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amywritesthings · 6 months ago

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press four for more options. | part three.

( Read on AO3 )

Pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader (attack on titan / shingeki no kyojin) Word Count: 4k Summary: After seeing your ex with his new girl at a work party, you take the not-so-smart advice from a friend to call a sex hotline to get over him. Your match? A baritone bossy dom named Levi.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI - smut, alternate universe (modern), sex work, phone sex, dirty talk, dom!levi, light dom/sub, guided masturbation, edging, pet names, sex toys, multiple orgasms, mentions of body image Credits: dividers by @saradika-graphics

part two. / part four. | masterlist

“Hel-lo, is the idiot in the room still with us?”

A slender hand waves back and forth, back and forth, until you awake from your everlasting daydream.

Annie Leonhart sits across from you at your favorite coffee shop looking like the cat that caught the canary.

That knowing smirk hasn’t left her face since she sat down.

Curling her fingers, she pulls her arm and returns her hand to join the other under her chin once she’s finally caught your attention.

The small blonde squints her icy blue eyes, observing, deciding on what you’ll say before you launch your defense.

“That good, huh?”

Embarrassment is your first folly.

"I— What?!”

“I know a blissful climax cloud when I see one.”

“Annie.”

Sometimes Annie could be an ass, too smug for her own good, but she was a fiercely loyal friend and colleague.

Everything is meant in jest — at least, to you. Not many others got to avoid her wrath.

You lean over the table, reaching your hand out to cover her mouth.

She manages to duck your advances, expertly so, and rears her head with a small chuckle.

“Relax, no one’s listening,” she chides.

“That’s not true,” you argue under your breath. “It's a small shop. You know the vultures circle this place.”

“Not since the old thirsties got busted for their smutty book club — which, quite frankly, I resent losing.”

"You resent?" you repeat, mirroring her squint. “But you never ended up joining the old lady book club.”

“Mm, I didn’t,” Annie agrees, picking up her coffee cup to sip leisurely. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t listen. I looked up a couple of those titles for myself. In retrospect, they had good taste.”

“Seriously?”

“Dead.”

She pauses, setting the cup back on the table.

“So… are you going to make me work for the details, or what?” she finally leads, getting to the point while you skate around it with imaginary triple axels. “Did you call again after Friday?”

You did.

In fact, you've called several times — almost every night since last Friday with the exception of Tuesday, since you’d fallen asleep as soon as you hit the couch after working overtime.

It’s now another Friday afternoon, one week from the first time you’d called the hotline, and you’re wondering what constitutes bordering on addiction.

“I have,” you confirm.

“That’s all you’re going to say?” she chastises with a grimace. “Boo — tomato, tomato.”

“What?! What did you want me to say?”

“For starters, who the guy is.”

“Not happening.”

“Loser.” A beat passes. “But it’s not Bert?”

You shake your head vehemently.

“Definitely not Bert.”

“Thank god,” she exhales. “I like you, but I don’t know if I like you enough to be calling up the same dude to get our rocks off.”

“Jesus, Annie.”

“Oh, come on, don’t be such a prude.”

You pick up your own tea, sliding it across the table before taking a tentative sip.

“I don’t know how you freely talk about this like we’re trying out restaurants.”

“Because it’s not real?” she suggests, and your stomach flip-flops.

You know it isn’t.

It’s a job.

It’s his job.

“I don’t know,” Annie continues, sitting back against her chair with her arm draped across the curve. “It’s no strings attached and hot. I’ll never meet Bert, and he’ll never meet me, and it isn’t like he’s going to ask to hold my hand and beg me to meet his mom.”

“You’re such a commitment-phobe,” you comment with the roll of your eyes. “You won’t ever meet anyone’s mom.”

“Yeah, because I’m not a psycho,” she replies with a snort. “I take it you went premium?”

You nod once. “Levi suggested it.”

Her eyes widen, delighted, and you scowl at your own stupidity.

“Levi?”

Ah.

Fuck.

"Wait." You sit up taller. “Don’t—”

“Oh, that’s a hot name.”

“Annie, I swear to—”

She sours to herself. “Damn, that’s so much hotter than moaning Bert.”

The tea in your cup bubbles from your chortled breath.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, not my favorite name ever, but that’s fine — because it’s more like he’s moaning Annie.”

Paired with a wicked grin, your friend winks at you.

“We have two very different wants.”

You squint, and her grin widens. “Wait, do you—”

“Uh-huh.”

“Oh my god, Annie.”

“What?!” she chirps with a chuckle. “You like the bossy ones, I like being the boss. You’re not allowed to kink shame me. We’re in this shit together.”

“Who said I like being bossed around?!”

She points her finger at your facedown phone.

“Porco Galliard bosses people around. I’m not stupid. And you scream ‘I don’t like being assertive’.”

Great.

The same observation Levi made over the phone without ever meeting you in person.

“Whatever, that isn’t the point,” you wave off, deciding to try and swerve the subject. “I wanted to ask: how many times do you call a week?”

Annie presses the tip of her tongue against her cheek as she considers.

“A week? Maybe two, three at most. It used to be a hell of a lot more, but I’m working a lot of late nights.”

“When you say ‘a hell of a lot more’, do you mean—?”

“Daily?” she finishes for you then tries to recall. “Why? Are you daily right now?”

You hate yourself for a second.

“Sort of? It’s only been a few days, but—”

“Hey, that’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

She reassures in that randomly serious way Annie can pull on a rare occasion.

Making fun of people might be her favorite pastime, but if she can sense true withdrawal from her friends, then she’s quick to stop.

The blonde reaches over the table to pat your hand, but it’s hardly a comfort.

Annie is about as comforting as raw-dog wearing a hand-knitted sweater by an amateur: it's itchy, too tight, and you want it to stop immediately.

“You’re a grown woman with grown woman money. If guys can go get blue balled at the strip club, then why can’t we call a hot guy over the phone?”

Again: not comforting at all.

With reluctance, you nod.

“You have a point.”

“I know I have a point.”

“Then again, I don’t know how long term this fix can be,” you reason. “It’s very expensive.”

“Yeah, but you know what’s more expensive?” Annie retorts. “Hooking up with a stranger at a bar who’s abysmal in bed. Maybe not so much for your wallet, but definitely for your ego.”

“And your sanity,” you agree, “if they’re weird.”

“Or a creep.”

“Or a serial killer.”

“A weird creep that happens to be a serial killer.”

You both give each other a look, an unspoken conversation of two delusional women saying ‘exactly’ in a singular gesture, as you sync the sips of your drinks.

— —

“Do you ever — ha — use to — oh — ys?”

You’re not sure why you’re so chatty with your rabbit vibrator barely hovering over the hood of your clit.

A week ago, you would've been trying to smother yourself with a pillow for talking.

However, with each night you’ve called Levi, the more comfortable you’ve become.

More bold, if openly using toys tells him anything.

The avalanche that brought you here was quite swift.

Traffic lights no longer remind you of the cars on the road but the man waiting for you on this hotline.

A willing striptease; a compliance to do what you wish but let him take the lead.

All you had to say was ‘my hand’s getting tired’ during an edging session.

All Levi had to reply with was ‘if you had a toy, I’d allow you to tag it in’.

Allow.

Like you’re completely under his spell.

Like you couldn’t have been using one from the get-go, but you listened.

You said you did.

He said grab it.

(God, you always listen.)

Now you’re here, legs spread in the center of your bed with your phone sitting between the valley of your breasts as you talk to him through the speaker.

“I am right now,” Levi replies in that diplomatic way of his, the lift of his voice telling: he’s amused by the way you try to speak to him, even when you’re ready to scream with impatience.

“I meant on yourself,” you exhale shakily.

“On myself?”

“Like on c-calls,” you stammer, forcing yourself to focus.

He loves when you lose your mind.

You refuse to cave so fast tonight.

“A mystery for another day,” he teases, before adding in a firmer tone: “You earned it. Touch it to your clit, but don’t go inside yet. I want you wet and ready for me, understand?”

“You’re so mean.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he softens for just a moment. “And don’t talk back.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” you joke, before pressing the device against your clit.

The vibrations surge pleasure down your legs, causing your toes to curl.

You’re not sure if it’s the ‘sir’ or the moan you emit that makes him groan in return.

“The answer is no,” he finally states.

For a second, you think you did something wrong.

Then you circle back, remembering what you asked in the first place.

Right.

The toys question.

“You don’t?”

“Not on me, no.” He exhales, slow and steady. “Too busy making sure I’m hitting the script.”

That’s the funny thing about these calls:

The fourth wall?

Broken.

He doesn’t pretend to be your boyfriend for the night, just as you don’t pretend he’s only yours.

You’re aware he’s a sex worker, just as he seems to open up about his profession when speaking to you.

At first Levi wouldn’t — it was meant to be a fantasy — but each night he’s divulged more.

Like how he used to be in the military. (Unrelated to sex.)

Like how he has an affinity for tea, going so far as to have a mild cup with you after a session in lieu of a cigarette. (Unrelated to sex.)

Like how he’s a Capricorn. (Unrelated to sex — kind of.)

In the midst of learning about him, you’ve learned about yourself.

You’re less vanilla than you originally thought.

With Porco, things felt regimented.

Scheduled.

You weren’t willing to open up your heart, much less your legs, because he was too cold behind closed doors.

Focused.

Driven to his work and passions.

Levi, on the other hand, will suggest leaning against the wall with your hand in your underwear, eyes forced to watch yourself in your full-length mirror.

To worship yourself, when he can’t.

To pump your fingers into your weeping core, when he can’t.

To give over complete and utter control with the promise that you’ll come as many times as he asks you to, because if he could be in this very room — this very apartment — he’d easily do it himself.

With Levi, you’re bold.

With Levi, you’re in.

So you’re not shy to arch your back, moaning into the receiver when you feel your first orgasm approaching you like the incoming tide.

“Levi,” you whimper his name, “can I—”

“Shit, baby, you know you can,” he practically purrs, already knowing what you’re going to ask. “C’mon. Let me hear that pretty little voice of yours, huh? Just for me?”

“Just for—”

The last word is garbled by the way your teeth clench, legs snapping together as the first climax hits after a relentless twenty-minute edging session.

It’s unreal.

It’s pain.

It’s bliss.

It’s everything you’ve ever wanted.

(Freedom.)

You pant, pulling the vibrator away from your body for a moment to catch your breath.

You hear him hum with approval on the other end, a low rumble against your chest.

“That’s a good girl,” he says after a beat. “Feeling better?”

“So much,” you confess breathlessly.

“You sound better.”

“Thanks to you.”

“Didn’t do much.”

“Oh shut up,” you scowl before laughing.

Turning off the toy for a momentary reprieve, you allow yourself to catch your breath as you grin up at the ceiling.

“Always so goddamn modest.”

“You’re one to talk,” he scoffs, shifting on the other end of the line. “Can’t take a damn compliment to save your life.”

You make a face like he can see you in the dark, but you decide to continue the conversation.

That’s a new thing the two of you have picked up — talking.

Lots of talking.

You get off, sure, but he knows your work drama, your chore schedule — your mailmen even have the same first name, funnily enough.

“I’m serious, though,” you exhale. “Do you ever like… get off? Without toys, obviously.”

“During a call?” he clarifies, and you nod. He answers like he can see it. “No, not — not typically.”

“Wow, so you’ve faked an orgasm with me,” you tease with a blissed out snort. “Shame, shame, I know your name.”

“I what?”

“Faked it,” you clarify, fluffing your pillows behind your head as you situate yourself on your bed. “As if I don’t hear you breathing all heavy and shit over there.”

Then something unusual happens.

The man grows quiet on the other side.

Nothing shuffles.

No huffs or ‘tchs’.

Just… silence.

“Levi?” you ask, brows knit.

A beat passes, but he answers.

“Yeah?”

“Are you good over there?”

“I— yeah, fine,” he clears his throat.

Uh-oh.

You frown immediately, blinking twice. “Sorry, was that a weird question?”

“Not at all,” he clarifies, gruff this time, “just… I said not typically, not never.”

…oh.

Oh.

Suddenly you abandon the rabbit and sit up in bed, eyes as wide as saucers.

“Wait.”

“Scarlet.”

“No, did you actually—”

“I already said too much.”

“No, wait, you can’t just imply that you’ve gotten off with me then abandon ship here, Levi!”

“I’m not abandoning ship — why do you say such weird shit sometimes?”

“How many times?!” you yelp.

“I’m not answering that.”

“Holy shit,” you exhale, “I’m so mad I didn’t pay attention.”

It’s like you can hear Levi squinting, narrowing his eyes with uncertainty on the other end of the phone. “...why would you be mad?”

“Because maybe I want to hear you get off, too?” you suggest simply.

Another agonizing breath of silence.

Chewing on your bottom lip, you place your phone on your sheets and pick up the vibrator, contemplating your next move.

“Because I would totally love to just… I don’t know, make you moan, too? See what you taste like? Feel you lose control, pull my hair, hold my head down while I wrap my lips around—”

“Baby.”

Two syllables shoot out of his mouth, as if overwhelmed with shock.

Huh.

An Uno reverse in your favor.

You’re no Shakespeare, but what you say is as honest as words can possibly be.

“I picture you all the time,” you confess softly, pressing the rabbit vibrator’s first function.

A low rumble begins, and you guide it between your legs.

You’re already soaked from your session.

There will be little give to the toy.

“When we’re not on the phone together, I wonder what it would be like. I could be at work. I could be at a coffee shop. Like, holy shit, I was meeting with a friend today and all I could think of is how badly I’d love to just take you to it — maybe disappear in the back hall, find a bathroom? I’d bend over a sink. I don’t wear skirts all the time, but I’d wear one for you.”

You hear shifting on the other end of the line, but Levi is deathly silent.

Mindlessly, your hand takes hold of the vibrator and you press against your entrance.

With a tiny whimper, you push in, deliciously enveloped in a sea of vibrations.

“You wouldn’t need to wear a skirt.”

Suddenly his voice appears, and you accidentally push the vibrator further in, causing a strangled moan to exit your mouth.

“Le—”

“Pants are just as easy,” Levi cuts you off, a thread of a whisper. “Couldn’t take that much effort. Wouldn’t give a shit if anyone saw your damn clothes at your ankles.”

Suddenly the room burns.

“I just know you’d fill me up so good,” you whine, and there’s a sharp hiss on the other end.

“Jesus Christ.”

There.

You hear it: the waver in his voice.

“Yeah, baby,” he concedes. “I’d fill you so fucking good.”

You whimper, a pathetic little noise at the base of your throat, and he exhales a large breath — as if he’s been holding back this entire time.

“Promise?”

“When have I ever led you astray?” he challenges, a bit more strained now.

It’s the hottest thing you've ever heard.

“I wanna make you feel so good,” you breathe, ragged and wrecked, and there’s a small groan on the other end of the line.

“You already do, baby.”

“Not how I want to,” you argue in return, body pulsating with the growing need to release a second. “You’re so good at making me cum, but all I want is to take it how you want me — bend me over and fill me up, push me to my knees and stick my tongue out—”

“Fuck,” he curses sharply. “You’re so good for me. So, so fucking good, not fuckin’ fair.”

“Wanna cum with you.”

He groans, louder this time, and inhales the most deliciously jagged breath you’ve ever heard.

“Right there, baby,” he forces out. “C’mon. Give me one more. Just one more.”

You don’t need to be told twice.

You purposefully bite your tongue when you come a second time, squeezing your eyes shut with all of your senses focused solely on your ears.

A grunt, as if he’s holding back just the same before exhaling, slow and languid.

In your mind’s eye, you see it: how he uses his teeth to hold up his t-shirt, painting his abdomen with streaks of white as he holds himself back from climaxing too loud. His whole body trembles. He squeezes the tip, milking himself for all he’s worth.

Pulling the vibrator from your body, you turn it off and toss it elsewhere on your bed. Your body curls around your phone, trying to stay quiet so you can listen.

Shaky.

Exhausted.

Not typically, not never.

You say nothing, can’t, but a small giggle of euphoria emits from your throat.

Surprisingly, Levi chuckles back with that drugged slowness that comes with exhaustion.

“You’re too damn giddy after two orgasms,” he chastises, which only makes you laugh harder.

“Uh-huh, Huff ‘n Puff,” you tease right back, and he tsk’s right against the phone.

And in your heart, you know—

Know you’re in deep shit.

Know that you like Levi, even if it’s impossible to like a stranger.

Maybe when you get this month’s credit card bill, you’ll sober up from your crush.

But not right now.

Just not right now.

— —

The next morning, you’re up bright and early.

Skip the elevator to the apartment lobby.

Walk down the stairs to kickstart your adrenaline.

Skip the coffee at the local shop.

Choose a small cup of chai instead.

By the time you make it to the gym, you’re more ready than you ever have been in your life to take on the day.

— —

Forty-five minutes later, your sweat even has sweat.

Staring at your reflection in the mirror, the endorphins from a tough workout only make you feel that more excited to get your shit together. To be more mindful of your time.

(Totally not because your last call with Levi was unreal. Nope.)

Overall, you went from hating your life to — well, this.

Whatever this is.

Owning your self agency and worth after a pitiful breakup?

Unfortunately joining this gym had been Porco’s idea — he’s a treadmill hamster, and you got swindled by the sea of abs under his tank tops.

A ‘couples activity’, whatever that meant.

(Being sweaty and tired without an orgasm to finish it off never did feel rewarding.)

After the breakup you considered trying to get out of your 6-month contract, but Porco dipped first.

He joined Pieck’s crossfit endeavor somewhere else in the city, leaving you and this dingy little gym to commiserate together.

Now?

Now, you excitedly get ready in the morning to the gym — not to get thin or look a certain way to appease anyone else. A revenge body is bonafide stupid.

No — you don’t want to be anything but stronger.

Because Levi would probably think it was hot if you were stronger.

Maybe the next time you call, he’ll be impressed that you’ve taken to strength training.

Maybe he’ll give you some pointers — one more topic of conversation to be had.

Setting down the free weights back on the rack after a thorough cleaning of the equipment, you step out of the way of the other regulars gearing up for their workout and head towards the locker rooms to shower.

In the small pocket of your leggings, you hear your phone vibrate.

Digging your hand in to fish it out, you see a familiar name on your lock screen.

[A. LEONHART]: Yo [A. LEONHART]: We’re all going out Tuesday for drinks – u in?

All.

All means the department.

All might mean Porco and Pieck.

Annie must sense your apprehension, before adding:

[A. LEONHART]: Porky probs not going, Pieck’s got a family thing

Well, that’s two positives.

[ME]: I’ll think about it. [A. LEONHART]: Think about it????

[A. LEONHART]: 🍅🍅🍅

Her and her fucking tomatoes.

You snort and begin to write back—

But not before accidentally slamming chest to chest into a stranger.

The phone flies out of your hand like a bar of wet soap.

Like a Scooby Doo short, it alley-oops to the sky then smashes down against the black-speckled rubber gym floor.

Before you can even react, the person you’d bumped into is bending to crouch on the floor.

“Shit. My fault.”

Every cell in your body freezes.

Time ceases to exist.

They scoop your phone into their hand, flipping it over checking for damage.

Luckily, the screen is intact.

No fall damage.

But that isn’t why you’re frozen.

As they rise to full stance, your eyes are still downcast.

From their sneakers your eyes crawl up, up, up — noticing the basketball shorts that cut just above the knee with compression under armor peeking beneath.

On his torso is an emerald green tank top, clinging to his flexing abs, the fabric speckled with sweat.

His collarbones are defined; chin just as sharp as his cheekbones.

Then you meet his eyes.

A blue-ish gray.

The man standing before you runs on the shorter side — under average height for a man.

His ebony hair dangles and sticks to his sweat-slicked forehead, the ends pointed and shaggy.

It takes a moment until you realize you’ve seen that hair before.

While you’ve taken to walking on the treadmill for your warm-up these last several weeks, he’s typically nestled in the strength training corner of the gym alone.

Every morning that you’re here, he is also here diligently working on his physique.

He’s always in some squat position or lying on a bench, so you never paid attention to his face—

He’s fucking gorgeous.

“Looks like it’s fine,” he says casually, and your stomach falls out of your ass.

Baritone.

Smooth like honey, low like a rumble.

There’s no way.

There is absolutely no way it’s—

“Here.”

The man holds your phone out for you, brows knitting curiously.

You can’t speak.

Hell, you can barely breathe.

He shakes his hand to wake you from your shock.

“Take it.”

You know that voice like the back of your hand.

Wordlessly, you reach a shaky hand towards the phone to take it back.

You part your lips to speak, but no words exit.

All you can do is grasp your phone and pull it to your chest as you catch the scent of his deodorant with a mixture of musk when he passes by, none the wiser.

By the time you turn to say something, anything—

Levi from Scout Services Hotline dips into the men’s locker room.

Author's Note:

...oops.

Thank you for reading part three of P4! I continue to be blown away by the response. Because of your encouragement, I wrote one of the fastest updates I've made in ages. How are we feeling now? Let me know in the comments!

Thank you for likes, and even more love to those who choose to reblog this to help spread the word of this series or reply in the comments. ilu xo

#levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x female reader #attack on titan fanfiction #snk fanfiction #aot fanfiction #aot fanfic #snk fanfic #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi ackerman smut #shingeki no kyoujin fanfiction #aot smut #aot x reader #snk smut #snk x reader #press four for more options

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tokyo-fashion · 1 year ago

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Harajuku street style Interview with Japanese visual kei band Shingeki No Awake

Well known Harajuku neo decora and Bunka Fashion College student Ticomeba is starting a new series of Harajuku people interviews for TokyoFashion. This first one is with Eru the singer and Hiroya the bassist of Awake.

#Harajuku #visual kei #Japanese Streetwear #Decora #Japanese Fashion

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bansheestrikez · 2 months ago

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bored outta my mind

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kanon-xx · 1 year ago

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Pics of different bandmen from Christmas 2023: Part II

»»————-　★　————-««

༻ Shingeki no Awake (進撃のあわけ)

༻ SHELLMY (シェルミィ)

༻ JILUKA

༻ Chill (Kaneto Juusei (鐘ト銃声))

༻ THE MADNA (マドンナ) with special mention to Rio's costume

༻ VIVARUSH (ビバラッシュ)

»»————-　★　————-««

(some of the pics are not exactly from Christmas but from Christmas lives that were a bit earlier)

✩｡:*•. Merry Christmas .•*:｡✩

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xie-lians-cooking · 22 days ago

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I would like some suggestions of VKei bands (preferably newer ones) since I haven't been really paying attention lately. I'm looking for onee similar to ACME and Shingeki no Awake or any artists that make heavier stuff thanks :)

#visual kei #vkei #music #music recs #band recs #visual kei recs #hollis talks #meow

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vkei-company · 7 months ago

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Witchery Tattered Skirt from DEVIL FASHION

ベルト不要のウエストゴム

For Her

ウエストゴム　パンク　ダメージ加工スカート　光沢　黒　ユニセックススカート　ヴィジュアル系　ビジュアル系　Ｖ系　メンズスカート　サイバーゴス　インポート　レザースカート　V系バンド衣装

#vkeistyle #vkeiband #visual kei #vkei #dir en grey #bizyuaru kei #jrock #vkei fashion #jrockers #meteoroid #uruha the gazette #ruinfear #black veil brides #andy biersack #lyrica #LIBRAVEL #Shingeki no Awake #wixiz

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pickalilywrites · 5 months ago

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Hi Lily!!! As we all know the anime just ended, so if it's alright... one last Eremika fic please? Hope you're doing well <3

sorry this took so long! hope you are still well 💕

in this light

eremika. canonverse. 930 words.

It’s this dream again, Eren thinks just as he rouses from his sleep. He clings to the last remnants of his slumber, but the fantasy slips from his fingers as soon as he opens his eyes. All he feels underneath his fingers are the soft blades of grass he had fallen asleep. The tree’s shadow blankets him in shade and a gentle breeze caresses his skin as wakens from his slumber. His vision is blurred as he blinks himself awake. Even as he returns to the conscious world, a part of him still desperately wishes to return to the world of slumber if only to resurrect the dream that had slipped away from him.

Eren never remembers his dreams. Not a remnant of them remains when he wakens no matter how hard he tries to recall even the smallest detail. All he is left with when he awakes is an overwhelming feeling of loss. Tears sting at his eyes, leaving trails on his cheeks as they run down his face.

“Eren?” a voice calls, and he finds himself drawn to it. The voice calls again, its gentle tone guiding him to awaken fully, and when his vision clears he sees Mikasa standing over him.

Mikasa gazes down at Eren. The tree’s shadow doesn’t reach her. The sun shines down on her, basking her in sunlight. Something about this image of her, bathed in light, is familiar to Eren, but he doesn’t know why. It’s something about the light, so bright it’s almost blinding. He should probably raise his hand to shield his eyes from the brightness, but he finds he can’t look away from Mikasa.

“Eren, why are you crying?” Mikasa asks. She must have been asking him all this time, but he’s only realizing it now.

His hand reaches up to touch his cheeks and his fingers come away, wet with tears. He looks down at the salt tears that stain his fingertips in surprise. “I don’t know. I don’t remember,” he says quietly.

Mikasa observes him in silence and all that can be heard is the rustle of leaves as the wind blows through. After a moment, she holds out a hand for Eren to take. Gingerly, Eren takes it and allows Mikasa to pull him up. He’s surprised by the warmth that he feels when his fingertips meet her skin.

“Let’s go home,” Mikasa says, and any remnants that Eren may have had about his dream are forgotten.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ 𓆰𓆪

“Eren,” the voice calls to him again, and it seems to be on the verge of tears. When had he last heard her calling to him? It must have been a thousand years at least, and still he finds himself drawn to the owner’s voice like a moth to a flame.

When Mikasa calls his name, he is wakened from his endless, thousand-year nightmare. He had wandered through the same horrors for years on end, trudging through seas of scarlet with the blood of those that he had killed with his own hands. Everywhere he walked, he would see the lifeless bodies of everyone he had murdered for his own gain: enemies, bystanders, and those that he loved. Step by tortuous step, he trudged forward knowing there would never be an escape from this nightmare until he heard her call his name.

At the sound of her voice, he rouses from his slumber. They are both shrouded in darkness. What little light reaches them seems to be drawn to her and only her.

Mikasa stands before him, bathed in white light. In this light, she looks just like the bride he has dreamed about for years.

It’s this dream again, Eren thinks as he gazes at Mikasa, entranced. At the sight of her, he can recall it all, that recurring dream that had always eluded him before. He wants to reach out to touch her, to wipe the tears that are running down her face, but he finds he cannot move. Her beauty has immobilized him and all he can do is shed tears of his own as she gazes down at him like she had all those years ago.

“Eren,” Mikasa calls him again, and his name is tinged with sadness. Is it because it’s the beginning or the end? She closes the distance between them that he never could, stepping towards him with a blade in hand. There’s a flash of silver for only a split second, and her blade disappears into its scabbard as if she had never taken it out at all.

As the darkness becomes ever darker around them, so does the light that seems to come from Mikasa herself as her hands reach out to catch Eren’s face in her hands. Her touch is just as warm as he remembers and he feels his eyelids grow heavy. Strangely, he feels no pain, only comfort as he basks in her warmth.

“Eren, I’m sorry,” she tells him, but he doesn’t know why she’s apologizing when this is everything he’s ever wanted. This is the dream he has been chasing for his entire life.

He can’t find the words to tell her himself. His mouth has been rendered useless. He can only hope that she can taste the words on his tongue as she brings her lips to meet his.

Mikasa, I love you. You’re all I’ve ever dreamed of. Thank you. The words keep playing in his head even as his vision fades to black and he feels him drifting off once more, his dream ending for the last time.

#snk #eremika #eren jaeger #mikasa ackerman #asks #answered #requests #ilu #heartfilila

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moonspirit · 9 months ago

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hello moon. i’ve been lurking on your page for a long time, never interacted. maybe i can become a regular on here, who knows?

i was hoping you’d do that send a ship thing for aruani.. i found it strange you haven’t done them yet given how clearly obsessed you are with them. you’ve already done them for the lock screen thingy but i wanted to see the rest, it’s like 5AM for you rn.. but maybe your best thoughts are at the ass crack of dawn?

yours truly, behyuu.

Hi behyuu!

Haha, feel free to become a regular on my blog, no problem xD But I had received more than one request for Aruani, so I thought I'd do them all together.

Who said “I love you” first

I think it'd be Armin. From the boat scene in 131, when Annie asks him why he kept visiting her, he really could've said any number of things that wouldn't technically have been false, like "I wanted to make sure you were okay," or "I wanted to tell you what was happening," but he very clearly says "I wanted to see you, Annie." He was blushing like a ripe tomato, and yet he chose to say the one thing that would leave no room for any doubt as to what his feelings were. Armin doesn't hesitate to express himself through words, and with Annie, I believe he'd only take this a few steps further to tell her clearly that what he carries for her is love, nothing less.

Annie herself would not say "I love you" until a long time after they're comfortably together, I feel. She's been denied love all her love, deprived of it to the extent that Armin's barest hints of care were enough for to cling onto, and so being loved and loving back is all going to be so very new to her. She will express it through her body language, but not in words; not very early on in their relationship anyway.

In the long run, I really think this spoken-aloud form of reaffirmation from Armin would be the most beneficial for Annie. As much as physical touch is her way of seeking security, safety and comfort from him, it's also very crucial to be reminded that yes, the person kissing her and loving her body also really does love her, the way he never forgets to say in words.

Who would have the other’s picture as their phone background

I answered this one here!

Who leaves notes written in fog on the bathroom mirror

Both maybe! If Armin's the one taking a shower first, then he leaves a little "I <3 U" on the mirror for her to find once he's done. Nevermind the fact that by the time she does find it (say she wakes up late and he's already left), it's all maybe mostly gone and runny around the edges, but she knows he left it there for her, and it makes her feel all warm inside.

What if Annie's the one taking the shower tho? In that case, she's brushing her teeth in front of the washbasin and the mirror, messy haired, sleepy eyed and lethargic. As she works the toothbrush between long yawns, she doodles a cat on the mirror that's steaming up from the hot water she's left running in the tub. Later on, Armin finds this cat when he comes in to shave, and he finds it to be the cutest thing ever. Maybe they name each cat she draws.

Who buys the other cheesy gifts

I have a hc that Annie's really awkward with gift-giving, so while this doesn't translate into "she doesn't pick good gifts", what it does mean is that her gifts are funny, bordering on cute-as-fuck.

Armin is good with gifts. He buys her things she needs, and throws in some flowers, some chocolate, maybe a plushie and a picnic date. He pays attention to what she likes, what she doesn't like, and this generally means Annie's going to get some of the best gifts ever, whether or not his planning and execution goes to shit because he's so nervous about everything being perfect.

So the one giving him cards with cliche quotes and a leather wallet that the seller tells her is a trendsetter with men, are some of the things Annie gets him. Cut the girl some slack. Her gifts don't suck, they're just cheesy. And he finds it so fucking cute how hard she tries.

Who initiated the first kiss

Armin. It's the pounding heartbeats in their chests, synchronizing. It's the static in the air, sparking and tingling. Her wide pale-blue eyes atop blushing cheeks, locked onto his own in baffled surprise, because he's just told her he loves her and she doesn't understand - why her? Why her, of all the other girls? But that's what his heart wants - her - and he's told her as much and all he can do is hope she feels the same.

But she does. She does, he can see it, right there in her eyes, when her gaze drops lower. She feels the same, he can see it, as her lips part, just a bit, ever so slightly he can almost touch her breath. Then she looks up again, searching his eyes.

He sees his chance, he takes it. Because who knows if there'll be another? He kisses her, long, and slow and sweet, until she's kissing him back with the same longing.

*Aherm* Okay, I got carried away. Basically he kisses her first, but the next time he loses his confidence and doesn't, and then because Annie's impatient as hell, she kisses him second.

Who kisses the other awake in the morning

Annie. I hc that she's the early bird while he struggles to wake up in the morning in general, so naturally being up first, she gives him a little peck on the nose or on the lips. Sometimes he's so deep asleep he doesn't stir at all. Sometimes he's half-awake and drags her closer for longer kisses, and the hope of sleeping in late with her. Sometimes she kisses him short and brief, when she's aching from dealing with something she doesn't like and hasn't told him about; other times they are fluttery, airy, open mouthed kisses, offering silent, sweet promises of love and happiness from between her lips.

Who starts tickle fights

Armin. He reaaaaaaaalllllyy likes teasing her. Whether that's because she's scowling to hide her embarrassment, or refusing to tell him what she's finding so funny in the magazine she's reading - he's always got his hands ready to grab her around the middle and invite her into a tickle fight. The thing though, is that Annie's laughter isn't because of his actions--she's NOT ticklish by any means--but because of the whole play-fighting itself. His laughter is infectious, and she can't help but follow with her own giggling until she's snorting at his stupid jokes and bright eyes.

Guess who's ACTUALLY ticklish? Him. Once she gains the upper hand and squirms away to straddle his hips, it's all game over.

So he may be the one starting the fights, but he's not the one winning them.

Who asks who if they can join the other in the shower

Annie. I just find it more in-character for her to blurt out that he's welcome to join her in the shower. Say they've just come back home after a long and tiring muddy hike, and they're so exhausted they might not have the energy to take showers after each other. It's a casual suggestion, quick and without much thought to it, when Annie says, "Join me then. It'll be quicker."

She might've said that, but once they're actually stripping in the bathroom and getting into the hot waters of the bathtub, Annie's the one burning to the tips of her ears. Doesn't help that Armin's lost all his initial embarrassment and inhibitions and is welcoming her to sit between his legs, pulling her back flush against his chest.

The rest belongs in a smut fic.

Who surprises the other in the middle of the day at work with lunch

Annie. Armin forgets to eat, especially when he's drowning to his neck in documents piling up on his table at work. He's studying up for a meeting on his morning transit, signing off agendas and rescheduling appointments, making six dozen phone calls, holding talks with important people... ugh. He has barely any time to breathe, so his eating habits at work are basically non-existent. During such times when things are more hectic than usual, and it's often a familiar sight to find him coming home with a loosened tie and exhaustion on his face, Annie's the one heading to his workplace with lunch and coffee in her arms. She makes sure he eats, and also eats her own lunch with him, so he's kept company by the only person he can be his silly, goofy self around.

Who was nervous and shy on the first date

I'm inclined to say both, it's just that Armin would express it more openly than Annie would. What Armin would be fretting and worrying about is how perfectly the date is going, how smoothly his plans are working out, and so on. He'd be so bothered about every teeny tiny detail and Annie's enjoyment that he wouldn't really be able to relax and enjoy it himself.

Annie on the other hand, would be nervous and scared about disappointing him. It would warm her heart how he sweetly switches to her more exposed side as they're walking down the street, but it also worries her about how expressive she's being, or rather, how much she's lacking in that respect. Disappointing Armin is probably her biggest fear.

Who kills/takes out the spiders

Annie. Armin hesitates too much. He looks at the mama spider, looks at her eggs, looks at her babies, thinks of the consequences, thinks of their extended families and their ancestors, their futures, their pasts, their presents, and so on and so forth. It's been six hours and he's ignoring the spider in the bathroom because he's conflicted over killing them.

Annie would kill them (she doesn't like bugs), but because she knows it'll break his heart, she traps them in a special plastic cup she keeps for the spiders and lets them out somewhere far away.

Who loudly proclaims their love when they’re drunk

Armin. Even sober, he's always running to give her a big hug with a stupid wide smile on his face, going "Aaaanniiieeeee!!". The happiest golden retriever in the world. Now get that golden retriever drunk to his eyeballs and he won't fucking shut up about how beautiful she is, how big her heart is, how soft she is, how her eyes are like the sky and the sea and other fantastic imagery. He tells her he wants to marry her (even if they're already married), and how he wants to wake up to her presence everyday. In a crowd, it's fucking embarrassing for Annie. Secretly though? She loves it. Replays it in her head over and over again.

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