#Bert Large

[fashioninpaper]

[redhatmeg]

I see they're pulling Grinch on Doc Martin, but to be fair, he's a Grinch in his own, special "why tf Santa is scratching himself" way.

Like, Elf Bert, my man, you should have seen this coming, given how often your restuarant got accused of being the source of mass food poisoning.

[keekity]

space pirate and the contraband cute android she just can't seem to get rid of

@minamill the other one is coming >;)

[ask-sentient-vehicles]

What are Miniature Bert’s favourite and least favourite parts of being a little engine?

Bert: I'm glad you asked. As a little engine I enjoy the countryside as well as pulling coaches. It's a serene atmosphere. I like to engage with the people. Us miniature engines develop closer bonds with the environment. The world is a playground for us!

There's a catch to that, though. See, for a standard or narrow gauge engine a person's face is just two lines and a mouth. For us, well - the face of The Small Controller is so uncanny that I feel as if he's staring at my soul. Don't tell him that, though.

[stardestroyer81]

Well, well, it looks like somebody would like to say hello! Uh, but who exactly might they be...?

Meet Rascal! Rascal is the star of a faux arcade game I one day hope to bring to fruition, and for the past week or two, I have been drawing him and the other colorful characters in the Rascal cast nonstop! There were several different ways I thought about introducing this character to followers of my blog, though @shrimpuufriend and @stephysalcido suggested I ought to make this cute animation of him waving to start it all off!

Expect to see more Rascal content in the near future, because let me tell you— there's a lot of it! 🍬🧡💙🧡🍬

[isildurreborn]

my recent hobby has been putting muppet heads on family photos, and photos of my friends.

[peachypixelpop]

Paws and Claws

✩‌ logan howlett/wolverine x curvyf!reader | smut | 6k

SUMMARY | Your dog Bert accidentally knocks up Dogpool which leads to a meet cute with an angry Wolverine.

WARNINGS | Meet cute (but make it intense) kinda enemies, to friends to lovers, mutual yearning, daddy wolverine, flirting, mutual yearning, immature humour, oral sex, swallowing, fingering, piv s*x, what refractory period? we die like men, You know he talks you through it.

RATING | Explicit

NOTES | Okay so this is my first ever Tumblr spicy oneshot, soooo thoughts and feedback are so welcome. Enjoy my loves <3

“You,” he snarled, teeth bared as he thrust what could only be described as a pot-bellied gremlin toward your face.

“Me?” you splutter, glancing between the feral-looking man in front of you and the small creature he held in his hands.

“Yeah! You’ve got some audacity coming back here after what you’ve done,” he spat, gesturing around the park while transferring the small creature to his large bicep, cradling it against his impressively muscular chest.

The ‘here’ he was referring to was your local park, currently hosting its weekly ‘Social Snout Society.’ You had moved for work, and the event seemed like a great way to meet fellow dog owners.

And in a way, it had. You’d made friends with.  many of the regulars and had grown your social circle considerably. There was the sweet young couple who kept trying to set you up with their ‘friend,’ and the lovely old lady, Barbara, who always offered your dog peanut butter-filled treats.

But then, there was him. The one person you couldn’t quite figure out. He was always standing off to the side, averse to socialising, with his thick arms crossed over a plaid shirt as he watched the dogs run around. There was something about his presence—an air of brooding mystery—that made it hard to ignore him. You’d caught yourself staring a few times—how could you not? He was handsome in a rugged, roguish Clint Eastwood sort of way. But more than that, he was The Wolverine. Yes, that Wolverine—the legendary superhero from the X-Men who fought bad guys and saved the world.

Each time he caught you looking, you quickly glanced away, your face turning a brilliant shade of red as you desperately tried to distract yourself by calling your dog over.

You had pegged him as the type who would own a large, intimidating dog—a mastiff, a rottweiler, or maybe a German shepherd. So, when the social was winding down and you saw a tiny Pugese bounding over to him, you couldn’t believe your eyes. The little dog, all stubby legs and wrinkled face, leaped into the gruff man’s arms with surprising agility. Its long tongue lolled out, swiping affectionately at his mutton chops as he caught it effortlessly. The sight of this fierce-looking man cradling such a small, adorable dog was almost too much to process, and you had to stifle a laugh at the unexpected contrast.

“What’s going on?” you finally manage to ask, your voice shaky as you look at the small creature nestled against his chest.

“Listen, bub, this clueless act ain’t gonna cut it with me. You can see what you’ve done,” he said, his voice rough like gravel. He adjusted his grip on the little dog, gently supporting its neck and bum as he sat it up slightly. You leaned in, taking in the wide brown eyes that blinked up at you as the dog gave a quick yawn, shifting in the man’s arms. Its little red leather outfit was twisted slightly around its body, looking snugger than usual.

“This—” he growled, nodding toward the Pugese, “is Mary. And thanks to your sausage, she’s gonna have puppies!”

You blink in confusion. “My—wait, Bert? You’re talking about Bert?”

“Who else?” he huffed, his intense gaze locking onto yours. “Your daschund knocked up my dog!”

As if summoned, Bert appeared between your legs, huffing loudly from his sprint back from Barbara, a smudge of peanut butter on his lips. He looked up at you and the angry man with a proud expression, oblivious to the chaos he had caused.

“Bert?” you repeat incredulously, trying to process the information. “But… but I swear he’s been fixed!”

“Yeah, well, he figured it out somehow,” the man muttered, still fuming. “Found out today at the vet—Mary’s knocked up, thanks to him”

You glanced at the small dog again and noticed how her little pot belly did seem more rotund than usual. She was happily wagging her curly tail, completely unaware of the drama unfolding.

“Oh my god,” you whisper, covering your mouth as you look at the little Pugese. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea…”

“Neither did I!” he retorts, though his tone softens slightly as he sees the genuine surprise and concern in your eyes. “I mean, Mary is the last dog I’d expect to end up pregnant. She’s never even shown interest in other dogs.”

You can’t help but let out a small laugh, the absurdity of the situation dawning on you. Of all the things I expected today, getting chewed out by a grumpy, muscle-bound guy over a pregnant dog wasn’t one of them.

“How do you even know it was him? There are hundreds of dogs around here”

He huffed as if appalled you would even ask that.

“How could it not be him, I’ve seen him - sniffing around her” he spat. 

You side eyed Bert who had the audacity to flop on his back for a belly rub. It sounded exactly like him to your dismay. 

“I honestly don’t know what to say except sorry” you finally manage wincing as Bert let out a long whine at being ignored. 

“Just… keep an eye on your little Casanova,” he grumbled, rubbing Mary’s head. “We’re in this together now, whether we like it or not.”

“I really am sorry,” you say, reaching down to scoop up Bert, who was sniffing at the man’s shoes. Holding his little sausage body in one hand, you thrust a hand forward toward the man. “I’m Y/N. You’ve met Bert.”

The man eyed your hand for a second before clasping it in his own large one. “Logan,” he spoke, his deep voice sending a shiver down your spine.

“Listen, don’t worry. Bert won’t be an absent father. I’ll step up—I mean, he’ll step up—well, I suppose we’ll be there for you.”

“Uh huh.”

“And Mary, of course. Listen, I’m a girls’ girl, and the last thing I would do is—” You freeze as you realise you’re still gripping Logan’s large hand and shaking it like you’re sealing the most important business deal of your life. Quickly releasing his hand as if it were on fire, you take a step back and stare at the grass in embarrassment.

Taking a deep breath, you looked up and tried not to get lost in his warm brown eyes. “Listen, can you give me your number or something so you can keep me updated?” You asked, shifting Bert on your arm.

“I don’t have a phone,” he said awkwardly.

“Right,” you responded, feeling mortified. It seemed clear he wanted nothing to do with you.

“Okay, well, I’ll be around if you need me,” you said dejectedly. With twenty minutes left of the social, you just wanted to escape the awkwardness.

Before he could respond, you turned away and left the park, your ears burning red with embarrassment as Bert gently gnawed at your fingers.

You didn’t see Logan again, a couple of weeks had passed since the man had confronted you about Bert’s promiscuous behaviour so you were surprised to find a bright pink envelope on your floor when you arrived home from work.

🎉🐶 PAW-TEE ALERT! 🐶🎉 Hey there, Fur-tastic Friends! Guess what time it is? It’s time to celebrate the most adorable, waggliest, and undeniably cutest thing in the universe—PUPPIES! Yep, you heard me right. Wade is throwing the ultimate Puppy Shower and you’re on the VIP list. 🎉 Come dressed in your finest puppy-themed attire or don’t—either way, you’ll look fetching! 🐾 Please bring a treat for Mary, our star-of-the-show, and no, we’re not talking about your grandma’s fruitcake. 🍪 If you can’t make it, don’t worry. I’ll be sure to send you a selfie of me and Logan covered in puppy slobber. 📸 RSVP: Hit me up with your best bark or, if you’re feeling fancy, just send a text to [Contact Information Here]. Either way, let me know if you’re coming so we can prepare an appropriately excessive amount of dog treats and possibly a few questionable dog costumes. Pawsitively Excited, Wade & Logan xoxoxo P.S. If you think this is just a ploy to get free snacks and a chance to see Logan out of his grumpy shell, you might be right. But you’ll also be helping celebrate the imminent arrival of tiny, adorable puppies!

“Wade?” You murmured, running your finger over the red glitter hearts on the page. It made sense why Logan wasn’t single; he was undeniably gorgeous. But your brows furrowed as you tried to recall whether you had given Logan your address.

Glancing at Bert, who was sitting in front of his empty bowl and giving you a reproachful look, you sighed. “Time to step up, buddy.” You spoke to Bert, who huffed slightly in agreement and continued to paw at his dish.

When you arrived at Wade’s flat, you were surprised to realise it was only a few streets away from your own place. Bert whined softly as you lingered outside the door, feeling the weight of nerves flutter in your stomach. You could hear voices and music drifting from inside. Glancing down at your dog, you took a deep breath before rapping your knuckles on the door.

The door swung open almost immediately, revealing a tall man covered in a patchwork of scars. His expression was animated, and before you could say anything, he flashed a blinding smile.

“You must be Y/N! Come in, come in!” he greeted, his voice brimming with enthusiasm as he ushered you and Bert inside.

“Thanks,” you replied, stepping into the cosy flat and carefully setting your wet umbrella near a pile of shoes and coats. Wade gave you a friendly hug as you shrugged off your raincoat, leaving you momentarily startled.

“It’s great to finally meet you!” Wade said, his tone warm and welcoming.

“You too! And, er, sorry again about the whole… getting your dog pregnant,” you replied, feeling a bit awkward.

“Pshhh, don’t worry about it! Our little Puppins is 90% G-spot, it was bound to happen sooner or later, the little tease,” Wade jokes, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

“Oh-oka—wait, Puppins?” you asked, trying to keep up with the rapid-fire conversation.

“Yeah, Mary—Mary Puppins,” Wade clarified with a wide grin, clearly proud of the clever name.

“Ah, now Bert’s name is starting to make sense,” you mused, the pieces finally clicking together in your mind.

“Yep, it’s very on-brand,” Wade replied, a mischievous glint in his eye as he let his thoughts wander for a moment. He shook his head slightly, snapping back to the present. “Anyway,” he continued, his tone shifting to one of exaggerated seriousness, “where is our little absent father?”

You glanced down, spotting Bert near your feet, his little tail wagging as if he understood that the spotlight was now on him. Bending down, you scooped up the dachshund, who was proudly sporting a tiny yellow bow tie, and handed him over to Wade.

“There he is!” Wade cooed, holding Bert up like a prized possession. “Someone went out for milk these past two weeks, huh? Poor Wolvy has been looking for your mama,” he added with a wink, turning to lead you both into the lounge.

Wade marched into the room, lifting Bert high above his head in a dramatic gesture. “Everyone, I present to you the baby daddy!” Wade declared with flair, holding Bert up like Simba in The Lion King. The room erupted in laughter and applause as the small group gathered around, showering Bert with attention and affection.

But then your attention shifted to your usual target, who was brooding near the kitchen, lingering near some red velvet cupcakes. You moved closer, your heart pounding as you took in his form that seemed to take up most of the kitchen.

“Hey, how’s it going?” you asked, reaching past him to grab a cupcake. His dark eyes flicked up to meet yours, searching your face for a moment before he shrugged his shoulders.

“Yeah, alright. How’s it going with you?” he replied, his voice low and gravelly.

“Good, great actually. Bert hasn’t gotten any other dogs pregnant,” you joked lightly, trying to ease the tension.

“That’s good,” Logan replied, his tone a bit flat.

“You know what blokes are like, only thinking of one thing,” you blurted out without thinking, immediately regretting the words as they left your mouth.

Logan raised a brow at you, his expression unreadable. “That right?”

You swallowed hard, suddenly feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. To avoid saying anything else, you took a bite out of the cupcake. The texture was unexpectedly tough, and you found yourself chewing more vigorously than you’d anticipated.

Logan’s gaze remained fixed on you, his eyes narrowing slightly. After a moment, he reached out and gently wiped the corner of your mouth with his thumb, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through you.

“There was some icing,” he murmured, his voice suddenly softer, more of a rumble than his usual biting growl. 

“Thanks,” you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper as your heart pounded in your chest.

He held your gaze a moment longer, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “You know, that’s for dogs, right?”

Your eyes widened in horror as you looked down at the half-eaten cupcake in your hand. “What?”

“Wade’s idea of a joke,” Logan explained, clearly amused by your reaction. “He put them out with the regular food to mess with people.”

You felt your face flush with embarrassment. “Oh my god…” you whispered, just before gagging as the aftertaste of beef hit your tongue. “Oh no, that’s disgusting!” you spluttered, wiping your mouth furiously as you tried to rid yourself of the flavour.

“Don’t worry, you’re not the first one he’s tricked,” Logan said, his smirk widening into a grin. You were momentarily taken aback, surprised by how the smile transformed his face, softening his usual stern expression and making him look years younger. 

You couldn’t help but laugh, the absurdity of the situation dawning on you as your cheeks flushed a tomato hue. 

“Don’t worry, you’re not the first one he’s tricked,” Logan said, his smirk widening into a genuine grin that took you by surprise. The smile lit up his face, making him look years younger, almost boyish.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the absurdity of the situation finally hitting you as your cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red. “Well, I guess it’s fitting. Bert and I are just full of surprises.”

“Seems that way,” Logan replied, his tone now more relaxed, a subtle hint of flirtation lacing his words. His eyes held yours, and for a brief moment, the air between you felt charged with an unspoken connection.

“Maybe you’re not so bad after all,” he grumbled, the corners of his lips twitching upward.

“Maybe not,” you teased back, feeling a nervous flutter in your stomach. The intensity of his gaze made it hard to think straight, and you wondered if he could hear your heart racing.

Logan’s nostrils flared slightly, as if he were picking up on the tension between you. But before anything more could happen, Wade’s voice broke the moment.

“Ooh, this looks all cosy, doesn’t it, Wolvy?” Wade chirped smugly, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he took in the lack of space between the two of you.

“Fuck off,” Logan muttered, his jaw clenching as he shot Wade a glare.

“Spicy, this one isn’t he? Muy, muy caliente,” Wade ribbed, his grin widening as he revelled in the discomfort he was causing.

You glanced down to see Logan clenching his whisky glass tightly, a small hairline crack forming in the glass, his expression one of barely contained irritation.

“Could you pass me the little tux behind you?” Wade asked, clearly enjoying himself.

Logan turned around quickly, grabbed the small tux, and tossed it at the scarred man without a word.

“Thanks, Peanut,” Wade winked before chasing after Bert with a mischievous glint in his eye.

As you watched Wade prance off, you noticed the pained expression on Logan’s face. Trying to smooth over the situation, you decided to make conversation.

“So… how long have you two been together?” you asked, your tone light but genuinely curious.

Logan, who had just taken a swig of his whisky nearly choked, sputtering slightly as he wiped away the spilled liquid with a large hand. “What?” he spat, clearly taken aback.

You blinked slowly, suddenly feeling a wave of embarrassment. “Oh, sorry—I shouldn’t have presumed.”

“Listen, we aren’t together,” Logan clarified, his voice firm, though there was a hint of something more beneath the surface.

“Oh… right,” you stammered, feeling your cheeks heat up again. “Sorry, I just… assumed.”

Logan shook his head, exhaling out of his nose “We just live together while I look for a new place.”

“Got it,” you replied, feeling both relieved and a little silly for jumping to conclusions. The tension between you eased slightly, though you couldn’t help but notice the way Logan’s gaze lingered on you just a moment longer than necessary.

You were soon swept into a whirlwind of party games organised by Wade, each one more spirited than the last. During the festivities, you met their third roommate, known as "Blind Al," though you quickly insisted on simply calling her Al. You chatted to their other friends too, laughing at some of their wild stories until your stomach got a stitch and your jaw ached. 

As the evening wore on, the sky outside grew darker and darker, the stars twinkling faintly in the chilly night air. Feeling the onset of sleepiness, you decided it was time to head home. Logan, having observed your growing fatigue, volunteered to walk you back. At first, you insisted it wasn’t necessary, pointing out that you had Bert with you. 

Logan, however, let out a dismissive snort at the sight of your chunky dachshund, who was currently curled up and snoozing with half his face buried in a muffin. “Seriously, you’re letting this guy be your bodyguard?” Logan remarked with a smirk.

You sighed at the sight of Bert’s icing coated snout and, realising Logan’s offer was genuine, you conceded. “Alright, if you insist.”

With that, you both left the warm, lively flat, stepping out into the crisp night air as Logan guided you through the quiet streets toward your home. The walk was peaceful, the cool night air brushing against your skin, and the occasional rustle of leaves the only sound in the quiet neighbourhood.

When you reached your door, you lingered for a moment, cracking it open just enough for Bert to scamper inside and head straight to his bed, exhausted from the day’s excitement.

“Thanks for today. I really like your friends,” you said with a grin, noticing the unexpected softness in Logan’s eyes—a stark contrast to your initial meeting.

“Just my friends, huh?” he teased, a small smile appearing on his lips.

“Oh yes, I suppose Mary is lovely too,” you teased back, looking up at him with a soft smile. The warmth between you was palpable, his large frame nearly filling your small hallway, making the space feel even more intimate. You could hear the faint buzz of your neighbours’ TV through the walls, a reminder of the world continuing on around you, yet in this moment, it felt like it was just the two of you.

Logan’s gaze held yours for a beat longer, his eyes flicking down to your lips for a fleeting second before he straightened up, breaking the tension just enough to breathe again. “Get some rest,” he murmured, his voice low and slightly rough. “It’s been a long day.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, feeling a mix of emotions swirling inside you. “Goodnight, Logan.”

“Goodnight,” he replied, his voice softening.

As he turned to leave, you felt a sudden tug in your chest, an impulse you couldn't quite suppress. Before you knew it, you were calling out to him.

"Logan, wait."

He stopped and turned back to face you, his expression unreadable in the dim light of the hallway. The air between you crackled with an unspoken tension that had been simmering all evening. You took a small step closer, closing the gap between you.

"Today was... nice," you said, your voice almost a whisper now, "and I don’t really want it to end."

Logan’s eyes darkened slightly, the playful banter from earlier replaced by something much more intense. He took a step closer, his presence overwhelming in the small space of your hallway. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the scent of him—something warm and earthy—filling your senses.

“It doesn’t have to,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, sending a shiver down your spine.

Your breath hitched as you looked up at him, your heart pounding in your chest. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in this charged moment. Without thinking, you reached up, your fingers lightly brushing against the stubble on his jaw. Logan’s breath caught at the touch, his eyes never leaving yours.

In that instant, the tension snapped. Logan closed the distance between you in one swift motion, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both fierce and tender, as if he had been holding himself back. His hands found your waist, pulling you flush against him as the kiss deepened, your heart racing as you responded with equal fervour.

The world around you blurred as all your senses focused on the feel of his lips, the strength of his arms around you, the roughness of his stubble against your skin. It was intoxicating, the way he kissed you—like he was claiming you, yet with a surprising gentleness that made your knees go weak.

You felt the arms round your waist pull you closer to his solid body, causing you to whimper and him to slip a tongue gently into your mouth.

You broke apart just enough to catch your breath, your foreheads resting against each other as you both struggled to steady your breathing. Logan’s hands were still on your waist, his grip firm yet comforting, grounding you as you struggled to level your breathing. 

“Come inside,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as your hand slid from his jaw to rest against his chest, feeling the strong, steady beat of his heart beneath your palm.

Logan hesitated for a brief moment, his eyes searching yours as if trying to read what you truly wanted. Whatever he saw there must have reassured him because he nodded slightly, the corner of his mouth lifting in a faint, almost teasing smile.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I’d like that.”

You stepped back, pulling him gently inside your flat, closing the door behind him. The click of the lock sounded louder in the quiet of your home. The cosiness of the small space wrapped around you both, the warmth and intimacy of it only heightening the tension that hummed between you.

You took his hand, guiding him deeper into the flat, past the soft glowing lamps outside and Bert who was already snoring softly in his bed, oblivious to the charged atmosphere filling the room.

Logan’s gaze was intense as he followed you, his hand warm and reassuring in yours. When you reached your bedroom, you turned to face him again, your heart in your throat as you searched his face, wondering if this was really happening.

Logan’s hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin with a tenderness that sent another shiver through you. He leaned in again, capturing your lips in another kiss, slower this time, savouring each moment. Your arms wound around his neck, pulling him closer, the feel of his solid frame against yours grounding you even as your head spun.

Without breaking the kiss, Logan’s hands slid from your waist to your hips, pulling you flush against him as he walked you backward toward the bed. You went willingly, your heart pounding with anticipation and need, the heat between you building with every passing second.

When the back of your knees hit the mattress, you sank down onto the duvet, pulling Logan with you. He followed without hesitation, his body covering yours as you both tumbled onto the bed, the kiss never breaking, never slowing.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, marvelling at the feel of him—so strong, so present, so overwhelmingly real. Logan groaned softly against your lips, the sound sending a thrill through you as his hands began to explore, tracing the curves of your body as if committing them to memory.

You arched into his touch, a soft sigh escaping your lips as he kissed his way down your neck, his stubble grazing your skin in the most delicious way. The sensation was electrifying as you gulped back another whimper as his tongue slipped back into your mouth, tasting the whisky on his lips. 

As he slowly begins to undress you, You feel an overwhelming sense of vulnerability as he unzips your last article of clothing and pulls your skirt down. Sensing you freezing he stops.

“Hey, where did you go bub?” He whispers, pulling back to meet your eyes.

“It’s just, er, been a while and I've put on a bit of weight recently” you mumbled, unable to hold his gaze. 

Logan paused, his hands gently resting on your hips as he looked at you, his brow furrowing with concern. The intensity of the moment faded slightly as he took in your words, understanding the vulnerability you were feeling. He tilted your chin up softly, urging you to meet his gaze.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice filled with a tenderness that surprised you. “You don’t have to hide from me. You’re beautiful, just the way you are.”

You felt your breath catch in your throat, the sincerity in his words sinking in. It had been so long since anyone had looked at you like this, let alone made you feel beautiful. Logan’s eyes were full of warmth, no judgement or hesitation, just blown pupils and an open gaze that made your chest tighten and your panties soak. 

He gently brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his touch feather-light. “You’re perfect, darlin’,” he murmured, his voice a deep rumble that resonated through you. “Every inch of you.”

His words were like a balm, easing the anxiety that had been bubbling beneath the surface. You could feel the heat of his body against yours, the way his hands held you with such care.

“Logan…” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly.

The sincerity in his voice was undeniable, grounding you in the moment. You felt the tension in your body slowly melt away, replaced by a warmth that spread through your chest, as your heart started to race with excitement rather than fear. 

You took a deep breath, letting the anxiety flow out with the exhale, and nodded slightly. “I just… it’s been a long time since I’ve felt this way.”

Logan’s expression softened further, his gaze never leaving yours. “I get that,” he said, his voice low and reassuring. “But you don’t have to worry, not with me. I’m here, and I see you. All of you.”

He kissed you again, slower this time, with a tenderness that made your heart ache. His hands moved with reverence, as if he was rediscovering every part of you, appreciating each touch, each breath, as if it was a gift.

Logan pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his expression one of quiet reverence. “You’re beautiful, Y/N, but if you want to stop I will respect that, what do you want?”

“No I want this, I want you Logan.” You whispered, biting your lip. 

He leaned forward to kiss you again before pulling away your skirt and panties. He groaned at the sight of you glistening and swollen. “God you are incredible sweetheart” he groaned before leaning down.

“I wha-” You started before cutting yourself with a loud moan as he swiped over your clit. 

He drank from you like a man without water. The silence of the room is broken by the sound of his slurping and suckling. “I’ve been smelling you for weeks and you taste even sweeter than I imagined’ he whispered against you. 

Unable to answer him you continued to pant as he greedily ate you out. Grunting like an animal, his oral could only be described as animalistic as he pushed you towards that high. It was only when he added two thick fingers did you begin to wail as the stimulation overwhelmed you.

“That’s it sweetheart, I know, it’s okay, let go for me” He grunted as he continued to eat you out, the prickle of his beard between your thick thighs adding to the sensations as he rubbed his face into your pussy. 

When he crooked his fingers in a ‘come hither’ motion that hit that sweet spongy spot inside of you. Something snaps inside as you whimper his name and come panting and wiggling on his face. 

As you came back to yourself you let out a whimper as you saw him smugly looking at you from between your thighs. Slowly rubbing you as you came down from your high. 

Standing up, you have to resist the urge to whine at the lack of fullness you feel and spy him suck his glistening fingers.  As Logan swiftly removed his clothes, your breath caught in your throat at the sight of him—his body was beautiful, all toned muscle and solid mass, every muscle defined and glistening under the soft light. The intensity in his eyes never wavered as he tossed his shirt aside, revealing the expanse of his toned chest.

He moved with purpose, crawling onto the bed towards you like a predator closing in on its prey, his movements slow and deliberate, each one making your pulse race. The heat between you was palpable, electrifying the air as he inched closer, his gaze locking onto yours with a hunger that sent a shiver down your spine.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from him, the sheer magnetism of his presence drawing you in, making you feel both excited and slightly nervous. 

When he finally reached you, his large hands framed your face as he leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both fierce and gentle, full of the passion you had felt building between you all night.

“I’m on the pill” You blurted out as he pulled back and you watched as his pupils dilated wider. 

“You sure bub?” he questioned.

You nodded fervently as a surge of confidence rushed through you and you pushed him back onto the mattress so you could climb on top of him. It really was unfair, he made it look so natural as he laid back on the duvet like a modern day adonis. 

Logan cursed when you sank on top of him. It took a few moments for you to be fully seated. When you were, you took a slow and deep breath as you felt his entire length inside of you. You had never felt so full. 

You wiggled your hips slightly as you tested the length of him inside you and his hands shot out to grip your soft hips. 

“Just a second darlin’” He growled, his face looked strained as he held you in place. 

“If i’m too heavy we can turn over” You spoke shyly conscious of how he seemed to grip tightly at your hips.

He chuckled as if he couldn’t believe the words coming out of your mouth “No, No, It’s not that darlin’ you’re just so tight” He muttered before starting to thrust at you. 

You bit back a moan as you rode him. Large hands guiding you up and down as you bounced up and down, his cock rearranging your insides to make room for him, all of him. 

Leaning forward he took one of your nipples in his mouth and gently nibbled and sucked on it before moving on to the other one. You were unsure of how much time had passed but you soon found yourself coming on his cock. 

Unlatching from your nipple his hands went to your ass, taking over moving you as you came down from your high. “That’s it, such a good girl taking all of me” he rumbled before flipping you over and pushing your knees back to your chest. 

In this position he felt even deeper inside of you, stretching you out in the most delicious way and nudging the spongy wall of your cervix. “Logan” you whimpered as you pulled him forward to kiss his lips as he lazily thrust into you stoking the fire in your stomach again. Wrapping your ankles above the curve of his ass you dreamily sighed into his mouth as the taste of whisky hit your tongue. 

Your skin was damp with sweat as you clung to him desperately as his thrusts built up again. 

“Think you can give me another one darlin’?” he questioned after he broke away from your lips and started kissing down your neck nibbling as he went. 

At this point you were on fire, legs numb and eyes rolling back into your head. You felt like he had taken everything from you, yet, as his fingers rubbed over your clit a spark shot through you as you keenly lifted your hips upwards to his barraging cock. 

“That’s a good girl, gonna fill you up” He grunted, taking the hand that wasn’t rubbing your clit and pressing down on your abdomen to make the space inside you even tighter. 

“Logan, I’m close” You whimpered at the stimulation. The sounds of his animalistic grunts and squelching filled the quiet room. 

“That’s it darlin’ come all over this cock for me” he growled as you felt the air get stolen from your lungs as you spasmed around him, muscles pulling him in as deep as possible. Hips stuttering, Logan followed you into your release pumping you full of his thick spend. You could feel the heat of it filling you up as some of it leaked out of the sides of his cock, your body simply incapable of holding the sheer volume of it. 

Rolling to the side he pulled you with him to lay on his chest as his cock stayed nestled deep inside of you twitching occasionally with the odd spurt, not quite finished filling you up. You hummed gently against his chest as his arms circled around you, warm and safe. 

"You okay, bub?" Logan grumbled softly, his deep voice carrying a warmth that sent a wave of comfort through you. He gently smoothed a few stray strands of hair back from your face, his touch tender against your skin. You sighed happily, nestling into the solid warmth of his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear.

Tilting your head up to meet his gaze, you couldn’t help but smile. “I’m so glad Bert knocked up your dog,” you said, a playful grin tugging at your lips. The absurdity of the situation, which had once felt mad, now seemed like the best thing that had ever happened.

Logan’s eyes softened as he looked down at you, a chuckle rumbling through his chest. "Yeah, who would've thought?" he replied, the corners of his mouth lifting in a rare, genuine smile. He reached down, brushing a thumb gently across your cheek. 

You shifted slightly and froze. Eyes widening in realisation at what was happening.  

“Logan…are you still?”

“Let’s hit number four” he growled.

[imthepointe]

The design of armin’s titan is really important and we need to talk about it

Recently I’ve been thinking about how each detail of armin’s colossal design is intentional and… ow.

First, I see a lot of people on here saying that his titan doesn’t have any ears so he doesn’t hear the screams of his victims. Personally, I’ve never seen any evidence to actually substantiate this — I also don’t think that this would be very in-character for Armin. A primary feature of his development between the s3-s4 ts was that he became really almost consumed by guilt, including guilt for what he had to do in Liberio, so it makes more sense that he would force himself to hear every scream as a form of punishment. Armin definitely does not censor himself from any of the suffering he causes — in a way he’d probably think he deserves to be tormented by what he’s done.

Whew! Anyways, now that that is settled. Take a look at his titan:

As @1ceb3rg pointed out in a recent post, his titan largely resembles a skeleton!! Armin’s titan powers are inherently linked to death, given the way he acquired them (and the sacrifices other people had to make in order for Armin to live). And the skeleton is…well, it’s a universal symbol of death. Also worth pointing out here that armin figured out how to defeat the colossal through its bones — the muscles burn up in the steam but the bones don’t. His titan has much less muscle mass than bertolt’s, because that’s what killed him in the first place.

But let’s talk about his face.

His titan has no ears, no nose, and big sunken blue eyes. A skeleton also has no ears or nose.

There’s probably another reason his titan doesn’t have a nose, though. Think about Armin’s cute rosy button nose in human form. I don’t know exactly what interview it was but Isayama wrote that he “gave Armin a round nose to make him seem mild-mannered and weak while also giving him some kind of unique trait.” In other words, Armin’s nose is a physical representation of his weakness. By designing his titan without a nose, Isayama’s trying to convey that Armin is both physically no longer as fragile as he used to be and has psychologically toughened his resolve. After he was forced to strategize and think on his feet as he was in Shinganshina, Armin lived, ultimately, by developing that mental strength. He would not — he could not — give up. In season four, we really see this development in his tenacity , strategic thinking and leadership. His titan’s lack of a button nose signals this character development. He’s no longer mild-mannered or weak.

Oh! Another feature about his face is the sunken features. Doesn’t Armin look just sad? His large eyes, typically a distinguishing feature of his character, are ... lackluster at best. They’re small, sunken in and downturn. They’re a gray-blue, not his typical royal blue (or hazel, depending on who you ask). His wonder, his curiosity, has faded. He no longer has to speculate as to how Bertolt felt all those years ago in Shiganshina.

As to Armin’s character looking “sad,” we know that Armin’s first real experience with his titan powers was his dream while he was unconscious after transforming and eating Bert. This is what he sees:

Half of the colossal titan is crying. The other half is a skull — with a completely different bone structure. And no nose.

One, this reinforces/confirms the idea that the colossal titan is based on the skeleton and connected to death. But more importantly, it shows us the titan expressing deep sadness. It’s crying, from a sunken, grey-blue eye. If, in that moment, Armin’s titan was being formed in the Paths — he had just gotten the colossal, after all — then it’s possible that experience was emblematic of the shaping and reforming of the previous colossal to the next holder. Armin’s titan appears sad because he was literally crying as it was being formed.

TL;DR: armin’s titan is a physical manifestation of the character development he experienced post-midnight sun

[djarinova]

This is how the world works / You gotta leave before you get left

reiner braun x gn!reader content - angst, canon universe, happy ending, kissing, reiner can't lie to reader, trio betrayal, reader is threatened, arguing, use of y/n - divider by @/saradika words - 4.4k reputation event masterlist

♡—Reader overhears Reiner arguing with Annie and Bertholdt and decides to confront him about it.

Your heart thumps in your chest as you round the final corner in the sea of hallways and corridors of the scout regiment headquarters. A quick glance around tells you that no one is likely to find you here, at least for the time being—the place is grimy, dust covers the shelves that are dotted oddly along the walls, and you spot a large number of cobwebs in the corners where the walls meet the ceiling.

You lean against the brick layed wall and take a deep breath, a half hearted attempt to slow your panicked breathing. Your mind races uncontrollably, as it tries desperately to remember in vivid detail the conversation you just overheard, whilst also trying to forget the words that had been spoken. You feel your heart begin to ache as you slowly sink down to the floor and you're unsurprised to find tears on your cheeks when you lift your hands to cradle your face.

You were on your way to meet Mikasa for a sparring session, but upon hearing the voices just around the corner ahead of you, you found your feet rooted themselves to the floor. You were sure you had heard your name being mentioned, and you almost found yourself wanting to move to investigate the conversation. But when you twigged the tone of the voices speaking, you instead took a step back to ensure your body was hidden by the large crates surrounding you in the hallway.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about!” Reiner says loudly, frustration evident in his voice. “Y/N is not a distraction, or a hindrance, why are you acting like this is going to ruin all the work we've done so far?”

“Because it is going to ruin all the work we've done so far, you idiot!” Annie replies, almost as loudly.

“Guys you need to keep it dow—” You hear Bertholdt whisper.

“No! Don't you dare think about taking his side right now, you know I’m right. We were not sent here to consort with the enemy! It’s bad enough that the two of you seem so buddy-buddy with all the people here, but this—what he's doing—is something else entirely!” Annie sounds tense, and something about her voice makes you shrink into yourself.

You're almost certain that if you were to look at the three of them right now that Annie would be standing obnoxiously close to Reiner, trying to get in his face, with her hands folded in front of her chest, while Bert stands somewhere between the two of them, slightly off to the side, but still in the middle, as if his presence would be enough to de-escalate whatever situation is arising between the two blondes.

“You have no idea what you're talking about.” Reiner repeats, although his voice sounds significantly smaller than it did just a few seconds ago.

Annie scoffs, and you hear her feet shuffling, presumably moving away from where she stands in front of Reiner. You can picture her leaning cooly against the wall. “Right.” Her tone is icy.

Bertholdt sighs, and it's easy for you to imagine how he’s stood—his hands stuffed deep in his pockets, as if trying to make himself smaller. “Reiner,” he pauses, “you know how this is going to end.” It wasn't a question. “Annie’s right—let's say that we’re both too close to the other cadets, our reasons could be acceptable to those back at home, we’re gathering intel, getting information only the locals would know, but you and y/n… you know it’s different between the two of you…” Bertholdt trails off, and you can hear him shifting uncomfortably.

“Wha—no—you—” Reiner splutters, and Annie scoffs at him again.

“Don't bother trying to think of excuses, we all know what you have to do.”

“C’mon Annie, do you really think that's necessary? We’ll be gone before you know it, and he’ll never see y/n again.” Betholdt says, his attention seemingly focused fully on Annie now. He tries his best to play both sides, clearly uncomfortable with the idea of upsetting either one of them. The switch in his argument is jarring, even to you—who hadn’t been listening to the entirety of the conversation.

“He ends this thing he has going on, sooner rather than later, or else we run the risk of exposure. This is not just about him, and it's not up for debate.” Annie directs her words towards Bertholdt.

Bertholdt hums, seemingly agreeing with Annie, but far too anxious to say so in front of Reiner.

“You hear that, blondie?” Annie’s voice echos differently than just now—she must have turned back towards Reiner. “You’re ending this so-called relationship, or you might just find that your beloved undergoes some kind of unexplainable, tragic accident. Because if you don't deal with this, we will.” You assume she indicates to herself and Bertholdt.

You hear Reiner take an uneven breath. “Are you threatening what I think you're threatening?” Reiner’s voice is loud, and the sound of shuffling footsteps floats toward your ears. “If you even think about laying a hand on—”

“Reiner! Quiet your voice!” Bertholdt speaks urgently.

Annie laughs, “Don’t bother Bertholdt, he doesn't scare me.” She clears her throat, and you can just about hear the words she says as she begins to walk away from where the trio were arguing. “This discussion is over, you know I’m right. If Warchief Zeke knew about this…if anyone back home knew about this…you know how dangerous it would be for all of us.”

“Annie…” Bertholdt whispers.

“Don’t.” She snaps. “I have to get back.”

You didn’t know what to make of the conversation. The part of you that wasn’t occupied with questions managed to keep you alert enough to flee the corner you were hiding by, it would not have been good if Bertholdt, or Reiner, had rounded the corner after their conversation had ended and found you there. And you didn’t want to come face to face with either of them.

What was it Annie had said…? Some kind of unexplainable, tragic accident. You shudder, goosebumps covering your skin. The venom in Annie’s voice was lethal, it had turned your blood cold. You couldn't imagine why she would possibly feel the need to threaten your life. What was it that the three of them were up to? Consorting with the enemy? Did Annie mean you? Your friends? And who was Zeke? Your mind was spinning with questions.

You thought briefly about how you were supposed to be with Mikasa and Eren right now, practising your sparring and hand to hand combat techniques. How would you even be able to keep a straight face when you apologised for not turning up? What excuse would you use? There's no way you could tell them the truth, not before you've spoken to Reiner.

Reiner…

The thought of him made your heart ache. All those nights together, all the things you've shared with him, and the things he shared with you… Was any of it real? You raked a hand across your face, unkindly wiping the tears from your cheeks. Your stomach was in knots, and your breath became ragged as you started to find yourself feeling more and more angry. The numbness from earlier disappeared as the anger washed over you. The people you had thought were your friends, who were they? What intel could they possibly be trying to gather? They were talking as if they were here to spy on the Scouts, but why? Where could they have come from? Your hands were balled into fists at your side, and you slowly stretched your legs outwards, letting out a low groan as you did so.

You had to find Reiner. To see him, to speak to him before your heart could catch up with your brain. You knew where he would be now, where he always went when he felt low—an irritated feeling overcame you, and you rolled your eyes. As if he has any right to be feeling low right now. His betrayal had lodged itself deep within you, and you knew that whoever it was you were about to confront, it was not the man you loved.

You round corner after corner, the hallways eventually changing from the grimy, dirty ones you had sought refuge in, to the cleaner, busier ones that you were much more familiar with. You scurry past the door that would lead towards the training area—knowing Eren and Mikasa were still there had you feeling racked with guilt—and you quickly speed past the crates that you had hidden behind only an hour or so ago.

You try not to think too much about the trio as you walk through the area they had been arguing in—instead choosing to focus on relaxing your body, as much as it allows you to. Your face feels flushed, and you take note of how warm your body feels, there's not much time until you reach Reiner, but by taking multiple deep breaths you manage to slow your rapid heartbeat. The focused breathing relaxes your taut jaw muscles as well, but an ache has already started forming from how clenched you were, and you try to ignore the pain that is growing both in your jaw, and at your palms—your fingernails have left dark half circle indents in your palms, and you think to yourself that it's lucky you hadn’t drawn any blood from how hard you were pressing into them.

You stop without thinking, suddenly finding yourself face to face with the door you know Reiner is behind. You wipe your palms against your shirt—wincing slightly at the pain—and take a final deep breath before you press your hand to the door knob and twist it gently. You try your best to be as silent as possible, not wanting to startle him. You jerk, suddenly questioning to yourself whether Reiner will be suspicious at how quickly you found him after his argument with Bertholdt and Annie. Would he find it odd how you had known he was upset, when you hadn't even seen him?

“Hello?” Reiner’s voice calls out from further into the room, stirring you out of your thoughts.

“I—” You manage to squeak out.

“Who's there? I can hear you, you know. What the hell are you doing here?”

You hear Reiner shuffling, and you know he’s about to stand up. Your heart begins to race again at the thought of coming face to face with him. You clear your throat, and speak as clearly as you can. “It’s just me, sorry, I didn't mean to startle you.”

You put on a fake smile, although you know he can't see you yet.

Reiner sighs, and as you round the set of shelves in the abandoned storage room, you hear him whisper out your name, so quietly that you wonder if you were even meant to hear it at all.

Upon first glance it becomes immediately obvious to you that even if you hadn't overheard their conversation, the first question you would have asked the man in front of you was whether he had had an argument with Bertholdt. He so rarely looked this downtrodden, that for a second you forget the reason that you came looking for him, and you find yourself drawn to comfort him—wanting to cradle his face in your hands, be the person he confides his thoughts to, hold his hand when he can no longer speak. You shake those thoughts out of your head.

“How did you know I was here?” Reiner voices the question you feared he would ask.

You decide to test the waters, lightly. “I heard you arguing with Bertholdt.” You purposely omit Annie’s name, but you see Reiner visibly gulp.

“You did?” It’s his turn to squeak.

Despite knowing the conversation only happened this afternoon, you are still surprised at how much of a reaction Reiner gave at such a small hint. You expected better acting from the man that had apparently only been pretending to be friends with the cadets for so long.

Although a deeper, quieter part of you hoped that the reason he was so nervous was because it was you asking.

You nod, “Yeah, I saw you guys on my way to training, it looked pretty intense.” You hope he doesn’t question you too much about your training. You told him yesterday you were planning to meet Eren and Mikasa, but you didn’t want to give him the reminder right now—you didn't want to put them at risk.

He makes an ‘O’ shape with his mouth, but he doesn’t say anything else.

You watch as he fidgets with his hands, and you notice that his fingernails are bit down to the quik—something that you know he must have done since he’s been sitting here. They weren’t like that yesterday. His eyes dart around the room, but they never fully land on you, as if he’s trying desperately to stop himself from looking at you, lest he come completely undone.

“I can go, if you want me t—”

“No.” He cuts you off, and a look of surprise graces your features. “You should stay.” He sighs, “I need to talk to you actually, it’s important.”

You feign curiosity as best you can—nodding your head, and stepping a little closer to him. But your palms begin to feel sweaty and you hope you don’t look as flushed as you feel.

“Okay.” You whisper.

You can tell he wants you to sit on the crate opposite him, but something tells you that staying standing up is the wiser option—you just hope it doesn’t look too suspicious.

Reiner looks from you to the crate, and sighs again. He rubs the back of his neck, his eyes almost glazed over, as he tries his best to figure out what to say to you. He stands up, and you can’t help but take a small step back—although a jump of surprise is probably a more accurate description. You try to play it off by walking towards the small window just behind you, but Reiner has a perplexed look on his face. You grimace internally.

You don’t speak first, hoping that your prolonged silence will unsettle Reiner further than your nervous energy already has.

There’s a small bug in the window—you watch as it wriggles and squirms, somehow not realising that it’s already caught in the spider's web. Your eyes scan the window pane, and for all the webs you can see, you only spot one spider, moving slowly, web to web, as if it has an endless amount of time to return to the place in which its prey is captured.

You turn, and let out a small gasp. Reiner is standing right behind you, he must have moved whilst you were distracted, somehow not making a sound, and his hands are resting uncomfortably close to your sides—as if he was just about to grab your waist, but changed his mind at the last second.

“Listen,” he pauses, and you watch like a deer in headlights as he brings his hands up to cradle your face. You take a shaky breath. “About the argument with Bertholdt…did you hear any of the specifics that we were talking about?”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, the lack of subtlety from Reiner would make you laugh if it wasn’t so painful.

You feel Reiner’s thumb run across one of your cheeks and you're reminded that the pressure on your face is from his hands there, and you suddenly feel claustrophobic in a way that has your heart quickening. You try to bring your hands up to Reiner’s, wanting to pull them down and away from your face, but when your fingers touch his you freeze.

Hundreds of memories hit you all the once—the times Reiner helped you practice your hand-to-hand combat, the birthday walk he had taken you on and the surprise picnic he had planned at the edge of the forest, how his hands fit perfectly against your waist when the two of you hugged, the way his breathing softens when you watch him fall asleep—and it's all too much.

You rip yourself out of Reiner's arms and spin on your heels, rushing away from him as quickly as you can manage. You had hoped you'd be able to reach the door before your emotions took over, but the tears in your eyes begin to spill as soon as you hear his voice again.

“Y/N? Please…” His voice is barely louder than a whisper, but you hear it as though he was standing right beside you.

Your fingers flex around the doorknob, every fibre in your body is screaming at you to leave—to run. You know you should head to the commander's offices, to see if you can find Erwin, Levi, Hange, Miche—god, you'd even be happy to run into Eren and unload all of this weight onto him. But you can't. You don't want to, and that's what stings you most of all. That after everything you'd overheard, the betrayal you'd felt, the hurt and pain that was thrumming through you like electricity, you still want to hear Reiner out.

Against your better judgement you let your hand drop from the doorknob, and you slowly turn around, this time you are unsurprised to find Reiner standing right behind you.

“What? What is it, Reiner?” Your voice is soft, but you can't miss the way Reiner's face falls at your words—disappointment, sadness, guilt, written all across his features.

“I—”

“You have some nerve,” you cut him off, and jab your finger into his chest.

As you finally look at him, properly, you find words spilling out of your mouth before you can even stop them.

“You were the person I trusted the most,” you jab your finger into his chest again, “I've never shared that much of myself with anyone else before, and what? Now I come to find out that it meant nothing? Or worse, that you were using me for information?” Reiner opens his mouth to speak but you don't give him the chance. “Gathering intel, as Bertholdt put it. God—how could I be so stupid? All those times the three of you disappeared during training, you were just swapping fun facts about us, weren't you?” You take a step forward, forcing Reiner to step back. “Oh hey, Eren told me this today!–No way, I heard this from Armin–Y/N said this after I'd told them how much I liked them.” You mimic a conversation between the three of them, and watch as Reiner flinches at your last comment. Something inside you is telling you to stop, that he's had enough, that you need to let him speak before you say something that hurts you both, but the floodgates have opened and there's no turning back now. “God—do you even realise how gross this makes me feel? That our entire relationship you've been going back to Annie and Bertholdt and relaying things I've told you about my hometown, my childhood, my family! Things I told you in confidence! Y–you…it makes me sick!” Reiner winces, and you can feel the tension in the air rising. You sigh. The look on Reiner's face almost makes you feel bad. “I don't know whether I want to smack you across the face, scream at you until my voice is hoarse or run and find the commander and tell him everything I've overheard. You just… you're ruining everything—you have ruined everything—I don't know what to do. Or if I even want to do anything.” It's obvious that your rage is fizzling out, and is instead starting to leave a gaping hole where something—someone—used to be.

“I—” hate you… despise you… wish I'd never met you.

You want to say any one of those things. To tell him you can't stand him, to make him regret lying to you. But you can't. You know that it's not true, no matter how much you wish it was.

“I—” You try again.

Reiner crashes his lips against yours before you get the chance to finish your thought. Your eyes widen, hands flying to his chest, pushing against him in a feeble, halfhearted attempt to move him away, to stop him from kissing you.

You shouldn't want this.

But he's kissing you so hungrily. His mouth moving fast and hard against yours like he can't get enough of you, like he knows this could be his last chance.

This is a terrible idea.

Reiner feels a sting behind his eyes at the thought of this being the last time he would ever feel your lips against his, and he hurriedly shakes the thought from his head. He presses his mouth to yours over and over, never pausing for a breath, and never ceasing his assault even as his teeth clash against yours. His arms snake around your waist—not tentatively like earlier, there's no hesitation in his movements now—and he pulls your body flush against his. Instinctively you find yourself readjusting so that your legs slot together. It's impossible to miss the hardness that presses against your leg, and your heart jumps at the thought.

All your conviction begins to melt as you relax into the kisses. Reiner runs his tongue across your lower lip and before you know it your hands have knotted themselves at the base of his neck—no longer are they tense and rigid, instead you find your fingers are almost feather-like in the way they trace circles across Reiner's exposed skin. You feel goosebumps erupt in your wake, and a glowing feeling begins to blossom in your core—completely outside of what your rational brain is screaming for.

Reiner deepens the kiss again, and you feel a fluttering in your tummy when his hands slide down your sides and begin kneading your waist. Your mind swirls with so much want that it makes you feel dizzy. You feel as though you are drowning in his kisses. His mouth hasn't left yours since the very first kiss and yet somehow you're not out of breath.

“I—I never told them anything.” Reiner murmurs, so quietly you almost miss it.

He begins planting kisses down your neck, all his initial speed is gone—no longer worried that you're going to push him away—instead he's choosing to savour each kiss, and he refuses to move onto the next until he elicits a moan from your lips. His hands roam your figure wildly, and it all feels so good that you almost blank completely the words that he just spoke.

Your eyes snap open, and your attempt to move your head to look at Reiner is met with resistance in the form of a hand on your shoulder. You roll your eyes, the fog is almost fully lifted now, and you can feel yourself drifting back down to reality.

What am I doing? You chastise yourself.

“This was a mistake. We shouldn't hav—”

“I never told them anything.” Reiner repeats. His voice stern.

Your eyes meet his, and you take an involuntary step back—or rather, you try to take a step back, but you're met with the realisation that your back is now against the wall, right beside the door, in fact. Reiner must have walked you backwards, and you'd been so overcome with the feeling of him kissing you that you hadn't noticed.

How ridiculous.

Reiner clears his throat and it snaps you back into the conversation.

“What are you talking about?” You ask.

“Everything you told me, about your family, your home, your childhood. I never passed it on. Bertholdt and Annie know nothing about your life, I swear.” Nothing in his voice gives you any indication that he's lying—you know exactly what inflections he uses when he's not being truthful—and yet the little voice in the back of your mind is riddled with doubts.

“I don't believe you, there's no way you could've gotten away with lying to them for all these years. They're your best friends—your oldest friends—they would've noticed that something was wrong.”

Reiner's hands are still sitting on your waist, his thumbs are still tracing circles on your flesh and you feel a slight chill on your exposed skin.

He shakes his head. “I promise I am not lying to you y/n.”

You feel your cheeks warm, and your heart beats wildly at the seriousness of his words.

“I never repeated anything you told me. I may have changed it, edited it, warped it so that it had no connections to you, but I promise I never told either of them anything about your life. You have to believe me.” His voice cracks, and you see his lip begin to wobble.

“I think… I think that I… do believe you…” You whisper.

Reiner lets out a shaky, uneven breath at your admission and you can see the anxiety on his face beginning to dissipate. His hands are still set on your waist, still running his thumb gently against your skin, but for the first time today you find yourself wanting his hands to touch you elsewhere. Reiner looks perplexed as he watches your fingers lace with his, he lets you guide his hand where you want it and you take a visible breath of comfort when his hand comes to rest on your cheek. He wipes a tear from under your eye that you didn't even know you had shed.

“We could run away together, you know.”

You narrow your eyes at Reiner, searching for a trace of something on his features to indicate that he's not serious. Fear, anxiety, stress… something. But you find nothing. His sincerity is almost nauseating. You swallow thickly. Your throat is dry.

You find it hard to speak, you're not even sure what you could say to something like that. You both know that what he's saying so casually is anything but. Where would you even go? If you somehow forget about the titans for a minute, there's no way any soldier would let you just wander past the outer wall… And what about your family? Your friends? Do you leave them all behind just because you're in love with a traitor?

Bile rises up inside your throat. You blink back an ocean of unshed tears. Reiner pulls you against him in a tight, crushing, overpowering hug, and it feels as though his arms are the only thing holding you together at this moment. You slip your arms easily around his waist and breathe in his scent, letting the familiarity wash over you.

The two of you stay locked together for what feels like an eternity, letting the thought of running away together sit between you.

[cripplecharacters]

Mods

[large text: Mods]

Sasza

[Large Text: Sasza]

Hi! My name is Sasza and I use he/him pronouns. I am a disabled artist who loves to write and draw characters like me! I am autistic, (mildly) intellectually disabled and have several physical conditions including-but-not-limited-to dyspraxia, severe hyperkyphosis, cranial nerve diseases (causing double vision, chronic pain and a facial difference among other things), and hypermobile joints. Sometimes I use a cane. I'm very passionate about accessibility and disability representation in all kinds of media - books, comics, video games, and any other kind of art that's out there!

Bert

[Large Text: Bert]

Hello! I'm Bert (previously Mason), and I use he/they pronouns. I am a writer who loves to write plays and fiction with characters like me and my friends. I am autistic and have ADHD, I have psychotic PTSD and a DID system. Physical health-wise I have migraines, fibromyalgia, and a lateral lisp. I love talking about representation and ways we can make a kinder and more inclusive space everywhere we go.

Sparrow

[large text: Sparrow]

Hi, I’m sparrow, they/he for me. I’m a disabled artist who makes a lot of disabled characters like myself and probably like a quarter of the world. I have autism and ADHD, among other brain things, as well as chronic pain in both my jaw and my knee and ankle. I also have POTS and some sort of sleep disorder. I am a sometimes cane user as well. I really enjoy research and thoughtful art that makes people feel seen. Aside from that, I am a huge fan of historical fiction and really enjoy fantasy as well.

Rot

[Large text: Rot]

My name is Rot, I use all pronouns including neo pronouns as well as any rot and insect themed nounself pronouns. I’m an artist who loves putting disability in my stories. I’m mostly undiagnosed due to medical neglect and have chronic fatigue, hypersomnia & chronic pain that ranges from mild to debilitating. My known disabilities are pots, ganglion cysts, nerve damage, tics, autism (level unknown), asthma, GERD, anxiety and psychosis. I have a metal implant, use a cane and am mostly verbal and use aac infrequently. I have experience with temporary palsy, needing carers (family members who stepped up, not hired carers) and being in a wheelchair, though I currently don't have any of those.

Virus

[Large Text: Virus]

Hello! I go by Virus and I use She/Her but anyone can use any pronouns for me, have fun with it. I'm a writer—mostly fanfiction—who has been in fandom very long and used to be a classical musician. I have Hypermobile Ehler Danlos Syndrome along with it's fun co-morbidities (MCAS, POTS, Gastroparesis, Fibromyalgia, and Von Willebrandes). I also have Pan-Hypopituitarism which is the following: Adrenal Insufficiency, Hypothyroidism, Diabetes Insipidus, Precocious Puberty, Growth Hormone Deficiency, Hyperprolactinemia/galactorrhea, as well as High Estrogen and Testosterone issues. I have Pituitary Dwarfism/Proportional Dwarfism, Myoclonic Epilepsy, and a Speech Disorder. I used to have a Port-a-cath, Picc-Lines, and a feeding tube, amongst many other things. Phew, now that that's over. I love every art form with a favour towards music, writing and the fiber arts. I love seeing representation no matter how big or small especially in medias that rep is often glossed over!

Rock

[Large Text: Rock]

Hi! I am Rock; any pronouns are okay. I am a writer, mainly of sci-fi and fantasy, and I love adding all sorts of disabled characters. I am hard of hearing (mild-moderate bilateral hearing loss) and have profound auditory processing disorder. I have scoliosis, POTS, and lower-body muscle weakness so I am a full-time mobility aid user. I am also intersex; I have several hormone deficiencies among other conditions as a result of my intersex variation. I am excited to join the mod team!

Aaron

[Large Text: Aaron]

Hey, I'm Aaron, he/him. I'm a writer of fantasy, science fiction, dystopia, utopia, and historical, and I like writing incorporating casts of disabled characters into all of them and reworking magic, technology, and science to accommodate them. I have a TBI, a lot wrong with my speech, cognitive issues, slight developmental disability, myofascial pain syndrome, medium support needs autistic but fully verbal, OCD, multiple types of anxiety, PTSD, depression, severe ADHD, dyslexia, dysgraphia, articulatory initiation anomia, medically significant migraines, a chronic headache, chronic pain, and chronic fatigue. I'm also visibly disabled (one of those people who looks autistic) and transmasc. And I can't wait to see what amazing things you guys come u with.

Zohar

[Large Text: Zohar]

Hello everyone! I'm a new mod, and you can call me Zohar. I'm a writer of fantasy and sci-fi for the most part, and definitely prioritize disability, LGBT, and Indigenous representation in my work. I am Blind with a form of Albinism/strabismus/ptosis, along with some hearing loss. I am intersex/transgender with mixed gonadal dysgenesis (XO/XY Turner Syndrome) that goes hand in hand with GHD/pituitary dwarfism and affects my skeletal and hormonal health. I also have POTS and complex DID caused by RAMCOA and am comfortable answering asks about that. He or She pronouns is fine with me. I can't wait to help out here!

Icarus

[Large Text: Icarus]

Hello all! My name is Icarus (He/Him). I'm a new mod here and a writer of original work (Primarily contemporary short fiction and cosmic horror) with some fanfiction on the side. I have been diagnosed with ADHD, autism, PTSD, Tourette's Syndrome along with several other mental and physical health conditions. I also had epilepsy, asthma, and a heart condition as a child but have since grown out of them. I am currently seeking a diagnosis for something causing a few different symptoms including chronic pain, mobility issues, sensitivity in my joints/bones, progressive vision loss (Currently to the point where I have very little to no peripheral vision), and dizziness/fainting episodes. I am a full time cane user at the advice of my physio. I am also a gay trans man and in full-time university studies.

Jess

[Large text: Jess]

Hey y'all! I'm Jess, and I use she/her. I'm 35, and I work full time behind the scenes in the grocery industry (in an office, designing shelf layouts!). I enjoy writing and reading slice-of-life stories mostly. I especially like exploring how certain magical elements can be parallels for disability. I also do art, including some 3D illusion chalk art. As for my disabilities: I have multiple sclerosis, and a few issues that have come from that, including severe permanent damage from optic neuritis. I was briefly 100% blind in my left eye, but a small amount of vision returned. The residual vision causes some hard-to-describe double vision, so I wear a completely opaque occlusive contact lens on my bad eye to help me see more clearly. I also had a period of time when I suffered from paroxysmal kinesigenic dyskinesia, a rare movement disorder. I also have a body-focused repetitive behavior disorder (dermatillomania) and visible scars from that. I'm looking forward to being helpful!

[chicinsilk]

US Vogue October 1, 1963

Mirella Petteni wrapped in a black-dyed Alaskan seal fur cape coat by Fouke—actually a wide, nine-tenths-long cape with narrow, set-in sleeves. Designed by Emeric Partos. Wear-Right gloves. Hat, wrapped like an Italian peasant scarf, in organza; by Christian Dior-New York. Lipstick; Revlon Stormy Pink.

Mirella Petteni enveloppée dans un manteau-cape en fourrure de phoque d'Alaska teint en noir par Fouke - en réalité un large pan de cape, neuf dixièmes de longueur, avec des manches étroites et montées. Dessiné par Emeric Partos. Gants Wear-Right. Chapeau, enveloppé comme une écharpe de paysan italien, en organza ; par Christian Dior-New York. Rouge à lèvres; Stormy Pink de Revlon.

Photo Bert Stern vogue archive

[its-in-the-woods]

Coyote Head - Part 4 - Dinner with Family

master list

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Pairing: Cooper Howard x Lucy Maclean 

Alternative Universe where I make things up cause I can

Synopsis: Sit down at a family dinner, and sleeping in are good for Lucy for now

MINOR GET OUT. Rating/Warning:  Animal/people death, blOod/G0re, nightmares, Alternative Universe, Slow Burn, Death, Aging, Family Feuding, Eventually: Older Man/Younger Woman, Horror themes, long form fic,

Note: that I will not be spoiling any of the reading. So you have been warned. I will keep my tags relevant without spoiling what is happening in the story.

The gravel crunches under the tires as they all pull in, kids in the back jumping over seats as Lucy and Cooper open the doors. Old trucks parked in the drive, besides Margie’s new SUV. One thing about Harris: he always made sure Margie had exactly what she wanted.

The sprawling log home stands proudly among a mix of pine, poplar, and spruce trees. The home had been built from the trees on the property, a red tin roof on top. Big wrap-around porch that had equally as large windows on each side. The place was a carefully crafted piece of art that the Maclean’s had built many years ago. Long before the land was farmed, logged, and changed to what it currently was. The Maclean was an old family, and many of the log homes in the area were built by the family. It made Lucy miss the log home she had grown up in. 

Inside the home, a smell of fresh bread, and chatter of laughter echoed in the living room. Margie standing in the kitchen popping bread onto metal racks. Two large dishes of lasagna sat out, a big caesar salad in the middle. Lucy’s second cousins Tracy and Bert were over with their spouses Reg and Stephanie respectively. Their six kids hang out in the big living room with Cooper’s two. Some elaborate game of cards was going on, what the rules were was anyone’s guess. Seeing the kids laugh and giggle at their made-up game made Lucy’s heart swell. She had never thought of herself as a Mom, life and whatnot;  but something about being around the littles always made her wonder about the ‘what if’s’. 

“How can I help, Aunty,” Lucy asked as Cooper went and started putting plates out on the dining table. She watched the man move, he was both graceful and room-filling. 

“Well don’t touch any of the cooking, 'cause we want it to be edible,” Margie jokes, Lucy smiles. She’d never been much of a cook. Lucy, Norm, and their Grandparents had lived off many frozen meals during planting and harvesting. Shirley could cook fine, but her cooking took time and a whole lot of cutting. In the winter it was stew, roast squash, baked potatoes, and local corn. Lucy had never had much time to learn to cook. 

“Well now that I am round more, maybe you can teach me a few things,” Lucy smiles at her Aunt helping her to place each dish on the big dining table. 

“Better make sure I got the ‘tinguisher on hand, maybe a few extra blankets,” Margie jokes some more, winking at Lucy. She meant no harm, Lucy had burnt just as much food as she had undercooked it in her time.  

Lucy chuckled, grabbing glasses and a few pitchers of juice. The place was set up, some budded willows graced the center of the table. Getting the kids to sit was another matter, but the promise of haskap pie and ice cream had them in their places. Harris said grace as was a custom, Lucy noticed that Cooper, who had sat beside her, didn’t repeat the words. She didn’t have much thoughts on religion, Grandpa Tim had always read the bible before bed, usually sitting at his dining table flipping through the rice paper thin pages, while he jotted down notes in a big notebook. You’d never see him at church. Nor would you see him preaching to anyone. He never even really talked about it with her either. She couldn’t remember Grandma Shirley mentioning it either. On bad days she would sit with a rosary, light a candle or two. Lucy had never really thought it odd till now. Their whole family had always gone to church, but not them. 

The wooden house was full of loud voices, laughter, and the click of knives and forks. It was the most lively Lucy had felt in a long time. Even despite the little to no sleep she had gotten.  Cooper was telling stories of wrangling cattle and bison in the south. Harris was talking about fighting fires in the north, running machinery right into blazes to save houses. The large meal of lasagne and fresh bread was mostly picked over. Some vanilla ice cream and fresh pie are being served now. Tracy was bugging Margie about getting the recipe from her. Her Mom teased about how it was nothing but store-bought. Everyone at the table knew that was a whole load of scabbie potatoes.

“So what did you all see along the forest line,” Harris asked, wringing his hand, as coffee and tea were placed on the table. 

Cooper and Lucy had scooted down the table to sit closer to Harris. Lucy’s cousin doing the same so that all the adults were more huddled for any story. 

“Ahh well we saw a few things out there,” Cooper says, voice strained, looking back at Lucy for input. 

Lucy put her spoon down a little louder than she intended, the adults turning to look at her. She felt like a bird caught in a cage, trying to find its way out. 

“Sorry,” Lucy said, “We only got about half of the place looked at before we came.” Lucy wondered how she could explain what they had seen. “There was a stump stripped of all its barks and -” She looked to make sure the kids couldn’t hear,” There was a fresh coyote head sitting on top of it.”

Silence fell at the last words, the others exchanging looks. Lucy’s stomach-turning, the image of the poor critter’s head on a slab was not a favorite. Her mind wandering back to the shadows she had seen less than twenty-four hours ago. Was it all connected somehow? 

“We didn’t get close to it. So we kept walking to where the ATV trails are and, umm, we saw some tracks or maybe an animal digging” Lucy looks over at Cooper, hoping he could maybe explain what they had seen a bit better than she did. 

Cooper digs his phone out, “Yeah these,” He flips open his camera and pulls up the photos. The phone is passed around to each person. Uncle Harris pulls out his reading glasses zooming in on the picture. 

“How big are these tracks?” Harris asks, looking up over his glasses. Concern filling everyone in the room as they looked back at the two. 

Cooper looks at the man, furrowing his brow as he thinks, “Maybe a foot and a bit? Maybe less”

Lucy nods, “Center is probably twice the size of my fist, and at least as long as my forearm and hand. Maybe a little wider where the three points are.”

Stephanie looks it over, her eyebrows raised. “Can you send me this Cooper? I know a few folks in fish and wildlife that can take a look. Maybe come out and look at the head?”

“Yeah, I can send the photos,” Cooper replies, turning his phone off and putting it in front of him. 

“If y’all want to come over that’s fine, the place is a little bit of a mess.” Lucy sighed, fiddling with her fingers, “But, if you think you might have an idea what it is, I am all ears.”

Stephanie looked over at Bert, who had gone to pick up a very sleepy-looking toddler, “What do you think honey?”

Bert smiles, clearly not having heard much of what has been said, “I am sure we can figure something out, maybe we should talk to–” He ponders for a moment, looking for the name, “ Betty, right?”

“Yes, Betty would know. She’s been around her longer than the dirt,” Stephanie grins back at Bert grabbing the little one out of his arms. “Unfortunately I think we got to get our kiddlets back home. Lisa here is exhausted, and Thomas has school in the morning.” 

Margie is up out of her chair, “Let me grab a pie for tomorrow,”

Tracy has come back from putting on some cartoons for the kids, some ridiculous jingle now covering up their conversation. Reg rubs her back as she sits down, 

Bert comes out of the living room with another sleeping child, an older boy who has drool and snot running down his face. “Lucy, make sure to get our numbers from Harris. So we can keep in touch.” 

Lucy nods, “Yeah that’s a great idea, I will keep you updated if anything pops up.” 

Bert and Stephanie wave goodbye as they make their way to the front door with a large bag of various foods from Margie. Margie coming back into the kitchen, she goes into a cabinet and pulls out a bottle of whisky along with several glasses.

Tracey clears her throat, “Do you think it could have been a person? Maybe? Trying to scare you off the land or some such thing?”

Sighing Lucy happily accepts the glass of whisky from her Aunt, “Besides those tracks, and the coyote head. Everything is pointing that way.” 

“Maybe there is a reason Uncle Tim didn’t want the forest around his land messed with,” Tracy added her hand covering Reg’s hand, as she looks at Lucy, an unreadable expression on her face. 

Harris coughing at the head of the table, everyone turning to look at him.“I doubt Lucy would mess with anything Tim had.”

“Nope, haven’t really ventured into the forest much at all. But that might have to change. Make sure no one has been coming onto the land without my knowledge.” Lucy spoke, it was always in the back of her mind that someone could be hiding in the woods without her knowledge. The place was mostly fenced, but would only stop honest people. 

“Do you think someone is camping on the land?” Tracy asks, looking at her relatives. Taking her glass from Margie and sipping on it. 

“Don’t know about that, didn’t see any signs of anyone walking around.” Lucy sighs, looking over at Coop when his thigh touches her. She pushes back against it, letting a small amount of comfort in.”Know that Henry was not happy about me getting the land. None of them were happy actually.”

“Henry has the money. Probably hiring someone to scare you off,” Margie added, her brows knitted together, as she brought some tea to her lips. 

“Well he can do what he likes, not much is gonna stop me stayin’ there,” Lucy says, her fingers rubbing over the rim of the glass. If someone had asked her that question several hours ago, she may have had a different answer; but right now, in the safety of her Uncle’s home, she felt confident she could say. 

“Besides you got us, we'll make sure that no one will mess with ya,” Cooper adds, rubbing one hand over her shoulder. Lucy really wishes he would keep his hand on her.  

Lucy nods her head, it was reassuring to know that she had all of them on her side. The table going silent for a moment as they sip their drinks. The sun was nearly down, bathing the room in a soft golden light. Lucy trying her best not to let her mind run over the whole day again. She could feel her own exhaustion tugging at her mind. 

Reg let out a yawn, Tracy rubbing his arm. “We should probably get our own rugrats, go to school, and all that.”

Tracy nodded, “Have Sunday dinner this weekend? You both should come over too,” She nods to Cooper and Lucy. 

Lucy, put her cup down, nodding her head, “Yeah, I would like that, be nice to have regular get-togethers.” 

“That would be wonderful,” Reg says, scooping one of his kids up. “Maybe once things have calmed down we can come by. The kids always loved Uncle Tim’s farm.”

“Uncle Tim’s dead,” Reg's son spoke from behind his leg. The little guy peering up at Lucy. The kid had silver blue eyes, and nearly white-blonde hair, standing just below his Dad’s hips in height. His eyes were wide as he blinked a few times, tears forming. 

Cooper ducks down beside him, “Hey, Kiddo. It’s okay.” The little man let out a muffled sob as Cooper scoops him up, the little kid hanging off the adult. 

“Oh sweet Freddy. Got all the big emotions and nowhere to put him.” Tracey coes, before offering to take him out of Cooper’s arms. “Time for sleep.”

Lucy felt her stomach turn as she watches the family of six walk towards the front door. It was hard to see the little guy upset over the loss. It made her uncomfortable not knowing how to help him.  Little Freddy was still crying against his Mom’s hair, the three older girls filing behind. They all had brown hair, and brown eyes, all looking to be a few years apart. The older two could have almost been twins. Hugs were traded and promises of Sunday dinner were planned before the clan took off into the night. 

Coop comes over, covering his two kiddos with a blanket and turning down the cartoon jingling away. He came back, his hand running over Lucy’s shoulder before sitting down. 

“Probably should be going soon too,” Cooper sighs, having another sip of his drink, “Make sure Mom and Dad are okay.”

“How are your folks doing?” Margie asks, adding a bit more to his glass and Lucy’s. 

“Dad’s rough, Mom-” Cooper shifts in his seat, looking down at his glass, the dark look crossing his face again. “She’s doing the best she can considering. Doctor says maybe a year or two.”

Harris rubs at his eyes a little, Lucy watching him compose himself before speaking, “Whatever you need, you let us know." His voice shook a bit as he spoke, "I know your family is tight, but we all need to look after each other. We are all family here, okay?”

Cooper nods a tight smile on his face, “Thank you, Sir. I really appreciate it. We can use all the help we can get.”

Lucy reaches over and squeezes his hand, “ Like you said we are just a phone call away.”

***

Waking up soaked in sweat was the last thing that Lucy wanted to do. She was bolt upright in an unfamiliar bed, in an unfamiliar room, with the fading nightmare of headless corpses hanging from trees dancing in her vision. Deep ragging breaths echoed in the small space, and the familiar sound of frogs and crickets echoed outside the open window.   

“You are in your Aunt and Uncle's house,” Lucy breathed out, closing her eyes and taking a sharp inhale. “It was just a dream, there is nothing coming to get you.”

Flipping a layer off the bed Lucy felt around for her phone, it was four-thirty in the morning. In a few more hours the sun would be up, and the world would have light again. She grabbed a sip of water, turning off her phone, and trying to get comfortable. As her eyes closed the visions of the bodies danced into her mind again, like some kind of horror dance party. Groaning, she rolled over, willing the images out of her mind. 

“Happy thoughts, Lucy. We cannot lose any more sleep over this,” Lucy murmured, trying to come up with something more soothing. An image of Cooper staring at her, popping into Lucy’s head. Her eyes shot open, her face going pink. "How old are you, Lucy." 

She thought about it for a moment, was it really the worst thing that she could think of? Yes, the man was older than her, had kids, and had lost his wife. Lucy cringed at the last thought, she rubbed her forehead. What was she doing, lying here thinking about a man she barely knew? Who had flown to her aid, and stood beside her despite the dead animal head in her backyard. 

Rubbing her eyes Lucy debates getting up or letting her half-asleep ass dream about someone who wasn’t interested in her. Remembering how he had leaned his knee against her, rubbed her shoulder, and let her hold his hand as he talked about his father. 

“Ugh, stop. No more death. At least for this instant,” Lucy mumbles quietly into the empty room, trying not to let her thoughts spiral out of control. 

Closing her eyes she decides to indulge herself a little, after the mess she had gone through what was a little fantasy. Letting herself think about them walking through a not haunted forest, maybe holding hands, going camping with the kids. She didn't hold back the smile as she let herself drift, after all, it was only a dream.

***

A knock on the door awoke Lucy out of a dead sleep, she blinked at the light shining around the window. Her fuzzy brain trying to put two and two together, remembering where she was. How she’d gotten there and why someone would be waking her up. 

“Lucy, sorry to wake you,” Aunt Margie calls, her voice just loud enough to hear through the wooden door. 

Grabbing her phone she realized it was past ten in the morning. She cussed, upset that she hadn't set an alarm last night. Normally she would have been up at the latest eight, groaning as she sat up, swinging herself onto the edge of the bed. 

“I will be out in a few Aunt Margie!” Lucy calls out, grabbing her clothes. Once again shaking her head at forgetting something fresh. Oh well, she'd have to change at home, and a good shower too. The thought of hot water spurred her on, as she groaned, body stiff from the long sleep. Setting the bed, she grabs her phone and races out the door. Margie stands at the counter, a fresh pot of coffee in hand.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” The woman smiles at her, handing her a cup of hot coffee. Before going over to the stove.  “I got coffee and put on a couple eggs for you.”

“You are too kind to me, Aunt Margie,” Lucy replies, eagerly grabbing the hot cup of coffee. “I am so sorry that I slept in. Usually, my alarm goes off automatically.”

Her Aunt waves a hand, scooping eggs and toast onto a plate for her. “Nonsense, I am so glad you were able to sleep in.” She hands Lucy the plate. Going around the counter with her cup of coffee to sit at the makeshift bar. “I have a feeling you haven’t been sleeping well.”

Lucy sat down using her toast to break the egg yolk and dip it in. “Oh boy, that would be an understatement. I don't really know why, but, I’ve been waking up in the middle of the night.”

Margie sat down beside her, eating her own toast with jam. “Nightmares?”

Lucy nods as she works on swallowing her food, “Yes, actually, how’d you know?”

Margie hums for a moment taking a sip of her tea, looking out towards the tree line outside. “Oh you know, new house, moving back from the city. Can take a little getting used to is all.”

Something twinging in Lucy, as she watches her Aunt. She sips on more of her coffee, trying to will the feeling away, why would her Aunt not be honest with her? 

“Yeah, I am sure that’s it,” Lucy says with a fake smile, as she finishes up her food. “I should probably be on my way-” The realization that she didn’t have a vehicle hitting her. “Oh, I didn’t bring my own car.”

“Oh, Cooper said he’d come by and pick you up,” Margie says, somehow the tension is leaving between the two of them. 

Lucy blinks a few times, wondering if she could possibly walk back home. “Oh, he didn’t need to do that.”

“I think he was looking forward to it if I am honest Lucy.” Margie winks at her, “The man has been alone, with his kids and dying Father for six years. I am sure he enjoys getting to spend some time with another adult that isn't family.”

Trying to choke down some more coffee to hide her face, it is most certainly bright pink. “Yeah, I don’t mind the company.”

Margie gives Lucy a knowing look, raised eyebrows and all. She goes to speak when a knock on the door stops her. She squeezes Lucy’s shoulder as she goes to get it. Lucy sitting a little straighter in her chair as she hears Cooper’s voice. 

“Hey,” Cooper says, he almost looks nervous, fiddling with his hat in his hand. “Was wondering, if you’d be okay if we went to check on the cows this morning before I bring yah home of course.” 

Lucy smiles back, she can’t help herself. Getting him all flustered was going to be a new favorite pastime of hers. “Yah, pretty sure I owe you on that one.”

Part 5

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

** If you enjoyed the fic let me know! Likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated.

** Want to be on the tag list let me know

** Most of my fics will be updated once a weekish possibly more often depending on how much writing I can get done! Want to keep the quality and make sure I am putting out my best work.

[redhatmeg]

Bert's cousin and his girlfriend are making ice-cream from goat milk and the other characters act like this is a terrible idea for a business...

But, like, ice-cream is already made of milk and goat milk itself tastes pretty okay. Different than cow milk but still okay. So I don't think goat milk ice-cream is such a bad idea.

[kvetchlandia]

Bert Hardy Children in the Gorbals, Glasgow, 1948

The Gorbals was a working class and immigrant neighborhood of Glasgow that was largely destroyed through the quaintly misnamed "urban renewal" of the post-World War II era.

[willowed-wisp]

HER KNIGHT, HIS HEART- part three

previous | next

Ser Harwin Strong x female!OC/x reader

WARNINGS: swearing, suggestive themes

It was cold when she woke. And she wasn’t in her bed.

Recalling the events of that past night- she was in her underclothes, not a fortunate sign. Bert wouldn’t have let her go with a stranger.

The woman sat up- rest of the room foggy except the man sat in the chair. He stared right at her, “What happened last night?” The Gods merciful as she didn’t seem to have a headache.

She’d not noticed before he stood- but the knight wore no shirt. Safe to say, Elspeth was both attracted and flustered. Being strong meant carrying a certain build- Harwin did not disappoint and if made her hate him that much more. “Thank the Seven you’re alive,” He held a chalice of water, “Drink this.” Mouth dry at him and the previous nights’ frivolities.

She finished the entire cup, “What happened last night?” Tone firmer, he sat on the foot of the bed. Had he always looked like that?

He was hunched over - elbows to knees - his smile exchanged with a frown. “Who did that to you?” He changed the subject, and she didn’t want to give the answer. With that intense stare it wouldn’t take long before she did something she didn’t hold high favour toward.

“I- ,” a half spoken lie wouldn’t get her anywhere- not with Harwin. He’d spent so much time with her he knew exactly when she spoke false truths. In the silence, she never expected a large hand to reach for hers. And to further bemuse the woman, she held onto it. Remembering the strayed tears and how that hand felt stroking through the locks of her red hair. The emotion flooded back in her words, “What kind of person harms their own child?” He was there again- just holding her - Elspeth had never felt safer.

Stroking her hair, as head cradled on his chest. His heartbeat controlled how she breathed. It was all bliss until she realised that closeness- how her own heart skipped and faltered and his bare skin on hers. Harwin’s face so close that shivers and tickles worked their way over.

That tether between the tension about to snap.

Then there was a knock at the door. The scramble ensued, neither wanted her to leave that position. But the person did not wait before the doors barrelled wide. Revealed the man’s father, Ser Lyonel Strong, and the scene looked much more diabolical in his eyes, “You had better have a good explanation, boy!” Those doors slammed shut, and her feet hung over his bed. A gentle hand on her back as fur clung around her shoulders.

Her head dipped as a thank you, “Speak!” She laughed at her own father giving her a lecture but she deeply respected the master of laws- the girl was ashamed.

Harwin Strong remained completely still, throwing on a loose fitted shirt, “What do you want me to say?”

“That the eldest daughter of Otto Hightower wasn’t in your bed last night. If the Lord Hand discovers that his bargaining chip of the kingdoms has been defiled-“

“He did no such thing and the ‘bargaining chip’ is right here, Ser Lyonel. Your son showed me nothing but kindness and respect. The fault is not his.” The older man studied the pair.

He turned his back to them, probably figuring a way out of this bind. “Ser Hightower would have nothing to argue with if I were to ask for your hand,” Her messy hair flicked, watching the side of his face- meeting the gaze that made her feel fuzzy and molten. That look wasn’t that of a man being forced to marry.

The master of laws held a deep sigh, “You were supposed to join the City Watch… become Lord Commander…” And she had wrecked that plan, dissolved it because of childish urges.

“Many Gold Cloaks are married!”

“Or we could pretend like this never happened? Harwin did not bed me. Now, I would like to put my garments on- it’s rather chilly.” She didn’t want to admit her heart was breaking denying the offer of betrothal. Harwin was the only man that made her feel something- that untameable energy within. He was kind, protective… not ugly nor did he have one foot in the grave.

Lyonel vacated the room while his son remained, at her request. “Why are you against my proposal?”

She shrugged, not that he could see- facing away, why did he have to be such a gentlemen? “I’m too young for marriage. The only compelling reason is getting away from my father, otherwise I hold no interest.” Only silence lingered, until she donned that dress once again. She was never going to hear the end of it from the Lord Hand. Elspeth watched Harwin’s taut expression, “What’s got you grief-stricken, Strong?”

He struggled to tie his hair back- before she swatted his hands away, doing herself. His hair felt almost fluffy, “Have you never been in love?” Broad shoulders jerked as he spoke with his hands. What had gotten him so frustrated?

“I could ask you in turn, Ser. Have you ever been in love?”

“Yes,” A puppy-like infatuation embraced his eyes as she circled back round. Harwin’s hand bracing her jaw and the blue in his eyes invasive. Neither knew which one broke first but they were drawn into a crushing kiss. Elspeth turned with ease- hands wondering down to her waist not dipping lower. He was a gentleman after all.

His fingertips clenched while her body surged up. Dragging him down by the back of his neck. She felt freed, like her breaths were her own not controlled by the Hightowers. It’s what kept the fervour raging, arm slung around Harwin’s neck. The knight hoisted her up with a breathless ease, even when he smiled the kiss didn’t break.

Elspeth was weightless- not a care in the Known World. Hands bracing her waist as she fought the urge to wrap her legs around his. Harwin broke the fever, “You’re extraordinary,” A reach to bring her face closer. They searched in one another’s souls, “But I cannot dishonour you.” Elspeth sank, a waver in her steeled eyes. He let go of the woman, head still in the clouds.

“When I’m one and twenty,” His response was one of bafflement.

He smiled wicked and wide, “Forgive me, my Lady.”

She battled her own grin - clearing her throat - collecting herself, “You can ask me for my hand when I am one and twenty. I promise myself to you.” Love filled his eyes, hope bordered. Fingers reaching for hers, and she caught them in her hand. “So, Ser Breakbones, do you accept my proposal?”

Pecking her forehead with a softness, “It would be my honour, Lady Strong,” her heart skipped- maybe stopped altogether. She hid the blush, but not well enough from Harwin but he let it slide.

He’d tease her about it later.

She looked up at him with a look he’d never seen before, “They’ll have a war party out for me if I don’t show my face. I’ll see you later, Ser Strong.”

And with that she was gone, walking at such pace to avoid suspicion from her father. But he was bound to have noticed his ‘bargaining chip’ had left her roost.

That’s until she met eyes with her Princess- face red with fury but softened as she saw Elspeth, “Rhaenyra, what’s the matter?” The Targaryen grasped her hands- something truly was wrong.

“Where have you been?” Mixed with the anger and concern- Elspeth couldn’t pin it to just one.

Elspeth stopped them, “No, I asked you first. What’s the matter?”

“I've been named as heir.”

Brows furrowed, voice hushed, “What about Daemon?” That’s when she received a glare. “What has he done now?” Normally Rhaenyra was completely onboard with her uncle’s endeavours- her being his partner in crime. But it was a blinded void, that dragon fyre roared in her friend.

“He declared to a room of whores and petty thieves… that he was happy my mother and brother died because he would finally be the true heir,” She suspected her father had something to do with this report, “He called Baelon, ‘The Heir for a Day’…” Without a second thought, no matter how much it burned her friend- she drew her into a crush. The ‘Elsie Special’, name given by Nyra and Alicent. And it was welcome, maybe the younger girl felt as safe as Elspeth had in Harwin’s.

They remained there until Rhaenyra pulled away, tears rampant. The pair returned to the Princess’ chambers. “Is this what you want, Rhaenyra?”

“It doesn’t matter what I want. My father thinks me a better fit than Daemon,” she spat his name.

The coronation was beautiful, Rhaenyra would make a fine queen. But it was clear the reluctance of Houses bending the knee to her. Their pride could not handle a woman reigning over them. Rhaenyra Targaryen would be their Queen and they would have to get used to the new reality.

But all the while, she stood beside the master in laws and his two sons. Hand holding in secrecy with the eldest.

What was the future to hold? Harwin Strong would definitely become its centre point.

Six months passed, and the woman couldn't stop bumping into the man. Sharing a kisses where prying eyes weren't welcome. Rhaenyra commented that during gatherings, whether Harwin and Elspeth were parted or close, the tension was palpable. Maybe Otto Hightower would pick up on that and arrange a meeting for her betrothal to him- get rid of her.

A woman could hope and pray to The Seven. Neither meant any divine intervention would take place.

Her own tensions weren't the only running rife. Beyond the Seven Kingdoms- the Stepstones, it had been a concern for years. Pirates had always taken refuge there, quite infamous for their troves in the many cave systems. "May I speak freely?"

Rhaenyra's head peered up with a smile, "When don't you speak freely, Elsie. Go ahead."

"Why hasn't your father intervened in the Stepstones? Surely it could be quickly resolved with dragons..."

"Are you sure we're not the same person?" Her quizzical and whimsical look had Elspeth in stitches. Rhaenyra going back to her studies- apparently unable to focus - before facing her friend again, "I was relieved of my duty as cupbearer for posing the same question. Lord Corlys appeared on board with the idea,"

Elspeth nodded, "Dutifully so, they are his ships being plundered."

"Yes, and then your father had me removed to select the newest Kingsguard. It may have been more amusing than filling cups- but if I am to be heir to the Seven Kingdoms I must know what happens in them." The nib of her quill broke, ink spilling across the page. Elspeth gathered a handkerchief to contain the spillage. "Thank you. If I am not trained for my duties as Queen, I will look a fool but supposedly if my father trains me it makes him look stupid. Do you understand what I'm saying or are these Council meetings driving me insane?"

Elspeth grabbed her hands from across the table, "You lacked sanity when I met you. And what it sounds like you're trying to say is, 'why did the King name your heir if he weren't to mould you into a rightful one'?"

"When I rule, you will be my Lady Hand," She stood in a frivolous display, "All rise, the Hand of the Queen- Lady Elsie Strong!" Elspeth dumbfounded.

"Maybe you have gone crazy, Princess. I am a Hightower not a Strong,"

"But you will be a Strong when I am Queen. You'll probably have quite handsome little Strongs running around, as well,” Elspeth attempted to appear dumb, “You’re not fooling anyone. I’d have to be blind to ignore the way that man has been looking at you. And the way you look at him… when’s the wedding?”

“Is anybody really ready to be wed? Twelve is too young as is nineteen.”

Rhaenyra quirked her face. “When I am forced to marry, I won’t be as fortunate as you to have a man look at me like Ser Harwin does you!” She didn’t shout. She had never shouted at Elspeth Hightower and never would.

“I promised myself to him. When I am one-and-twenty we will marry, Alicent nor my father know. I haven't figure that part out yet." She twiddled her thumbs, fidgeting to relieve the embarrassment

Rhaenyra giggled, "This is so exciting! Have you done anything? Y'know... in his bed chambers..."

Elspeth gasped- mainly in faux, "Princess, you shouldn't know of such things!" Before she giggled, being tackled on her seat by the blonde. "And we've only kissed. It is unbecoming and unladylike to do anything further before marriage."

"Well it must be good if people want to do it out of wedlock," She shrugged while Elspeth shook her head.

The eldest changed the subject, "So who did you choose as the new Kingsguard?"

A smirk spread upon the Princess' fair features- Elspeth knew that face, "Ser Criston Cole."

"A fine choice,"

A scoff from the heir to the throne, "You didn't even see him unhorse my uncle. Actually where were you?" A knowing look. "You can't stay away from him. You love him," A playful shove and singsong tone. And it was true- about her not being able to remain distant. She wasn't sure if she loved Ser Harwin Strong. She cared for him, and that grew everyday but it wasn't love.

Not quite yet.

She left Rhaenyra - who had been called into a Council meeting.

“Practicing without your shirt is not a requirement, Ser,” That nakedness, that smirk. She was weak at her knees, but held herself. More than once in a week was too much.

He put down the sword, grabbing a canteen of water. Approaching the fair maiden- practically his betrothed, “My Lady, you’re staring.” Water over his face- running down his hair and his body. Elspeth used every ounce of self control she possessed.

Though her tongue proved to be less malleable, “I definitely prefer it over speaking to the Lord Hand.”

“I think everyone would.”

“Well aren’t you the picture of modesty?” They’d both taken steps forward. All the woman wanted to do was feel his lips on hers, down her neck. All over. Harwin’s eyes spoke the same intentions. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“I cannot promise that, my Lady,” He inched even more- his breath caressed her skin.

Her own caught in her words, “And why’s that?”

“Because, I keep falling for you.” She wanted to tell him how cheesy it was. How she was unaffected. How she wholeheartedly never wanted him to kook at her again. But she’d be a liar.

They weren’t naive nor fickle minded. Chin lifted and she was all his, moaning before she was on his lips again.

[amywritesthings]

gingerbread sweet. / a reiner holiday ficlet

pairing: reiner braun x f!reader ( attack on titan / shingeki no kyojin ) word count: 1.1k summary: It's the Titan frat's annual gingerbread house competition. Your boyfriend, Reiner Braun, is determined to win. You, however, are determined to distract.

tags: modern au - university, holiday fluff, gingerbread houses, all the marleyans are in a frat bc i said so, devoted boyfriend!reiner, light sexual tension credit: dividers by @saradika

welcome to the eleventh day of the twelve days of amymas !!

“Does the door look crooked to you?”

"The what?"

"The door. Look at it."

There’s nothing more amusing than watching your hulk of a boyfriend crouch over a tiny gingerbread house.

Reiner Braun squints as he presses a gumdrop to the front — circular windows make it modern, or so he claims — then pauses.

Distracted by a very minor detail, you can already feel his anxiety running his brain a mile a minute: a lopsided door may deduct a few points from Marcel's arbitrary points system from this very arbitrary holiday competition.

Because he's absolutely fucking determined to win.

Granted, the bragging rights are his, but the grand prize will not be — Reiner, of course, rarely rides this hard for something he wants.

No, he’s too willing to put everyone else's wants and needs above his own.

So the grand prize of the Titan fraternity annual gingerbread house competition is going to go to you, hell or high water.

He’s going to win you that goddamn spa day gift card that Marcel has been dangling as a sweet little incentive no matter how long it takes him to mold this gingerbread house into his image.

"I think it looks straight."

The tip of his pink tongue pokes out a little from his pressed lips as he leans in closer. "...I trust your eye more than mine."

The blonde sits up to fish for the green icing piping bag. He's gentle with the way he eases the icing along the edges of the tiny confectionary door.

(An icing wreath, like this couldn't be anymore adorable.)

“Reiner?” you coo.

“Yeah, babe.”

Flat. He’s in the zone.

“You know you don’t have to slave over this thing, right?”

You scoot your chair closer to his, dropping your temple to his large tricep.

“I can buy my own spa day card.”

“False,” he corrects. “I’ll buy you the spa day card myself, but if I gotta cheat Porco out of winning for the third year in a row. Pieck’s gone at least five times on our dime.”

"When were the other two times?" you ask, not correlating the math.

"Well, our freshman year," Reiner begins, using the green icing to make little bushes at the foundation of the house, "we did a Valentine's day relay race that ended up with Bert in urgent care with a broken nose. Then, the one-and-only pool party chicken fight tournament — Pieck and Porco fought dirty."

"Is that why it was the one and only?"

"Yeah. Bert got another bloody nose, but that time from Annie going a little too hard."

He snorts.

"We had to save him from becoming the next Owen Wilson, so — no more chicken tournaments."

Titan frat is… well, excessively competitive, you've learned in your year or so of dating Reiner.

(Blame Porco and the new pledge, Eren Yeager, for only exasperating in this year with the month-long holiday challenges.)

You shrug a shoulder. “I could help.”

“And mess up your pretty nails?” Reiner shakes his head, glancing briefly through his peripheral vision. He smirks. “Ain’t no way.”

Right.

Reiner’s also very giving, during this season — in more ways than one.

First it was the fully-paid-for manicure yesterday.

Then it was the reservation for a Christmas Eve dinner to your favorite spot in the inner city.

Now he’s trying to win Marcel's approval in this ridiculous decorating contest in your name, and you feel… well, loved.

(There's no disputing that you've won the boyfriend lottery.)

Which, of course, means you have only one thing you can do in this situation.

He’s too wound up.

Distracted.

So you reach down to the pile of icing supplies strewn about, picking the small red accented tube.

You swipe some on the tip of your finger, mindful not to get it under your nails.

Reiner doesn’t even see it happening.

He’s too busy playing fixer-upper on the front side of the house, his too-big hands delicately toying with the too-small decorations he’s pasting on the cookie.

You wait a few seconds, letting him place the door where he wishes, before swiping the icing over the side of his neck.

Reiner tenses, turning to see what the hell just hit his neck, but he’s too late—

You’re already leaning in, sliding the tip of your tongue along his skin.

The man gasps, dropping his own piping bag to the supply assortment below.

“What are you—”

“Decorating,” you murmur nonsensically, grinning from ear to ear as his attention disappears completely from the gingerbread house to you.

“The guys are in the other room,” he rasps, eyes wide.

The pledges, he means — banished to the enclosed patio as they work on their own poorly-designed houses.

Through the last year while dating Reiner,  you’ve learned very quickly how sensitive he is.

Sometimes all it takes is a look to get him hard.

Your ego has never recovered, and it’s not deflating now.

Except his eyes soften and a gentle chuckle exits his throat when his golden eyes search your face.

“Wait, you got—”

“What?”

His hand gently cradles your jaw. 

“Hold still, baby.”

His thumb raises to swipe at your nose, where his smile only grows.

You stay still, obedient to his command, unable to stop looking at him.

God, he’s gorgeous.

He’s so fucking gor—

Something touches your lips, and you belatedly realize Reiner’s taken it upon himself to push the red icing along the seam of your lips, parting them easily.

You can taste the sugary sweetness on the tip of your tongue.

“Shit, sorry." When your brows knit in confusion, Reiner explains himself. "Seems like I missed a spot.”

Oh.

Oh.

His pupils dilate as his gaze drops to your lips, as if he’s ready to devour your whole.

Your entire body turns into flames.

“Just one spot?” you murmur, and a wicked smirk crawls to his mouth.

That same thumb drops to glide the remaining icing over your chin.

“I fear it's a couple of spots, but don't worry. I'll get you cleaned up.” He tilts his chin. “I take care of my girl, remember?”

(As if you could ever forget.)

His words get your blood pumping. Pledges and wandering eyes be damned.

“What about the gingerbread house?” you murmur, entranced by the way he continues absently swiping icing over your jaw, chin, and cheeks.

(Marking a trail his lips will devour.)

“We can bring the icing upstairs,” Reiner suggests with an innocent shrug. You know it’s anything but. “I’ll finish that damn house eventually, but I have something sweeter to tend to.”

Before you can say another word, the blonde stands from his chair and gently takes your hand into his.

You easily stand with him, unable to stop giggling as he tugs you eagerly upstairs.

He’s determined to win, yes, but to him —

He’s already won.

He has you, after all.

.