#aot reincarnation au

[leverwings]

To you, 2000 years from now 🏳️‍🌈💫✨

[spicerackofblorbos]

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Invisible String - Taylor Swift Levi Ackerman x gen!reader

And isn't it just so pretty to think All along there was some Invisible string Tying you to me?

☾ content/warnings ➼ blood, death, canon world, reincarnation au, modern au, college au, soulmate au ☾ wc ➼ ~800 (yes I know I said drabbles I'M SORRY)

Various earthy colors streak in your vision as you feel yourself catapulting through the trees. The harsh breeze of the cool summer air is the only nice thing about this moment, as you find yourself once again zipping from tree to tree as if your life depended on it – which it very much did.

Heavy stomping from behind you sends chills up your spine as you do your best not to look behind, something you know will be more of a detriment. But not that it mattered, because suddenly you feel your ODM cords snagging on something. Instead of flying to the next tree, you’re pulled up into the air.

With fearful and widened eyes, you are now staring face to face with a 14-meter blonde titan who held you up by the cords like a fish on a line, blue eyes piercing straight through you. As if you were nothing to it.

You whimper, your fingers desperately squeezing on your levers as if that would help your situation – it was obvious that your gear was damaged beyond repair. Your squad mate Eld is yelling your name, telling you to hold on. He was on his way.

Hold on to what, though?

“I’m sorry.” You cry out before you’re flung through the trees, back hitting flat against a tree branch before falling for who knows how long until you impact onto the muddy and leaf-littered forest floor.

You’re unsure of how much time has passed. You’re not dead, but the raspy and shallow breathing told you death was on its way. You couldn’t feel your fingers and toes, nor could you wiggle them. Weirdly, you felt no pain – whether that was from the injuries or shock, you couldn’t say.

You’re staring up at the treetops, sun rays breaking through the upper tree branches that sway in the wind. How pretty.

Someone is calling your name again. It seems so close, yet so distant, and while you wish you could look around to see who it was that needed you, your body fails to respond.

“Hey.” A shadow falls on your face. After a few slow blinks, your numb brain finally registers that it was Levi towering over you. His brows are furrowed, eyes downturned, cheeks red and lips frowning at the corners.

“Why do you look so sad, Captain?” You whisper, your voice hoarse. A few coughs escape you, red spraying all over your face and a little on Levi’s dirt-stained shirt.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be here.” He whispers down at you. There’s a tremble in his voice, something you’ve never heard before. You watch him pull out his cravat and dab at your face, all while keeping his gaze on yours.

“No, I’m sorry I couldn’t-“ Another cough. Another spray of red.

“Stop. You did well.” He places a calloused hand on your cheek, using his thumb to wipe away the warm tears that had slid down the sides of your face. The cold metal of his wedding band, the one matching yours, serves as a comfort as you feel yourself struggling to breathe.

“I love you.”

“I love you. You’ll see me again, I promise.”

-

Idle chatter surrounds you as you stare hard at the textbook in front of you. Your teeth bite down hard on your bottom lip, irritation evident in your expression. Passersby might think it’s because you’re studying a frustrating topic, but really, it’s because most would think to be quiet in a library.

Clearly college students don’t get the memo.

In a huff, you push yourself away from the desk you had claimed an hour ago and start for the in-library café for a caffeine boost. For once there’s no line and you sigh through your nose as you step up to the register, lips parted as you look at your tea bag options.

“What can I get you?”

The most deadpan tone you’ve ever heard comes from a man about your age, black hair almost covering his stark grey-blue eyes that pierce straight into you. His eyebrows are furrowed, lips in a thin line. He’s wearing a gray button down, the top button open to show a necklace with a single gold ring looped on the chain. Something pulls on your heart, followed by a strange tingling sensation throughout your body.

“Have I met you before?” You ask, dumbfounded. He feels familiar to you.

“No. I just transferred here.” You don’t miss the subtle flash of unknown familiarity in his eyes as well. “What can I get you?” He repeats.

“Uh, hot water please. And an earl grey tea bag.” You can’t stop staring as you pull out your student card.

“Great.”

You both stare awkwardly at each other for another minute after closing the transaction before he finally looks away, clearing his throat.

“Thanks.” You smile softly then turn on your heels in the direction of where you left your things.

After a few steps, a sudden visual of green fabric flapping in the wind makes you stop dead in your tracks. You blink hard and suddenly you’re back in the library. Twisting your head, you look back at the familiar barista, whose eyes were still stuck on you.

You hope you’ll see him again.

[firefly--bright]

blooming hearts.

jean kirstein x reader, reincarnation a.u.

chapter one - seeds.

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The universe hadn’t been the kindest to you.

To give credit where it was due, you’d admit that it did give you some things to be glad about. Sprinklings of joy in the winter weather, the perfect temperature of bath water, patience to practice things you enjoyed, smelling the crisp air of the oncoming spring paired with dew on new leaves. Things to be glad about, things to look forward to. but the universe – being an entity created by humans – was itself in the sense that it was cruel and took and took and took.

You didn’t know the physics of it all – you didn’t know the exact equation of the gravitational pull that led you into getting the strangest dreams at night with monsters with teeth that were the size of your torso, with ragged and haunting breaths that embodied death itself walking the earth as if it was theirs to take. The same equation, however, also gave you dreams of friends that would do the exact opposite of these giants. They’d smile and laugh and even if you couldn’t remember their faces or their names by the time you awoke, you remembered that you were loved. You had to remember that you were loved. You didn’t have much else.

Maybe it was the same damned equation with the same uneven answer that led to you getting accepted into the university with a familiar sounding name and an even familiar looking campus with large walls covered in vines and old architecture resting creakily on the ground, shops and café’s lining up to remind the students that life still waited for them inside the gates.

One of these shops just so happened to have him.

The door to the flower shop opened the same way it always did, the scent of all the arrangements embracing you in their warmth. The bell rung to indicate your entrance and like clockwork, he looked up from his phone, his back straightening as if he hadn’t expected to see you here even if you were here like the same clockwork.

In the surge of the new life you had gained access to along with your single dorm and limited possibilities, you decided to commemorate the occasion by buying one stem of flowers every alternate week. You couldn’t bear to splurge on those fancy bouquets with adornments made form thermocol beads dipped glitter and those fancy looking wrappings, but you could spare some money to buy the singular flower. And of course, with all things you touched and saw, you craved meaning to be attached to them. The first week you bought them was the first week you saw him as well – you bought a singular tulip to which he flashed a mildly confused expression. You had explained yourself in part-anxiety and part-excitement of what you were planning on doing. he had smiled softly and wished you good luck.

You saw him many times after that.

“can I recommend one this time?” he asked, his voice deep and snapping you out of your reminiscence as you turned to him.

You didn’t know his name; more like he hadn’t told you his name. he never wore his name tag because he deemed it creepy for customers and non-regulars to know his personal information, and despite the fact that you didn’t fit into either category, he still hadn’t given you his name, telling you that you’d have to work for it instead, an obvious tease and way to challenge you. you had taken it with grace, and due to the lack of information, you resolved to calling him “flower boy”.

His hair illuminated brightly, turning into gold threads as he stood infront of the bright afternoon sun, and even if the top of his hair was covered by a cap which you assumed was the only part of his uniform that he had to present, and a thin lipped smile that appeared everytime he asked you a question that he had mulled over in his head. His brown eyes appeared even lighter with the light, disguising themselves as pools of honey rather then their deep, woody colour.

You shrugged, trying to act nonchalant, leaning on the counter with your forearms. “sure.” His smile widened only slightly, and your nose tingled like you were going to sneeze but the action never followed. It happened everytime you were near him – one of those unexplained phenomena that you believed foolishly as a child, that people only vanished in the bermuda triangle because the universe was hungry, or that the ghosts that you were so scared of were only wants that were never fulfilled. Your nose tingled near flower boy because it wanted to, you excused.

He cleared his throat and pushed forward a small bouquet of five branches of flowers – deep purple with five petals and tightly packed on the stem, the tip littered with buds that were clambering to grow, tied with a bow made from twine. “theyre called purple lilacs.” He said, his hand fiddling with themselves on the table. “I don’t know their meaning, but they – well, theyre… theyre pretty, and they reminded me of you.” he speaks fast, as if he wants you to not know what he means, but you grab hold of the meaning as you always do before he can disregard it.

You give him a soft smile. “thank you,” you say, taking the stems in your hand gently, turning them over to observe as you ignore a tingling in your heart that was similar to the one on your nose but warmer and far more familiar, and its ironic because your body has never felt familiar to you but this action does. The simple fact of him saving you something as if it was nothing makes more sense to you than your whole being.

Your smile turns into a teasing one, “so you think about me, flower boy?”

He scowls, leaning on the counter just as you had, “I told you not to call me that.” He says, disregarding the first part of your assumptious statement, “im not some common market-boy. I have a name.”

You stifle a laugh as your smile widens in a way that feels familiar. “market-boy? What does that even mean?”

he waves a hand around, unsure of what he’s talking about himself, but you catch its meaning anyway, “you know, just some… some guy,”

“aren’t we all just some guys?”

“well, I for one have a name.”

“which you wont tell me.”

“take me out to dinner first.” he said, smirking as he looks at you and even if you want to believe him in his reality, you cant bring yourself to. no matter how familiar he makes you feel to yourself, your comforts lie in your hesitance on believing them.

“you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” you ask, just as teasing, just as hesitant to know the answer as he was. He pulls away from the counter, a smile still on his face as he rolls his eyes.

“whatever makes you sleep better at night.” He says, crossing his arms over themselves near his chest as if that would do anything to help the way his heart was fluttering.

in his delusions, it did. Keeping his arms near his body would mean that he could catch his heart before it flew to you like it wanted to.

Jean didn’t know what made him so hesitant into believing you either. Maybe it was the fact that the person his dreams were etched around was still out there somewhere, searching for answers just as he was, feeling like the half of something better just as he was. He couldn’t let them down, but he also couldn’t let you down.

And yes, at first he thought he was going insane. When he was a toddler and experienced unexplained dreams of those monsters with eyes that seemed to never blink and always watch him, stare at him as he glided away from them, the giants that ripped his best friend in a clean half and crumpled up the rest of his comrades into an undigested pulp on the floors of unknown land. But then he met marco, and everything made sense. Marco jutted his arm out on the first day of middle school and introduced himself, fixing his crooked glasses on his nose, telling jean of his name and all of a sudden a piece of the puzzle made sense. Jean told marco his own name and watched as marco also connected the dots, filled in a part of the page that was ripped out from jean’s hands. And then, soon enough, he met sasha and connie in high school, and he felt the page being glued back to the book, filling out the pages in ink. But half of his book was still left unsaid and unknown and he knew – he believed because he had to – that it had to be this stranger in his dreams, the other half of himself that he was sure was somewhere and he just wasn’t looking hard enough.

And yet here he was. Seemingly flirting with you. jean felt almost ashamed of himself.

but he knew you. over the three months you had collected flowers, you also collected parts of him that he wished he could’ve kept just for himself. And selfishly, jean kept his name from you because he didn’t want to know the answer. He didn’t want to be let down if it wasn’t you who kept dreaming about, and it made him feel disgusted in himself. But it was only natural how he was feeling. He couldn’t help it. His heart had always been soft, always been somewhere separate from his body, on his sleeve where it was far easier to access.

and ofcourse, because you were you – beautiful and human and far more real than the stranger in his dreams – you also kept your name from him.

He sighed with a smile still on his face as he pretended to ring you up. You looked at the purple lilacs in your hands with wonder and a small smile of your own. Jean tried not to stare at you too much. You eyelashes caught the light of the sun when you blinked, your lips a little chapped and beautiful and human and real, and he catches your voice when you whisper, “theyre beautiful,” and he agrees. You are.

He clears his throat. “it’s on the house.”

Your head snaps up, brows furrowed just as he looks away. “what? Why?” you ask. Jean shrugs, copying your action from when you first entered the store today, trying to act nonchalant. “’cause, uh, I mean, you- well, it came in with a big wedding order. Its not something we sell without request and there were a couple extra, and y’know. Yeah.” He says, the tips of his ears growing warm and he prays that you don’t see how he lies even though he knows you catch it anyway because youre you. he doesn’t tell you how he kept them aside just for you even if Petra had told him that they were quiet an expensive investment.

You breathe out a small laugh. “alright. Whatever you say, flower boy.” You say, and jean exhales the breath he had been holding.

jean realises how much he enjoys going against the morals hes been raised on when he relishes on the selfish butterflies he feels when you call him that nickname. Worse than all the sins in the world, jean thinks, because he keeps thinking about how it makes him feel and how its kind of a silly nickname but its only silly because youre the only one who calls him that and he’s the only one who gets to be called it. Its only silly because its makes him feel.

“again with the name,” he says, his hands folding ontop of his chest again, fighting the tingles in his heart and all over his lungs.

“im not going to pay for your dinner-“

“well, then, prepare to call me flower boy for the rest of your life, poppy.” The endearment tumbles from his lips before he can stop it, and your grin widens in surprise as you squint at him like he’s just confessed to the selfishness that he was beating himself up about. He cant help it – his nickname for you formed after the second time you came into the shop and purchased a branch of poppy and he looked at the stem and then at you and it just made sense.

A laugh bubbles up from your own lips, “poppy?” you question.

“yeah – well, you wouldn’t tell me your name and keep calling me flower boy-“

“as opposed to what? Should I call you Mr. worldwide?”

“yes, actually, id like that.” He says and your laughter spreads across his chest like fast-growing vines, and he has to laugh out of compulsion, he has to laugh to let out his breath as his chest constricted.

“im not calling you that,” you remark. He shrugs, “suit yourself.”

Jean watches as you pull away one of the stems, placing it on the counter. “here.” you say, presenting it to him.

its embarrassing how quickly his cheeks turn as red as your namesake, “for me?”

You hum in confirmation, “for you. don’t worry, its on the house.” You say, mimicking his statement with a smile. Flower boy took your peace offering and nodded, not looking up. You glanced behind him, the clock reading 4:37 – alerting you that your shift for work was going to being soon and you’d have to leave – an action that jean observed.

“I have to-“ “yeah,” he says, softly and it almost sounds like a plea. You ignore the tingling in your nose again, as you smile.

Before leaving the safe comfort of the four floral walls of the shop, you turn, “bye, flower boy.” You say, waving your hand lightly.

Jean has to put his hand to his chest to calm himself down.

He’d give you a daffodil next time, he thinks.

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[exo-levi]

Timeless

Title: Timeless Reference: AoT, Taylor Swift's Timeless (parts of it) Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Fem!Reader Universe: Reincarnation!AU, Canonverse Period: AoT Season 4 and Postwar Warning(s): Small amount of spoilers from the manga ahead Theme: Fluff & angst Word count: 1.5k words

Disclaimer: - AoT Universe belongs to Isayama Hajime. - Song used belongs to Taylor Swift

Summary: Haunted by vivid dreams of a past life, she embarks on a quest to uncover the mysteries behind her connection to Levi and a world plagued by Titans. As she delves deeper into the past, she encounters a man who bears an uncanny resemblance to Levi, leading to a profound realization that their love is truly timeless.

It was a tranquil day, perfect for a leisurely stroll through town. The streets were dotted with neighbors engaged in pleasant conversations, relishing the beautiful weather at the park, and the joyful sounds of children playing filled the air. This picturesque scene was a rarity, particularly for her.

Normally confined to her apartment on weekends, she had ventured out today in an attempt to escape the relentless headache that had plagued her for the past two days. It wasn't an illness but rather a persistent sleeplessness that had left her head throbbing.

For nearly a month, she had been experiencing peculiar dreams that seemed almost like vivid memories. Some were nightmarish, inducing terror capable of jolting her awake, while others were warm and filled with longing—for something, for someone.

The previous night was no exception, with her headache intensifying. So, she had chosen to take a walk to clear her mind of the unsettling dream she had just experienced.

"Stay with me," a deep voice had echoed in her dream.

Although everything appeared blurred, the voices were crystal clear. Cries and screams reverberated, creating a cacophony of chaos.

"Levi…"

Who is this Levi?

The eerie feeling of familiarity that accompanied the name lingered, as if she had met him somewhere before. Dismissing it, she continued her walk. Whoever Levi was, she resolved to deal with him—or forget about him—later.

A few steps later, she abruptly halted, inexplicably drawn to an antique shop she had never entered before. While she often passed by it on her way to work, she had never ventured inside. Yet today, an inner impulse guided her through its doors.

As she explored the store, her eyes danced over an array of beautifully preserved items—pottery, vintage furniture, memorabilia, and more. It was remarkable how these artifacts from bygone eras still retained their original charm and pristine condition.

Guided by an unseen force, she eventually reached the counter where a slightly worn-out box captured her attention. In bold marker, it read, "25 cents each." Curiosity piqued, she peeked inside and found it filled with a multitude of old photographs.

"See anything you like, dear?" the shop owner inquired.

"Just looking, Ma'am," she replied with a warm smile.

The owner nodded, "Feel free to browse at your leisure."

Thanking her, she selected two photographs. The first depicted a young woman, radiant in her wedding dress, while the other captured the same woman and a military man sharing an affectionate smile. The love evident in their eyes was undeniable.

Leafing through the stack, she couldn't help but smile at the love story that unfolded before her. These photographs painted a tale of a couple's romance from the 1940s, evoking dreams of an enduring love. The images strangely reminded her of Levi.

…Levi?

That enigmatic name returned, flooding her thoughts once more.

***

"I love you," he whispered in her dream, his eyes locked onto hers in the dim light of their surroundings. Her fingers tenderly brushed through his hair, gently tucking it behind his ear. "I love you too," she replied breathlessly, the aftermath of their passionate encounter still lingering in the air.

Tomorrow marked the day they would reclaim Wall Maria, and they had seized this precious moment to be together before the impending battle.

The memory from her dream played on a loop in her mind, and she couldn't help but be unsettled by the persistent presence of this man named Levi. She had never encountered anyone with raven hair and a stern yet handsome countenance—certainly not in her waking life.

***

"Levi…" she murmured incredulously.

The rain poured relentlessly, drenching her surroundings. There he lay, her beloved, covered in blood and surrounded by shards of wood from a nearby explosion. He looked lifeless. Kneeling beside him, she cradled his head and drew him close, silent tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Would you look at that, our biggest threat is covered in his own blood," Floch muttered from behind. "Let's shoot him in the head," another soldier suggested.

"He's dead," Hange declared. Her eyes met Hange's, and the unspoken understanding between them led her to maintain her silence, her gaze unwaveringly fixed on Levi.

"He was caught in a Thunder Spear explosion at point-blank range. Internally, he's in pieces," the soldiers explained. Floch insisted on checking Levi's pulse, but both she and Hange remained quiet. Before Hange could respond, a nearby Titan began to steam, revealing Zeke beneath it. The soldiers' attention quickly shifted, providing an opportunity for her, Hange, and Levi to slip away. They escaped, rescuing him from the brink of death.

***

"I have brought all the reports from Captain Levi, Ma'am," a cadet reported.

"Thank you, cadet. You're dismissed," the co-captain acknowledged.

With a salute, the cadet left, and the co-captain delved into the files, diligently tending to her captain's duties. Amidst the paperwork, a small folded paper slipped from one of the folders and landed on the floor.

She picked it up and unfolded it, revealing a heartfelt message. A soft smile graced her lips as she recognized the familiar handwriting.

"Don't overwork yourself and always stay hydrated.

I love you.

Levi."

It was the little gestures, the sweet notes, and loving sentiments that Levi conveyed that never failed to warm her heart and rekindle her love for him. She placed the love letter aside, alongside the other letters Levi had written, with the intention of showering him with affection after a long day. He unquestionably deserved it.

***

"Do you ever think about what you'd do when this is all over?" she asked Levi one day.

Levi was taken aback by the genuine question, pausing to contemplate his response. "Hmm," he began, "I'd like to build a Tea Shop."

"A Tea Shop?" she quizzically inquired.

"Yes," he replied, his gaze fixed on her, his voice a soft whisper, "and you'll be there."

Her eyes widened in slight astonishment at his sweet declaration, and then she smiled. She reached out, her fingers gently combing through his hair before caressing his soft cheek. "I'd like that, Levi," she whispered back. She leaned in for a kiss, and as they parted, she continued, "And we'll have a garden outside the Tea Shop, so customers can dine there too. Doesn't that sound wonderful?"

Levi chuckled softly at her unexpected enthusiasm. "It does," he concurred. He reached for her hands, bringing them to his lips and planting a tender kiss on her knuckles, his thumbs gently rubbing them. "We'll end this war, and we'll live in peace, together."

His sudden displays of affection never failed to melt her heart and renew her love for him.

"Together."

"Always."

***

"Connie!"

Before Connie could turn to see who had called his name, a powerful shove from behind propelled him out of harm's way, narrowly avoiding an imminent Titan attack he hadn't seen coming. The young woman who had saved him was not so fortunate, as the Titan's teeth sank into her leg during her heroic act. She lost her balance, and in her fall, a claw sliced through her side, causing further injury.

As she plummeted to the ground, Levi caught her, having swiftly moved from a distant part of the battlefield. Gently laying her down, he assessed the extent of her injuries.

"Stay with me," his deep voice echoed.

Although her vision blurred, the voices were clear and distinct. Cries and screams surrounded them, creating a scene of utter chaos.

"Levi…" she whispered weakly, her lifeblood staining the earth beneath her.

In response, he knelt beside her, his expression a mask of concern and fear. He couldn't bear the thought of losing her. "I've got you. I'll bandage your wounds and get you out of the combat zone," he promised, his voice trembling.

"Levi…"

She interrupted him, prompting him to meet her gaze. His breath caught in his throat, and his heart raced. He couldn't lose her, not now. "Wrapping my wounds will take time. You need to go back out there and help the others," she insisted, her voice strained. "I'll make it quick. Don't worry."

"Don't."

She interrupted him once more. "Please, Levi, let me go."

He whispered her name, his voice choked with emotion. "I can't lose you like this. We're on the brink of ending this war," he pleaded.

"You won't lose me. We'll find each other in another life," she assured him with a sad smile. Her hand reached up to wipe away a tear that he hadn't realized had fallen. He was silently weeping.

"I love you," she whispered.

He couldn't accept this. They were so close to victory, and he couldn't fathom a life without her. This wasn't what either of them wanted, but if it was the hand fate had dealt them, there was little they could do.

"I love you too."

"Finish this war without me. I have faith in all of you."

Levi leaned down and pressed his forehead on her own, tears escaped the moment his closed his eyes tight. His lover leaned to him closer to kiss him passionately.

"I'll see you later," she whispered.

***

Her heart ached as much as her head did as different memories kept flooding in her mind. She closed her eyes tight for a second to recover herself and realized she's been staring at the same box for who knows how long. She returned the photos in the box and went out of the shop.

Enough of this.

The young woman sighed. Hopefully, she'll find an answer.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, yet the ache in her heart remained. She resumed her normal life, following her mundane routine, but it felt as though a part of her was missing. Her dreams, those memories from a different time and place, haunted her relentlessly.

One evening, as she gazed out of her window at the setting sun, an overwhelming restlessness consumed her. The need for answers had grown too strong to ignore. The strange connection she felt to the name "Levi" and the vivid memories that felt so real could no longer be dismissed.

Taking a deep breath, she resolved to embark on a quest to unearth the truth behind these haunting memories. She threw herself into research, scouring old books and articles, desperately searching for any mention of a Levi who might have lived during the time of her dreams. It was a long shot, and the odds were against her, but an unshakeable feeling told her that this was important.

Weeks stretched into months as she painstakingly combed through historical records. One day, she stumbled upon a faded photograph in an ancient journal—a black and white image of a group of soldiers. In the center of the photograph stood a man who sent shivers down her spine.

"Levi," she whispered his name aloud, as if to confirm his existence. The man in the photograph possessed the same raven hair and stern yet striking countenance she had seen in her dreams. It couldn't be a coincidence. The journal provided some details about a group of soldiers who had fought in a war against colossal humanoid creatures called Titans. It was a war that had occurred over a century ago, and most of the soldiers had perished.

Delving deeper into her research, she discovered that the war against the Titans had taken place in a world vastly different from her own. A world where humanity lived within colossal walls to protect themselves from these monstrous entities. It was a world that should have had no connection to her, yet the memories and emotions she experienced were undeniably real.

With newfound determination, she decided to seek out a local historian who specialized in that era. Perhaps this historian could provide more information about the soldiers who had fought in the Titan War, particularly the mysterious Levi.

The historian's office was a cluttered treasure trove of ancient documents and maps, a testament to his lifelong dedication to his field. He listened attentively as she recounted her dreams and the inexplicable connection she felt to a past life.

After a long pause, the historian finally spoke. "What you're describing is known as reincarnation memories—a phenomenon where individuals recall events and emotions from their past lives. It's rare but documented."

"But why do I have these memories, and why do I feel so connected to this Levi?" she implored, her desperation palpable.

The historian leaned forward, his gaze a mix of curiosity and sympathy. "It's possible that your soul carries the memories of a previous life, and for some reason, they've resurfaced in this lifetime. As for your connection to Levi, it's a mystery. Perhaps you were deeply entwined in that past life, and your souls remain bound in some way."

Leaving the historian's office with more questions than answers, she knew she couldn't stop now. The memories of her past life were like fragments of a puzzle begging to be pieced together. The sensation of her connection to Levi felt more than mere happenstance.

The following day, she decided to visit a teashop she had never frequented. It was a small, charming establishment with an atmosphere of tranquility—an ideal setting to collect her thoughts and attempt to make sense of her experiences. As she entered and settled into a corner table, an inexplicable sense of déjà vu washed over her.

Ordering her favorite tea, she watched as steam curled from the cup, her thoughts drifting back to the memories of love, war, and sacrifice that had played out in her dreams. It was almost as if she could hear Levi's voice softly murmuring, "Together, always."

Lost in her thoughts, the teashop's door swung open, and a man entered. With raven hair and a stern, yet striking countenance, their eyes locked. Time seemed to stand still as recognition flooded over them both.

"Levi?" she whispered, her voice trembling.

His eyes widened in disbelief as he made his way toward her table. "I… I don't know how, but I remember you," he said, his voice filled with equal parts incredulity and longing.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she reached out to touch his hand, and he covered it with his own. In that moment, the inexplicable connection between their souls became undeniably real.

"I love you," she whispered, just as she had in her dreams.

"I love you too," he replied, their love transcending time and space.

As they sat together in that small teashop, hand in hand, they knew that their reunion was no mere coincidence. Their love had endured through the ages, a love that was truly timeless.

About. Masterlist. Taglist.

Yours truly,

Rowan.

[fishblush]

JeanMarco Week - Day 3: Reincarnation

Another prompt I had a hard time conveying through cosplay 😭 My thinking here is JM reincarnating would land them in a different era. So, here's Modern JM with the implication that they reincarnated!!! I tried to make the outfits resemble their canon outfits 😎

Marco cosplayer (me) uses they/them pronouns & the Jean cosplayer (my husband) uses he/they

[natsuki208]

“… I want to grow old with you and love you for the rest of my life…”

"…but this world is so cruel to let you and me separate like that…"

"…well, see you in the next life…"

[sleepykichii33]

currently thinking about erejean reincarnation au

[fkintatakae]

“𝔖𝔦𝔫𝔤, 𝔒 𝔪𝔲𝔰𝔢, 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔯𝔞𝔤𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔄𝔠𝔥𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔢𝔰, 𝔰𝔬𝔫 𝔬𝔣 𝔓𝔢𝔩𝔢𝔲𝔰, 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔟𝔯𝔬𝔲𝔤𝔥𝔱 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱𝔩𝔢𝔰𝔰 𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔰 𝔲𝔭𝔬𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔄𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔢𝔞𝔫𝔰.”

[romancethedawn]

Pick a Fic

I'm a writer with an over-abundance of One Piece fic ideas. So I thought it might be fun to make a poll for which ideas I should try to write fully or make into one shots. Some of them also have plot summaries that I can share on request. Whichever idea gets the most votes I will share some of what I already have.

[marcobodtlives]

reincarnation AU related ask; preferably a modern AU, college age (don't have to be in college tho), maybe a recovering/sober Marco or Jean, definitely have one of them break up with the other because "I'm not good enough for you" but clearly they can't stay away from each other, 100% friends to lovers BUT PLEASE DONT LET IT BE TOO LONG UNTIL THEY KISS/GET TOGETHER I rather the angst be after they actually get together and navigate the relationship and so forth :] tbh angst prior to them getting together IS TOO OVERDONE

Okay okAY! Hi oh my gosh this was awesome, thank you! Super inspiring, so many ideas ☺️

Eee this was so fun to write, everyone send more!

Anon you’ve seasoned my brain broth of ideas and I loved writing these out for ya, inbox definitely staying wide open for any more ideas people may have (doesn’t even have to be about a reincarnation au!)

Okay yay! Here’s what I got, all under the cut:

Marco wouldn’t ever break things off with Jean, he’s too aware of the fact that it would hurt Jean. I also like to think that despite slightly underestimating himself, Marco is fairly secure in his self-image (he’s worked hard to get to this place).

Jean on the other hand… well he’s got some issues and tends to gaslight himself into thinking he’s 1) not good enough, 2) bad for Marco, and 3) better off letting Marco enjoy his college experience without being bogged down by the delinquent that’s been suspended twice for fighting Eren.

Perhaps he gets pulled up before a disciplinary board after a particularly rough fight with Eren goes wrong and they end up breaking a college statue or something similar. Maybe Marco (the kid with a squeaky clean record and stellar grades who works so hard to maintain a full-ride scholarship so there’s money left for his younger siblings to get the best opportunities) is also pulled into the meeting by proxy. (He was probably the one who pulled Jean away from the scuffle and got lumped in).

The stress the entire situation would cause Marco, the anxiety, the shame - all of it is stuff Jean is used to, but not Marco.

Instead of helping him through it, Jean freezes up and realises “I did this to him. I’m the cause of what Marco is having to face. I can’t put him through this, it’s not fair.”

He pulls back, suddenly and heartbreakingly (for Marco).

Jean is stubborn, but he can also be selfish. He doesn’t cope well with extended periods of ‘avoid Marco at all costs.’ So, his idea is to break off the odd-romantic-chemistry-thing they had, and limit themselves to friends.

They work their way up. Jean still keeps Marco at arms-length. He shuts down the uh… less than platonic feelings he definitely still holds for the other boy.

Jean still keeps him company while he studies, they still make flashcards together, and he still relentlessly insists on Marco taking breaks and keeping healthy. They still find the same seats next to each other at lunch, they still find themselves circling back to each other at every new corner and situation, as though hopelessly magnetised despite everything else.

Marco is Jean’s constant. He’s always there. But Jean keeps up the desperate “just friends” charade for a few weeks, or a couple months at most.

Marco is smart enough to know that it’s less about them as a couple and more about Jean’s own web of insecurities that holds him back. He gives Jean as much time as he needs. As long as they’re still in each other’s lives, he’s happy and won’t push for more until Jean is ready.

It’s the rest of the group that stir things up.

After a while it becomes evident that half of them don’t even know Marco and Jean have broken up.

Eren, Reiner, Historia, Mikasa, and Annie are either oblivious or indifferent to any minute changes noticed between the two of them.

While Ymir, Connie, and Sasha actively berate Jean about it. They poke fun and (in their own way) help him realise he’s being cowardly by burying his head in the sand.

Armin and Bertholdt are open and honest in a raw, vulnerable way that pushes Jean to a precipice of realisation.

He isn’t doing this because he lost faith in the relationship. He’s doing this because he’s painfully aware of his own flaws, and he’s terrified of the part they’ll play in the unknown progression of his first serious relationship.

In light of this, things change again.

Marco and Jean are together, properly this time. Nobody’s foot is hovering out the door.

Jean is hesitant, sure, but Marco’s understanding in the face of everything Jean did has strengthened his ability to trust that he can actually lean on Marco when he doesn’t feel like he’s enough.

It’s odd really. Jean seeking support from the one person who he feels he isn’t good enough for.

It’s messy, it’s patchwork, it’s a jumble of feelings and insecurities, but it’s them. It’s what they are.

Jean is a wobbly rock in a stream of college stress and Marco is the moss that keeps him lodged in place, despite the ever-changing current.

And the current definitely comes.

You pick it, there are a world of options.

An accident on campus? A near-fatal injury that leaves someone (probably Marco) hurt, suffering, and (as anon mentioned) in need of recovery and sobriety? Family problems? Interpersonal conflicts? Lost scholarships? Failing classes?

Perhaps the sudden appearance of unexplainably vivid dreams of small towns, unmeasurable walls, large, genderless titan that leave blood, bodies, and lost soulmates in their wake?

So many possibilities, but throughout them all (as long as everyone remains alive) the two of them have each other.

[mimiwrites2000]

Red Eyes See Grey World

CHAPTER One / TWO

Archive of Our Own

He realized that he knew the ocean long ago. When he first looked into her eyes. She held the ocean and the sky in them, colliding and harmonizing to the waves. If only he knew, he would’ve held the ocean in his hands, never letting it go. But she was slipping away from him, Away she drifted, far from him. Wars never held happy endings. But the universes shifted and clashed. The constellations reformed in the sky, and life was reborn again. And maybe, just maybe, he might be able to fullfil his promise to her, in another life, in another universe.

Blue Sky and White Earth

Armin, I am so sorry, I know you need some time alone, but me and Eren and worried sick about you, you can’t just keep ignoring us like that, please, pick up your phone.

Armin poured the steaming hot coffee in his cold-resistance steel cup, closing the lid tightly, and placing it on the kitchen’s table beside his phone, which was playing voice messages.

Bleep! The phone said, indicating a new message, Hi, uh, Armin, I know Mikasa already reached to you, but, I also want to reach out to you, uh, can you please pick up the phone? I know you’re not alright, I know that, but please, let us talk to you, and what are those dreams you are having? Armin, I care for you, please, you need to see someone about this—

Armin pressed the red button that stops the voice messages, put on his thick winter coat, picked up his coffee cup, his black backpack, and headed outside.

Armin lived close to the university campus he went to, it was a ten minutes walk, but sometimes, he would go for a walk a little bit earlier than the start of his lecture. He would walk around, sometimes he would get a sandwich or a coffee, and some other times he would meet up with Mikasa, or Eren, or both, but he preferred spending his mornings alone.

That day, Armin walked a little bit further than his usual routine. He had some time to waste, even though he hated to waste time, because he could compensate for anything in life, except for time. He could never relive one wasted second, he could never bring back one passing moment.

The blue sky looked down at him, it was that kind of a proud bright blue right after a horrendous snow storm, the mercy the sky had after it unleashed its wrath. The pure white clouds obscured the harsh sun rays from him, protecting him. Even though he had a thick coat on, the mere sight of small heaps of snow on the sidewalk made the tips of his fingers freeze with coldness, and he didn’t have to look in a mirror to know how red his nose was.

He usually enjoyed winter, mainly because the streets seemed to fall into a quiet slumber, and people preferred their warm homes rather than the crisp cold air outside.

Which left the streets empty for him to wander around them.

But that day, Armin didn’t wander the streets alone, he roamed them with a troubled heart and frantic thoughts in his head.

He needed some place to sit and think, and maybe write down his thoughts. There was a coffee house right across the corner, and unconsciously, despite the coffee cup in his hand, Armin’s feet led him there.

He had been there many times before, he knew there would be a line waiting for him.

What are those dreams you are having? Eren’s voice echoed in Armin’s head.

They’re not… dreams, Armin argued with the voice inside his head, but he wouldn’t dare saying it out loud to his childhood friends, because it was a mistake to mention those dreams in the first place.

He shouldn’t have told them.

He knew they would never understand, he knew they would brush it off and tell him he was overreacting, that he was stressed from university and that he should give himself a break.

But, no.

They weren’t dreams.

Because humans would see dreams in their sleep, after they closed their eyes. Dreams weren’t felt and seen and lived everyday. Dreams weren’t a ghost that would haunt him everywhere he went.

Dreams weren’t a red sky and grey earth.

Dreams weren’t screams and cries and wails for help.

Dreams weren’t cold kisses and pain pain pain.

Dreams weren’t a person dying in his arms every time he blinked.

How could someone die that many times?

“Are you going to order?” The barista asked, eyeing the coffee in his hand.

Armin blinked.

“Sir,” Someone behind him said, “you’re holding up the line.”

Armin blinked again, turning his head—

Blonde

Blue

Blonde

Blue

Blonde—

“Alright, sir, step to the side,” the barista said again, “let me know when you make up your mind, next!”

Someone pushed past Armin, forcing him to step aside, the same person who told him he was holding up the line.

“Just black, medium please,” she said, fixing a brown scarf around her neck.

Blonde

Blue

Blonde

Blue

Blonde—

“So you don’t just hold up lines, but also stare at people?” She asked him, turning her head and looking straight into his eyes.

“I— I no no, I, I don’t, I don’t, of course, I don’t,” Armin stammered, then he cleared his throat and stepped back; a vague dizziness coated his vision, and he had to rely on something, but there was nothing around, so he rubbed his forehead.

“Are you ok?” She asked him again, her eyebrows meeting in the middle.

Armin removed his hand off of his forehead, he wanted to tell her no, he wasn’t fine, how would he be fine? When was he ever fine?

Armin nodded, before he walked off, away and out of that coffee place, but he didn’t walk far off, he just crouched down at the corner of the building, away from sight.

Armin took deep breaths in, but his chest hurt, it hurt so bad that he took off his coat. The cold crisp air swathed over his whole body, and his skin turned into a ragged road of irritated red skin.

But Armin only focused on the pain in his chest.

Blonde

Blue

Blonde

Blue

Blonde—

She walked past him, right across the corner he was hiding behind, and Armin lurched forward, calling out for her.

“Excuse me!” He almost shouted.

She halted in her tracks and turned around.

“I’m— I’m sorry,” Armin stammered again, he puffed out his chest, trying to calm his breathing, because her blue eyes pierced right through him, and her scent, her scent was too familiar, a little bit foggy with a concoction of iron and ash, but it was there, beneath all those layers. "Do I know you?"

She blinked, "I don't know, do you know me?"

"I just…" awkwardness crept up his neck, and only then did he realize that he had no idea what to say. "I feel like I know you."

"I don't know you," she told him, "if that would make you feel any better… or worse."

"R-right," Armin stuttered, sheepishly rubbing his neck, "I'm sorry, I guess you look like someone I used to know."

"Well," she said, fixing the bag on her shoulder, the steaming hot black coffee in her hand, "good luck," she said, then walked away, her knee length dark skirt swaying, the coat over her shoulders almost reaching the rim of the skirt, and her heeled boots click-clacked down the sidewalk.

His eyes didn't leave her figure until she turned a corner, vanishing from his sight.

~~~~

The next morning, Armin made sure to leave his apartment early enough to camp at that coffee place, and wait for her.

Blonde

Blue

Blonde

Blue

Blonde

He knew that face, he knew that hair, he knew those blue eyes, and he dared… he dared to know those lips.

It all felt like the cheer moment of finding an old wallet in the crevices of a couch. The small humble victory of finding a lost photo in the storage room; he always knew it was there, he was sure of that, but the memory was behind a veil of frustrating fogginess.

He waited for her in that coffee shop, patiently tapping his foot as he occupied a far small table in the corner. He brought his notebooks and pens, mainly to look like he was there for a reason, but he didn't read nor write a single word in any of the notebooks. Instead, he scrolled through his phone, reading his friends texts that he didn’t reply to in over a week. He sighed, he didn’t have any energy to convince them of what he was seeing, how could he make them believe the red sky he saw? The dark black earth drenched in the fresh blood of thousands and thousands of people? How could he make them believe that when the most danger they ever been in was missing the school bus? How would they understand something they had never seen? Never felt? Never lived?

He kept the door of the coffee shop in the corner of his eye, watching it open and close as more people responded to their morning call for caffeine, but she wasn't yet to show up.

Blonde

Blue

Blonde

Blue

Blonde

And a brown scarf

His heart beat in his chest faster, because he felt the familiar presence of her, then his heart beat even faster as the familiar scent of her wafted closer, the same sweet scent under coats of the omnious scent of blood, and then the door opened.

And there she was again.

Click clack, click clack.

She had the same brown skirt and sweater from the day before, the same coat engulfed her figure, but maybe it was a shade brighter than the one she had before, or maybe it was the same, but the white snow swathing the place made it glow.

She is familiar, she is too familiar. 

She glanced at his table, and their eyes met for a fraction of a second, but she walked to the bar and ordered her coffee, a black one, Armin heard her say.

He should look away, he knew he should look away, but all he did was just gaze at her figure, her fingers wrapping around the cup, and instead of walking out the door, she walked towards him.

She caught his eyes as she stepped closer and closer, and he was caught red handed, and it was too late for him to act like it was an accident.

She picked the vacant chair on his table, and sat in front of him, placing her bag on the floor.

“So,” she said.

“Hello,” he answered, greeting an old friend, greeting someone he knew for too long… way too long…

“Do you usually come here?” She asked him.

“On occasion,” he answered, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms.

“Right…” she retorted, taking a sip from her steaming hot coffee. She pressed her lips together and crossed her legs, “It’s your turn to ask a question.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Alright,” Armin placed his elbows on the table and leaned forward, “how do I know you?”

She smiled, “How do you know me?”

He sighed, and shook his head, he wasn’t going to tell her about… all of that.

“I… I don’t know,” he lied. “It’s… complicated.”

She paused for a second before she said, “And if I tell you that I feel like I know you as well?”

Fourteen words were enough to get his heart racing in his chest once again, he sat at the edge of his seat, his eyebrows met in the middle; in a question, a question he didn’t dare ask out loud because he didn’t trust his voice at that moment.

“I do,” she confirmed his questioning stare, “you look… familiar? But I am sure I have never seen you before, have I?”

Armin laughed, a short laugh that unknotted his tangled tongue, “Now you’re asking me?”

She shook her head and pressed her lips together, “It’s weird.”

“It really is,” Armin agreed, because it really was weird.

“So,” she cleared her throat, “you go to the university close by?”

“I do,” he said, “I assume you don’t.”

“You’re correct,” she answered, “do you live around?”

“I lived my whole life in this town,” he answered.

“Oh… how come I never saw you?” She asked him, “I never left this town either.”

Armin pressed his lips together; the town only had two highschools, and even though she looked a couple of years older than him, still, he would've at least seen her face before.

“That’s weird,” then she picked her coffee up, except she held it from the lid.

Armin saw it; saw the cup staggering, the lid not closed correctly.

“Hey don’t—”

But it was too late, the cup fell from the lid, falling on the table, and spilling.

She cursed under her breath as she instinctively stood up, but luckily, most of the cup spilled on the table and the floor, but her fingers reddened; the coffee was extremely hot after all.

Armin stood as well, reaching out for her, his eyes on her fingers as he said, “It’s alright, you’re alright, you’ll just heal it.”

“Yes, yes,” she said, inspecting her fingers, “it’ll… it will heal.”

Armin got closer to her, held her wrist, the thick sleeve of her wool sweater a barrier between their skin, then he observed the wound.

She watched his face, his eyes, his nose, eyebrows, lashes— lips.

Her heart raced in her chest.

You’ll just heal it.

“I will just heal it?” She asked him.

And he blinked, once, twice, then turned to look in her eyes.

Where did that come from? Where did he get the idea that she would just… heal it?

It felt… from another time.

From another… life.

His fingers shifted, the tiniest bit, just enough for the tip of his fingers to touch the inside of her palm.

In one instant, a name rang in Armin's head.

Clear.

Loud.

Annie

“Armin,” she called his name, her eyebrows scrunching in the middle, then they raised up her forehead, “Armin,” she sighed his name again, finding the light in the end of the tunnel.

Of course, Annie, of course her name is Annie, it was that simple, that easy, that familiar.

Annie

Annie

Annie

She closed her eyes and shook her head, taking a step backwards, “You’re… Armin? You’re him?”

But he didn’t answer her, because threads weaved from those thoughts in his head and connected it all together, and it just… made sense, it all made sense.

She took a deep breath, then she inched closer to him and held his face in her hands, forcing him to look straight into her eyes.

“Armin?” She called his name.

And he was no longer looking at a stranger.

He was no longer looking at someone who was familiar.

He was looking at Annie.

He was looking into Annie’s blue eyes.

It all came rushing back to him in shivers that coated his skin, his fingers trembled and his toes suddenly turned into bricks of heavy ice. His chest heaved with labored breath and the edges of his eyes burnt.

Armin’s throat was closing up as his fingers brushed the skin of her hand.

“Annie…” he breathed out her name, his tongue naturally bending and saying the name, so easily, a mantra that danced on his tongue for the entirety of a life before.

His last life.

“Oh, Annie,” his fingers clenched around her hands, wrapping around her fingers and bringing them up to his lips. His lips placed a kiss on each of her knuckles on both of her hands, until they reached the reddened fingers, then his kisses became sloppy with the salt from his tears, falling down on their joined hands.

“Armin, oh Armin,” She said, tilting her head to the side and watching his face, then words came out choking her, “it’s alright, we can talk now, we can talk now.”

“You remember? Annie? You do?” Not believing his eyes, not believing his ears.

She nodded, “Yes, yes of course, yes, I do, yes,” she assured him, “do you?”

He nodded promptly, “I remember it more than anything ever, I don’t know… I don’t know how I forgot it.”

She hummed, then she was about to open her mouth to say something, but the barista interrupted, “What happened here?”

Armin and Annie spun their heads towards the barista, and she was standing there, her mouth agape; a coffee cup spilled on the floor, and two adults holding hands and crying. 

Then Armin noticed that every eye in the coffee house was turned towards them.

“Sorry,” Annie said, pulling Armin's hand down beside her, “we will leave, sorry.”

And that was all Armin had to hear; he grabbed Annie’s hand even tighter and almost sprinted towards the exit, pulling her behind him, he heard some gasps from the people, but he didn’t care, he pushed the door open, and walked outside onto the cold snowy winter, ignoring the barista's warnings about their abandoned items on the table.

He needed to be alone with her, he had to be alone with her, he waited a whole life for that moment, but waiting for one more minute… he couldn’t wait.

He kept walking, then he picked up the speed, then in no time he was running, and Annie was sprinting behind him, until he reached a small alleyway, he turned into it, pulling Annie behind him.

Then he caught his breath, turning to watch Annie’s face. White breath came out of her mouth as she took her breath as well, but he didn’t wait any longer, he wrapped his arms around her, and hugged her.

She hugged him, even more tightly, wrapping her arms around his back and bringing his body close to her, so so so close.

He buried his face in her neck, rubbing his forehead against her skin, then he took in a deep breath, “Gosh… Annie.”

“I know,” she said, “I know.”

“You’re alive, oh Gosh, you’re alive,” Armin muttered, his voice muffled against her.

“You were gone after me?” Annie asked him, “you died?”

Armin’s head spun on his shoulder, the weight of memories rushing back to him like an avalanche squishing him under tons and tons of heavy snow, and there was a speck of ridiculousness on top of it all; who would ask someone if they died or not?

“I don’t know,” Armin said, “I mean, last thing I remember… was you, and you died,” Armin pulled away enough to look into her eyes, his arms steady around her, scared that the wind would blow her away from his reach.

“I didn’t heal, I couldn’t heal,” Annie told him, one of her hands went up to hold his face, “I really tried, but I don’t know why I just…”

“It was the same for me,” Armin reassured her, “I… I am scared to think of it.”

“It’s Eren, right?” Annie said the words he was dancing around, “he did something, with the founder—”

“He did, yes,” Armin sighed, shaking his head, “oh, Eren.”

Then Annie’s thumb rubbed circles on Armin’s cheek, and she said, “Where have you been?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why did it take you so long to find me?”

Armin smiled, pulling her close to himself again, hugging her, “I don’t know, I couldn’t even know if any of it was true, I just… I thought I was going crazy.”

“Me as well,” Annie closed her eyes, as she relied her weight on him, her knees no longer able to hold her up.

Armin pulled away, just enough to tilt his head and capture her lips with his, and he kissed her.

He closed his eyes, and inhaled against her lips, taking a deep breath, blowing life into his veins, and it felt like it was his very first breath, the first time air penetrated his lungs.

Annie pulled him closer and kissed him back, and it was like that time he kissed her, but without the scent of pungent blood in the air, without the darkness of smoke and ashes, without the red angry sky and the black earth.

She kissed him, and it was like her life didn’t start before that, like her life had been put on hold, running in the same spot, and only then, only when she touched his lips, only when she moved against his lips, did her life resume.

The stars aligned, and the two universes crashed together in a moment of time, in a kiss.

Armin sighed against her lips, because he waited a whole life for this, he waited a whole life to hold her in his arms, he waited a whole life to be with her.

But he wanted more, he needed more

“Annie,” he muttered her name against her lips, then he pulled away and held her face in his hands, “I lost you twice, I don’t want to lose you again.”

Annie nodded, because she couldn’t find words, her tongue tangled in her mouth.

“Come home with me.”

~~~~~

The ride to his home was nothing but a quick blur; he took Annie’s hand and walked out of that alleyway, then he gestured to a taxi, because he couldn’t tolerate the wasted time on walking.

His fingers shook as he unlocked his door, and in one moment after they passed the threshold, their clothes started coming off, one piece after another, until they no longer had a thread of modesty on them as they reached Armin’s bed. Despite the accumulated snow outside, the temperature in his room rose way above what his body could tolerate, his skin burnt, and it brought more memories to the front of his head.

But she was there, in front of him, in another life, yes, but it was her; Annie, and there was only one Annie in all of universes and lives and cosmos that he would be with.

Annie.

Blonde hair, and blue eyes.

His mouth didn’t leave an inch of skin without kissing it, from her lips, down to her neck, collarbone, lingering a little bit longer at her chest, then at her abdomen, thighs, knees, and her feet.

He breathed her name, over and over again, because he was still in disbelief. The last time he saw her was a whole life before, but it felt like yesterday, it was so fresh in his mind, so close.

Her dead weight in his arms, her eyes losing their light…

It was all so fresh in his mind.

So he got up from her feet, hovered over her and looked straight into her eyes, “I missed you, I missed you, so much.”

She wrapped her arms around his bare shoulders, watching his face, her eyes going down, observing all of his body, then back up again to gaze into the ocean of his eyes.

“I always felt the absence of you,” she told him, “but now I don’t know if my heart can handle the presence of you.”

Armin smiled, and leaned closer to kiss her lips, “I have dreamt of you, days and nights, in this life, and in that life.”

She kissed his lips.

“I had always wanted to be with you,” he continued, saying his words against her lips, “I have been waiting for this… for so long.”

“So did I,” she told him, caressing his face, his cheeks, his eyebrows, his lips, then his cheeks again, wiping cascading tears away with her fingers.

“I…” Armin started saying, but he hesitated, “have you been with anyone?”

She shook her head, “No, no, you? Have you? Has anyone touched you before?”

He smiled, a sheepish smile on his face, “Annie, my dearest Annie, how could I?”

“What do you mean?” She asked.

“How could I even be with anyone else? Anyone other than you?”

“So you knew? About me?” Annie asked.

Armin sat up, gesturing for Annie to come closer to him, so she did, then he pulled her on his lap, running his hand up and down her sides.

“I felt like I knew about you,” he told her, as she wrapped one arm over his shoulder, the other brushing his bangs from his forehead and running through his hair. “I felt like… I was missing a piece of myself, and, now that I know, now that I remember… I don’t know how I was alive before.”

Annie kissed his lips, “I’m… happy,” she told him, “I’m so happy, I’m the happiest.”

Armin laid her down again on the bed, her hair fanned out under her head, and her cheeks dusted with a rosy red, her chest glistening with sweat and heaving with anticipation.

“We have a lot to talk about,” he said.

“We will, after this, we will.”

“Tell me to stop,” Armin muttered, laying his weight on his elbows on the sides of her head. “Tell me to stop, any time, and I will.”

She nodded, her heart beating in her chest, and her hand laid flat on his chest, the spot right over his heart, and relief washed over her to know his heart thrashed in his chest just like her own.

It didn’t take them long to get going, to get tangled in a heap of moans and groans and sighs. It didn’t take Annie long to run her fingers over his back, leaving traces of scratches, and he paid her back with rough kisses on her neck, on her collarbone, and chest.

She called out his name, the letters dancing on her tongue, a name she had long desired to say, and it fell on Armin’s ear like sweet sweet honey, for her to moan his name and stutter it out as he moved them and touched her, frantic and urgent and yet slow and prudent.

He gazed at her face, watching her expression turn into colorful charades of a pleasure he was causing her, then his sight blurred as his throat tightened, and she caressed his cheeks, wiping the tears off of his face.

“Please,” she whispered, “don’t cry, please.”

But he couldn’t stop himself, he couldn’t stop it, he couldn’t help but remember the last time he held her, her body shaking with her last breath.

But this time, this time he spread life into every part of her body, and every inch of her muscles shook, but for other reasons, and he had to remind himself that this was another life, this was another time.

So he wrapped his arms around her body and held her up. Their motions became frantic, hectic, sloppy, and unrhythmic, because both had tears running down their faces, and the memories became very clear with every passing moment of their skin touching, the memories came to life again, and they played in front of their eyes, vivid.

He held tighter onto her, his hands promising to never let go of her again, and his lips muttering her name at every moment a moan left her mouth.

They didn’t stop until they reached their destination, everything rushed at them in one explosive instant, and the next moment they knew, they were holding each other, their chests inflating with the air of a new life, the fresh air of a newborn's breath.

Armin wrapped his arms around her sweaty skin, then he pulled the blanket up to their chests as they cooled down and the temperature started to decrease.

Annie looked in his eyes, watching his face, and he did the same, as his arms kept their hold on her under the blanket. He kept checking her eyes, full of life and a specific pleasure that he had never seen in someone’s eyes before.

“You’re safe,” he told her, and told himself as well.

“I know,” she said, her eyelids covering her blue eyes, “I know…”

“I am safe with you,” he continued, “we are safe here.”

“We are,” then she closed her eyes, exhaustion taking over her, and soon enough, she fell into a sweet light slumber, under the warmth of the blanket, and the comfort of his body next to her.

He didn’t sleep, he merely watched her face, pondering over his life, his current life, and his past one.

Maybe it was all connected to some sort of a titan’s Legend, or maybe it was the universe’s way of unfair fairness.

Or maybe it was just them.

Or maybe… maybe it was something else.

Then, Armin realized, that on that day, he became the same exact age as when he died in his past life, it was the same day he walked under red sky and on black earth.

Maybe… he had a second chance to redeem himself, maybe his promise to her had obliged the universe to obey his wish. Maybe the universe had another reason…

Armin didn’t know, and a part of him didn’t care, all he cared about was her, asleep, safe, in his arms.

He didn’t care about the universe, he didn’t care about past lives, all he cared about was the world he held in his arms, all he cared about was her.

~~~~~

“Why is he not answering?”

“Mikasa, do I look like I know?”

“I’m worried…”

“It’s alright, don’t be worried, he’s probably just… studying.”

Those voices stirred Armin out of his sleep, he barely had any energy to open his eyes, he tried to clear his throat, then he stopped himself; the warmth in his arms reminded him that he wasn’t alone.

He opened his eyes, and there she was, just like he remembered.

“Listen I actually have the spare key.”

At that, Armin’s eyes opened wide. He got up, making sure the blanket covered Annie, then put on the first pajamas he saw.

The key clacked in the door, and just as Armin stepped out of his bedroom and closed the door, his childhood friends walked into his apartment.

“Oh there you are!” Eren said, looking Armin’s disheveled status up and down.

“Sorry, I was… sleeping,” Armin excused.

“For a whole week?” Eren asked, inviting himself into Armin’s apartment and sitting on the couch.

“We don’t want to push you,” Mikasa said, “but we got so worried.”

“Ah, yes,” Armin said, trying to comb down his hair, while standing in front of the bedroom’s door, as if protecting it, “I… sorry, it’s a little bit… hectic.”

“So what are those dreams?” Eren asked.

“Hey! We said we will take it easy on him!” Mikasa objected.

“Well,” Eren shrugged, “he looks fine to me.”

“He is stressed, we should not—”

Shuffling from the bedroom froze them all, Armin almost put his hand on the handle of the door, but it flung open before he did.

A very disheveled Annie walked out, and Armin was ready to jump in front of her, but luckily, she was dressed.

In one of his pajamas.

“Sorry,” she said, rubbing her eyes, “I didn’t know what to wear,” then she stood on her tiptoes and kissed Armin’s cheek.

Armin swallowed; for one, his friends were in his house, for two, her hair down and her puffy eyes reminded him of days from their past lives, when they were cadets.

“Well,” Eren said, getting up, “you really could’ve just told us you have company.”

“It’s… it’s not that…” Armin’s cheeks reddened.

“Armin you scared us, you really could’ve just told us,” Mikasa sighed, walking towards the door with Eren.

As they opened the door to leave, Armin said, “Hey maybe call before you come in!”

“We’ve been trying!” Eren said, and before he closed the door he said, “you were too busy!”

Armin rubbed his forehead, his whole face warmed up, but then he heard a sweet, quiet laugh.

“They don’t remember shit do they?” Annie said, wrapping her arms around Armin’s waist, resting her chin on his chest and looking up at him.

“It doesn’t look like they do…” He answered, then he wrapped his arms around her as well, “I don’t understand anything.”

“I don’t either,” Annie said, then she yawned, “all I know is that I’m so tired.”

Armin smiled, “Go sleep.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I just want to stay with you,” she told him, “I feel like I could wake up at any second now and find out that this is all just a dream.”

He leaned towards her and kissed her lips, “It���s not a dream, I promise.”

“How could you know?”

Armin laughed, leading Annie to the bedroom, “It really is not a dream.”

“Alright.”

“Alright?”

“I am hungry,” Annie said, sitting on his bed.

Armin laughed, “I’ll get us food, how about you wait for me here?”

She nodded, and before he left, she kissed him one more kiss, then she said against his lips, “Thank you.”

“For what?” He asked.

“For finding me in this life,” Annie said, “I always felt like a piece was missing, and finally, I found it.”

Armin pressed his lips together, “You’re making leaving this bed quite hard.”

“Then don’t leave it,” she shrugged.

So, he wrapped his arms around her, and pulled her down on the bed with him.

It might have taken them a whole life, decades, and eras. It might have taken them the constellations to shift and reform. It might have taken them a whole universe to be created.

But they had one ending.

And that ending was to be in each other’s arms.

A promise was a promise, and it seeped through universes and lives and eternities, until it was made real, until it was proven.

~~~~

Author’s note:

It took me… 798 days, or 2 years and 2 month and 7 days, to write the second chapter to this fic, and oh God, it turned into everything I didn’t expect. I had a whole different idea for this chapter when I wrote the first chapter, but then… i don’t know what happened, but, here we are Thank you so much for reading, I hope you guys enjoyed this! It was fun and very emotional to write uwu Feedback is always appreciated! Love you, take care!

[everythingwasalreadypicked]

The first thing that Alice Orchid Torrington feels after her rebirth is coolness, warm hands, skin sticky with sweat and the smell of sea wind and blood.

"It's all right, Miss Jackson, she's a perfectly healthy girl."

"No, Mr. Grace, you are unfortunately not allowed to see them yet."

The first thing she hears is the most hated voice in the world uttering the worst words in the world in a motherly tone;

— Hello, Ellie Taylor Grace-Jackson, I'm Mirella Rosal Jackson, your mom and I love you, my little girl.

Alice Orchid Torrington is officially cursing her new birthday.

This is partially related to this I think

Yeah. Al is currently very frustrated.

[firefly--bright]

Blooming Hearts.

a jean kirstein x reader story - the edited version.

*the reader is implied to be fem, she/they pronouns used.

you never thought that the scent of spring flowers and the routine of freshly brewed tea would take you home - take you to the one person you wanted to meet the most.

your meeting with the universe was commemorated by him giving you his name.

✿

in other words ; a reincarnation a.u. where the characters remember each other after hearing their names for the first time.

warnings ; angst, aot spoilers, canon-typical violence and gore, death and grief.

!!!important a/n!!! ; this is a rewrite of my original story that was posted almost two years ago because I wasn't satisfied with the way I wrote it and how so many things were unexplained. the old series is still on my page, but I've decided to turn it into something that's hopefully a bit better.

series masterlist ;

✿ seeds

✿ germination

✿ growth // act one

✿ wilting

✿ rebirth.

✿ fic playlist ✿ fic visuals ✿ main masterlist is in pinned post! ✿ enter my taglist! ✿ also on ao3 and wattpad ✿

taglist ; @holding-infinity-and-a-book , @mrsnobodynobody , @hopeless-anti-romantic , @jeanscremebrulee , @berrijam , @happxme , @cherrypieyourface , @imgayandshesanime , @moonmalice , @kivernova , @potaho3frog , @xakilicious , @katestrophes

line dividers by @strangergraphics

[dcsertrose]

might as well upload my WIPs on here too.

here's some EMA for chapter 4 🫶🏽

[natsuki208]

One thing to note about Paradis! A World without Titans.

Eren still has most of his memories of his past life when there were titans. He sometimes suffers from flashes of these memories inside his mind, and during his sleep as well.

Although Eren brushes it off as just stupid nightmares. Not even his own father Grisha knows what’s causing this - him being a doctor and all.

It’s nerve wracking for the poor guy, so the only ones who he told about it our his parents, Armin and Mikasa.

[fgcz]

I see a lot of people doing reincarnation fics for Attack on Titan (and I love them).

But what about a "reverse" reincarnation?

The world that came before the walls was not the same as our modern world, but Liberio never lost knowledge of the technology and knowledge that had come about so we know roughly how life in the rest of the world looks.

Paradis did.

So why not a reincarnation of [insert ship of choice here] but they meet and then, well, whatever angle of soulmates you want I suppose? Maybe they meet and remember everything? Suddenly Paradis finding out about the world outside happens very differently. Or maybe even a complete canon divergence if it happens early enough.