#bee's insert

[amberluvsbugs]

Much-needed Rest

When Doey said "if you need to catch your breath, our safe haven is yours," I took that seriously. Anywho, take this much-needed comfort doodle.

[dylanmct00ny]

sonic brainworm came back and i went insane i have so many drawings help I'm trying to get good at drawing the characters in my style so that's why there is just a bunch of random guys!! ill probably draw more that I haven't yet at some point as well i also made a sonic self-insert a few months ago to selfship with mimic considering I've been selfshipping with him since 2023 now!!! cups is just me no crazy lore or anything hehehe

[royalelemental]

Don’t you just love it when they’d both rather bash their helms in than admit they caught feelings for each other? They’re both idiots your honor.

[sorsabruh]

The transformerphobes fucking shit up again and bro ain't letting that slide heh 😼

Joining the art trend tseehee :3c

[lorelune]

regency au jing yuan how you are haunting me.

(continued here!)

a retired general who at the ripe age of thirty five has never taken a wife. never showed any interest in procuring a spouse nor does he entertain any attempts by the mamas of the ton to throw their eligible children at him. he is a polite scoundrel, kind-hearted in a way that makes those with half a mind question how someone with his demeanor could ever be the famed general who's strategies downed Shuhu during the Abundance Upheaval. he doesn't seem to care for his legacy, as much as he has cultivated one. he doesn't mind gossip, but doesn't entertain it much either.

you only meet him due to fortunate circumstances.

lord Luocha, a successful travelling merchant, pledged patronage to you sometime ago. he keeps you in a little cottage on the grounds of his manor where you're allowed to mostly do as you please as long as there's a new painting hung on the lord's wall every few months or so. the lord likes when you play too. he brings back new instruments for you to try, though he never expects mastery. he has an air of mystery to him that, despite all of the time you spend near him, keeps you from understanding him fully. you aren't one to pry about it either.

lord luocha invites jing yuan over to partake in fancy spirits from a country and city you can't ever hope to visit, let alone find on a map. you bring lord luocha your newest work-- (a meticulously completed oil painting. something more abstract, suited to the odd lonely and isolation you feel in your little, cozy cottage, despite all of the comforts you are afforded)-- and happen upon the pair.

lord luocha examines your newest work with pride, and shortly after introduces you. 'his patron' he calls you, but offers jing yuan no title. you--

(do not have one. it was stripped from you a long time ago. you think being an artist suits you better, anyways.)

jing yuan offers you his name, though you already know it. you recognize him based on the prattling of the girls and boys at the market. they swoon over his stature, fawn over his good deeds, and make note of his identifiable red hair ribbon. he has the same soft, sun-colored eyes that you had heard the eligible young of the ton giggle about.

you bow to him politely.

you have no reason to linger, but luocha calls you to anyways. perhaps he is lonely. perhaps you want him to be lonely, so it gives you a reason to stick closer to his side in the rare moments he is home for more than a day or two. the proximity is shared with jing yuan, who regards you with keen eyes and a lazy smile. the attention upon you feels weighted, important, like you're something special.

you savor it, however fleeting.

perhaps, however, you misunderstood jing yuan. or lord luocha's intentions.

because as jing yuan rises to take his leave and you bow once more, he catches your hand, brings it to his lips, and presses a kiss into the soft skin. you're sure you smell of linseed and yarrow oil. he lingers there for a moment before meeting your gaze. there's a light of mischief in them that sends your heart fluttering. your breath catches.

when jing yuan is out of the manor, lord luocha pats your shoulder gently, "quite the man, isn't he?"

"i suppose... he is."

"you may speak freely."

"i am," you mince, and shake your head. you must be careful, entertaining such fanciful thoughts. "he is... kind."

"and handsome."

"lord luocha," you barely keep yourself from whining. "please, do not tease me. or the poor man. from what i hear, he has enough to deal with."

"the mamas do chase after him like foxes to a hen," lord luocha chuckles and studies your painting once more with a curious tilt of his head. "he'll ask to see you again, i'm certain."

"and why do you say that?"

"general jing yuan has never taken the hand of a potential suitor."

your heart feels heavy and warm in your chest, burning. "my lord, you cannot possibly think that this single action indicates that the general will... call upon me? that is highly unorthodox and i don't believe that's... quite allowed."

"jing yuan has never cared for the dances of decorum." lord luocha guides you into your gardens. the peonies are in bloom, full and lush in the humidity of late spring. "and, for the record, i don't believe he'll simply call upon you. court, properly, certainly."

"you're bluffing."

"what reason do i have to lie?"

"to tease me, as you so enjoy doing," you huff.

lord luocha simply hums and pauses near a bush of lilacs. they're fragrant, at the peak of their season. the scent rolls over you.

"if i truly intended to tease you, i simply would abstain from telling you of jing yuan's interest and allow you to be terribly surprised when he arrives and formally asks for you and your time. consider this a warning. i'll walk you to the modiste tomorrow, hm?"

you want to squawk at him. your linen dresses and tunics are fine (albeit smeared and stained with paints and oils over the years. you rarely bother replacing them.)

you want to protest and pry more, but lord luocha strikes you silent when he breaks off a cluster of lilac and tucks it behind your ear. he leaves you with your thoughts, however tortuous. and, perhaps horribly, you find yourself believing him. perhaps the warm-eyed general really was charmed. perhaps, your dresses needed replacing and you should contact your perfumer friend for a fresh vial or two.

perhaps perhaps perhaps, you can still feel where his lips lingered on your skin, like a brand. you never thought you could ache for burning, but in the gardens, you find yourself clutching your hand to your chest, craving the lick of the his sun's heat once more.

[twig---verginix]

way too sleepy for this but i love kris more and more now that there's additional layers overtop "i am controlling you and you are aware of that and frankly not super jazzed." there's like, jesus, you're keeping secrets from me now? you're somehow in kahoots with the scariest enemy we've seen so far? you have plans and machinations that i haven't had any part in. you're not just precociously shutting your eyes when i want to examine every inch of your personal spaces, a child maintaining some semblance of privacy and control, you're actively working against what I as the player understood to be our shared goal. we both like susie a lot but i think we're showing it in different ways and I think it's because you know things I don't and you WONT LET ME know them. and I THINK you might be conflicted about it but you aren't telling me for sure. and the more I tear apart your life looking for clues, the more complex and delightful and confusing you get. you're keeping secrets from me? from me, kris? the adult stranger tucked inside your chest?

[dis-plus-fanfic-reblog-writes]

Title: Middle of the Night

Rated: Teen

Word Count: 595

Characters: Logan Howlett, GN!Reader

Ao3 Link

A/N: I need cuddles, so I came up with this little bit. A surprise waking up to Logan in bed. Enjoy.

The haze of sleep begins to fade as you realize something woke you. You’re just not sure what yet. It isn’t until you shift that you find something very heavy across your back followed by humid air blowing across your neck. Goosebumps and a shiver run across your neck and down your back. Your confusion further awakens you as you try to pull yourself out of Morpheus’ grasp to find out what’s happening. It takes you a while as you find yourself going in and out of sleep. The next time you wake up, you find yourself lying on a very warm, soft but slightly rough and firm surface. You can feel the drool cooling on your cheek, knowing it’s on the surface but not caring. Not caring until you hear an amused huff of laughter from a man you work with. A man who has become your friend, probably your best friend. Someone is more than a man and just as deadly but sees you for you and you for him. Your mind rushes you awake as adrenaline pumps in your veins and your heart begins to pound.

You begin to sleepily shift to raise yourself but hear the man shush you running his hand through your hair, slightly tugging at the ends. You relax back against him, grumbling sleepily, having found a weakness of yours. You want to purr but are too tired.

“If I’d known it would be this easy to finally hold you, I’d have done this sooner,” he quietly rumbles against your ear.

Your brow slightly furrows at his words. You turn your head and find his lips mere centimeters from yours. He leans forward and gives a quick press of his lips to yours. You’ve concluded this is a dream and roll back over to go back to sleep. You tense up as you try to roll out of the man’s arms but his grip is gentle and immovable. You grunt your displeasure.

He chuckles in a whisper. He falls silent for a few minutes before asking, “Can I please keep holding you?”

You grunt noncommittally and relax in his hold. You shift against him, nuzzling against whatever skin your face finds of his, trusting him easily, and he allows you to move away as you readjust your sleep position. You slightly sit up just enough to move as you clumsily climb onto his torso, bury your face under his clavicle, breathe in his scent, and straddle his ridiculously sexy, rippling abdomen. You can feel him tense as you shift but ignore it. You take a deep breath, bringing your arms resting against his shoulders as if to encircle his neck and nuzzle against his chest. He relaxes a few seconds later and drags the blanket back over the both of you while he resettles on his back, chin to his chest with his arms laying across your back, watching you.

You can feel his gaze on you; mentally, you find it amusing. The big bad Wolverine is a cuddly teddy bear and you love it. Makes you suddenly wonder why he got into your bed. You make a note to ask in the morning. He probably had a nightmare. You’ve crawled into his bed before when you’ve had one so not surprised he has reciprocated. Feels good that he has.

Once your breathing evens out and your body fully relaxes against him, he buries his nose into your hair and breathes in your scent. He purrs, happily, finally able to have you in his arms when he wants.

[suksatoru]

it's the same "do i look like igaf" face

[traumatizedpomelo]

late!

this is my yuusona/self insert. i'm tired. i'm not even going to pretend it's not a self insert. i just want to draw myself having fun interactions with the twst characters.

(also, this might be the first time i've drawn myself on this blog...?)

[zivazivc]

I made a Trolls OC because of course I did. She is a bee herder and she's constantly covered in pollen.

[90sbee]

Sometimes a saviour is a soldier afraid of peace

Levi Ackerman x Fem!Reader

4.4k words. Also on ao3.

He looks at her in quiet admiration.

He doesn’t deserve her. But again, he doesn’t really deserve anything. He already has gotten too much: spoiled by the sweet possibility of life when all his comrades have fallen, their bodies twisted, mangled by titans and enemies alike.

Levi hardly cries, but he wants to cry in that moment. She turns on the stove for him, and rummages through his cabinets. She finds two cups and a sob is trapped inside his throat.

He doesn’t fucking understand why she stays, why she puts up with his sorry ass but, damn it. Damn it if he at least doesn’t try.

The war is over, but the demons still haunt Levi. Luckily for him, the last member of his Squad seems focused on remaining by his side as they both face this new enemy: peace.

This was !!! My first fic written in English, actually. Also my first (and only time so far) writing for aot. Levi is such an angsty angel, and this story wouldn’t leave my head, so I had to end up writing it, ofc. This has been in the drafts for... months. Too many months already. And tbh I'm not a fan of how it came out. But. Posting it in case someone else can enjoy Levi finally getting some love and comfort, sjsjs.

Content: Use of 3rd person pronouns. No use of y/n. Mostly Levi's pov. Reader was part of his Squad. Post!Rumbling Levi. Written with the manga ending in mind. A lot of fluff, rude Levi even if he doesn't mean it (but reader knows he means no harm). Healing. Spooning (Levi as the little spoon btw. He deserves it).

Warnings: depressive thoughts, self confidence issues. Mentions of past violence (but nothing gruesome, it's all in passing). SFW. No beta reader we die like everybody in Aot here.

They always meet. Every single day, she leaves her little flat to find him near the fountain in the Marleyan park, eager to push his wheelchair and pass some time with him.

Levi doesn’t understand. When Onyankopon, or Falco, or Gabi let her take the wheelchair, he just ponders. He could understand why they would accompany him: because he is old? because they feel pity of him?… But her?

Nonetheless, every single afternoon, she comes to him. He doesn’t recall when this custom began. It’s like slowly, but surely, she started digging a place into his routine. She was part of his remaining squad, and he really didn’t see any point to her bubbling-self still being by his side.

Still, he appreciates her visits. She exchanges pleasantries with Gabi, already smiling. Why is she smiling?

“Hi, Captain,” she says. Should he feel mocked? He isn’t a captain anymore and the title feels too much, even if it’s comforting in some way. Levi doesn’t reply. He just nods, silently acknowledging her presence. “Is it okay if we go to the stalls for a while, Captain?” She inquires, as if it was the first time they did it, and not a weekly occurrence. His jaw tenses. He doesn’t understand, still. She surely pities him. She has to.

He agrees to her proposal, though.

“Sure,” he replies, barely any emotion on his face.

She smiles at him. For a moment, they look at each other. She sees that familiar scarred face, a grey eye gazing into her soul. He sees the older face of her remaining squad member, some wrinkles next to her eyes, her figure dressed in green. For some reason, he liked that colour on her.

He doesn’t share that with her, though.

“Let’s get going,” she adds, a little chuckle in her voice — he can hear it — as she starts pushing the wheelchair. They check out the little shops that are already so familiar. Sometimes she signals a piece of jewellery or clothes. She asks for his opinion, or points at a silly artwork, in hopes of making him laugh.

When the cold starts to set in, she stops them in front of a coffee shop.

“Wait here a second, Captain,” she tells him.

“Where would I go, anyway?” He wants to say, snarky, but he doesn’t really bother in opening his mouth. He stays silent still, perking his head up to see what’s she’s doing.

“Oi. coffee?” He complains.

She directs her gaze to him and chuckles, paying the vendor.

“I know you like tea but it’s time to broaden your horizons,” she explains. She comes up to him again, and hands him one of the cups. He sighs, but accepts the drink still.

“What is it this time?”

“Just chocolate. Hot chocolate,” she answers, already sipping hers.  She lets out a content sigh when the warmth of it starts to fill her belly.

“I don’t like chocolate,” Levi mutters under his breath. He is lying and she knows it.

“Tsk. That’s not true. Everybody likes chocolate.”

“… Fine,” he sips his drink and, admittedly, enjoys it. She hands him her drink so she can push the wheelchair again, and he takes it, guarding both cups on his lap, a familiar action for the two of them now.

“Where do we go?” She asks.

Levi shrugs. “As if I had a choice.”

She looks at him still, and when he can see her, barely from his peripheral vision, he sees a softer face. She’s waiting for his reply. He looks at her, looks at her lips. She isn’t smiling anymore. Levi sighs, suddenly feeling guilty.

He doesn’t understand still why she does this for him.

“Captain?” She says, just above a whisper, since there are people around them and they both just want to have a calm evening, without the risk of being recognised.

Levi nods before he even opens his mouth.

“The bridge.”

“Good,” she agrees as he sips from his drink again, guided by her. He does feel warmer. Levi inspects the people around him in silence, letting himself be carried, taken to a nicer place. “Hange would have like this,” he thinks. He looks down to suddenly realise he is clenching his fist, hard. “If you could even call it a hand…”

“We’re here, Captain,” she announces, letting his wheelchair rest next to a bench, overlooking the water. She takes a seat next to him, and Levi hands her the drink. He wonders if she noticed how tense he’s been feeling today.

“Be quick with that, brat, or it will get cold,” he warns, as if to pre-emptively shut down any words from her. He’s not sure he could handle it.

She just nods.

“It’s still warm,” she mentions after a moment.

The sunset is taking its place on the sky, a beautiful palette of oranges and pinks against a very flat horizon. A reminder of what was once lost.

“Good,” he says.

Levi looks at her. She is still looking forward, features illuminated by the falling sun, breeze caressing her face. There is something in his heart that aches, but he doesn’t want to think about that. He doesn’t dare to. Levi is old, too old, and too broken. And she only pities him.

He coughs to catch her attention, though.

“Hmh, yeah?” She immediately says.

“I heard the Scouts were going back to Paradis tomorrow,” he begins, the question lingering in the air. The small group was leaving first time in the morning.

“Yep.”

Levi blinks, expecting her to say more, but she doesn’t. He doesn’t want to ask. It feels… too much. He feels too exposed doing that, lower lip trembling.

“Are you going?” He finally dares to ask.

She turns back to him again, and looks at him with the sweetest gaze. Levi doesn’t miss how she looks at his lips first.

“I’m not.”

“Why?”

“I don’t have anything there,” she replies, matter-of-factly. Levi wants to hit his head against something, still uncertain about what that means. Does that mean that she has something here? Someone?

She must notice his doubts, so she lowers her gaze. “I mean. You know I lost my family during my first years as a Scout. And knowing that we tried to stop Eren… All the military forces in the island won’t be very happy to see me. Or any of us. I’ve done my part. I do not want more fighting.”

“… Right”. That still doesn’t answer his question, but it is enough to satisfy his curiosity without seeming to eager. He sips his drink again: it’s getting colder.

“You didn’t want to go, Captain?” There it was again, that fucking title that felt like a joke. He chuckles, not looking at her anymore but rather at the sunset.

“Why do you still call me like that?” He spits back.

“Captain?”

“Yeah,” His tone is unintentionally rude, but he can’t help it, not even around her.

“Well… It’s a sign of respect, don’t you think?”

Levi chuckles, amused.

“I never took you for a polite person.” He doesn’t want to look at her still. She hasn’t added anything, said anything else. What is she thinking of?

She looks at him. There’s a warmth in her belly which has nothing to do with the chocolate anymore. She knows: Her Captain has been way more vulnerable and open since the Rumbling. The little gestures that he could so easily hide before are now an open book. Or at least she feels that way, since she was always one to look at him.

It was so easy to just… stare at him. Admire him in every sense of the word, even now. When they were both soldiers they would fight alongside each other, against innumerable dangers. He was barely visible in the spectrum: always so fast, always so precise. A ray of dark hair and strong limbs, destroying everything to provide peace, to provide protection.

There was no point in denying how she felt about him… Except, maybe, to him.

“I don’t think I would like going back to Paradis,” she finally adds, finishing her drink. He seems to reflect on that idea for a moment, before nodding. He wants to ask why but he doesn’t dare to. “I’m just… comfortable here,” she finishes with a sigh. “This is okay.”

“That’s good,” he says, barely a spark of enthusiasm in his voice, but enough for her to notice.

She looks up at him again. And he feels tiny and scared suddenly, because she looks at him with wonder and care. Levi doesn’t mean to, but he ends up letting his drink fall from his hands, whether due to his nervousness or the state of his hand after the war.

“Shit,” he spits, upset.

“Sh, it’s alright, Captain.” In a second she is picking up the cup, handing him a handkerchief to dry his hands. She walks a few steps to throw both cups into a trashcan and is again, by his side. Such a quick interaction so as to ease his shame, he could notice it. “Are you alright?”

Levi still doesn’t know. He doesn’t know why she still treats him with such respect, why she seems to care so much for him. But he wants to find out, somehow. He barely nods, but she notices it.

“Good,” she says, while taking the handkerchief back. She is about to put it into her bag again when she feels a hand grabbing hers.

Levi.

He doesn’t even say anything. He doesn’t know how. She seems to understand, though, squeezing his hand, softly. Levi quickly lets her hand go, his cheeks going red. She gets behind the wheelchair again, as the sun is about to disappear, and Levi can hear her chuckling.

“Let’s get you home, Captain.”

He stays quiet, unsure if he could even say something useful.

There’s so much he doesn’t know how to say. How to do.

While she is pushing his chair he notices it again. A slight tremor in her right hand. “My wrist seems to ache lately… Must be from holding the blades for so many years,” she had explained in passing a couple weeks ago. He realises that it’s probably taking a strain on her to push him every fucking day.

“Oi,” he says.

“Yeah?”

“Stop pushing me. I can handle it,” he explains, tone serious.

“Oh, no,” her hand is trembling still. “It’s fine, it’s no bother for me, Captain.”

“… It’s an order,” he commands after a moment. She stops in her tracks and he can hear a gentle laugh coming from behind him.

“It had been a while since that, huh.” Confidently, she places one of her hands on his shoulder, gently tapping it. Levi smiles. Barely curving his lips, but he does. He is about to be brave, hold her hand on his shoulder when she removes it from him. “Shit,” he thinks. “Too slow… Too slow? Slow for what? Tsk.”

Despite his missing fingers, he can still push his wheelchair quite properly. It also helps that he can see his street far ahead. She walks comfortably besides him, a silence and gentle ghost as his most devoted companion.

Yeah. There’s definitely something aching in his chest. He had been noticing the past days, feeling getting more painful as they both approach his place. And it has nothing to do with his faulty joints or damaged body or excessive age.

When they reach his door, she asks for his key. Levi gives it to her, his hand lingering for a second too long, reflecting on the brief touch of hands as she grabs it to unlock the door.

He is tired.

And he feels incredibly silly when he realises he doesn’t want her to leave.

“There we go, Captain. I help you in?” she suggests with a bright smile, opening the door.

“… Yes.”

She steps inside and pushes the chair into his living room, almost getting it next to his couch.

“That’s enough” he decides, in a semblance of independency he still wants to maintain.

She nods. “Okay… I guess… I’ll get going, Captain.”

Levi lifts up his gaze. He wants to ask… He wants to know… He savours her image for a moment, her tired expression and the way her dress now looks clumsy and wrinkled but he doesn’t care. Before, before everything had ended up like this he would remind every single cadet to iron their uniforms, all the outfits presentable, so as to look like respectable soldiers and honourable bodies if the occasion arose. Now she can have the privilege of looking messy. Of not worrying about death so often.

“No,” he mutters.

“Huh?” she inquires, taking a step forward.

“Shit,” Levi thinks. “I… I want tea,” he makes up a quick lie.

“Oh, sure. Yes, Captain.” She leaves her bag on the couch and goes into the kitchen, getting a kettle full of water.

He looks at her in quiet admiration.

He doesn’t deserve her. But again, he doesn’t really deserve anything. He already has gotten too much: spoiled by the sweet possibility of life when all his comrades have fallen, their bodies twisted, mangled by titans and enemies alike.

Levi hardly cries, but he wants to cry in that moment. She turns on the stove for him, and rummages through his cabinets. She finds two cups and a sob is trapped inside his throat.

He doesn’t fucking understand why she stays, why she puts up with his sorry ass but, damn it. Damn it if he at least doesn’t try.

He stands up. His body still holds that ability, though his legs get tired rather quickly. He can still walk, so he does until he reaches the kitchen. She is still deciding on the teas when she sees him.

“Oh, no, Captain, please, just don’t…”

He interrupts her, grabs her waist carelessly and pushes her towards the couch, barely moving her.

“Let me handle it myself.”

“Levi…” She whispers, their faces inches apart.

“Go. Sit,” he mumbles, biting his lips and sending his eyes lower, so as to avoid her face.

“Are you sure?” She inquires a moment after, still close to him. He notices she has a hand on his waist as well, a protective aid making sure he stays on two feet.

“Yes,” he says, more commanding this time. He grabs that hand of hers and pushes her away gently now.

She nods, understandingly.

“I’ll be in the living room,” she adds.

Levi nods at her, making sure she finally gets that ass of hers in the couch. He is now faced with his kitchen. Most of the cups and teas, everything has been moved lower, so as to accommodate to his wheelchair. Slowly, he kneels, searching for a specific flavour for her. When he finally finds the peppermint and rose one, he mentally cheers. He stands up again, slowly, as if to show confidence, making sure from his peripheral view that she isn’t coming to his aid.

She isn’t. He catches her averting her eyes, though. A confirmation that she has been staring.

He decides to stare as well. Supporting himself on his weakened legs, he waits for the kettle to boil, while looking at her. It’s as if she could notice that, because her head doesn’t move, still fixated on an indescriptible point in his living room.

“Oi, what you looking at?” He says, a bit more light-hearted.

A smile forms on her lips before she even turns her head towards him. She doesn’t answer. Just keeps smiling at him.

“Fuck,” he thinks when he realises he has also slightly curved his lips.

Quickly he turns towards the stove, the kettle already boiling. Levi carefully fills the cups with water, letting the leaves rest. He lifts his gaze up to her for a second but it is already enough for her to notice.

“Need help with the cups?” Her, always so worried, so in tune with his needs. No need for words.

“Of fucking course.”

Still, the only answer he gives her is a polite nod. She stands up, approaching him.

“I’ll handle it, Captain. Just take a seat.”

He lets out a sigh, taking himself to the couch and plopping himself there.

“It’s hard,” Levi thinks as he sees her come back to the living room, two cups in her hands. He accepts the drink, his gaze not leaving her features. “I… I can’t.”

He knows he can’t accept kindness: he doesn’t know how to. Still, he tenses his jaw and forces himself to sip the tea as she takes a seat next to him.

“Peppermint, huh?” She hums mostly to herself.

 “… Yeah,” comes out of his mouth, unsure, less braver than expected. Is he insecure? Has he made a mistake?

“Good choice” She declares and he breathes again, realising that he had been holding his breath. “Bet you already knew that, right?” She adds, cocking her head.

Levi looks at her again. He has been avoiding her eyes but he hadn’t been trained as a soldier to back down in times of peace.

“I did,” he says, his tone firm, a very weak attempt at showing confidence still. “It’s the one you would always ask for when we would have meetings with the Scouts.”

“It’s good tea.” Her tone seems softer now.

Levi hums, too deep inside his mind to notice it.

She wonders. Wonders if he has ever realized that the only reason she would wander through the headquarters late at night was just to be found and reprimanded by him, the way she would be easily entertained by Levi’s stern face. Wondered if Hange had ever told him about the time she had fallen asleep in their office and woke up, mumbling his name, much to Hange’s delight, though they had promised to keep it a secret.

He looks down at his legs, at his carpeted floor.

He wonders if she had ever noticed the way he would mindlessly lick his lips after looking at her, the boring uniform suddenly a beautiful outfit, making her stand out. Wonders if it was too late to tell her that, yes, after Hange and her had found him, and stitched him up, that he had heard every single word she had uttered near his heart, softly pressing her timid hands on his chest. There hadn’t been time then to discuss anything or even think if it had meant anything else than old scouts being protective of each other, but now…

They finish their teas in silence. It isn’t uncomfortable, rather the opposite, despite the fact that Levi has started nervously tapping his feet against the floor. It is dark outside already, the light from the lamps flowing into Levi’s house, a dog barking a few blocks away.

She stands up, makes sure to wash her cup in the sink and put it away before returning to him.

“Captain?” She mutters. No need for more words.

Levi hands her the cup with slow movements, as if trying to prolong that insignificant action for as long as possible. And when she is already about to head into the kitchen, little plate and teacup in her hand, he decides to be brave. No more lying to himself, no more being a coward. Too many people have died, have bleed, have sacrificed the little they had for a selected group of survivors to be able to live. To enjoy the remaining Earth. For the little ones that survived to be able to find some meaning. Something worth all the pain.

Basking in the fear serves no one. In fact, makes all the death meaningless.

So, Levi looks up at her and grabs her hand, even if he is scared still. Trembling fingers dancing on hers until they secure her hand softly in his. He feels warm even if he doesn’t know what to say, how to convey what he feels. Such a shadow of the man he was. So stupid now.

Levi just wants her to say.

She gasps at the contact but quickly composes herself. A shy smile showing up on her face. They stay like that for a moment, neither daring to break the silence.

“Levi?” She asks after a moment, moving closer to his face, as if asking for permission.

He can only look at her lips in reply.

She shortens the distance between them and kisses him on his lips. It isn’t a big kiss, too flashy or provocative: just a tender contact between two broken people. As soon as he has processed what was going on, she has already moved forward, pressing a kiss on the tip of his nose.

And then, even higher, another kiss on his forehead, her lips remaining close to his face. Levi can’t say anything. Barely reacting. But when she looks at his eyes, she is greeted by the sweet glimmer of tears in them.

Levi. Happy, at last.

And as if reading his mind, she utters: “Do you want me to stay, Levi?”

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

She complies. In the quiet, late hours of the night, Levi wakes up, his body feeling too rested already. It was a habit hard to break, he wouldn’t sleep much anyway. He sighs still, feeling her body pressing against his, holding him from behind. She has one hand on his shoulder, the other keeping him safe and secured, hugging his waist close. He dares to smile and grab that hand across his belly with both of his hands, so as to make sure that it is real: he is being held. There is someone else with him. Levi isn’t alone. Someone is taking care of him. Someone he’s been devoted to for so many years.

He wants to nuzzle up closer, hide in her chest or neck and feel more.

But he doesn’t dare to. He can’t allow himself to do that yet. 

So he stays awake in silence, hearing the soothing and steady rhythm of her heartbeat.

Levi still doesn’t understand, though.

He doesn’t want to think of why she has chosen him, how he got this privilege so late in his life, when all hope seems to be lost and the thought of a partner didn’t cross his mind at all. He also doesn’t know what to do with this gift, this blessing. Why? How? He is such a crippled shadow of what he used to be. Slow, so consumed by roughness and violence and so useless now.

He has always had something to fight for: his life, his friends, his Squad, Erwin, Hange. Yet since the Rumbling he has just… fallen behind. He is just existing and it seems like his body has finally caught up to his age: no longer agile and strong, but a weakened man, finally leaving the survival mode that has characterised every single aspect of his life. He doesn’t have any goals or dreams now. Everything had been slowly trampled down like the titans destroying all land and all life.

He shivers, remembering that day and holds her hand tighter.

Once he had completed the promise made to Erwin, his last order, he had nothing more. No more commands. No more slaying titans.

Just existing.

He doesn’t want that. He has been a fighter, a rebel, a monster his whole life. He only knew of endurance and compliance with the spirit of life, of resistance. He doesn’t know of anything else: the calmness, the quietness, the routine walks and just reading books and sitting on his porch… That is not him. That isn’t life. Being able to choose things for himself, devour life gently and enjoy it instead of painfully trying to keep it close, to grip it between calloused fingers… Peace isn’t familiar.

He has nothing to devote himself to, nothing to prove or fight for.

“Yeah,” he thinks. “Everything is… meaningless… Or it was.”

He closes his eyes, relinquishing himself in the warm body against his.

Some things… Some things have meaning still.

Her.

The way she would scrunch her nose when laughing or buy him drinks or attempt to make him laugh or wear that damn stupid wrinkled dress and — “Fuck. I know her so much by now…”

She had been a Scout too. She had fought and devoted her heart and did everything a Scout had to do. She had fulfilled her duty in the same way he did. She has survived and she doesn’t regret a single thing. Not even this life.

She is at peace.

He wants to sob.

He doesn’t understand peace. Sure, it was his goal, what he always dreamed of, but, damn it. Levi had never thought he would actually get to see something resembling it. Unlike her. She understood what it was: she has accepted peace with open arms and a smile that — fuck, somehow— has been shining on her face throughout the years. Despite so much pain and death…  She still allows herself to fucking live in peace. She forgave herself for the death, for the pain and crimes and let go.

He isn’t sure if he can do the same.

Peace is foreign, strange even. An oddity. And he isn’t stupid, he knows that time would run up someday and that things would turn against them for a second time.

But, still, the promise of the rest of his life in peace lingers.

He could have it.

He fucking could.

Levi reflects on those thoughts for a moment, silent still.

He thinks he can get to an agreement. Maybe, when she wakes up in the morning, he can try to spill his soul to her a little. Try to understand how she handles this life, how she can get up in the mornings after killing so much, and just have tea with him.

But for now, in the quietness of the night, as the old warrior he was, he does the only thing he knows: he promises to dedicate his heart once more.

He finally has a reason, a purpose, something worth protecting again.

Levi lifts his hand, crossing it on his chest the way all Scouts would do. But he doesn’t press it on his heart, but rather, moves it to hold her hand, the one resting on his shoulder. He squeezes it gently, suddenly feeling too overwhelmed by her. By the silent love she had been proclaiming to him all these years and that he couldn’t reciprocate before.

Yes. Now it is the time.

Levi would dedicate his heart once more.

To her and only her.

That may have been the cheesiest ending ever written but !!!! He deserves it, I know. Also someone stop me before I write for Hange, the feelings got to me indeed. Dividers by @/cafekitsune @/saradika and @/vase-of-lilies

[crossbackpoke-check]

blessed be (lorscher bienensegen) | telling the bees (wiþ ymbe)

"Bees" [remixed, abridged], Claudia Emerson // "Letter to Someone Living Fifty Years from Now" [remixed. abridged], Matthew Olzmann // "Letter to my Great, Great Grandchild" [remixed, abridged], J.P. Grasser | Len Redkole, Nina Weiss, Brian Babineau, Christian Peterson, Mitchell Leff, Dave Isaac, Megan DeRuchie

[niamhthefae]

just got home and finally read the newest chapter. What the fuck was that?

[insert-the-4thwall-entity]

mc movie fanart i made last night -

[beepeircings]

~•°▪︎☢️~💝▪︎°•~ ~•°▪︎☢️~💝▪︎°•~

Lifesteal first canonical yuri wedding on january call that happy yuri [ <- yuri pronounced as new year ]

Also doodads or whatever

[tokoats]

―୨୧⋆ ˚

don’t you ever have cute aggression whenever you see your f/o? wanting to squish and bite them then keeping them in your pocket is a absolute must :3!!