weight. With a groan you hit the ground face first, his large body covering yours, making it impossible for you to move.

“Last time I checked I was the bulldog,” you panted, spluttering on the horrible muddy water accumulating in your mouth.

“Last time I checked you were the one who wanted a friendly round of combat. Obviously, I won, but don’t worry, you’ll get another chance.” And then he was gone again, and you gasped for air.

x-x

You had no idea how long the game had been going on. If it was still going on. Due to the conditions, it was impossible to know who was still a player and who had been already turned into a bulldog. Soon the others had taken you and Frank as an example and the game had turned into several friendly combats.

Just as you were contemplating asking around if the game was over, a body slammed into yours and took you straight to the ground with him. Automatically your legs went around his waist to try and flip you both around with the momentum, but the mystery man grabbed your throat lightly and put his elbows and part of his weight on your chest. You were trapped.

“What was this big speech about not crossing your path, sweetheart? I don’t see any actions following your words.” His breath and touch were scalding hot on your skin.

You weren’t even given the possibility to answer as a new voice boomed over the playing field. “Alright! That’s enough boys! To bed with you!”

In an instant, Billy let you go, stood up and disappeared in the darkness.

“Hey! We weren’t done yet!” you shouted through the sound-dampening rain.

“Give it up. You’ve been a helicopter gunner for way too long, you’ve lost your touch,” Billy answered from only a few feet away, grabbing some forgotten items to bring back to the soldiers. “It’s late and we’re frozen to the bone. We do have better things to do than catching pneumonia, you know?”

You huffed, almost swallowing a mouthful of water while foolishly trying to wipe the wet hair out of your face. "Like what? Reading literature and complaining about beans in your food and the unavoidable fart fest in your tents? No. You know what I think? I think you’re glad it ended. You’re afraid that I could actually kick your butt."

Billy smirked as he turned around to you. "I’d let you do much more to my butt than just kick it. I mean…," he stepped closer, leaned down until you could feel his breath on your neck and whispered, "If you want to see my backside, there are other - less violent and more pleasurable - possibilities to get what you want. All you gotta do is ask."

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Taglist:

@blackbirddaredevil23​

#billy russo x reader #billy russo oneshot #billy russo one shot #billy russo #the punisher x reader #the punisher one shot #the punisher oneshot #the punisher #my writing #viascribbles

[hoaxsen]

| angst has been coming to me easy now and idk how to feel about that.

| tw; character death, in depth talk of death, mentions of blood and other gruesome parts, season three spoilers.

| word count; 1.8k.

It was all over, spreading like a plague inside the walls upon their arrival. The victory of Wall Maria, along with the near extinction of the Scouts. How many supplies were lost during it? How much destruction was there while it all went down? Does anyone have a true number on how many bodies were being carried back on those flatbed carts after that expedition? 

They were mostly parts of bloodied and mangled things, some weren't even able to be called a body. More like a massive piles of mixed dirt, debris and whatever part of the human body there could be. One hundred and ninety nine people, turned into one enormous jigsaw puzzle that anyone has ever seen. How many carts were used for that, and which cart did this specific body rest upon? 

This body held the features of bright blue eyes, that the captain of the Scouts could sometimes find himself staring into for hours on end. Unknowingly at that. Blonde hair just swept back and kept so neat with its undercut. Sometimes Levi wonders if it was soft to the touch, it doesn't look to be hard, or dirty. Just right, minus those brows. If anything there were times where Levi wanted to trim the blonde bricks of hair off Erwin's face himself. 

Now, days like that will never come. For the sole purpose, of Erwin Smith being deceased. Giving his life up to his stupid cause and dream, this isn't what Levi meant by plundering your dream and lead those crying brats to hell. Was it selfish of him to think that Erwin might come back alive for him? It was, wasn't it? The man having to live through this shit as the leader, making gambles that no one knew how the hell they paid off. Let's not forget about the cadets and soldiers lost along the way in his gambles. A devil among men, though it was Levi wanting to be the one to raise hell right now. Bring a darker hell to the one on this very Earth for the fact that he chose to revive Armin instead of Humanity's Hope. 

Cold, and hardened steel grey hues watched as his body was pulled away, riding alongside on his own horse with this cart. Levi felt only himself at fault, what if he did revive Erwin? Despite the small specks of rocks, falling out and shredded intestines, and lack of life in the blonde's eyes, how would he look taking on the power of the colossal titan? Would he have looked the same as the treacherous Bertholdt, or better? If anything, he'd be alive right now. . .fighting a war once more in this hell. Yes, it was selfish, but Levi Ackerman had his reasons to be selfish in a time like this. Bringing back Erwin instead of Armin wasn't just going to be for humanity, it was also going to be for his own desires. To stop toying with the feelings the ravenette has for the blonde, to stop the daily lies about his ' small crush ' being just a phase. 

The captain never even got to make good on his promise before the commander passed. Wanting so hard and bad to end the Beast Titan, to make him feel the pain Erwin did before his final moments. Hopefully that chance comes back for him some other time. How badly Levi needs it, it'd only be fitting since Erwin gave up his dream for the wall retake to even have happened and succeed. 

For all Levi could do now, was regret and hope that Erwin's funeral would bring him into a small state of piece. Since the ex-commander was already in a permanent state of his own, never to be disturbed. The Ackerman slowly starts to wonder to himself, which kind of suit would really bring out a dead man's eyes? For blue, it had to be a subtle white, right? An ashen grey? Whatever color it was going to be, Levi knew he'd detest it. Knowing it'll be the final suit he sees Erwin in. 

Fast forward a bit to the lowering of the old Scouts' commander into the ground, Levi stayed behind a little ways after the ceremony. Standing before Erwin's grave, a short sigh leaving him as he placed a hand on Erwin's tombstone. 

Erwin Smith 

xxxx - xxxx 

Humanity's Beacon of Hope.

The words Levi read over, and over, and over again. Humanity's Hope, snuffed out a little ways too soon. Levi just had to wake up and face the music, it was bound to happen one day or another. He just wishes that day came a little later than this. Brushing his hand over the words, better now to say this before he keeps it inside for too long. He already regrets not saying this to him when he was alive. 

" How many of these have we attended for our fallen? Now look at you, dumbass. Right there with them, tell Petra I said hi when you see her. " 

His last chance to say this all know, because whatever God out there knows that Levi wouldn't visit Erwin's grave again after this. For the small grudge he'd hold against himself for using the syringe on Armin. 

" I followed you into the fire, made it out with a few scrapes. Though you were burned, still had the guts to carry on more bravely than me. . .even make a choice with that odd line. ' What if there is humanity outside the walls. ' Or some shit like that, and then I realized, and knew. . .that was how you were plundering your dreams and leading those crying brats to hell. " 

Unbeknownst to the captain, he wasn't alone. Just standing from afar, was another grieving heart. Armin Artlet, another soul wanting to say an unspoken peace to their old commander. But ended up seeing Levi there before him. 

" It's not fair you know, Erwin. Or that just might be me being selfish right now, yeah sounds like it. A biased opinion, since I fucking loved you and didn't have the guts to say it. Wanna know why? Cause I'm a coward. Since people I love keep leaving me in ways like this, death. Am I that detestable that death is the only way out? Gotta be, shitty way to go if you ask me, but probably your only way. Call it a curse, I guess. Sadly shit like this happens in the fucked world. I didn't even want to use it on Artlet, but you made your choice. So I had to make mine, fucking bastard. " 

Now that was a surprise to the little eavesdropper in the back, covering his mouth with his hand to not make a sound. Azure eyes bugging out of his head as the captain droned on. Armin himself wasn't even sure why he was saved, wouldn't Erwin have been a better pick? The power of the titan wasted on him, that's how it sounded. On the bright side, the colossal titan was in their arsenal with Eren's titan. Just with the wrong user in Artlet's mind. 

" It's not fair, you asshole. You get your peace, and leave me behind in this hell with a bunch of brats! Yes, they can pull their own weight. But you're not leading them anymore, instead it's gonna be someone else who can't live up to your name. All because I got emotional and saved that runt, when I knew, even with Hanji, that you were the better pick! A massive fuck up on my end, but then a small lived victory right? We have another titan ready to fight for us when needed. But I want you here! It's not fair, you trusted me to do the right thing with that weird liquid, and I don't know if I did! I promised myself that I'd follow you wherever, why did you have to go somewhere I can't go yet?! You and your stupid gambles, well make one with the devil down there and win, come back goddamn it! " 

At this point, Levi was screaming to a grave on the verge of tears. From standing to dropping on his knees, the turned up dirt from a freshly dug hole in the ground was staining his pants. Giving him the feelings of touching the underground floors, though this time he didn't care. Fighting back an attack of tears, his hands digging into the soil and gripping it. Dirt being trapped in his fingernails, a fierce look on his face with a few stray falling tears from his eyes. 

" I promise you, I'll make that sonva bitch pay. Along with aiding in to see that your final goal, your final dream is fulfilled. Even if I have to  die to make that happen. " 

It was a footstep, and the use of sharp senses that brought Levi out of his moment. Spinning around quick as could be, just to be met with a crying, tear stained face of one of his cadets. This was Levi's moment of vulnerability, being seen by Armin as if privacy wasn't a thing. Though now, the man couldn't hold it against the boy, dusting off himself to be free of the dirt and grime. Levi sent Armin a small glare, no words have been spoken yet, and not one really knew what to say. 

" Captain . . . I'm sorry, but you should have us--. " 

" Can it brat, I dunno how much you heard, and I hate repeating myself. But I'll make an exception, Erwin made his choice. I acted on it, now you might have to step up to bat. " 

Levi's words drew a small gasp from Armin, making him want to roll his eyes. 

" No one can live up to be Erwin, but I trust that you know what you're doing. Don't make me regret saving you now. " 

" Y-Yes sir! But can I ask a question? " 

That made a brow raise on Levi's face, a sign for Armin to carry on with what he was saying. The boy had to take a deep breath to even get the first word out. It almost made Levi scoff at a time like this. 

" Y-You l-love Commander Erwin, sir? Is-Is that true? " 

The stuttering fool really had the balls to ask. The captain almost looked impressed, but at the same time angered somewhat. 

" Yeah, I loved him, Artlet. A main factor playing on in why I wanted to use the syringe on him. But something happened during it, like I said. Don't make me regret it. " 

All he got was a frantic nod from the other blonde, even a salute for some reason. Levi responded with his own nod back, figuring now that his time alone with Erwin was up. Looking behind him at that grave, he sighed, his eyes narrowing somewhat. 

' Don't worry, Erwin. You won't be along for long, I said I'd follow you right? Into that same fire I'll soon be going. ' 

He whispered out, making his way to leave now. Going as far as to pat a startled Armin on the shoulder. His own line echoing inside his head to help cope with this, just tweaked a bit this time. 

' Plunder all your dreams, and lead those crying brats to victory. In his name. ' 

#levi angst #angst #attack on titan angst #levi attack on titan #erwin aot #erwin angst #armin arlert #shingeki no kyoujin levi #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyojin erwin #shingeki no kyojin angst #snk fandom #snk #levi ackerman x erwin smith #levi ackerman x erwin smith angst #shingeki no kyojin armin #character death #levi heichou #levi ackerman angst #snk erwin #erwin smith angst #snk fanfiction #snk levi #snk armin #eruri #eruri fanfic

[safetyandpeacenovice]

Anything for You

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26185567

“Our husband has returned.” Maria opened the door to Malik’s study without knocking, as she often did.

“I’m not Altair’s wife.” Malik restrained himself from grumbling. He and Maria had been having this argument ever since she’d arrived in Masyaf heavily pregnant six years before and, upon meeting Malik, commented on how nice it was to finally meet Altair’s ‘first wife’. Over the years their resentment and rivalry had largely disappeared, but Maria still liked to make comments that got under Malik’s skin from time to time.

“No he’s yours.” She smirked. Malik rolled his eyes and chose not to comment. How Maria had discovered the exact dynamics of his and Altair’s relationship was a mystery. It was an open secret that the Grandmaster of the assassins was involved with his second in command, but Maria knew more than was just what was whispered and speculated about. At first Malik had assumed Altair had told her, but he denied doing so and could not figure out how she had learned so much about them either.

It didn’t matter; Maria was largely uninterested in being a wife. There had only been one span of time when she and Altair had shared a bed in Masyaf: right before she fell pregnant with their second son. She took no issue with her husband's relationship with Malik. After a tense period when she first arrived the three of them had settled into a comfortable and powerful triad at the top of the order. Malik helped Altair run the order from Masyaf. Maria was his reliable arrow, sent out to eliminate targets and manage the slowly growing number of women in their order. Altair was Grandmaster, overseeing them both and the order as a whole.

“You should go see him in your rooms.” Malik could tell Maria wasn’t telling him something. She was much too pleased with herself.

“I am working.” Malik turned his eyes back to the message for the Rafiq in Acre he was writing regarding a shipment that would be arriving in the port soon. “Altair can wait until tonight.”

“He’s brought you a gift.”

“Whatever it is can wait until I’m done for the day. Tell him to go see his sons. I’m sure they would love to tell their father all about what they’ve learned since he left. Sef can show him how he can write his name now.” Malik knew Maria was smiling even though he did not look up from his letter.

Darim and Sef were the pride of their parents. Altair adored his sons more than anything in the world. It was not unusual to find one or both of them in his study as he worked. He took them on trips to the cities when it was safe. He made it a point to see them everyday when he was in Masyaf. Maria loved her boys as well. She taught them to speak English and French and was planning to teach them to read and write in those languages as well over the next few years. She told them stories before they went to bed each night, some true, others most decidedly not. Sef in particular would ask for more stories about dragons.

Malik too had a strong bond with the boys. When Darim was born Altair had asked him what he wanted to be called by the boy. Maria had suggested uncle, but it hadn’t felt right. He wasn’t Altair’s brother. Their relationship was not brotherly. Perhaps that title might have fit Kadar if he still lived. Eventually Malik had decided he would simply go by his name.

However, children being as they are, Darim made his own decision, and so Malik became Baba Malik. Sef had followed his brother’s lead and also called him Baba Malik. The brothers had three parents Mama, Baba Altair, and Baba Malik. At first Malik had been uncomfortable with the title. He wasn’t their father after all, not really. He was just the man their father slept with. But of course children don’t understand what makes someone family. All they knew was when they crawled into their father’s bed at night after a bad dream Malik was there too to stoke their hair and whisper that it would all be ok in the morning. One night, when Altair was away Darim had crawled into bed with Malik and in that moment he knew that blood or not he was a father.

“Go to him Malik. You won’t regret it.” Maria urged, all of her usual teasing gone from her voice.

“Is he hurt?” Malik looked up.

“No.” She smiled. “Go and you will understand.”

“Fine.”

Malik passed many members of the brotherhood as he made his way from his study to his chambers. Most simply bowed their heads slightly as he passed, but some of the younger boys stared at where his arm used to be. Everyone knew the story of how he’d lost it. The novices were told it to prove that no man was above the creed and to show the consequences of disobeying the creed, of believing they knew better. No man was perfect, not even the Grandmaster so they all must rely on the creed.

Altair had not taken the chambers traditionally assigned to the Grandmaster as his own. Instead he had outfitted those rooms for Maria to use. One of the rooms had become her office, the second her bed chamber, and the third had been a nursery when Darim and Sef were infants but now was where Maria could practice her skills. Altair had taken instead the rooms meant for the order’s second in command.

“We share a bed every night anyways.” Altair had argued when Malik pointed out that those rooms rightfully belonged to him. Malik had rolled his eyes and was about to continue arguing when Altair kissed him and all the fight in him had melted away.

When Malik arrived at their rooms he was ready to scold Altair for interrupting his work just to give him a present. Altair had his back to Malik as he entered. When he turned around Malik was speechless. In his arms was a sleeping baby. Altair was beaming.

“Who’s child is that?” Malik spoke quietly, so as to not wake the child.

“Ours.”

“What?”

“Well, I mean, if you want him to be.” Altair looked a little hurt, but mostly hopeful.

“I don’t understand.”

“You’ve always wanted a child, Malik.”  Altair was right. Malik had sometimes floated the idea of wanting a wife, not because he actually wanted a wife, but because he wanted a child. He always felt a bit guilty saying that. He was happy with Altair and he loved Darim and Sef like they were his own but he also wanted someone to carry on his name.

“If I could give you one naturally I would.” Altair had said as such many times and Malik would be lying if he said he hadn’t imagined a child with Altair’s golden eyes and his nose.

“Where did you find him?”

“Jerusalem.”

Malik sighed. “Where are his parents?”

“Both dead. Their neighbor, one of our informers, brought him to the bureau, so he could be sent to Masyaf instead of growing up a street orphan. I happened to be there when the informer arrived. I took one look at him and I knew I could never let him go. Look Malik.”

Altair passed the child to Malik. Malik had to admit the baby was cute. He’d often held Darim and Sef when they were babies and, holding this little one felt the same. He knew exactly what Altair meant, every instinct in him cried out that it was his child in his arms.

“What’s his name?” Malik asked, not taking his eyes off the baby.

“You pick. I named Darim and Maria named Sef. It’s your turn.” At that Malik did look up.

“Tazim.” He decided after a moment.

“Tazim Al-Sayf.” Altair smiled, as he moved behind Malik, wrapping his arms around him and gazing over his shoulder at their son.

“He’ll need a wetnurse.” Malik said, mentally putting together a checklist.

“I sent word a head to have one found. Her name is Amaya. She is from a village near here. Her husband left her when her child was stillborn. She has been promised a good life in the village in exchange for nursing our child.” Altair assured him.

“You knew I’d say yes.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes.” Altair answered anyways.

Not much later Amaya came to take the child for the night. Malik thanked her extensively. Once she was gone he stalked toward Altair, cupping his face with his hand and kissing him firmly.

“Get undressed.” Malik growled as soon as he released Altair’s lips. Altair happily complied, stripping so quickly he tripped over his own pants. Malik also undressed and pushed Altair down onto their bed before straddling his lap and kissing him again.

Once they were exhausted and had cleaned themselves off, Malik kissed Altair again. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you.”

Notes:

I somehow wrote over 1500 words of Altmal fic with out using the word Novice to describe Altair.

Tazim has no canonical mother and Malik has no canonical wife so I asked myself why can't he be adopted by Altair and Malik together. Maybe I'll write a follow up fic about Tazim growing up with his older brothers.

#altmal #Altair Ibn La'Ahad #malik al sayf #altair #malik #tazim al sayif #maria #mine #my writing #Number one #tazim

[larinah]

August 20th, 19—. I HAVE HAD what I believe to be the most remarkable day in my life, and while the events are still fresh in my mind, I wish to put them down on paper as clearly as possible.           Let me say at the outset that my name is James Clarence Withencroft.           I am forty years old, in perfect health, never having known a day’s illness.           By profession I am an artist, not a very successful one, but I earn enough money by my black-and-white work to satisfy my necessary wants.           My only near relative, a sister, died five years ago, so that I am independent.           I breakfasted this morning at nine, and after glancing through the morning paper I lighted my pipe and proceeded to let my mind wander in the hope that I might chance upon some subject for my pencil.           The room, though door and windows were open, was oppressively hot, and I had just made up my mind that the coolest and most comfortable place in the neighbourhood would be the deep end of the public swimming bath, when the idea came.           I began to draw. So intent was I on my work that I left my lunch untouched, only stopping work when the clock of St. Jude’s struck four.           The final result, for a hurried sketch, was, I felt sure, the best thing I had done.    

      It showed a criminal in the dock immediately after the judge had pronounced sentence. The man was fat—enormously fat. The flesh hung in rolls about his chin; it creased his huge, stumpy neck. He was clean shaven (perhaps I should say a few days before he must have been clean shaven) and almost bald. He stood in the dock, his short, clumsy fingers clasping the rail, looking straight in front of him. The feeling that his expression conveyed was not so much one of horror as of utter, absolute collapse.     

There seemed nothing in the man strong enough to sustain that mountain of flesh.

       I rolled up the sketch, and without quite knowing why, placed it in my pocket. Then with the rare sense of happiness which the knowledge of a good thing well done gives, I left the house.

       I believe that I set out with the idea of calling upon Trenton, for I remember walking along Lytton Street and turning to the right along Gilchrist Road at the bottom of the hill where the men were at work on the new tram lines.

       From there onwards I have only the vaguest recollection of where I went. The one thing of which I was fully conscious was the awful heat, that came up from the dusty asphalt pavement as an almost palpable wave. I longed for the thunder promised by the great banks of copper-coloured cloud that hung low over the western sky.

       I must have walked five or six miles, when a small boy roused me from my reverie by asking the time.

       It was twenty minutes to seven.

       When he left me I began to take stock of my bearings. I found myself standing before a gate that led into a yard bordered by a strip of thirsty earth, where there were flowers, purple stock and scarlet geranium. Above the entrance was a board with the inscription—

CHAS. ATKINSON MONUMENTAL MASON WORKER IN ENGLISH AND ITALIAN MARBLES

       From the yard itself came a cheery whistle, the noise of hammer blows, and the cold sound of steel meeting stone.        A sudden impulse made me enter.        A man was sitting with his back towards me, busy at work on a slab of curiously veined marble. He turned round as he heard my steps and I stopped short.        It was the man I had been drawing, whose portrait lay in my pocket.        He sat there, huge and elephantine, the sweat pouring from his scalp, which he wiped with a red silk handkerchief. But though the face was the same, the expression was absolutely different.        He greeted me smiling, as if we were old friends, and shook my hand.        I apologised for my intrusion.        “Everything is hot and glary outside,” I said. “This seems an oasis in the wilderness.”        “I don’t know about the oasis,” he replied, “but it certainly’s hot, as hot as hell. Take a seat, sir!”        He pointed to the end of the gravestone on which he was at work, and I sat down.        “That’s a beautiful piece of stone you’ve got hold of,” I said.        He shook his head. “In a way it is,” he answered; “the surface here is as fine as anything you could wish, but there’s a big flaw at the back, though I don’t expect you’d ever notice it. I could never make really a good job of a bit of marble like that. It would be all right in the summer like this; it wouldn’t mind the blasted heat. But wait till the winter comes. There’s nothing quite like frost to find out the weak points in stone.”        “Then what’s it for?” I asked.        The man burst out laughing.        “You’d hardly believe me if I was to tell you it’s for an exhibition, but it’s the truth. Artists have exhibitions: so do grocers and butchers; we have them too. All the latest little things in headstones, you know.”        He went on to talk of marbles, which sort best withstood wind and rain, and which were easiest to work; then of his garden and a new sort of carnation he had bought. At the end of every other minute he would drop his tools, wipe his shining head, and curse the heat.        I said little, for I felt uneasy. There was something unnatural, uncanny, in meeting this man.        I tried at first to persuade myself that I had seen him before, that his face, unknown to me, had found a place in some out-of-the-way corner of my memory, but I knew that I was practising little more than a plausible piece of self-deception.        Mr. Atkinson finished his work, spat on the ground, and got up with a sigh of relief.        “There! what do you think of that?” he said, with an air of evident pride.        The inscription which I read for the first time was this—

SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF JAMES CLARENCE WITHENCROFT BORN JAN. 18TH, 1860 HE PASSED AWAY VERY SUDDENLY ON AUGUST 20TH, 19— “In the midst of life we are in death.”

FOR SOME TIME I sat in silence. Then a cold shudder ran down my spine. I asked him where he had seen the name.        “Oh, I didn’t see it anywhere,” replied Mr. Atkinson. “I wanted some name, and I put down the first that came into my head. Why do you want to know?”        “It’s a strange coincidence, but it happens to be mine.”        He gave a long, low whistle.        “And the dates?”        “I can only answer for one of them, and that’s correct.”        “It’s a rum go!” he said.        But he knew less than I did. I told him of my morning’s work. I took the sketch from my pocket and showed it to him. As he looked, the expression of his face altered until it became more and more like that of the man I had drawn.        “And it was only the day before yesterday,” he said, “that I told Maria there were no such things as ghosts!”        Neither of us had seen a ghost, but I knew what he meant.        “You probably heard my name,” I said.        “And you must have seen me somewhere and have forgotten it! Were you at Clacton-on-Sea last July?”        I had never been to Clacton in my life. We were silent for some time. We were both looking at the same thing, the two dates on the gravestone, and one was right.        “Come inside and have some supper,” said Mr. Atkinson.        His wife is a cheerful little woman, with the flaky red cheeks of the country-bred. Her husband introduced me as a friend of his who was an artist. The result was unfortunate, for after the sardines and watercress had been removed, she brought out a Doré Bible, and I had to sit and express my admiration for nearly half an hour.        I went outside, and found Atkinson sitting on the gravestone smoking.        We resumed the conversation at the point we had left off.        “You must excuse my asking,” I said, “but do you know of anything you’ve done for which you could be put on trial?”        He shook his head.        “I’m not a bankrupt, the business is prosperous enough. Three years ago I gave turkeys to some of the guardians at Christmas, but that’s all I can think of. And they were small ones, too,” he added as an afterthought.        He got up, fetched a can from the porch, and began to water the flowers. “Twice a day regular in the hot weather,” he said, “and then the heat sometimes gets the better of the delicate ones. And ferns, good Lord! they could never stand it. Where do you live?”        I told him my address. It would take an hour’s quick walk to get back home.        “It’s like this,” he said. “We’ll look at the matter straight. If you go back home tonight, you take your chance of accidents. A cart may run over you, and there’s always banana skins and orange peel, to say nothing of fallen ladders.”        He spoke of the improbable with an intense seriousness that would have been laughable six hours before. But I did not laugh.        “The best thing we can do,” he continued, “is for you to stay here till twelve o’clock. We’ll go upstairs and smoke; it may be cooler inside.”        To my surprise I agreed.

WE ARE SITTING now in a long, low room beneath the eaves. Atkinson has sent his wife to bed. He himself is busy sharpening some tools at a little oilstone, smoking one of my cigars the while.        The air seems charged with thunder. I am writing this at a shaky table before the open window. The leg is cracked, and Atkinson, who seems a handy man with his tools, is going to mend it as soon as he has finished putting an edge on his chisel.        It is after eleven now. I shall be gone in less than an hour.        But the heat is stifling.        It is enough to send a man mad.

#william fryer harvey #august heat #august 20 #well i don't know why...it's just that i'm sitting here sweating again in mid august in portland

[bright-eyes-strawberry-lies]

Part Three of Three where I talk about Luke Castellan in an attempt to educate you clowns.

Percy’s Personal Sense Of Evil

Throughout the series, we see Percy refer to Luke as evil. What caused this shift in Percy’s perspective is much simpler and a lot more personal than Luke joining Kronos.

The only betrayal that Percy cares about is the one where Luke tries to kill him. Percy was blindsided by it. He couldn’t believe that Luke would hurt him. He doesn’t even really think it’s Luke; it’s just Kronos brainwashing him. Because Luke was the only person at camp who treated him like a human being and because Percy would literally kill for his friends.

I’d imagined meeting Luke again many times since he’d tried to kill me last summer. I’d pictured myself boldly standing up to him, challenging him to a duel. But now that we were face-to-face, I could barely stop my hands from shaking. [Percy] (TSOM, pg 126)

This hurt Percy on a fundamental level. This event impacts Percy so much that after it, he starts calling Luke evil. In Sea Of Monsters, he refuses to let Luke be friendly with him at all and makes it clear that any interactions are purely business.

You’ve got to remember that Percy doesn’t care about the gods. He still hasn’t figured out how he feels about his dad now that he’s met him. Though like most children, Percy is desperate for his dad’s love and approval even though he’s furious that Poseidon left him and his mom alone.

Percy also asks for all of the (surviving) demigods who were on Kronos’ side to be pardoned and welcomed back to camp. So no, it isn’t Kronos that makes Luke evil to Percy. It’s that Luke betrayed him.

It takes four years before Percy softens at all towards Luke and it’s because a) he considers Luke to be dead in all but name after being possessed by Kronos, b) Percy understands now. It might also have to do with Luke never trying to kill Percy again and always giving them opportunities to escape.

Thalia Never Liked Luke

Thalia has always been interesting when it comes to Luke because she’s never done anything on the page to indicate that she actually likes him.

Thalia withholds information from Luke even when it isn’t important info. She wants to follow a goat around for three days and won’t even tell Luke why. She knows the goats name but doesn’t tell Luke what it is for three days. She doesn’t tell Luke that their meeting wasn’t an accident for three years. She tells Luke the bare minimum about her past; that her mom was a drunk so she ran away.

On the other hand, Thalia mentions that Luke told her all about his mom.

Thalia’s one thing that she does for Luke is not joining the Hunters of Artemis because otherwise Luke would be alone.

When Thalia sees Luke in the golden casket in Percy’s dream, she’s surprised.

After Thalia is brought back to life, in Titan’s Curse, she tells Percy that Luke has never let her down...only to say that she’ll kill him with no hesitation a heartbeat later. When Thalia and Luke fight, she walks away without a scratch. While Luke first gets cut across his chest and then kicked off a cliff by her.

Luke begs for them to be a family again. And that’s probably where he went wrong. Because family isn’t what matters to Thalia.

Afterwards, Thalia regularly tells Percy not only that Luke has to die but that Percy can’t sympathize with Luke. Rehabilitation or therapy for Luke are not things that ever cross her mind. Even the idea of using him doesn’t appeal to her; Thalia would rather he be dead.

Thalia also blames Luke for her death. There’s no way to get around it. She tells Percy that Luke became reckless and fought every monster they came across...without mentioning that they came across more monsters because of her or that it was Grover who led them straight into trouble (and if you want to get real technical, it wasn’t even Thalia’s fault they were being hunted so hard [to a point] it was Zeus’ fault for killing Maria Di Angelo).

You could argue her feelings two ways: she’s never liked Luke or she’s already written him off and there’s text to support both.

Luke Needs A Friend

Demigod Diaries was big on giving us info on Luke’s childhood. Mostly that he is desperately lonely.

Luke tried to make friends with mortal kids. He told the mortals about his dad being Hermes and the monsters and all they can say is “that sounds so cool!” Luke doesn’t want to be around people who don’t understand him.

He wanted someone to relate to and the closest he found was Thalia. Luke even says that now that he’d found her, he was determined to stay with her. He ignores his instincts because he’s so desperate for someone to understand.

In the books, Luke doesn’t seem to be close to anyone from the Hermes cabin. His siblings seem to be fine with him taking off. He’s never seen hanging out with anyone at camp except for Percy. Almost all of his time after leaving camp seems to be spent with monsters. It’s implied that Luke has been training the demigods he’s been recruiting and that he’s proud of them, but those are both one liners and are never expanded upon.

Luke and Kelli might have had a friendship or relationship but after Kelli kills a boy, Luke wants nothing to do with her.

Speaking Of Annabeth

Annabeth doesn’t seem to know what to think of Luke. In her head, Luke goes from family to crush to enemy and back to brother.

Luke knows exactly what he thinks of Annabeth and has since the very first time he laid eyes on her. He constantly refers to her as his: daughter, sister, cousin, family.

Their family dynamic fell apart not just because of Thalia’s death and Luke “switching sides” but because by The Lightning Thief, Annabeth couldn’t even handle a hug from Luke without panting like a dog in heat. When she spoke to him, her entire voice changed to become breathy.

It was likely extremely awkward to have a girl Luke considers family to be blatantly crushing on him to the point that the new kid notices it after a single interaction. But despite that huge amount of cringe, Luke still tried to get Annabeth on his side. He promised they could be a family again, like the old days.

Annabeth goes back and forth between whether she wants Percy or Luke. She wants to keep Luke around because he might be useful but she also can’t get rid of Percy because he brings her more status (and being around Percy means that she’s always going to be involved).

By The Last Olympian, Annabeth winds up cursing her dagger because she feels Luke betrayed her...and then on his deathbed, she tells him that she finally sees him as a brother again. Which is a little bit late but at least Luke gets to die with that much.

#percy jackson #luke castellan #annabeth chase #thalia grace #percy jackson series #riordanverse #meta #pjo

[swanqueeneverafter]

The Once & Future Queen Pt.23

Smuggler's Camp. (Having woken both Ella and Henry, Lancelot is searching for answers.) Lancelot: "Has anyone heard from Guinevere?" Henry: (Shaking his head:) "No, the last I saw of her was after we freed Merlin." Lancelot: "Damn. We were set upon by Morgana. I told Guinevere to run while I tried to hold her off, but she got by me." Henry: "I'm sorry, Lancelot. Did you manage to get anything useful from your mother?" Lancelot: "Yes, but Morgana's already retaken Camelot. I'm afraid all is lost." Ella: "You can't know that. You mustn't give up hope." Lancelot: “Agravaine and his men have been sent to find me. In all the confusion I got turned around. Where are we now?” Henry: “We’re heading north towards Lot’s kingdom." Lancelot: (Nods:) “With Camelot in Morgana’s possession, that’s as good a safe haven as we’re likely to find. I can only hope the knights who escaped will meet us there. (Looks around the camp:) Who are these people?” Henry: “They’re, er…smugglers.” Lancelot: “Smugglers?!” Henry & Ella: “Shhh!” Ella: (Whispered:) “Yes and they’re not too thrilled about Camelot’s laws either. So if I were you I’d try and keep my true identity a secret.” Lancelot: (Nods:) “I spent years moving from place to place avoiding those who’d like nothing better than to see me dead. Compared to them, these smugglers shouldn’t be a problem.” Henry: (Pats him on the back:) “I wouldn’t count on that.” Elsewhere In The Woods. (Agravaine rides along the forest path, the soldiers bearing torches follow behind him on foot.) Storybrooke. Swan-Mills House. Morning. (Emma pads downstairs towards the kitchen. Hearing Regina speaking to someone on the phone, Emma leans on the door frame and waits patiently for Regina to finish her conversation.) Regina: (Agitated:) "Oh all right. But if they ask my opinion on you, don't expect me to hold anything back!” (Regina tosses her phone across the counter.) Emma: "Wrong number?" Regina: (Scoffs:) "I wish. Your mother, in her infinite wisdom, has agreed to allow that idiot reporter to cover the search for Storybrooke’s next Mayor." Emma: "Well, I guess it would be in the public interest?" Regina: "Really? And what do you call agreeing to have that same reporter follow us around all day? Because I call it bullsh-" (The doorbell rings.) Emma: "That'll be them now, I guess?" Regina: "So much for enjoying a nice lazy morning, huh?"

Emma: "I'll get the door, you go upstairs and take Maria her bottle." Regina: "All right." (She leaves.) Emma: (Calling after her:) "And change into your happy pants while you're up there! (Attempting to put on a brave face, Emma walks across the hall and opens the front door. However, upon being blinded by the Reporter's camera flash and bombarded with questions before she can even manage to fully open the door, Emma's relatively good mood falters. Forcing a smile, she stands aside:) Won't you come in?" (The Reporter enters and continues to chatter excitedly as Emma rolls her eyes and closes the door.) Smuggler's Camp. (Lancelot stands talking with Henry when he's spotted by Tristan.) Tristan: “You. (Lancelot turns around:) Do I know you?” Henry: (Thinking on his feet:) “Er... this is our friend... Jack. We were supposed to meet up yesterday but he got lost.” Tristan: “Simpleton are you, Jack? (Before Lancelot can reply:) We leave as soon as the horses are watered. Explain it to the simpleton, would you? (Tristan walks away while Lancelot looks at Henry who smiles sheepishly. Lancelot readjusts the sword he acquired from the Lady of the Lake and this catches Tristan and Isolde’s attention:) Simpleton.” Henry: “He’s talking to you.” Lancelot: “I don’t answer to that name.” Henry: “You’re not you, remember?” (Tristan looks down at the sword.) Tristan: “Impressive piece.” Lancelot: (With a slight accent:) “Thank you, sir.” Tristan: “May I? (Lancelot allows Tristan to handle the sword. He examines the blade. Scoffs:) Magnificent. Usually the only place you find workmanship of this quality is the royal forge of Camelot. (Tristan puts the sword to Lancelot’s throat:) Tell me, how did you come by it?” Lancelot: (Without flinching:) “I won it in a card game.” (Tristan narrows his eyes suspiciously then hands the sword back to him.) Tristan: “I hope for your sake that’s true. (Lancelot takes the sword:) I’d hate to think that I was riding with a knight of Camelot.” (Isolde giggles.) Isolde: “Knight of Camelot? Look at him.” (Henry chuckles as Lancelot plays along and pretends not to know how to put the sword in his belt.) Tristan: “You’re right. Their knights may be stupid, but they’re not that stupid.” (Lancelot puts on a big smile and chuckles with the rest of them until suddenly a man walking past them gets shot with an arrow. They turn and see soldiers charging the camp. Henry grabs Ella and pulls her out of harms way. An arrow lands in the tree next to Lancelot’s head and they run to take cover behind the wagon with Tristan and Isolde. Lancelot takes charge.) Lancelot: “Head for those trees, we’ll cover you. (Tristan and Isolde exchange a confused look:) Do you want to live or not?” (Tristan steps forward to question Lancelot, but Isolde grabs his arm and they run off. Lancelot, Ella and Henry fire crossbows at the soldiers through the wagon. Henry tosses Lancelot another bolt and reloads his own crossbow.) Henry: “Now what?” Lancelot: “Now it’s our turn.” Henry: “Who’s going to cover us?” Lancelot: (Smirks:) “Don’t be a simpleton, Henry.” (They take aim and hit another three soldiers, but more keep coming. Lancelot grabs the sword from the wagon and they run off. They take cover behind a fallen tree with Tristan and Isolde. Agravaine directs the soldiers by the wagon.) Isolde: “They haven’t found the cargo.” Tristan: “They will. Besides, they weren’t after the cargo. They were after you. Who the hell are you?” Lancelot: “My name is Lancelot.” Tristan: “The bravest knight in all of Camelot!” Lancelot: “At least I was.” Tristan: “I’ve lost everything I’ve worked for because of the Queen’s good for nothing consort!” Lancelot: “That’s quite something coming from a smuggler.” Tristan: “Well, I wouldn’t have to be a smuggler if it wasn’t for your damn taxes, would I?!” Lancelot: “Those taxes help protect the people of this land.” Tristan: “My people are dead. You call that protection?”

Ella: “Excuse me, sorry to interrupt, but…” (Ella directs their attention to the soldiers charging them from behind. Lancelot and Tristan charge the soldiers and fight side by side. Ella, Henry and Isolde fight more soldiers. One soldier elbows Isolde in the head and slashes her sword arm, kicking her to the ground. The soldier poises for the final blow, but crumples as Lancelot stabs him in the back. Tristan runs to Isolde and holds her. Henry and Ella watch over them ready to defend them from attack.) Tristan: (Whispered:) “Isolde. We had a deal. Partners for life, remember?” Isolde: “When have I not kept my promises?” (Tristan kisses her forehead.) Lancelot: “We need to keep moving. There’ll be more coming soon.” Tristan: “Then go. There’s nothing stopping you.” (Lancelot rolls his eyes.) Henry: “We’ll be safer if we stick together.” Tristan: “I’m choosy about the company I keep.” Isolde: “He saved my life, Tristan. (To Lancelot:) Thank you.” Tristan: “None of this would’ve happened if it wasn’t for them.” (Isolde sighs at his stubbornness.) Lancelot: “She’s injured. She needs shelter and rest.” (Tristan sighs, looks at Lancelot, then back at Isolde. Isolde nods.) Tristan: “Very well. But know this, Lancelot, I do this for her. You and your kind bring nothing but misery to this land.” Camelot. Council Chamber. (Soldiers shove Xena into the middle of a fighting circle where Morgana stands. She smiles at their rowdy enjoyment.)

Morgana: “Behold! Xena, the Warrior Princess. Famed as the greatest warrior to ever live. (Morgana grabs Xena’s face:) Let’s see if that fame’s deserved, shall we?” (Xena scoffs with a smirk and glares at Morgana who walks to sit on the throne. A soldier steps forward, brandishing a couple of weapons while Xena looks around at the braying mob.) Storybrooke. Daycare Centre. (Speaking with the Reporter, Regina talks about a typical day in the life for herself and Emma.) Regina: "Aside from the occasional witch or warlock attempting to take over the world, our days are pretty normal. As Mayor, one of my duties is to ensure that all aspects of the community are catered for. Luckily, we have some very conscientious people in this town. A prime example of that can be found here, at Ashley's Daycare Centre. Now Ashley's story is one you should definitely take the time to explore. A young mother herself, Ashley saw a need within the community and brought people together to share their experiences. What you see here today is all down to her hard work and dedication. Ashley's joy for what she provides to the community really shines through." Reporter: "Are Emma and yourself members?" Regina: "We were for a short time. Emma thought it would be a good idea to get opinions from other 'first time' mothers. Of course, while Maria isn't Emma's first child, she did miss out on raising Henry herself." Reporter: "That's interesting. Having raised Henry alone, did you see the need to attend Ashley's classes?" Regina: (Smiles:) "Initially I didn't quite see the point, having already been there and done it, but I knew it was important to Emma. So we came for the first few weeks and it was actually a lot of fun." Reporter: "So what happened after those first few weeks?" Regina: (Hesitates:) "Apparently I was a little too forthright in giving my own opinions on how to raise a child and I was quietly asked to leave." Reporter: "I see." (Writing some notes.) Regina: (Hastily:) "But, during Emma’s absence, I made a request to return for Maria’s sake. And for myself, if I’m being honest. So today is the first time all three of us are attending in quite some time.” Reporter: “So you would recommend the daycare centre?” Regina: “Absolutely. I highly recommend the centre for all first time mothers." (Regina smiles, a little uncomfortable at how much she’s just shared.) Camelot. Council Chamber. (Xena fights one of the soldiers, dodging blow after blow until finally she is shoved backwards into the surrounding circle of soldiers. Upon being pushed back towards her opponent, Xena is knocked to the floor. Spinning her legs in the air to gain momentum, Xena jumps to her feet and avoids catching a mace to the face. Disarming her opponent of one of his weapons, Xena taunts him.) Xena: “That all you got? I was promised a decent fight. (The man pulls out another weapon from his belt and disarms Xena:) You’re a very angry man, I can see that. Must be hard being so ugly. (The man swings wildly at Xena as she continues:) Children crying, women screaming. (The man attacks again with an overhead swing but misses:) Come on, you can do better than that.”

(Completely unarmed, Xena knocks the soldier to the ground. Her opponent rises to his feet with one weapon left. Xena lets out her battle cry and climbs on his back after punching him in the stomach. The soldier rams Xena into a column, but she dismounts, punches and kicks the soldier against the column. Xena picks up the mace and knocks out her opponent with it in the now silent council chamber. Morgana stands, clapping slowly.) Morgana: “Congratulations, Xena. An admirable display. You’ve earned your reward. (She indicates to someone and they toss a half-loaf of moldy bread at Xena’s feet:) But you’re going to have to do better if you want some more.” (The gathered soldiers chuckle darkly and Morgana motions for two more warriors to step forward. The chanting begins again as Xena prepares for their attack.) Storybrooke. Daycare Centre. (At the end of the day's session, Ashley talks with Emma.) Ashley: "So it's true, you and Regina are really retiring?" Emma: (Nods:) "As soon as we can find a candidate for Mayor, yeah. Maybe you should think about it?" Ashley: "Me? Mayor? I wouldn't know where to start." Emma: "I don't know, look at what you've done with this place. I think you'd make an excellent Mayor." Ashley: (Smiles:) "Thanks, Emma. But I don't think people see me as the City Hall type." Emma: "Hey, remember what I told you the day we met?" Ashley: (Nods:) "People are going to tell you who you are your whole life. You just gotta punch back and say, 'No, this is who I am.' I remember. (Considers:) All right, I'll think about it." Emma: (Smiles:) "You'd get my vote."

Abandoned Farmhouse. Village. (Ella checks on Isolde who is sleeping on the bed while Tristan and Lancelot eat.) Ella: “I’ve cleaned the wound. There’s no sign of infection. So as long as she gets plenty of rest, she’ll be fine.” Tristan: “Thank you, Ella, for everything you’ve done for her.” (Ella nods and leaves.) Lancelot: “I’m sorry I brought this…misfortune upon you.” Tristan: “Well, I may have lost my cargo, but I still have my beloved Isolde.” Lancelot: “Then you’re richer than you know.” (Tristan considers Lancelot and then looks to Isolde. Lancelot watches them sadly, his thoughts turning to Guinevere. In another room, Ella tends to Henry's injuries.) Henry: (Watching her:) “Where did you learn that?” Ella: “Ah, books. I read a lot about medicine in my father's library as a little girl. The books would always stress that a good bedside manner was very important, so whenever some of the local bards would visit the castle, I'd try and remember some of their stories." Henry: (Smiles:) "A writer and a storyteller huh? Well aren't we the pair?" Ella: (Laughs:) "I wouldn't go that far, but there is one story I do remember." Henry: "I'd love to hear it." Ella: "Hmm, okay. Once upon a time, a young woman went into the woods to hunt, but lost her way. For days she wandered in the forest, disorientated and confused, desperately trying to find her way out. She was hopeless. After some time, she saw a man approaching in the distance. At last, she thought to herself, ‘Someone who knows how to get out of this forest.’ When they met, she asked the man, ‘Kind sir, can you please tell me the way out of this forest? I have been wandering for days, but have been unable to find the way.’ But the man answered, ‘I’m sorry. I do not know the way out either. I, too, have been wandering about these woods for days. Let us journey on together. Perhaps, side by side, we can figure a way out.’ After that, the woman was no longer hopeless.” (Timing her story to finish with her ministrations, Ella looks up at Henry who is smiling at her in complete adoration.) Storybrooke. Daycare Centre. (Emma sits down with the Reporter.) Reporter: "How does it feel to be back here after what you went through? I suspect there were times when you thought you'd never attend one of these sessions again?" Emma: "It feels great. That's what most people don't understand about the seemingly mundane aspects of their lives. To be able to have a routine, to have that consistency is something people take for granted. Growing up in the foster system, I was constantly trying to follow someone else's rules or guidelines in order to fit in with the latest family. Now that I have a family of my own, I realise that having that stability is what we're all searching for. Regina and I have always been the outsiders, that's part of the reason we get each other so well. But now that we have everything we've ever wanted, it's time to really enjoy it." Reporter: "My sources tell me that retirement was your idea. Is this true and was there a particular moment that lead you to your decision?" Emma: "Well I don't know who your supposed sources are but yeah, it was my idea. As far as one particular moment goes? I think what really made me decide was watching Regina in situations like this. I mean, look at her. (Emma and the Reporter turn to watch Regina talking and laughing with the other mothers in the group:) A few years ago, that would never have happened. Regina would never have felt comfortable enough to just sit and chat with people without feeling as though they were saying one thing to her face and something completely different behind her back. I love that she's finally at peace and is able to open herself up to new friendships. That's why I suggested we step back and let someone else take the reigns. So that last remaining barrier can come down and she can just be herself. Not Madam Mayor. Not the Evil Queen. Just the woman I love, Regina."

Abandoned Farmhouse. Village. Night. (Henry and Ella hear screams as they sit talking. Henry stands and sees the soldiers’ torches surrounding the village.) Henry: “Agravaine. He’s found us.” (Lancelot, Henry, Ella, Tristan and Isolde watch as Agravaine and the soldiers harass the villagers.) Tristan: “Any suggestions?” Henry: “I might have something. Ella, you with me? (Ella nods:) Everyone else, round the back.” (Henry waits for the others to leave, then he and Ella run towards a cart at the top of the hill. Grabbing a torch and holding against the cart, they start rolling it towards Agravaine. Turning, Agravaine and the soldiers dash out of the way of the flaming cart just in time, but Agravaine looks up to see Lancelot’s party escaping.) Agravaine: “There! Get them!” Forest. (Soldiers chase Lancelot’s group through the woods, Tristan supporting Isolde as they go.)

#sq #swan queen #swanqueen

[marley-warriors]

2000 years ago

Who was Ymir? What was Ymir’s titan?

Was Ymir really named Ymir? She never spoke, and it seems unlikely that her oppressirs would have cared to ask her name. So perhaps her name wadn’t even Ymir. As I though, the Eldians were indeed Germanics and Vikings, and based in this it may be that the Eldians actually gave Ymir her name after she first turned into a titan. They would probably have known what the name Ymir means: Progenitor of all Giants.

Ymir herself was not actually an Eldian. Her nation was devestated by the Eldians before being taken as slaves. Perhaps it could be that Ymir’s real name was actually Krista. I think this to be possible, considering Frieda called her Krista. After all why else would Frieda, whom knew Ymir, call her by that name? Perhaps we will get more on Ymir’s backstory. She has yet to speak as well, and we know nothing of her before she became a slave.

Many people seem to assume Ymir just willingly went back to the King. But this was never shown. Instead we know that some Eldians saw her transform. Most shifters are out cold for a while after inheriting their titans. If this was the case the Eldians may have found Ymir and retrieved her. Perhaps some would argue the Eldians to be too scared. But these were Vikings, whom may have even worshipped giants in norse mythology. I just doubt Ymir would have returned to the King on her own considering he ordered her to be ‘free’.

Ymir’s Progenitor titan is not the godess we expected. That was just Eldian propaganda to make Ymir look good. Instead she is a very large titan unlike any of the 9 titans. Because she is a combination of all 9 titans Ymir would have had qualities from each if them. It also seems tht she may be about 40 meter tall, taking into account her largest Titan: 60 meters, and smallest: 4 meters. The lack of any eyes or tunge in titan form seem to further represent her slave nature. The slaves were threatened to have an eye goughed out, and we did see their tongues being cut out.

Why was the power split into only 9 powers?

Ymir was the Progenitor. The first of all titans. Upon her death, she was cannibalised by her daughters: Maria, Rose and Sheena. We even see the Paths tree branch off into 3. Upon their fathers dying wishes, Maria, Rose and Sheena too would have probably birthed 3 children each and passed on their powers.

So Ymir had 9 powers within her. Then Maria, Rose and Sheena each held 3 powers within them. And their children, Or Ymir’s 9 grandchildren each held 1 power within them. But assuming those 9 grandchildren held up the tradition of each bearing 3 children and passing on the powers, why did it not split into 27 powers? I imagine this 4th generation of shifters would have been equally confused by this.

Here are some possible reasons:

1. The Eldian empire realised that each time the power was split, it grew weaker compared to the original Progenitor. So they limited it to 9.

2. The 9 realsm of norse mythology might be represented through the titans. So it was impossible for the Eldians to split up the 9 reals or titan powers any further, no matter how hard they tried.

3. The ‘parasite’ or source had 9 pairs of legs. Perhaps the source itself could not split itself into more than 9. The Eldians once again would have tried, but to no avail.

Are all Eldians Ymir’s decendants? Dosen’t that make them all royal?

[[MORE]]

This was pretty confusing. Ymir herself isn’t even an Eldian, only the King and father of her children was. But I do think all current Eldians are subjects of Ymir. The Eldian empire would have tried its damm hardest to have all Eldians be part of Ymir’s blood. All other Eldians that were not of Ymirs blood would have been considered unworthy and no one would have reproduced with them. Hence those Eldians would have died out.

So then if all Eldians and titan powers are decendants of Ymir, does that not make them royal? Well I don’t think so. Being ‘royal’ does not seem to have anything to do with being related to the first King Fritz, nor Ymir. We know only a very few Eldians are ‘royal’. I think what is considered royal here is the genetic makeup of the founding titan specifically. So being royal is not a title, its genetics. The genetics of the founding titan, which was the ‘heart’ or the core of the Progenitor Titan.

Hence all decendants of only the Founding titan are considered royal. The Founding titan among two other titans wpuld have been passed down to one of Ymir’s daughters. Im going to go with Maria, since she was the oldest and hence would be the next Queen of Eldia. Maria would then have passed the Founding Titan on to one of her own children. That child would be the first founding titan, and all its children, regardless of if they became a titan or not, would have had been royal. Meanwhile the children of the other 8 titans would just be considered normal Eldians.

As for the Eldians that were used as mindless titans. I imagine it possible that the Eldian empire would have tried relentlessly to increase the number of its 9 shifters, perhaps by doing so they gave some Eldians some spinal fluid to drink. But since those Eldians did not consume the actual spine they only turned into mindless titans. The King or Queen at the time might have screamed for order, realising that the mindless titans obeyed them, and only them. Hence a new opportunity for a greater weapon was born.

The outcasts, criminals and lower classes would have been used for mindless titans. The besiged nations whom had been enslaved and raped would have produced children that were probably also used as mindless titans.

What is up with the 13 year curse? And why could Ymir not regenerate?

There could be many possible answers. Some think she could not regenerate because no one was in paths to ‘repair’ her. But this theory is based on the idea that Ymir heals all injuries sustained by shifters. None of this is confirmed or canon. I think shifters don’t neex Ymir’s help to regenerate. It seems Ymir only builds titans, with no sign of her doing any repairs. But she did repair Zeke! Zeke was different. He was dying. He was not just injured, he was actually dying. And as a royal he made a wish not for this to end here. Ymir had to save him because of his royal blood.

Secondly, if Ymir died because no one was in paths to repair her, then who even built her titan in the first place? Its a contradiction. Because Ymir was the first she may not have needed anyone to build her titan body. Perhaps the source did it for her.

Or perhaps since time is infinite and non-linear in paths, Ymir actually built her own titan after her death. But if that were the case and she could heal others, then she could have just healed herself.

I think Ymir died because she lost the will to live. Isayama has addressed that before and must have mentioned it for a reason. So possibly Ymir died because she didn’t want to live anymore. She gave her all for the King. She brought him wealth, fought and killed his enemies, extended his empire, built infrastructure, bore him 3 heirs and saved his life. And what was the thanks? Nothing, no compassion, not even a helping hand. I think Ymir thought she could win the King’s love. She just wanted to be loved. We even see her as a child watching longingly as an Eldian pair kissed. But when Ymir realised that the King would never love her, never see her as more than just a slave and tool... well what was there to live for? Not even saving the Kings life earned her any love or compassion, and so she knew that nothing ever would.

Its not clear if she died 13 years after inheriting her power, but judging from her age, and the age of her daughters it seems very likely that it was indeed 13 years. Perhaps the curse is as simple as that. But it must also be noted that when taking the blame of her people upon herself, it was 13 hands that condemed her. 13 people decided her fate and blamed her for the pigs. It is this that would lead to her accidentally inheriting her power. Another thing is the source under the tree. It had 13 pairs of ‘tentacles’ on its back which extended upward to connect to Ymir. Perhaps this source feeds from its host for 13 years before seeking out a new healthy host.

Was that Marleyan the great Hero Helos?

No. Simply put, he was not. Yes he was a captive Marleyan and he did kill the Progenito Titan, but he was not Helos. Helos story is only from 1700 years later. By then no one would have remembered that one Marleyan. No one even knew the true story after 1700 years. It was all myths and legends by then. Besides, that Marleyan would have been killed instantly riggt there and then, and so would his comarades most likely. I doubt any of them lived to tell the tale. Even if they did, while at first that Marleyan may have been hailed a Hero, he would have very likely soon be cursed and shunned. After all because of him, Marley now had to deal with 3 titans instead of 1.

Further, Helos was never real. He never existed. Helos was a story invented by King Fritz the 145th, and the head of the Tybur Family. None of it was real, as is confirmed later by Willy Tybur. Helos would also not have been inspired by the Marleyan, as no one even remembers him in the current time.

What was the source under the tree?

I really don’t know... Yams will hopefully expand on that in future chapters. But I have heard some interesting theories about it being Nidhogg, the serpent dragon under Yggdrasil. Another theory is that it some alien life form that crashed to earth with a meteor. There were also suggestions it could be the roots of Yggdrasil, but the clearer scans debunk that. Others think its still the actual devil himself, perhaps hiding his true form.

I myself really do not know. But check out other peoples ideas, there are some really interesting ones.

Are there any other spoilers in the season 2 ending?

I don’t think so. There is already a clear shot of the unleashed Colossus titans in there, but that frame was already used in season 3 when the restorationists discussed the rumbeling. The panel of the 9 titans with a godess looking Founder was also already in season 3, as were many other shots.

But I have seen some people get confused about the titans coming from the ocean and attacking a town. Just to remind some people, that was the battle of Lago. The humans travelling out into the dessert was also part of the battle of Lago. It was said that the survivors fled to the dessert, where titans arose and killed them. That would represent the shot of the titans rising with the sun. So really none of these images are about the future or the rumbeling.

#snk #snk spoilers #snk 122 #snk meta #ymir fritz #the founder ymir #the source of all organic matter #snk source of all organic matter #snk devil #snk devil of all earth #aot #king fritz #1st king fritz #frieda reiss #marley-warriors-of-demon-blood #snk paths #curse of ymir #progenitor titan #founding titan #ymir the founder