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[smartelds]

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[losttimpactt]

A new viewpoint on antlers reveals the evolutionary history of deer (Cervidae, Mammalia)

fullview recommended!

something i've wanted to do for a while now. i've scoured the internet for something like this and can't find anything that compares all the different types of antlers together. except one recent study on their evolution, which is also very interesting on its own! i simplified it to provide a visual reference, while still trying to be scientifically accurate. some things differ between this and trophy scoring terminology like where the beam is and whatnot, so if something looks weird that's why.

small additional note, this study and others provide a lot of evidence that eld's deer should be in their own genus as it doesn't appear similar enough to barasingha and schomburgk's deer. however this doesn't seem to be adapted anywhere yet, so they're still in Rucervus for this guide.

🔴 KO-FI

⚫ COMMISSION INFO

[jaythes1mp]

Hi can you please make a yandere batfam meeting a merfolk reader or what your headcanonns on how that would go especially if reader is willing to stay and maybe even help with the more aquatic stuff of vigilante work

Definitely! This is some general stuff, a link to the chapter once I’ve written it will be added at the end. If everyone could please cast votes for what you’d rather before I start writing it, would be great!

Anon, I know your initial ask wasn’t really a request, but I want to write this. Haha… hope you don’t mind.

Yandere Batfam x Merfolk Reader

In the early stages of your involvement with the BatFamily, when their obsessions with you are just beginning to form, they would seek out your assistance in their crime fighting endeavours. This is under the assumption that you’re already a well known vigilante of sorts. Their obsession growing after they encounter and become acquainted with you. Learning of your skills, and how your kind can help them if any villains were to take their fight to the water surrounding Gotham’s edges.

But once the Bat's obsession has matured into a deep, twisted fascination, they would never allow you near the battlefield. Their possessive nature would take over, and they would be unable to bear the thought of you being hurt or even fighting others. Even if you were incredibly powerful, their protective instincts would render it moot the moment they have their possessive grasp on you, effectively ending your crime fighting days.

However, if you were not affiliated with any vigilante work from the beginning, the BatFamily would never even entertain the idea. Their fixation would target you on a personal level, rather than the dynamic of needing crime fighting assistance.

They might encounter you under various circumstances, such as: (numbered 1,2,3,4.)

By chance along Gotham’s shores, accidentally stumbling upon you.

You were caught in a trap, leading to your capture and confinement at Wayne Enterprises research facility. <- my favourite

One of the Bat’s had suffered an injury that sent them plummeting deep into the waters of Gotham, but just as they’re about to loose consciousness you swim them up to the surface. Saving them.

Or you may take the initiative on your own accord, reeling in one of the batfamily for either help or sustenance. The rest of the family coming to the rescue only to learn that you’re non threatening, and that the chosen member is cuddling into your side.

They would grow unhealthily fixated on you. Attached. Every aspect of your appearance and your mysterious species would fascinate them. The thought alone that you could survive in the harsh dangerous waters of Gotham without Bruce’s high-tech equipment ever detecting your existence baffling them. This would spark a curiosity turned obsession that would drive them to uncover everything about you, no matter the cost. Their intrigue shifting into a deeper, twisted form of love.

Initially, they would design a high-tech enclosure for you at the Wayne Manor, meticulously crafted to provide everything you need to thrive and more. Which you willingly enter, unaware that you’re under their watchful eyes, who monitor your every move, their fascination growing.

Under the vigilante route, where you’ve allied yourself with the family, you would move to the manor to discuss and plan out operations aimed at capturing and stopping a villain who was terrorising the city. Your presence there would foster a bond between you, as they relied on your skills and knowledge to aid them.

Voluntarily travelling there to discuss plans and strategies to combat with the villain and future perpetrators who has target Gotham.

Versus the ‘found’ routes, where you’d go because you trust them.

1 & 4 -> You would go to the Wayne Manor intrigued and fascinated to explore an entirely new place. Having only known of Gotham’s currents before, the thought of learning about human culture piques your interest. Contrary to the ominous warnings from the Elder Mers, these humans have been nothing but kind. They haven’t tried to harm you in any way, neither confining you in cages nor cutting you up to consume you, nor taking your scales. The Elder Mers must have misled you! The BatFamily is proving to be nothing but sweet and welcoming. What’s the harm in staying with them for a little while? You’re sure your clan won’t even realise that you’re gone.

2 -> You would either have no choice in the matter, as you were considered the Wayne’s property under the public’s eyes, Or you would leave under a negotiation with one of them. Desperate to escape from the constant scrutiny of the scientists who eye you as nothing more than a piece of meat. Their tests leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable, had become unbearable, with the small transparent tank doing nothing to offer you comfort or refuge. A public spectacle being observed daily by prying eyes. You’d do anything to never have to become an experiment for these humans ever again.

3 -> They would invest months, devoting themselves to understanding your life, gradually winning you over with their kindness. Persuading you to reciprocate their efforts by visiting the enclosure they had meticulously designed specifically for you. You were fascinated by their accomplishment, having built a structure that seamlessly connected to every room within their manor. Slowly you visited more often, their efforts touching you deeply. They had created this for you. Maybe humans weren’t all bad…

Whichever route you take, the end result is the same; they become deeply, unhealthily obsessed with you. Having them hold you captive, their obsession transforming into an intense, lasting fixation. They would have no intention of ever letting you go, keeping you confined in their carefully crafted webs, for the rest of your life, never permitting you to escape their grasp. Their desire for you becoming all-consuming, forever entrapping you within their influence.

Please vote for which of them you’d like to see most!

Romantic or platonic? Tell me in the comments or anon asks, please.

[captainleviswifee]

If you dare...

Tags/TW/context (idk💀): Alcohol, sfw, y/n fem reader, reader is a squad leader, Attack on Titan, Levi Ackerman, lighthearted, established close friendship and partnership between you and Levi, you and Levi are in denial of your feelings for each other and Hange knows it, Hange is just lowkey tired of this back and forth.

Edit: you can use extensions, or apps to replace y/n with the name of your choice.

The night is blooming, the moon's graceful glow upon you and your comrades in the clearing of the Old Headquarters of the Survey Corps. The tall trees, both vivacious trees and pine trees standing tall around your merry group, providing shelter from the fog of the evening. Not too far from the headquarters, but also not too near in the vicinity to avoid disrupting the working higher-ups, or the resting scouts in their in the assigned shared quarters of their barracks. Regardless, even without the protection of the trees, the fog won't be stopping this small gathering of you and your comrades. An survey mission had just ended. It's a small mission led by you, in order to train you. Nothing too exciting just this small group of scouts surveying ahead, and placing supplies ahead of the expedition route that's due in next week. Although the mission is a success with the least amount of deaths so far, it wasn't without sacrifices. You sit relaxed with a drink of your own on one of the chairs. Beside you are your comrades, your subordinates, the Levi Squad in some of the chairs and benches, and then Hange accompanied by Moblit who sat beside her. All forming a complete circle with a table of food in the middle of the circle then a burning bonfire right beside it. Keeping this small gathering of people warm from the evening fog. In some of these seats are soldiers, scouts who fought bravely. At the cost of a missing leg, or an arm, or maybe even missing screws after facing the dark reality that the titans bring outside the Walls this very recent expedition. Yet despite, what they have experienced, they sit there merry with a drink on their uninjured free hands. Largely due to the part that Hange, Oruo, Gunther, and Eld are leading the conversation of this humble party.

A farewell party to be exact. The last night of these maimed soldiers in the military before they return to their status as simple civilians. In a way, Commander Erwin allowed this to happen just so the soldiers would go home with at least smiles on their faces. Smile of relief from surviving, or the smile from this small gathering and the events would occur later are sure bound to kick up a merry chat between their waiting families instead of the horrors outside walls as their main topic.

"Ah, it's your turn!" The bottle spins and points at you. "What?" And you break out from your deepest of thoughts, maybe because of the battle analysis reports, survey reports, and whole another bunch of papers you'll submit tomorrow, or maybe because of the watchful gaze a certain pair of steel blue gray eyes.

"Everyone's been pulling up 'Truths' this whole time, would you care for a dare instead?" Hange smiles cheeky at you, as she asks you at gunpoint in front of your comrades. "A dare?" Your question sounding more like a refusal. "C'mon please? It's nothing hard I swear. It'll be just like how easy you killed four titans this recent mission, right boys?" And your comrades and subordinates alike jeered at the thought. You were quite in a good form, the past mission and now that you're in this spot like this. With their mood like that, you don't want these soldier's last night to be with you being a killjoy of the night. You gave Hange a look before responding, "Alright what's the dare?" "Sweet! Well it's nothing hard, I just want you to kiss someone." Hange playfully answers giving a certain midget sipping tea at the edge of the circle, a knowing look. Fully aware of Levi's gazes at you. Or how he would sparingly brew the tealeaves you gifted him. Or how he would scold you as he checks up on you at the hospital after each mission, Hange gave a knowing look at Levi barely noticed by their comrades. The latter only returned a glare, barely noticeable in between sips of his tea. "The what? Hange, you can't be serious." You respond. You may be a little tipsy, but you still have your wits about you. "It'll be fine, unless..." Hange trails off, "Unless it means something to you of course. Were you saving it for someone?" She quips, her tone now growing teasingly playful. It didn't help that the rest of the Levi Squad, your subordinates, basically everyone's got their eyes and ears on you now. Giving in to either get peer pressured to saying something akin to confession—

'It wont be a confession,' You stubbornly think.

Well it's either you get peer pressured into saying something you may or may not regret, you decide to just go with the dare. At least in a dare there's a chance that the very act will be considered, 'not of any significant meaning to you.'

"Alright, I'll complete the dare. You guys owe me a drink for this one." You say with a smile pointing to the rest of the crowd, primarily to Hange. You scan your surroundings to look for a specific person who you know wouldn't take this dare personally or seriously. He may be a few centimeters smaller than you, but it did not take you long enough to find him sitting at the edge of the circle. Drinking tea instead of alcohol, he looks at you his blue-gray eyes displaying deadpan expression. "Is it okay if I pick you?" You ask for consent walking up to him with his side facing you. Casual form drinking tea amidst the tensing sensual atmosphere fueled by the expectant gazes of your comrades. His jaw clenches for a split second before nodding nonchalantly. His steel blue gaze, maintaining his composure. Bringing his cup a little lower from his lips, he remained sitting as he was. His side still facing you.

"Alright," You give a smile before placing one of your knee to his seat for support, you other hand crawling up behind him, to gain purchase of the seat he is leaning on to. And your other free hand cupping his chin, lightly with your fingers as you lean your face closer to his steel blue gaze.

In response, his body stiffens evidently caught off guard by this sudden act of intimacy. He fought back the shivers that run along his spine and his jaw subtly clenches as maintained his indifferent expression.

You lean in closer, and closer. Intensifying the already sensual tension caused by her own intimate actions.

Only to give him a light kiss on his cheek.

'They only said a kiss after all, they didn't say where.' You cleverly think, avoiding making a spectacle of yourself and drag Levi in this.

Disappointed murmurs hint the chorus of their comrades and Hange nodding with a light chuckle in amusement, "Ha! Well played, y/n." Spinning the bottle once more, "Next dare!"

When you pulled away and returned to your seat downing a glass in one big gulp, Levi didn't look at you or anyone at that moment. He just sat there with the memory of your lips, warm on his skin.

He sat there drinking his tea in silence. He wasn't drinking any alcohol at all.

And yet,

Why are his ears red?

[quillsandblades]

A Minute of Rest

Based on the art by @shunkani

Dancing candle flames and the muted glow of the lanterns swam before her eyes. Hange Zoe would swap tedious hours of paperwork with titan or—as these days demanded—technological research any time. The mechanisms of a rail engine or the complex arrangements and workings of gears and wires were certainly more suited for her exhausted brain than planning the next steps of their alliance with Hizuru.

Nevertheless, it wasn’t like she had much of a choice. With a sigh, she adjusted her glasses and pulled another sheet towards herself. Yellow parchment, embedded with small black text. Shadows flickered around the words. Her brain caught fragments of them.

Diplomatic relations with Hizuru date back to more than a century ago . . .

The unique characteristics of the Iceburst stone enable . . .

Potential reason of interest . . .

. . . cornered nation . . . no other country tolerates Eld . . .

She hunched over the table, squinting at the document, willing her mind to turn the words over and whip out a solution. There was a throbbing in her temples, and her back was stiff. But no, they had to plan their next moves; Hizuru had extended a hand of friendship and provided Paradis with ample resources for research about the outer world. She had to go through it all, understand the stance and motives of as many countries as she could. She wasn’t going to consider Hizuru as a reliable ally though, they were more concerned with Mikasa and the Iceburst stone rather than a good future for Paradis.

Hange slumped over her desk, face hidden in her arms. She was so tired of dealing with hate and mistrust and selfish, close-minded people. So tired.

A door opened behind her; quiet, measured footsteps sounded.

Levi.

A scraping sound on her desk followed by the weight of a hand on her shoulder.

‘Hange,’ his voice was low and made something warm and soothing unfurl in her stomach.

‘Mmm?’

‘Get your ass in bed if you’re so tired.’

She lifted her head. Levi was standing beside her, shadows playing upon his face; there was a cup of steaming tea on her desk. She sighed, pulling another paper towards herself, ‘Can’t.’

‘Your brain won’t understand shit in this state. Get some rest, a few hours won’t hurt.’

Oh yes they would. She squeezed her eyes shut. Time was precious, if she slept now who knows how many seconds, how many minutes would trickle through her fingers like water, and then she’d wake up, regretting it, because she could have done more research, maybe she’d have found answers, but then it would be morning and everyone would be awake and bustling about, and her presence would be demanded everywhere, and there’d be meetings where Zackly and Pixis and Lady Azumabito would stare at her, asking for their next moves, and whether she’d figured out something or not, but she’d just sit there with a blank face because she was so damn exhausted that she slept and there wouldn’t be time to do anything at all then, because she jus—

Fingers pressed into the back of her shoulders, kneading her stiff muscles, cutting out her thoughts.

Her surprised exhale crumbled into a weary one. Levi’s hands gradually moved to her shoulder blades, thumbs digging into the sore, knotted parts of her back. Warmth rippled through her body at his touches, easing out a tension she wasn’t aware of until now.

‘This feels so fucking good,’ she mumbled heavily. ‘I didn’t even know I needed this.’

‘With that shitty posture, of course you needed this,’ he said, pushing her back and straightening her spine. ‘If you sit in that position for hours, it’ll definitely make your muscles go all tense.’

‘You’re starting to sound like Moblit,’ Hange chuckled. ‘Ever the worrywart.’

‘Someone has to look out for your clumsy ass.’

‘So you’ve decided to take full responsibility then, Captain?’ she grinned.

‘Never got the liberty of deciding in the first place,’ he droned out.

She laughed softly, somehow feeling lighter than she had in hours, days. His hands were still pressing upon her shoulders, lifting the invisible weight, induced by stress. She hummed softly and leaned back, so that she was pressing against Levi’s chest. His hands stilled, curling around the curves of her shoulders.

‘Oi . . .’ he said softly.

The back of her head came to rest against his neck. She inhaled deeply, a clean woody scent invaded her nose, making her eyes flutter shut and her breaths slow down. It felt good, having Levi so close, feeling his warmth all around.

‘Hange,’ he called her again.

‘Can we just . . . stay like this . . . for a while?’ she whispered.

Yeah, just for a while. Because she still had work to do, so she couldn’t give in to the heavy pull of sleep yet. She’d rest for a minute, with Levi right beside her. Then she’d start again.

‘Okay,’ he said quietly.

‘Just . . . don’t let me sleep. I still have . . .’ her words dissolved into exhausted breaths, ‘so much to do.’

‘Sure, don’t worry.’

So late in that night, when the golden hues of the candle flames splashed against wood and stone, and the barracks lay under the heavy spell of sleep, a tired Commander rested against her faithful Captain, knowing he would pull her out of the velvety folds of slumber and get her back to work soon.

But for now, she had a minute. A minute of rest.

[starshower1215]

AOT Veterans: Sweatpants Headcanons

The AOT veterans discovering and wearing sweatpants, because they all deserve to.

Hange, as expected, tried them first. They were window shopping all alone, searching for a new pair of shoes after theirs wore out, and was distracted by a display window. Upon entering, they began touching all the fabrics curiously when they found the sweatpants, fell in love, bought two pairs, and gifted one to Erwin. He was a little reluctant at first (Erwin has a preference for form-fitting clothing), but Hange insisted and he gave them a shot. They grew on him eventually, but his instant love was given to joggers. Erwin loves their lightweight material, how comfortable they are while compromising less style. He regularly wears them at night now when he's working.

The trend spread to Mike when he went to pick up Erwin for a workout. He complained of the chill in the wind, narrowed his eyes at Erwin's new joggers, and asked, "What is that?" Now he wears them on long runs on autumn and winter days.

Then they were introduced to Levi when he was at Mike's place, commenting distastefully on the state of his bedroom. He set about organizing Mike's messy closet when he came upon the joggers. Mike insisted he try them on, and he wasn't a big fan until he discovered the cotton ones with a fleece interior, which immediately appealed to his inner soft spot for fluffy things. Mike bought Levi a properly sized pair for himself after he found Levi sound asleep on his sofa, wrapped in Mike's fleece hoodie, the cuffs of his fluffy pants bunched around his ankles.

Then one night, Nanaba and Petra threw a little party and slept over at Levi's place. They made drinks and cute little snacks from the groceries that Nanaba and Petra brought over, then spread out blankets on Levi's spotless, fluffy carpets, switched off the lights, and played a movie. When nobody wanted to get up to turn the AC down, Petra stole a pair of Levi's fluffy sweatpants and was in awe of the level of comfort it provided. Nanaba tried them next, even though they were way too short for her, then decided— since all three of them were traumatized insomniacs— that they should all make a midnight trip to the shops to buy her a pair, so they paused the movie and went.

The trio now have a matching set of sweatpants. Oluo sees Petra and Levi in their matching pants one day, gets insanely jealous and, in a new attempt to further mimic Levi/fit in with them, buys himself the same pair by coincidence. Then he realizes they're actually quite nice and reccomends them to Eld, who is delighted by the ones with zipper pockets.

[the-traveling-poet]

Hello again! 😆💗,

Thank you very much for fulfilling my request!😩. I did not expect you to fulfill it so quickly, and this made me very happy. It was funny and CUTE 💗.

Well, I have a lot of ideas, but Idk how to write them but I think it will not be as fun when I read it from someone else’s writing. 🫳🏻

It is the same idea. Fem!TitanReader X Levi, The events take place when Annie kidnapped Eren, and the reader chases her in her titan form, but Annie was able to escape after leaving the reader with dangerous injuries, and she was left alone because there wasn’t enough time to treat her until the mission was over, and Captain Levi didn’t find her among the soldiers or treatment tents, so he decided to go back to look for her, and when he found her, she was still in her titan form. She fainted and half of her limbs were still trying to regenerate.

💗(Thank you for fulfilling my first request. If you have some time, I hope you will fulfill the second request, so I can be silent in peace. Lol)

Shifting Scares

During the 57th expedition beyond the walls, everyone was on edge. While Commander Erwin hadn’t specified all the details for their plan, a select few knew the danger this put young Eren Jeager in. In order to use him as bait to draw out the ‘abnormal’ titan hiding amongst their ranks, they’d need all the protection they could get. So naturally, they’d tasked you; their secondary titan shifter, to stick close to the young boy. As plans shift and fail, you’re left with no choice but to take on the threat single handedly until help could arrive. But no one knew the danger this would place you in, until it was nearly too late.

Pairing: Levi x Titan shifter! Reader

Warnings: Descriptions of injuries, language, fluff, s2

taglist: @21aurora @deepzombieyouth @braunsbabe

A/N: Awe ofc lovely! I’m so glad you enjoyed the first one, and I hope I did part 2 justice! Sorry for such a long wait. Work got in the way and I had some personal issues that really took me for a turn, but here I am!

Enjoy ~

Part 1/ish

“Eld, you’re taking the lead from here. Tether the horses and get Eren out of here until I give the signal.”

The second in command gave a brisk nod in return, then turned his attention back to the front.

Just behind him, you gripped the reins holding you to your horse tighter and grit your teeth. It had been a close call, for the past several minuets. Really, it had felt like hours; galloping at top speeds to escape the grasp of the titan behind you all. You’d lost count of just how many times you’d felt her ginormous calloused fingers brushing your back through your cloak.

You’d understood why you had been placed at the rear or the Special Operations Squad. You knew it was to cover the flank and provide even more security for the young boy in front of you. But damnit if you hadn’t been scared shitless the whole time despite your agreement.

Chancing a glance back towards the front, you caught your Captain’s eye. He stared seemingly into your soul from the front of the small formation, as thought he was looking past your gaze and into your very mind. After assessing you a moment longer, he gave you a small nod. One you had a hard time returning.

“L/N, you know the drill. Watch their six. Should anything happen, you’re to act as defense.”

“‘Course, Captain,” You mumbled, trying to shoot him a smile. Though it looked more panicked than reassuring in his eyes.

Looking you over one last time with a flash of what you could have sworn was concern, he turned back to the front and crouched up onto the back of his mare and gripped the handles of his odm gear and shot off up into the forrest surrounding your path. A moment of silence accompanied his departure, and you couldn’t help but worry for his safety above your own as he returned to the Commander’s side.

Humanity’s strongest or not, the lot of you had never gone toe to toe with another shifter.

The silence followed you all up until you came to stop near a large oak, where you dismounted your own mare at Eld’s call and prepared to tether her to the tree.

“Don’t worry sweety, you’re well out of danger here,” you murmured to your loyal steed, petting across her forelock gently before shooting up into the trees with the rest of your squad.

Grappling onto the first of many branches that would bring you nearest the top of the large tree, you glanced over at Eren with a smirk as you pressed down on the lever of your gas containers; a wordless competition for a race.

Sensing your mischief, Eren rolled his eyes. But he couldn’t quite hide the interest he took in your silent challenge.

Racing through the thick limbs, you couldn’t help but chuckle to yourself despite the dread this mission had placed the entirety of the Corps in. But a little fun far away from the danger might help ease the boy’s mind, right?

And maybe yours, too.

The two of you touched down nearly in synch, catching your breath as you playfully shoved at one another’s shoulders with mumbles of disagreements for who’d won.

Hearing someone clear their throat, you both stopped and stared ahead with wide eyes. The rest of the SOS had made it up to the top before the both of you, much to your disgruntlement.

“Oi, you shifters…or whatever they’re calling you now; you’re more trouble than you’re worth,” Oulo grumbled out, folding his arms loosely across his chest.

Shrugging your shoulders with a careless smile, you strode past him and jumped over to an adjacent branch and took a seat with your back propped against the trunk.

“Just lessening the tension,” you sighed, closing your eyes a moment.

“Lessening the tension, my ass. You act as childish as Jeager.”

“Hey!” Eren scrunched up his face and jutted his chin, squaring his shoulders as though ready for a fight.

“Oulo that’s enough!” Petra cried, shooting her companion a glare. “Captain Levi said that Commander said this was of utmost importance, so you’d better act like it!”

“Of course it’s of most importance dear Petra, I just don’t see why Captain placed me here among you children instead of taking me with him for assistance.” Oulo clicked his tongue in annoyance, his posture aloft and dismissive.

“Assistance in what? Impersonations?” Gunther scoffed from his place leaned against one of the thick tree trunks with a humored grin.

“Wh-I do not…”

“You do, Oulo.”

You smirked to yourself on the opposite branch. Their banter never failed to boost your moral. Especially now with so much clouding your mind.

You listened in as Eren jumped into the banter, and observed how the conversation took a more somber mood a moment later. With a grunt you stood and brushed yourself off, waltzing your way closer to your companions.

“Eld’s right, we’re in some weird shit right now. But don’t you worry Eren, we’ve got this under control,” you comforted the younger man with a grin.

He returned your smile, seemingly more at ease now with the reassurance of his friends. His shoulders were less tense now, and his hands finally fell from their fists.

With a frown you lowered your gaze to your boots. You understood his rage towards the beast. A devil, really. Another shifter in Paradis; only, this one was bloodthirsty and dangerous.

Hearing all those strangled cries behind you on the trail, accompanied by sickening crunches from bones snapping into pieces and tearing through flesh…It sickened you, made you see red as your hands shook. You’d had to restrain yourself as much as Eren from breaking formation then and there to take her out.

So many lives lost…So many you had to repay…

A sharp crack off in the distance startled you from your thoughts.

Turning to face the direction your comrades all stared off at, you saw a plume of black smoke shoot up over the tree line.

“A flair signal,” Eren gasped.

“That’s our cue. It’s gotta be Captain’s signal to regroup. We’ll head that way immediately,” Eld addressed you all, finally a small smile tugging at his thin lips.

“This’ll all be over soon. Gunther, watch the rear with Y/N. Petra, Oulo, stay at Eren’s sides. I’ll take the lead.”

“Sir yes sir!” You chirped, already clipping your handles to your blades. Taking a stand beside Gunther, you shot him a grin as you watch the others shoot off into the forrest ahead of you.

“No crazy stunts, L/N. Not till we’re back in HQ.” Gunther chuckled, loosening up more now as he shot off ahead of you.

Rolling your eyes, you leapt from the tree to catch up. “Yeah yeah. You keep Oulo and Petra under control, I’ll keep Eren and myself sane.”

As the forest flew past you in a blur, and your friends in front of you continued to banter back and forth through the air, you allowed yourself a deep breath of relief.

So far, everything had gone to plan…

═════════════════

“Levi, restock on your gas and blades then regroup with your squad. We must get Eren out of here as soon as possible.”

Scoffing under his breath, Levi watched as the carnage below nearly drowned out his Commander’s order. As the titans ravaged the unknown shifter’s steaming corpse only meters below him, the Captain ran a hand down his face in frustration.

“My tanks are full, and my blades were replenished earlier. I’ll be fine,” He countered, shooting a raised brown over at the tall blonde.

Erwin didn’t budge, his sharp gaze fixated on the scene below. “That’s an order, Levi. Restock, then regroup,”

Assessing Erwin only a second longer, Levi clicking his tongue in annoyance.

“Fine, I’ll do it.”

With that he shot down to the ground some ways away from the titans and quickly topped off his gas containers and placed new blades into the metal scabbards at his sides, before loading up a flair gun and taking off the way he’d come.

No matter how fast he flew through the trees scanning for any clues as to where his squad had gone, he couldn’t escape the rush of worries running through his mind.

If she escaped, she could be ahead of me…with them. If she didn’t, then we threw lives away for nothing yet again.

If she did manage to escape, and I don’t reach my squad in time…

Levi shook his head and grit his teeth, pressing down harder on the gas trigger.

No, I will reach them in time. I haven’t given the signal yet, so they haven’t moved from the trees. They shouldn’t have…They haven’t. They’re still there. She still there-

Levi’s train of thought was quickly interrupted as a shape came into view amongst the trees. A deafening crack bounced off the trees around him, with a light akin to lightning illuminating his surrounding more then they already were. A shift had occurred, no doubt, but from who, he had no way of knowing.

Through the yellow hue, Levi came to a brief stop near the object and sucked in a breath.

Twisted in his own wires, the lifeless gaze of Gunther’s eyes stared back at his face.

With newfound urgency, Levi was once again shooting through the trees.

I was too late. She did get ahead of me…

A second crack lit up the forrest, making Levi’s hands grip his handles all the more tightly as he listened to the undeniable scream of Eren’s rage resonating through forrest. Damnit, where were they…

Grunted curses flew from his lips nearly as fast as he shot through the trees, desperately scanning both the tree tops and the floor below for any sign of movement. Or dare he think, any sign of what might remain.

A scream he knew all too well filled his ears as he entered a clearing in the wood, knocking him from his line of focus. Whipping his gaze this way and that, he was unable to see where she might have gone. Instead, all he saw were the broken remains of his squad lying about in heaps across the trampled ground.

Goddamnit Y/N…Not you too…

═════════════════

What felt like days might have only been hours. Or even just minuets. Every second that passed you by only reminded you of the pain that coursed through every limb.

And still I failed…

Of course the flair signal had been a trap. You should have seen that coming. As Gunther fell victim before your very eyes, and the figure weaving in and out of sight to your left finally took form in the shape of the dreaded shifter, you’d lost yourself to panic a second longer than you should have.

As you were corned in the clearing, it took Eld’s spine snapping into two for you to shake yourself out of your panic. You’d failed to act as defense before now, but you’d be damned if you let this devil claim you all.

You shifted quickly, screaming at Eren to run. Your transformation distracted the female titan just long enough for Oulo and Petra to blind and immobilize her.

But not long enough for them to completely escape.

You’d charged her with a shriek, determined to avenge your fallen squad. Blow after blow you delivered and received, but never once did you waver.

Even when her stronger jaw bit clean through your arm, severing the limb halfway up the humorous. Even when your legs were clawed from your hips and your face torn nearly in half.

Even then, you didn’t stop. You couldn’t stop.

Briefly you registered Eren charging in behind you as you clung to the female titan, ripping through the skin of his hand to kickstart his own transformation. You could do nothing but watch as he tackled her, and in turn you. With your broken body flung to the side, you were unable to dodge the next blow thrown your way. The hardened skin of the titan’s heel came crashing down only a foot away from your nape, making your world go completely black.

Now, unable to claw your way out of your titan, you were left steaming in the woods. Unable to move, unable to call for help.

Whether Eren had defeated her, you feared you’d never know. Regardless of the outcome, you started to think that maybe this fate that had befallen you was well deserved.

What good was a shifter like you when you couldn’t even complete an order?

The sound of wire cables anchoring into the trees somewhere around you caught your attention. Though you couldn’t see through titan’s eyes, you could still hear. Straining to listen, you heard the zipping of cables cease, only to be replaced by rushed footsteps and a panicked call.

Another moment of silence followed, in which you were only slightly aware of a presence standing on your titan’s back. Blinding light filled your senses, and you felt your body being forcefully removed from the wreckage.

Finally able to see, you turned your head with a grunt to see just who had pulled you out.

Forehead damp with sweat and evaporating titan blood, hands shaking as they held you up into a seated position with a pained grunt. You squinted your eyes and furrowed your brow.

“L-levi?”

“You don’t have the energy to talk, brat. You’re not healing as fast as you normally do.” Levi grumbled, observing your steaming body.

A raspy chuckle escaped your chapped lips despite yourself. “Probably cause I got stepped on. Should have seen what I did to her though.”

“I did. She escaped.” He replied bluntly, picking you up with ease as he stood.

Letting your head fall against his shoulder, you let out a shaky sigh. “I’m sorry. I didn’t act fast enough. If I had…t-the squad…she wouldn’t have gotten away-“

“I said you don’t have the energy to talk brat. Focus on healing yourself while I rush us back to the front. They’ve started to depart, and I’ll be damned if we’re left stranded out here alone.”

Humming half heartedly in agreement, you closed your eyes as you felt him shoot back up into the trees. For a minute, you did try to focus on healing. But at the moment, that felt impossible.

No; undeserving.

“I’m sorry…I couldn’t save them.”

“It’s not your fault, Y/N.” The soft tone of his voice surprised you, making you peer up at him.

“You did what you could. And it’s more than any of us could have done. Both you and Eren will be returned to base soon enough. I’m just glad you survived.”

“But the others…Gunther, Eld, Petra, Oulo…”

You felt him physically shudder at their names being spoken. Undoubtedly, you knew he had seen what you had. Shying away from his gaze, you kept your eyes on your steaming skin.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” he sighed, coming to a stop by grappling into the nearest tree and kneeling against the bark with a pained huff. “I wasn’t there in time. Not only did the bitch get away, but it left you injured in the process. I never wished for you to end up in this state.”

You examined his face, what of it you could see as he turned away. The pain etched into every mark lining his furrowed brow only made you feel worse.

“I won’t end up like this again, and that’s a promise. I’ll get stronger, I’ll be better,” you whispered, gently tugging at his chin to make him meet your eye.

“It won’t be like this next time. I’ll train more, prepare more…so that I can save more.”

Finally, his frown let up and his brow relaxed. Cradling you more firmly against him, he caged you in his arms and shot his wires into the next tree. To your surprise, he looked down to meet your eye before taking off again; this time, with a hint of a smile.

“Well unless this training idea of yours involves setting me up in another damned tree without my gear, I’ll be there with you. Every step of the way.”

[poledancingdinos]

Hostile Territory - Chapter 21

Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC (Leah Coleman)

Word count: 2.4K

Warnings: none for this chapter

Catch up: Series Masterlist

Taglist: @amberangel112  @utterlyhopeful-fics  @marantha @kebabgirl67  @littleone65 @omgkatinka @luclittlepond @persephonepraxidikechthonios @enchantedbytomandhenry  @narnianaos  @geralts-yenn @peaches1958 @avengersfan25 @sillyrabbit81 @summersong69 @identity2212 @liecastillo @lena-banena @mrsevans90 @confessionbrain-writings @eclecticfashionbookszipper @happydistraction @hannah9921 @valacircareads @toooldforobsessions @kingliam2019

Masterlist

Day 204

“Leah! Where the hell are you?”

Without warning, the door to Leah’s bedroom was pushed open, startling both Leah and Sy awake. Instinctively, Sy reached under his pillow, which was devoid of his usual handgun, while Leah sat up so fast she almost slipped off the edge of the bed.

“The hell, Caleb?”

“Shit, my bad.”

Though he was apologizing—sort of—Caleb made no move to leave. There was really no need to avert his gaze either since Leah still wore her t-shirt and Caleb was no stranger to seeing in that particular outfit whenever she came back from visiting Ash but didn’t people usually shut the door when they walked in on someone?

Willing her heart rate to slow down, Leah put her head in her hands and took deep breaths.

She was home.

She was in her bedroom.

The man at the door was her brother Caleb.

The presence shifting next to her was Sy.

There was no threat.

“Fuck off,” she choked out.

Below the blankets, Sy put his arm over Leah’s lap, resting his forehead against her as he stroked her hip. To the outside eye, it probably just looked like a sleepy snuggle but hopefully it would provide Leah enough comfort to pull her away from her impending anxiety attack. In all honesty, Sy’s heart was racing too.

Mercifully unaware of their inner turmoil, Caleb misread Leah’s reaction, mistaking her panic for embarrassment and playing it off by doing what older brothers do best.

“You’re never in bed past six and you’ve literally never brought a guy home. How was I supposed to know you’d suddenly discovered one night stands?”

Leah looked at the clock on the nightstand, noting it was half past eight. To someone working a nine to five it was still early but for someone used to working through the night or getting up for oh-five-hundred PT, it was practically a lie in.

“Right,” she relaxed back against the headboard, squeezing Sy’s arm as a silent ‘thank you’. “And what’s your reason for still standing there now that you know that I’m not alone?” she countered, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

Caleb smirked, casually crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe. “To be honest I was waiting to see how long it would take before your boy toy gets uncomfortable and leaves.”

Sy scoffed as he turned over, stretching an arm above his head and shamelessly showing off his bare chest. “I’ve had to shower in a room full of naked strangers while someone counted how long I had to scrub each part of my body. I’m not gonna get uncomfortable.”

“Yeah, and I’m a doctor but that doesn’t mean I need to see your morning glory.”

Leah looked down to realize that Sy’s change of position onto his back had shifted the blankets aside, revealing the tented top sheet. Holy shit. She knew for a fact that he was wearing underwear and yet it was still visible enough for Caleb to notice from the doorway.

Sy still didn’t seem bothered—and really, he had nothing to be ashamed of—but he nonetheless moved the blanket to cover his manhood.

“Was there a reason you came barging in here?”

Caleb turned his focus back to his sister. “We’re having a bonfire tonight. I got someone to cover me for tomorrow so I get to drink more than one beer for the first time in forever.”

“If you drink more than one beer you won’t make it past ten you old grandpa.”

The man in question gasped in mock outrage, clutching his imaginary pearls. “Well, it seems you need a lesson in respecting your elders, young lady. And while we’re at it, a reminder that premarital sex is a sin.”

Caleb made a move towards the bed and Leah quickly climbed over Sy in an attempt to get away, managing to knee him in the ribs as she did and eliciting a small grunt from him. Unfortunately, her brother was too fast, managing to catch hold of her before she escaped the room and throwing her over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes.

He marched her into the hall bathroom, starting the shower on its coldest setting before stepping them both under the freezing spray.

Leah shrieked like a banshee, not feeling the need to hide her discomfort or appear tough for her big brother. She couldn’t attempt to wriggle out of the hold, not unless she wanted him to slip and crack both their skulls open.

“I’ve learned my lesson, put me down!”

Both of them shivered violently, their skin covered in goosebumps, but Caleb was committed to his little punishment.

“I don’t think so. I need to wash away your sins.”

Leah didn’t bother arguing that she and Sy hadn’t actually had sex. It wouldn’t have mattered since neither sibling actually believed premarital sex was a sin. It had simply become an inside joke between them because of the way their grandparents had abandoned their parents.

“I’m clean! Now put me down!”

Her brother simply hummed as if he were considering whether she was, in fact, purged of her sins.

“Caleb!”

The water finally shut off and Leah was unceremoniously deposited back on her feet. At least Caleb was kind enough to take a clean towel from under the sink, draping it over Leah’s shoulders before pulling his own off the drying rack.

“The guys are meeting us at the cabin at two to set up.”

With that, he left the room to go change, leaving wet footprints behind. When Leah looked up, an amused Sy stood in the doorway, having apparently taken the time to find a clean shirt and shorts instead of coming to her rescue.

“You look like that girl that climbs out of the TV to kill people.”

Easily imagining what he meant with her soaked strands loose around her face and the long shirt sticking to her skin, Leah joined in on the laughter. She didn’t miss the way his gaze slid down to her hardened nipples peeking through her shirt. Thankfully, it was dark enough not to be completely transparent.

Sy moved into her space, wrapping the towel tighter around her shoulders and rubbing her arms to give her more heat.

“Your lips are blue,” he said as if feeling the need to explain why he was crowding her space. She hadn’t realized until then how badly her teeth were chattering.

“I should get some dry clothes and get back in the shower. I need to clean my tattoo anyway.”

Sy nodded, not making any move to back away.

“You can use the bathroom downstairs if you want to clean up. Caleb can find you a towel when he’s done changing out of his scrubs.”

“What exactly am I cleaning up for? I heard ‘bonfire’ and ‘cabin’.”

Leah moved closer to Sy, stealing more of his body heat. “We have this cabin about a half hour out of the city. Our dad was thinking of setting up a dog rescue on the property before he…” Leah trailed off, clearing her throat. “We always used it for bonfires and parties since there are no neighbors.”

Sy did his best to mask his deception at spending yet another day sharing Leah’s attention. At least he would get the evening to make up for the poor first impression he’d likely made with Caleb. No one wanted to meet their little sister’s boyfriend while he was half naked in her bed, much less while sporting morning wood.

“Alright, that sounds like fun.” He placed a kiss on Leah’s forehead. “Now go get warmed up, darlin’, and I’ll see if I can put together something to eat.”

When Sy got downstairs, Caleb was sitting at the table, scrolling through his phone with a mug of coffee.

“Can I get in on that?”

“Shouldn’t you be gone by the time she gets out of the shower?”

Although he didn’t sound hostile, Caleb was definitely playing up the ‘big brother’ act. Not one for bootlicking, Sy decided to go on with his plan to make Leah breakfast while Caleb got used to his presence. It had worked on Aika, surely humans weren’t too different.

“Nope, I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

He went over to the fridge, thankful to find a fresh carton of eggs and a loaf of bread.

Caleb set his phone down, leaning back in his chair as he studied Sy. “Who are you again?”

“I’m—” He almost introduced himself as Captain Syverson but caught himself at the last second. “Sy.”

The younger man continued to watch as Sy opened almost every cabinet in the kitchen, pulling out what he needed from each. He’d found the plates and bowls by the sink, the mugs above the coffee maker and the spices in the pantry but he still couldn’t locate a frying pan.

“Psy as in psychic?”

“As is short for Syverson.”

Finally, Caleb stood from the table, going over to the stove and pulling open the drawer to reveal three different frying pans.

“You’re her CO,” he stated, the tone of his voice taking a complete one-eighty. “Heard good things about you from Niki.”

“Was that before or after I dropped a building on him?” The snarky comment slipped out before Sy could think better of it. He still hadn’t forgiven himself for that incident.

“After actually. He called from Germany.”

Although Sy had gotten an update on his injuries, he hadn’t known Niki had been moved to Germany. It was a relief to hear that Caleb had spoken to him and that he was—presumably—doing alright.

Caleb picked up the cinnamon Sy had just set down and added more of it to the egg and milk mixture Sy was preparing.

“Leah really likes cinnamon,” Caleb said in response to Sy’s unspoken question.

“Thanks.”

“So… do you always shack up with your subordinates or is it only the ones ten years younger than you?”

“Have you always been a jackass or is this something to expect now that you have the letters ‘MD’ after your name?” Both men turned to find Leah toweling off her hair. “Are you done bothering the nice man who’s volunteered to feed me?”

“Fine.” Any further argument he might have had was cut off by a massive yawn that threatened to swallow the whole room Kirby style.

“I bought decaf if you want coffee before you go to bed.”

Caleb had sent her a copy of his schedule for the two weeks she was in town so she already knew he’d just come off a twelve hour shift at the hospital.

“I already made myself a cup,” he answered, shaking his head, “I was just waiting to see if you would take my car and go get some groceries while I get some sleep.”

“Yeah, I can do that. How many are we feeding?”

There were a handful of meals they normally made at the cabin since the kitchen was only stocked with the basics so the number of guests would likely determine what she needed to buy.

“Full house.”

Leah let out a low whistle. “You do realize that you guys are not fifteen anymore and that feeding all of you plus girlfriends is the equivalent to feeding a small army?”

“Then you should be perfectly qualified for the job.”

Caleb finished off his coffee, leaving the mug in the sink before making his way over to his sister. He pulled a wad of cash from the pocket of the flannel pants he’d changed into, setting it on the table before placing a kiss on the top of Leah’s head.

“Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

With that, Caleb went up to his old bedroom, shutting the door behind him. Leah began preparing a fresh pot of caffeinated coffee, making enough for them to have at least two cups each.

“You’re not really ten years older than me are you?”

Sy stepped away from the stove where their breakfast was now beginning to cook. “Uh…” He was actually nine years older than Leah but the only reason he knew that was because he’d seen her date of birth in her personnel file. “Almost, yeah. I’m thirty-one.”

“I never realized there was that much of an age difference between us.” She didn’t expect an answer, thinking out loud more than anything, so she was surprised when Sy spoke from right in front of her.

“That’s because you don’t act like any twenty-two-year-old I know of.”

She studied his face, hoping to figure out whether that was good or bad but since Sy’s face was almost always a blank mask, Leah needed to continue with the whole ‘speaking her thoughts out loud’ thing.

“Is that a problem?”

A flash of something that looked a lot like pain passed over his face but the expression quickly faded to its usual impassiveness.

“Not necessarily.” Sy returned to the stove, flipping the slices in the pan. For a moment, Leah was hurt by his avoidance, thinking that was the full extent of his answer but then Sy faced her again, crossing his arms over his chest.

“For some people, bein’ young and stupid and makin’ mistakes is how they learn.” He kept his eyes trained on the ground as he spoke.

Leah slowly approached Sy, carefully placing her hand over the spot on his chest that was marked with the X-shaped scar. By piecing together the bits of information she’d gathered from Sy, she had determined that there was a story behind the scar but she’d never dared ask.

“Is that how it was for you?”

With a deep exhale, Sy put a hand over hers as he met her gaze. His heart was racing but her touch didn’t make him uncomfortable the way other women’s had in the past. “I’ll tell you the story but only if you promise not to use it as a reason to push me away.” 

He could all too easily picture her shutting down and thinking that he’d said all the right things but had meant none of them.

“I promise.”

With a slow nod, Sy shut off the stove, scooping the French toast onto plate and handing it to Leah.

“I was twenty-one,” he began before proceeding to recount the horrible night that most definitely qualified as the mistake of a stupid young boy.

Chapter 22

[darkdemeter]

Strife x Fem reader nsfw! Eld AU, S/O is a talented hunter, using her sniper skills to hunt down food and enemies. It’s not long until the Nephilim tribe heard of a master sniper taking down foes and always running without a trace. It’s by sheer luck that Strife discovers S/O and easily takes her down once he’s in close range. Instead of killing her, he wants to take her as his mate, seeing how cool she looks when sniping and how impressive she is.

VENGEANCE IS A HUNTER

◤✘DARKSIDERS REQUESTS | CATALOGUE Pre-Horsemen!Strife x Eld'hyunen!Female Reader

NOTES ↳ Who's ready for some pre-horseman! Strife in his younger, Nephilim prime? Hey! I see you ogling. Here, have a golden sticker. Welcome to the Strife simp club 😂 WARNINGS❕ ↳ Mature rating, 18+ — some profanity — mention of mass murder — depiction of violence and killing — lore building — SMUT mdni — unprotected sex — implied non/con or dubious consent — neck biting/marking — mate claiming, virginity loss (hymen breakage) — I think that’s it?

✎ 4.4k ────────────────────────

The moon had been bright and full, a milky pour that couldn’t penetrate the dense forest beneath. Only allowed through were the silky, pale silhouettes that danced and warped disturbingly, the covering fog lit with an eerie glow. 

Stalking the grounds below, invading this coveted land, the horde of Nephilim march through, some bearing torches that burn viciously and provide an aura to follow. A target. 

“Keep up,” barks the group’s leader with hastened gruffness, “we must rejoin the warband before next moondown! Else Absalom will have our heads.” His tone betrays his unease as they walk through this unholy place. The trees feel dead yet they flourish and thrive, the air is thick and makes it hard to see further ahead with the swarming mist. His glowing eyes dart from left to right, sweeping from ground level to the higher treeline.

Something stalks them in the darkness around them. 

The ground crunches loud beneath the stampeding rhythm of their feet. Each one a resounding crack and bending snap. To the elicited horror that disturbs them, their eyes are cast wide and teeth gnashing hard with growls and started yells. 

Empty pits of blackened sockets stare up at them, spinal cords numbered by hundreds are split and shattered, ribs cracked and broken, barren of any flesh to cling to the remnant bones littering the forest floor. 

A once enchanting home now turned into a mass graveyard that welcomes only the fall of their invaders. The disembodied whispers and howls on the wind are avenged with each splatter of blood that waters the ground, the haunt of the Nephilims’ screams replace the restless and slaughtered people. 

It is their turn to become the prey. It is their turn to become the hunted, the bloodied spoils of this war. 

An arrow whines on the pulled draw of your bow, your lungs ease a silent and practised breath… and you release. 

Fated, your arrow hits its mark without falter. The laggers behind stumble and scatter, some dropping their torches to blend in with the darkness. But the bright shine of your eyes allows you insightful vision, they cannot hide in the same veil of your home; not as you can. Adept in the arts of survival and camouflage, this is your hunting ground. Your prison that you ward and it shall be their final resting place. 

“Ambush!” one roars and they prime their weapons. Massive blades and sharpened polearms, the Nephilim band scours what terrain they dare try, wary to go further beyond the forgotten trail. 

Your arrows fly in fast repetition. Your prey cannot comprehend the direction of the attack, unable to detect what is simply not there. You traverse with swift agility, comfortable to leap, climb and fall from the many interloping branches and rocky formations. Their numbers are tamed until only the leader remains. He sheathes his axe, the gamble of his odds not in his favour. 

His brothers and sisters lay dead with an embedded garden of arrows, the dim halo of the perving moon shines on the brightened hue of red, feathered sails. A warning that stakes your claim over this territory. 

It’s a claim he will not challenge. He turns hard on his heavy heels and sprints, madly dashing through the underbrush and you give chase from above. His breath is hitched deep as the whizz of your arrows pounce at his heel like a hound that gnashes the ankles of the galloping hunted.

Your mark gets closer to him with each venomous strike. He knows you toy with him, that you inflict this terror with purpose. 

His runs and crashes through low hanging branches that claw tiny scratches into his skin, usually barely feeling but with you on the hunt, each one feels like the tipped poise of your next shot. 

His foot is snagged by a tree’s lifted root and sends him barrelling forward into a cloud of dirt. He growls and sputters, saliva spills in thick streams down his chin, his chest heaving with a wild beat of his heart. Nephilim aren’t meant to fear anything, no demon or angel, nothing in the cosmos possesses enough of a threat to invoke such fear. 

So why did you? 

His ears suddenly go dumb, a whirring sound that rings sharply in his hearing as he listens to your weight dropping to the forest floor behind him. He turns his head, huffing and puffing his last rites. His eyes grow wide. Your reflection moves upon the surface of his golden orbs that tremble, your face shrouded in the blackness of your cowl. The overgrowth of a cloak hangs over your shoulders and down low to your feet, tied to your wrists and ankles with corded thread; a haunting sight inspired by the ghost stories of your own people that became intertwined with your once traditions. Your eyes beam something ferocious, a predatory glare, down on him. 

He flinches as you hover above, his burly fist raised to either lash out at you or plead for you to take his hand in mercy. His voice shortly whines, a hiccup of a sound he chokes on as you pace yourself. You want to enjoy this kill. Leisurely, you knock the final arrow from your quiver and pull back. 

“Don’t! Sp-spare me!”

“She is a feral Eld’hyunen hunter, cast out by her own clan before we came to this realm. A wraith of vengeance that rose from the dead with eyes tempered with fire from Hell’s oasis.”

The younger Nephilim gathered around lean in closer, faces etched and lined with their entertainment in the orange light of the fire. Strife sits more so off to the side, though intrigued by the mythical tales, he tries to center his focus on his weapons instead. Yet the golden flicker of his eyes dance this way and that every now and then. 

“I barely escaped with my own life, her arrow pointed right to my eye.” 

The storyteller had arrived at the warband’s gate only a night ago, the burden of his torment still fresh in his mind. His voice quivers with each recollected detail he tells. He’d the look of one who’d seen a ghost. Out of the troops that were to arrive back he had been the only one. Those posted at the gate had to pull his shaking body inside, his muscles rippled so much that Absalom thought his flesh would begin to peel and fall apart as the commander panted and heaved his retelling of what happened.

Now here he was, still shaken as he had been and filling the younger generations of their legion with mythical tellings. Folklore to haunt their slumberless dreams and instill in them a false sense of fear. 

“And then… she whispered to me with words scarred by her ire…”

“Tell them to leave,” you snarl, voice coiling in the back of your throat as a venomous growl. “Leave this world and never set your claim upon it again. Or else my vengeance shall devour you whole.”

“As if one Eld’hyunen could do such a thing,” snickers Strife under his breath. The Nephilim survivor scrunches his face, overhearing such demeaning ignorance.

“You watch that tone of yours. What I say is true and you’d be damn near lucky to even escape as I had.”

Strife lulls his head, shoulders falling lax with uncharismatic care. He blinks twice, finger playing against the trigger of one of his guns.

“She would have been better off killing you instead.”

“Is that a threat, Nephiling?—”

A nerve is struck at the belittling term and Strife’s body tenses as she slightly shifts his weight to stand at his full height. His eyes dangerously thin with a warning glare. 

The younger ones around the fire watch in silence, their faces agape in their startled awe of the two. It wasn’t uncommon for Nephilim to get into heated scraps with one another. Their tempers easy to flare, provoking the other to break first. 

But with a thunderous roll of feet approaching, both are torn from the inciting conflict that threatened to break out into a brawl. Absalom growls out with a warning tone, “Telling the young ones of your scrape with death again, Saak?” 

Saak snorts, lips pulled askew before spitting a glop onto the ground. “I’m warning them of what awaits outside those gates. You haven’t see her, Absalom, she is—”

“Not yet, I haven’t. But that will change. At dawn we move out on the forest.” Absalom ignores the pale complexion of Saak, even as he buckles, weight lost to fall to his knees with a heavy thmph. His meek argument silenced. “I will not have this conquest stamped out by a lone female who believes she can take on a legion by herself.” The eldest of their kind laughs, boisterous. “It’s madness!”

Saak shakes his head and Absalom scoffs, large fingers scruffing the Nephilim’s neck as if he were a measly pup in need of discipline. “Cower in the camp, then. I will not accept cowards during this territory skirmish. I need only my finest.”

Releasing Saak and turning his eyes from the Nephilings who watch, eyes wide at the behemoth that is the first of their race, he chuffs a cold noise and rolls his eyes to Strife.

“And you’ll be joining us.”

Strife shrugs with a complying nod as he holsters his guns to his hips. 

“Very well,” Strife hums, obviously making his tone chipper to flaunt as a mockery. This would be one of the very few times he would be joining a troop assault so large, oftentimes he would either be appointed with a smaller group or better yet, strike out on his own.

But not this time. And perhaps he would catch a glimpse of the mysterious ghost that has the entire camp in a throng of rumour; that of the vengeful hunter. Beginning to walk away from the campfire, he hears Saak’s voice wheeze out with a hoarse rasp and his steps slow slightly. 

“You’ll see her yourself… and when you do… it’ll be too late.”

The swallow of the cave is clouded, smothered by wisps of smoke that come from the many lit flames around. Laments, shrines dedicated to the burials of your tribe. You can almost catch their spirits weave and dash through the twisting haze around you, as if to dance like they did around the fires, nights filled with laughter and conversation. Of bonds made newly and ones grown fonder. 

You hum a tune solemn in your grief. A proud song of your people that used to uplift and give praise to the forest’s divine sanctity, a home respected and loved. But now it is a melody that serves as a hollow reminder of all that you have lost. The songs of your people sung in the night to be carried on the wind with your weeping cries; shrieks that even the most fearsome of wraiths and beasts would grimace with sympathy for. 

The palette of your face had been cleaned of its prior mask that covered the higher portion of your face, marking the veil of your painted vow. The darkened smudge would never be cleaned off your hands completely, nor your face that streaks it into watered lines down your cheeks. Not until your enemies were undone. 

When this war was over and the invaders obeyed your command and left or were slain.

You sit before the burning incense of your tribe mother — your birth mother — and listen to the call of the warhorn. It thrums to life, bringing with it its ominous roar and its final deliverance. They would not leave and thus, you would make due on your promise. 

Bow and arrows balanced in your lap, you ask that your people imbue you with their strength. To help you overpower your foes and finally bring their souls to rest in the ethereal realm. The White Cosm. A place so beautiful and tranquil, spoken to be at its closest with the Creator’s heart. 

Your hands move forward towards the wooden bowl sat at the bottom of the shrine. You smear the dark ashes onto your face, its charred skin caresses yours and your brows furrow deeply between. You will show them what it means to provoke that wrath of the Eld’hyunen. 

They will come to know that vengeance is a hunter; and it has marked them all for death. 

The dawning fares no better in trying to puncture through the overgrowth above. The leaves and treeline are too heavy in concealing the ground level. A faded sheen of bathing sunlight comes through, a gloomy hue of yellow and vibrancy of greens all shrouded by the morning fog. 

Just as he said, Absalom leads his band of brothers and sisters into the forest’s barriers. They arrive in large numbers you have seen come through here but only once: when they butchered your tribe and raided your homes. 

You watch them from above. Steadily you move, the hooded cloak on your back tethered to your limbs, allowing you to glide silently from branch to branch with your prey none the wiser. 

As much as it angers you, you have always obeyed your masters when they taught you that to succeed in the hunt, you must be well versed in patience. You have to lie in wait for the perfect opportunity to present itself and you have your sights set on Absalom being your first target. 

Though powerfully formidable, he will be guarded closely by his most elite siblings, the first-bloods. Trying to get him alone will be nothing short of impossible, but you must allow yourself to wait for that single moment and when it's there, you will strike him down. 

Strife had veered off and away from the group not too far into the breach of the forest. He was always better off moving by himself, he attracted less attention that way. Most of his brethren lacked the level of subtlety to remain hidden like he did. He uses the higher peaks to his advantage, climbing higher and higher where no other of his brothers and sisters dared to. 

They climb mountains for sport but trees and forest terrain are where they draw the line? Strife finds it somewhat amusing and he chuckles to himself while shaking his head. He balances dangerously in the higher space of the canopy, intruding upon another world entirely it feels. He takes a moment to observe his surroundings and there — it’s barely noticeable with the foggy glare that bleeds together — but something crossed his vision. A shadow. 

His eyes squint, the sight of his visor aimed accurately to see what it was that fluttered through the treeline and down onto a nest of branches. 

You perch yourself onto the next entanglement of limbs, cloak settling once it loses its gusto of breath that carried you. Your belly is pressed against the mossy thicket, the sensation soft and ticklish against your naked skin. Your chin just grazes the oaken surface as you peer downward, watchful of the Nephilim who stalk the ground slowly, methodical and wary. 

Your eyes grow wide and a near sadistic grin twists across your lips, fangs glinting with poised delight that clench together. You see it! Your moment to disband their ranks, to flush them into a frenzy of fear as their leader becomes another pile of bones to add to your imprisoning graveyard. 

You rise slightly, back arched to sit up and you align your arrow onto your bow and draw. You calm your breathing despite the rapid climb of your excitement. Finally, this quest will be seen through, you can live out your lonely days in peace until you reunite with your loved ones. You do this or you die trying. 

Absalom has his back turned to you but if you aim just right, if you wait… the art of patience is key yet you find it hard to steady yourself, eager to release. You must wait. The window of that moment is happening upon you and so you draw that last final bit. 

You release your breath, rushing it from your lungs. The murky light from behind you is smothered out and you freeze. Face shrouded by the overlap of your hood and ashy paint becomes contorted in your frowning confusion. Your aim lowers, unfocused as you come to realise you sit beneath a shadow. A tall, looming shadow. 

Your cowl shifts in tandem with the motion of your head turning and tilting upwards. Your eyes widen and your jaw falls, bottom lip quivering with a shuddering gasp. After all this time, you believed yourself numbed of the feeling of fear, of bone-shaking terror that has the chasm of your chest diving with your heartbeat. You thought yourself hollow to that feeling you had all that time ago when you first witnessed the slaughter, the carnage and the screams that echoed.

Had you been so consumed in your fire of vengeance that you neglected your surroundings, you didn’t heed to the teachings of your masters? To always be aware, always be intune with your senses. Never allow your arrow to be knocked blind; in which you did. 

That feeling resurfaces again and now you have become the prey for it. 

What few seconds pass feels like an eternity that drags on. You move swiftly but sloppily, your draw and aim not on target as you fire your knocked arrow only for him to deflect it with the iron plating of his gauntlet. The arrow snaps in two under such force and he lunges at you, pinning you. You hiss sharply and your hands claw at him, your sharp nails scratch and rip at whatever you can to fight him off. The struggle turns you both off the branch and you go crashing to the forest floor, whenever you attempt to pry him away and fill your cloak with wind, he stops you by wrapping his arms around you; caging you. 

Each pained yelp you make echoes louder through the canopy in your rapid descent. The troops below peer upwards at the commotion until it lands on ground. They rush towards it as they watch, awestruck that the hunter that stalked them is no more. Instead, Strife’s knees trap you between him and the forest floor, his hands easily captured around each of your wrists, keeping you from escaping. 

His throaty chuckles grow into a small fit of laughter, grinning a fanged grin behind his mask. “I got her!” he chants, a hollering of cheerful howls and spirited yells applaud him in his apprehension. 

The coarse patch of dirt rubs against your stomach in your continued writhing, only to feel the force of his weight push you further against the ground and you whine, seething like a feral animal at him. 

“Let go of me! Let— go!”

Moving aside to make room for Absalom’s arrival, he gives a gruff hum, mouth pulling into a grin. 

“Well done, Strife,” he rumbles, planting the pommel of his axe into the ground. His elbow probs up to rest against its higher end. “I knew it was a matter of time before these rumours would be snuffed out. A vengeful wraith, unkillable and unseen.” Snickering, Absalom lowers himself to you and his large fingers snatch hold of your face. 

You bare your fangs at him with a snarl but he only chuckles in turn, not an ounce of fear etched in his eyes that you can see. 

“She was about to kill you.”

“Was she now?” asks Absalom, his voice inflecting with peaked interest before turning to leave. 

“It’d be a waste to kill her.” Strife hums thoughtfully before his own hand catches your jaw, pinching your cheeks and lowering his helmed face next to yours. 

“How about it, Absalom? Can I keep this one?”

Absalom shrugs his shoulders with a dismissive hum. “Do what you will with her. Fuck her, kill her, it matters little to me.”

Such news never sounded like music to his ears until now. He’d seen quite a few of his brethren take Eld’hyunen survivors as prisoners to provide them lustful satisfaction alongside their bloodthirst. He’d wondered himself once or twice… 

His hips push forward to rest in the curve of your lower back and you gasp. His grip ahold of you tightens when you make to shuffle out from under him.

“You hear that, little hunter?” he taunts with a husky chuckle, “you’re all mine.”

High upon an overlooking cliffside, you’re able to see the march of the Nephilim return to their camp, their numbers swarming back inside its walls and rejoining those who had remained behind. Many more were still to come, you were sure of it, it was only a matter of time. 

Strife had brought you up here, somewhere reclusive for his claiming. Tomorrow he would return with you to show you off to his brethren, to rub it into Saak’s face that his threats meant nothing and that he now had you, the vengeful hunter, to satiate his pent up aggressions and lustful drive. 

You’re clawing into the dirt with each thrust that brushes that spot deep inside of you. Each forceful drive of his widely built hips shoves the hastily collected air from your lungs in exerted pants, your whines and pitiful cries are swallowed up into the night’s breeze, the harshened clap of skin against skin makes your body ache and each stroke of his cock invading your silky, warm walls has you clenching around him. 

Strife groans with every motion of bucking his hips, speeding up and arching his body a bit more so that his hands can drag you further back onto his length, almost splitting you open. It sounds messy but your skin is riddled with a hot flush that covers you entirely, your screams turned into whiny moans and your voice shredded raw into a terrible, wordless dialect. 

“You’re so tight, little mate,” he grunts between a few hard thrusts that pull a string of mewls from you. You grip him like a vice, coating him in the slick of your arousal you tried so hard to deny him; deny both of you. 

He could smell you through the dampened fabric of your loincloth, the need buried between your thighs. 

His grip is bruising, it hurts the way he holds you and ruthlessly fucks into you like an animal in heat. Your walls continue to squeeze around him tightly, your breathing becoming shorter before it turns into high pitched gasps. His cock pistons in and out, sensing the rise of your release and he chases it with reckless abandon, wanting to finally feel the sensational pleasure he’s heard so much about but has never gotten to experience himself. 

His mask had been stripped off with the rest of his armor, his breath beating against the back of your neck in hot gushes that sweep over you like the hot summer winds. You can identify the ghostly presence of his bared teeth kissing your flesh, longing to marr the precious bed where your neck and shoulder meet. 

He whines lowly into your ear as you cry out with a moan that chokes you, your nails scratching deeper indents into the dirt with ragged markings as you cum. Your watery eyes blurry, tears muse and smear the ashy paint down your cheeks. He howls, ravenous and huffing like a satisfied beast when your snug walls clamp around him, barely able to withdraw himself from you without hearing those pained yelps you make. 

But he’s not done with you. He continues to brutally fuck your cunt that is forced to take very inch of him, leaving none of him to be left unsheathed. His fangs graze along the crook of your neck and the muscles there twitch, your eyes widening and your voice gone. 

Your body is ragged, used and abused under his power that has you submitted to him as his mate. Your breeding rights forfeit, the once virginal seal gone and claimed the moment he sunk himself deep inside of you. 

He’ll never forget the long, drawn out sigh you made when he did. He’ll forever savour the scream that tore out from your throat as he broke through your hymen. 

He was not a gentle lover. He was fast and unspeakably ruthless, possessively aggressive by the way he growled, inhaling the sweet aroma of your hair or tasting the scent of your skin on his tongue. 

He groans again, louder and his teeth snap shut. You scream again under the strain of your muscle that spasms from his bite, you feel the wet trickle of blood flowing down your collarbone and breast, revealed after he had torn your cloak and chest wrapping away. 

You cannot help but moan softly when his cock buries itself deeper inside, painting your insides with his seed that comes in thick, warm spurts. 

He continues to drill his spent inside of you until it forms a heavy bulge that fills your lower abdomen and a slickened ring around the base of his cock and drool from your swollen, abused pussy. However, the moment you begin to pull from him, having to ignore the sore spot he’s made your pussy to be, one of his hands seizes hold of the tendril of your smooth tail, caressing it with a firm, palming grip that yanks you back and spears you down on his cock again. 

“I’m not done with you yet, mate,” he huskily drawls. 

His mouth lingers against the cringing curl of your ear, and from the corner of your eye, the pain in your neck making it impossible to turn and look, you catch the crimson line that runs from the corner of his smirking lips. 

His chest and stomach slide into the curved bevel of your spine, fitting against you perfectly so much so that this match had to be a cursed union. For the women of your tribe long since believed that those meant to be mated could easily line their front to their partner’s spine to come into alignment perfectly. Meant to be fitted. You don’t want to believe it, but it becomes harder to deny his prowess as he begins to roll his hips up against the risen curve of your arse again.

Your desire for vengeance is a fire that begins to wane, ebbing into the fade of your new reality as a Nephilim’s mate.

[bluebird722]

Attack on Titan: Junior High Story Ideas

Everyone in Year 1 cheers on Sasha at every eating contest, but only Mikasa is indifferent and ponders how Sasha is able to eat all of that food without getting a stomachache or gaining weight.

One student receives a Ninento Wii game as a birthday present, but the party turns into an endless competition between Mikasa and Annie at every available game. (Eren, on the other hand, doesn’t care; Wii did not have a simulation where the user could pretend to fight Titans.)

One time, Connie falls asleep in class and leaves a puddle of drool on his desk. Needless to say, Levi whacks and chases him all the way home (after the former rushes into the classroom, of course, and cleans it up).

With Marco’s help, Jean tries to film a documentary called “The Bachelor”, about his pursuit of and (attempts to) date girls in school. It does not go as planned.

At some point, Bertold accidentally kicks a student in the face because he is started out of his sleep and therefore his odd sleeping position. He ends up having to buy the student lunch to avoid being reported to Mr. Keith.

When Petra has a bad day, Eld and Gunther cheer her up by constructing a handmade pinata of Oluo’s face (with his tongue bleeding out) for them to whack until Oluo and the first years arrive. Sometimes the others ask what’s with the confetti and candy wrappers on the ground.

Sometimes Rico likes to improvise ODM gear as a swing on a tree branch when she wants to enjoy a warm day.

Partially to impress Christa, Reiner proves his strength by lifting classmates over his head like a barbell while standing, but Ymir sneaks heavy weights into the pockets of her uniform to humiliate him. Reiner almost pulls a muscle, and Ymir says to herself, “My work is done.”

Armin is almost kicked out of the school play because of his futon, which certainly does not fit into the storyline. Therefore, all the Year 1 students show up to the recital wearing their most childish blankets and futons as headwraps, like capes, or even improvised dresses.

Hange pays Annie to be the “translator” between the captive Titans and, as Eren and his friends joke, the “new definition to the term ‘mad scientist’” (who is already going further broke). Annie pretends that she is not as fluent as Hange would have liked, but she will sneak their favorite snacks and tries to plot a way for them to escape and chase Hange to the ends of the planet.

No student will ever forget that Mr. Hannes was once so intoxicated that he tried to kiss Erwin on the cheek. Fortunately, Ilse’s story claims that Hannes was teasing Erwin for being so serious.

Ymir blackmails Reiner to stay away from Christa by threatening to show a video she filmed of Reiner gushing over his newborn cousin, Gabi.

After Hitch complains about how Annie looks when she sleeps, Annie gets back at her by surprising Hitch with a room full of fluffy kittens, only to have Marco broadcast Hitch acting silly to the entire student body and Marlowe provide humiliating commentary.

For the school talent show, Eren, Mikasa, Armin, Jean, Sasha, and Connie form a band called “Attack on Titan” to commemorate their victory over their gigantic peers. Only after the band No Name discontinues (due to graduation) do they become victorious.

As part of a fundraiser, Eren and the rest of Year 1 craft together two handmade manga series called “Attack on Titan” and “Attack on Titan: Junior High”, the latter based on their own experiences.

[rivangel]

Random but I can’t get this tiny scenario out of my head

Canonverse, levi and reader are bickering about something (they haven’t acknowledged their feelings/confessed) and someone (I’m picturing either eld or gunther) walks by and says to another “why are mom and dad fighting?” Or “I don’t like when mom and dad fight” something along those lines and levi & reader hear that and just immediately stop arguing to look at whoever said that in pure, slightly flustered, shock & confusion

Then at the same time they both start fumbling to disagree with the sentiment, completely forgetting what they were arguing about before

I’m so sorry if this doesn’t make much sense, terrible at expressing my thoughts/ideas but I just really wanted to share it with you bc I thought it was cute and funny

You sigh, stressed. “Do you have to be good at everything?”

The only reason Levi agreed to take his work outside today is the shade the clouds provide from the half-summer, half-autumn sun. Leaves whirl around the courtyard, but the heat has its foot halfway out the door still. And maybe because you were taking your work outside, which you do often together anyway, by candlelight. Maybe.

“Not everything,” Levi mutters. He’s even multiplying—numbers of soldiers, numbers of supplies, those lost, those on the way—as he talks, large and uneven figures. He can do it all in his head.

“Yes, everything,” you whine. You stare forlornly down at your papers. “Strategy, math, fighting—”

“Fighting,” he bites back, looking at you now. You actually can tell that he’s not being serious—that sparkle behind his eyes wouldn’t be there if he was annoyed with you.

“Ah… What you’re best at.”

“I get the job done.”

“You do not,” you bicker. “You’re Humanity’s Strongest—”

He flicks your ear with a sour expression on his face. “Enough.”

“Denial, is it?”

“Shit-for-brains, is it?”

You swallow a laugh like a heavy stone in your throat and bite down on the inside of your cheek, attempting to scowl like Levi’s effortlessly doing. In the middle of your staring contest, you forget the courtyard and catch a voice—Gunther?—as he and someone else amble by.

“Hate it when Mom and Dad fight.”

Eld snickers.

Levi whips his head in their direction, but, definitely sensing a punishment, have already hurried off in the direction of the Mess Hall.

You for one freeze, heat creeping across your cheeks. That vague warm feeling that you’ve become accustomed to letting bloom whenever you’re around Levi fills you with a profound sense of guilt. But mostly embarrassment.

“Idiots,” Levi mutters. One hand on his ledger curled into a fist. Only one side of his face is visible, but you don’t need to make eye contact to see that he’s blushing almost crimson.

“...Yeah,” you agree awkwardly. You clear your throat. “Gods, if I had kids, I’d never send them anywhere near the Survey Corps.”

“I’ll get them for it. Later.” He finally glances at you, only for his gaze to drop back down to the ledger.

You nod, your heart panging in your ears. Mom and Dad. Oh gods. Oh fuck. He’s so fucking pretty when he blushes. What were you arguing about?

“You do that,” you say.

[smartelds]

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[dont-f-with-moogles]

Yoooo

Not sure how this goes but how about prompts #22 or #29 for levihan? Whichever inspires you more/first xD

Yoooo Koala Bear! Smut Scribbles 22: “Show me how much you need me.”

Now or Never (Part 1) (NSFW) Characters: Levi x Hange; Levi x Petra (mentioned: Mike, Nanaba, Oluo, Gunther, Eld) Word Count: 2178 words

New Year’s Eve. The city streets were swarming with visitors returning from the local shrine, heads bowed against the cold, night air. Beneath a black sky pin pricked with stars, apartment windows offered their own warm glow; a brief exhibition of the different lives within. 

And in his bedroom, Levi Ackerman was rudely awoken by a foot colliding with his face.

“Ah, fuck!” 

He sat upright, stifled by the stench of sweat and stale beer. It pressed in on him like a wall of heat. Gunther, who was lying upside down beside him, sprawled over onto his stomach and groaned into the mattress.

“Not sharing a bed with these guys again…” Levi decided ruefully, climbing out and standing on the carpeted floor. As soon as he had moved, Gunther swung over onto his back and stretched out his limbs like a starfish. Supposing that that was the end of the struggle, Levi stepped gingerly over Oluo and Eld who lay crumpled beneath a mismatch of covers. 

Bending down to unplug his phone, Levi tapped on the screen to see no missed notifications. He hadn’t been expecting a follow up response after Petra’s brief but sincere ‘Have a great night! Can’t wait to hear all about it! See you next year :)’  And yet, he could not help but feel a sense of something… lacking. It had been a recent revelation, their progression from acquaintances to dating. Petra was a junior at the organisation where Levi worked, and best friend to the three sleeping bodies which were currently slumped in various corners of his bedroom. Whilst she had taken a trip with her family to celebrate the new year, Levi had been coerced into putting up an assortment of work and university friends after a long night of drinking. That was the thanks he got for being the only adult responsible enough to rent an apartment within walking distance of a major station.

Levi shuffled out into his hallway, towards the long through room which encompassed a lounge, diner and kitchen. Here the shutters were partially-closed to the city’s luminescence, leaving a little light to dilute the darkness. At the end of the room, the countertop was covered with beer bottles, half-drunk cups and crusted plates. Levi’s sofa was swaddled in a brown, paisley blanket; Hange’s arm protruding from beneath. Nestled in the space between the sofa’s back and Levi’s bookshelves, Mike and Nanaba were sharing a single futon. She was pulled tightly to Mike’s chest, her pinkened face half-hidden in his shirt.

Awake now, despite his aching temple and bleary eyes, Levi looked towards his kitchen with grim determination. There was nothing else for it, especially since his entire array of bedclothes had been donated to his friends. 

At the sink, he carefully pulled the tap on, angling it so that the spray did not hit anything noisy or metallic. Yet, someone was stirring at the sound of water. Levi turned to see Hange disentangling themself from the blanket.

“Go back to sleep…” Levi approached, keeping his voice low so as not to awake anyone else. “I got woken up, so-” At this, he gestured towards the cluttered kitchen as though this provided a comfort which sleeping no longer could.

“What, did the mess give you a nightmare?” Hange was sitting up, rubbing beneath their glasses. “Can I help?”

“No…” Levi looked doubtfully at the washing up brush he was holding. “I’m just killing time.”

“Levi, it’s-” Hange pulled out their own phone from where it had slid beneath the sofa. “-four in the morning. You can’t wash up all night. Just sleep here.” To demonstrate, they pulled back the cover. Levi hesitated, regarding the space on the sofa beside them warily. 

Under other circumstances, sharing a sofa with a friend in order to catch up on some much needed sleep would not have been anything momentous. However, there was nothing normal about the circumstances between Levi and Hange. The pair of them shared a long, muddied history which began with Levi losing Hange’s number on the second day of university. Reuniting the following day had led to five years of friendship, only recently culminating in one heated episode. Three months had passed since that moment, and yet the memory of it was as fresh in Levi’s mind as though it had occurred yesterday. Unsurprising, given the amount of replays he had devoted to it. However brief, however trivial their encounter had seemed at the time, it was made worse by the fact that neither had spoken a word about it since. 

Hange was beginning to rise from the sofa cushion, forcing Levi to put out his hands. Both whispered at once, each insisting that the other take the couch.

“Come on, let’s just sleep here,” Hange sighed finally. “It won’t be weird…” 

Levi suffered a swooping sensation, like the sudden shock of missing a stair. It was the first time they had come close to acknowledging those reckless actions which had accidentally dented the Platonic exterior of their relationship.

“...we need to sleep. I’ll face away from you so you don’t get blasted by my bad breath!”

Levi looked hopelessly over at the washing up. His mouth felt parched and a steady pulse was throbbing behind his eyes. With a curt nod, he quickly lay down and dragged the blanket over him, as though the speed of the action would make it less controversial. The couch creaked in protest as Hange rolled over. Their body was squeezed as close to the sofa’s back as possible, affording Levi room to lie behind them. 

Resting his head on the very edge of their shared pillow, Levi waited. It struck him all at once; he would never be able to sleep like this. His mind was alight like a livewire; his skin prickled. Readying himself, he half-expected Hange to speak again or turn to him without warning. Levi pressed his hands between his knees, his rigid body angled away from them. He had never felt so awake in his life. Only now it was too late to change his mind. What reason could he give for getting up? Levi could not afford to have Hange realise the extent of his awkwardness for fear it would further fracture their friendship.

Where he lay, Levi could not help but catch faint strains of coconut from Hange’s hair. It was that dry shampoo they stuffed it with whenever they resorted to survival mode; something sickly sweet but oddly comforting and familiar. Levi drew each shallow breath through clenched teeth. Beside him, Hange's chest rose and fell rhythmically whilst the air in his own lungs scorched him. It was too hot; too confined beneath this single blanket with the scent and the heat of them enveloping him. He kept his hands pressed in tightly, as though to accidentally brush against them would burn his skin. Agonising, unending torture. It pained Levi to recall how often he had swept an arm over his own cool, unwrinkled sheets, lamenting the shape of their absence; longing to have Hange lying this close to him. All those sleepless nights he wished for exactly this and now- No. Not here. He couldn’t give into those thoughts here. Those were fading memories, overwritten by the present. Now, there was Petra. 

Turning his thoughts firmly to Petra, Levi felt himself begin to relax. Meanwhile, Hange was breathing deeply, blissfully unaware of his inner turmoil. Fatigue lay heavily upon Levi’s body and, as his face sank into the crumpled pillow, his eyes closed. 

It was a low grunt which caused Levi to jerk awake. In the immense effort of casting off what felt like several hours of deep sleep, he tried to orientate himself. Coarse strands of hair were tickling his cheeks. He was curled on his side, pressed against something. The cotton of the pillow was gone. Levi inhaled the scent of coconut, his face nestled in the warmth of Hange’s neck. Horrified, he quickly withdrew to the very edge of the couch. The abruptness of his movements should have awoken them, and yet they lay perfectly still. Levi tensed. He could have sworn he heard a breathy chuckle and then… there was silence. For a moment, he envied them. Hange swept in and out of his life with all the passion and violence of a storm, arriving with a crash and leaving with nothing more than a whisper. What he wouldn’t give to live and love so freely…

Positioning himself with care, Levi’s head was perched at the end of the pillow; legs hung precariously over the edge of the sofa cushions. If exhaustion had not crept over him once more, inviting and unannounced, he would have given up any attempts at sleep. But Levi could no more contemplate braving the cold air outside the blanket more than he could stepping onto the cool, wooden floorboards. He gripped his hands under the pillow, and once again surrendered to rest.  

Beneath his palms, the heat of their cheeks burned. Levi was cupping Hange’s face in his hands as his lips pressed theirs. Each kiss was dizzying; addictive. As he leaned into them, he felt Hange respond with increased pressure as they savoured each brush of his lips. They sank backwards, causing the makeshift bed to groan under the weight of them both. Levi was drawn out between Hange’s legs, his tongue gliding across the back of their teeth. Beneath him, Hange gasped, open-mouthed as their back arched off the thin mattress. The press of their body sent hot whips of pleasure lashing through him. Levi’s eyes rolled back as they fluttered closed. If this is how good they felt on his cock whilst fully clothed… Levi’s hips pistoned forward against them. So fucking good. His teeth grazed and pulled at their lower lip. Breathlessly, he withdrew to gaze down into Petra’s flushed, smiling face.

This time Levi awoke groggily. The thick, oppressive layer of sleep coating his mind was even more difficult to shake off than before. Outlined by a slither of street light filtering through the shutters, Levi could make out the sofa’s back and Hange’s sleeping form in front of him. His body was moulded to theirs; arms aching as he clung to their waist. Their weight rested against him, back held flush to his chest. And, still worse, he was hard. Shamefully, unbearably hard. With a sigh, Hange shifted against him. As though on instinct Levi’s body responded, hips rolling into them, sending another wave of whitehot electricity coursing through him. His eyes closed in agony; mouth filled with saliva. Levi was lost in the heat of them; wanted nothing more than to keep up that same rhythm; relish that delicious, blistering friction as it intensified… Levi moaned into their neck, loud enough to drown out Hange’s quiet gasps.

“Shit-” The cold realisation of what he was doing suddenly dawned upon him. Levi struggled to sit up. With a fluid movement, Hange turned over and caught his wrist in their hand.

“Shh!” they hissed, “Mike and Nanaba.”

Levi froze, hardly daring to draw breath. “Shit. Shit.  I…”

Half-lowering himself, Levi’s limbs stiffened. His head barely grazed the pillow. Hange’s face was so close to his own that he could feel the heat lifting from their cheeks. Levi clutched the underside of the sofa arm to prevent himself from falling. 

“It’s okay,” Hange mouthed, hardly audible. “I’m not going to kiss you.”

“You’re not?”

“You sound disappointed, Levi.” He could hear quiet breath whistling down their nose. Up close their eyes appeared large and dark in the gloom. Desperately, Levi sought for a safe response amongst dozens of dangerous options, but came up empty-handed. He was seized with a need to clear his throat.

“Are you?” Hange added. 

Levi’s mouth was almost too dry to speak.

“Can’t-”

“What?” Their breath was on his mouth. Their familiarity, their smell, their warmth was clouding him; pulling him under. Less than an inch stood between them; it would be too easy to close the gap. Levi knew that if he shifted only slightly, Hange would melt into him. The thought alone was enough to harden him more. It took every fibre of his resolve to remain still.

But Hange didn’t move any closer.

“Levi, we can sleep here and never talk about this again.”

Levi could hardly speak, hardly breathe as they drew towards him.

“Or… you could show me how much you need me.”

One last, star-filled night. This night. The pair of them crowded close, noses almost touching beneath an old, threadbare blanket. Here, where they were hidden from other’s eyes. This would be his only chance. It was never to be repeated again. But, it was impossible; staggering in its enormity. Either he leaned in and claimed everything he had been longing for, for five long years. Or he remained where he was; refrained from crossing a boundary that would sully two relationships held so dear to him. The course of his future lay in his decision.

And decide he did.

Part 2: Now or Never (SFW)

[elleseekswritingpartners]

searching for aot/attack on titan writing partners (updated NEVER EXPIRES)

Elle. 20+. GMT. discord/tumblr/docs. I'm a long-term roleplayer and I will literally send you memes and HCs and create Pinterest boards and google docs one hour after we start talking because I'm both stupid and unhinged. I joke around a lot but be critical of the media you consume or leave, also this is a no bigotry zone.

WE'LL GET ALONG IF:

You are older than 19 years old.

You’re not interested in smut-centered plots.

You’re genuinely ok with doubling up. I've been roleplaying for over a decade, trust me it's blatant when someone is forcing themselves to write a character they don't want to write.

You don’t care intensely about following what’s canon: my philosophy is to look at the world that is provided to us and turn it into our playground.

You like plots with a mixture of realism and clichés: realism is VERY important to me especially when writing ships, but i WILL conjugate that realism with more cringy elements (like love triangles, pinning, and accidental pregnancies).

You’ll match my energy. I'm going to jump right to plotting and shipping to gauge if we’ll be compatible or not because I don’t like to waste time.

You can communicate and be enthusiastic: I'm a very devoted roleplay partner. I don't expect us to talk every day and I don't expect fast replies, but if we don’t interact for 2 weeks, I'll clock out.  

You'll explore mature topics with respect. I don't have trigger warnings and enjoy writing potentially triggering topics like manipulation, religious themes, and memory loss etc, but let's always be respectful. 

what i'm interested in writing:

please know that ilse langnar, mike/miche zacharias, and eld gin are my main characters and i will always want to throw them at you, in a ship or in a brotp or i any other dynamic.

i only write m/f ships with new writing partners, sorry!

erwin smith x f oc

zeke yeager x f oc or pieck finger (i can write either)

porco galliard x f oc or pieck finger (i can write either)

marcel galliard x f oc

levi ackerman x f oc

and also:

reiner braun x f oc (selective with this one, need to discuss plot ideas first)

jean kirstein x f oc

jean kirstein x hitch dreyse

erwin smith x f oc

zeke yeager x f oc

mike zacharias x f oc

gunther schultz x f oc

eld gin x f oc

petra rall x m oc

hanji/hange zoe x levi ackerman (i can write either)

hanji/hange zoe x erwin smith (i can write either)

absolute massive bonus points if you do a mumu with me bc i love connecting characters and plots. i write ilse (and lynne) and if you give me a brotp for her with any of these characters : marlene, nabana, hange i will deadass cry. if you let me write mike or eld against erwin in a brotp i will deadass cry too.

ty for reading!! don't forget to say hi if you're interested. ✨

[prettyiwa]

DO NOT MENTION MY WORKS ON TIKTOK.

(previous) | (next) Relationship: Drummer!Levi Ackerman x Bassist!F!Reader Rating: Explicit 18+ Content Tags: Band!AU, Modern!AU, Fucking Your Ex, Unhealthy Relationship, Unhealthy Coping, Infidelity, Shameless Smut, Slight Exhibitionism, Public Sex, Oral Sex (M!Receiving), Face Fucking, Degradation Kink (Levi calls reader "slut"), Impact Play (Face Slapping), Slight SadoMasochism, Use of an Anal Plug, Choking, Hair-Pulling*, Creampie, Unprotected Sex, Mentions of Addiction, Allusions to Addiction, Heavy on the RCHP Mentions~ Summary: You used to be his girl and he'd remind you of that fact every chance he got. Then came an offer too good to pass up, even with all the strings attached. Now you're left without your band, without him. But hell, you can remedy that first part, right? And what's a little not hate sex between exes? Word Count: 5820

A/N: Changed it a bit but most of it remains the same. Apologies, tall readers, but we’re Levi’s height here. (I also imagine him a few inches taller here if it helps)

Levi hates this entire fucking thing. He hates being under Zeke’s thumb—what should have been a great opportunity for the band is now Zeke micromanaging them, manipulating what the music will sound like in the studio. He hates that it was Eld who played that night—not that he didn’t like Eld, but he wasn’t you. He hates that he’s here in this dirty ass club with this brunette who won’t leave him alone while Eyebrows and Quiet Blondie whisk you away.

He hates—

He hates that this is the result of his choice and he hates that he’s realizing just how much it’s affecting him now after he’s seen you.

Did Zeke do this on purpose? Did he know that you’d be here tonight? Is that why he sent Levi? He wouldn’t be surprised. It's very much in Zeke’s character to pull such a shitty move, especially as Levi is open about his dislike of the blonde.

He tries to live without regrets, without second-guessing his choices, but, shit, if signing that contract with Zeke wasn’t something he’s starting to regret.

You looked like sin tonight, dancing, singing, playing like you used to—no, not quite. You were playing better, nearly carrying the entire performance. The drummer was good. Regardless of what you may say, the two of you played well with one another.

Shit, he missed having you play bass with him. Listening to you provide the bassline, watching you play—it’s pure sex. There’s no other way to describe it than utterly sexual. You keep time with him, unlike any other bassist he’s ever played with, instinctively knowing how he’s going to move. And your harmony is unparalleled, easily transforming around whatever kick pattern he gives, whatever percussion he’s throwing your way. He’ll follow whatever accents you give the piece, wherever you lead him, he’ll lock-in. Together you’re one instrument providing harmony and rhythm.

When the two of you play together, it’s transcendental, invigorating, indescribable. And he misses it. He didn’t realize just how much until he saw you play tonight.

Nor did he realize quite how much he missed you. You were his girl. He couldn’t claim any part of you, save for your orgasms tonight. Those were his, and his alone. You waited for him, knowing that he’d come, that he couldn’t get enough. Knowing what your music does to him.

You taunted him, teased him, riled him up, reminded him what it was to feel intoxicated, reminded him what it was to be drunk off of you.

He wants to hate you, wants to hate what you reduce him to, but he can’t. He can’t when you feel so fucking euphoric when around him, when the sounds you make are his most beautiful composition, his most beautiful song.

And the thought of you leaving with them makes him sick. Makes him want to find you and remind you that you’re his. Except that you’re not his girl. He lost the right to call you that, even if it was that which made you orgasm so hard you couldn’t stand on your own anymore.

You’re the addiction he wishes he never gave up.

The guitarist won’t stop pestering him, and, unfortunately, Zeke told him that he had to come back with a prospective bassist. She said she played and was a decent enough guitarist. Maybe if she tanks, Zeke will send someone else out. Doubtful, considering the importance of a unified bassist and drummer, but Levi knows that he’s not going to find someone more compatible for him than you.

As a pair of musicians. Nothing more.

So he takes her offered number, dodges her unwanted kiss, and gets the fuck out of the shitty club.

Four Weeks Later

She’s a fine bassist. Nothing special. Doesn’t lead at all, doesn’t do anything more than follow. Disappointing, but Zeke loves it.

Oluo and Gunther hate her and he can’t blame them. Petra came too close to slapping her when she nearly found herself in Oluo’s lap, trying to make Levi jealous. It’s his own damn fault.

It was like the floodgates opened after that night with you. A year and he was fine. He was fine not fucking. It no longer carried the same meaning—music. He didn’t feel that urge to combine the two, to indulge, and then he had to go to that club that fucking night, had to see you, had to hear you.

One stupid relapse and he was doomed.

So he fucked her once. Left right after. Showered in scalding water to try to wash it away.

That was two weeks ago.

He’s about to burst.

He wants to find you. He can’t find you. He wants to remind you that you’re his girl. You’re not his girl. He wants to tell Zeke to fuck off. He gave up everything for this opportunity.

He needs a distraction. Something to tear his mind away from you. Away from this shitty reality. The guys are surprised when he agrees to go out to Utopia District Lounge.

To make matters worse Amy takes it upon herself to invite Zeke. And they don’t find out that you’re the performer for the evening until you arrive with the two blondes and they’re already two shots in.

His eyes are transfixed on you as you set up, as another brunette with glasses comes and helps you, chattering excitedly at you. Amy keeps pouting and whining that he’s not paying attention to her when it’s impossible for him to pay attention to anything but you.

He’s curious to see how you’re going to pull this off—a performance with just your bass and your voice? It’s possible, but if the blondies are here, then he can only assume that they have a plan of some sort.

Eyebrows looks at the door as Zeke walks through, missing you altogether as the latter scans the bar for the band. Levi can’t help but watch as Eyebrows walks over to you, as his hand touches your lower back and he leans in to whisper something, the wink you give Eyebrows. He can’t help but watch as your gaze meets Levi's and you give him a cocky smirk, eyes flickering to Zeke joining them in the booth.

“It’s good to see my band here, together!” Zeke announces, flagging down a waitress. “Such a rare treat for you all to be able to relax, isn’t it?”

Oluo and Gunther pick up the conversation, wanting to avoid Levi punching Zeke, allowing him to focus on you entirely.

You greet the patrons of the bar, introducing yourself as a solo artist in need of a drummer who can keep up—a not-so-subtle dig at him—and that you’ll be improvising the set for the night, but that you’d like them all to come out of the night feeling some sort of way.

And, shit, if you don’t deliver. It starts out slow, lyrics angsty, voice sultry. The songs centering around sex in one way or another, associating sex with drugs, with addiction, but if that doesn’t describe the thrumming of his heart right now, aching for you, to join you, to fuck you. It’s hard to be sober when his drug is standing before him, looking at him like that.

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen, I have one more song for the night. It’s one that I’ve been perfecting for several years now, so I hope you’ll all like it. In fact, the person it’s about is in this bar right now,” you announce with a wicked smile. “I call it ‘My Ex is a Fucking Asshole.’ Say ‘Hi,’ Zeke.”

Your words take him by surprise, previously unaware of the identity of the "Ex" belonging to your song. Now that he knows, everything clicks into place—Zeke's terms before signing the contract, your potent reaction to the choice he made, your allergy to Marleyan Music Group. Now that he knows, he hates this entire situation even more.

And even though you’re playing with nothing but rage fueling you, he’s certain he’s never seen you look so ethereal, so dangerous, so exhilarating. Fuck if it doesn’t go straight to his dick, fuck if he doesn’t need to indulge.

You finish, glowing like you always do after a show, worrying your teeth between your lips because all that adrenaline, all that blood that’s pumping is going straight to your cunt and you need a release just as much as he. He knows how you operate, knows your singularities, knows what goes through your mind. After all, you were his girl.

And even though your eyes meet his, even though the electricity is there, the pull, you don’t approach. Not with your ex at the table. Does Levi count as an ex, or was he just a long-term fix?

Instead, your eyes find the blondes, looking at you like you’re the golden goose. Hell. With a voice like that and the mastery of your instrument, you may as well be. He can’t help but watch you leave while he’s vibrating with need, desperate to be buried inside you. But he can’t. So he makes a decision that he definitely comes to regret.

She tells him, too. “Just so you know—when I let a guy fuck me twice, it means I’m serious and we’re starting a relationship.”

He waves it away, needing release more than anything. It’s after that he realizes how idiotic he was. How, if he wants out, he’ll have to leave the band or get her to leave. He’ll have to risk his contract, including the non-compete clause. Everything that he had done, everything he had sacrificed—

“Fuck.”

Six Weeks Later

He’s miserable. Truly. Stuck in a relationship with someone he’s come to realize he hates. She talks too much, doesn’t clean up after herself, drinks nearly every day, and is too damn needy. Not to mention she’s not musically compatible with him at all.

And he runs into you more frequently now that you have a label—the label he wished he had gotten but was too poor for the move at the time. They’re playing it smart, advertising you like you’re a soloist, making you desirable to play with, to perform with. So you’re everywhere.

But it isn’t until six weeks after that fuck up that he snaps. You had just performed with one of the more prominent bands in the city sounding like sex, sounding like sin. He had to watch as the lead vocalist draped his arms around you, touched you like you were his, playing one of the songs that you had performed back at the bar.

He seeks you out in the back, overcome with the urge to mark you, to fill you up, to fuck you raw. Playing like this always made you an insatiable little shit, desperate to continue the high, to continue the music. He knows because you were his girl. He knows because listening to you play made him want the same damn thing.

You’re squeezed between the vocalist and the guitarist, arms wrapped around either of their waists, smiling with that post-show elation. As though you could sense him, you turn, making eye contact with him, licking your lips with a distinct rapaciousness playing in your expression. He approaches, unable to stop himself, unsure if he even wants to stop himself.

The air gets hotter, thicker the closer he gets, attention drawn to him when the band realizes you’re not paying attention to them, but to him, and the room seems to shrink until it’s just you two. You release yourself from the band, stepping forward to meet him, eyes raking his form as you near.

He wants to take you, kiss you, show everyone here how you respond to him, but before he can make a move, you walk past him as you had before. He has no choice but to follow, just as before. You live for this, making him follow, making him chase you for release—he was the one to walk away, after all. You’re not his girl. Shit, if he doesn’t want to make you his girl again.

Amy’s face flashes in his mind as he catches up to you, grabs your wrist, yanks you into a closet. He should feel bad, guilty, even if he doesn’t like her. But the way you whine as he pins your arms above your head against the back of the door sends shivers up his spine that wipe out all coherent thought.

The sound of the crowd and the ambient music reverberates in the small room as you grind against his thigh between your legs, whimpering and squirming with need. When his lips crash against yours, it feels like an inevitability, a certainty, a fatality. You feel like velvet against his skin, taste saccharine against his lips, sound euphonious to his ears. He makes quick work of the buttons on your pants, pulling them down, expecting to find lace or spandex or silk or something, but finding nothing.

“You like?” you croon at his sharp intake of breath. “Was hoping to get a good fucking tonight.”

The whimper that comes out of your mouth as he drags his fingers against your sopping folds fills him with an undeniable buzz that spreads across the entirety of his being. “Such a fucking slut.”

“What’s that say about—” your taunt is cut off by a discordant cry as he flicks your swollen clit, as he starts to massage it, setting you on course to that delicious fucking high that you’re so desperate for.

“What was that? I can’t quite hear you,” he whispers, leaning in so his mouth ghosts over yours.

“Shut the fuck up and fill me up already,” you utter between broken moans, still insolent, still a fucking brat. He removes his hand from your clit, bringing a pout to your perfect fucking lips, bringing a daring look to your lust-blown eyes.

It’s an impulse, an automatic response after years of fucking you, of knowing you, of—

His open palm stings a bit as your head snaps to the side and he thinks he’s gone too far—you’re not his girl anymore, and you have no tolerance for face-slapping otherwise—but an exhilarated smile forms and you peek at him from the corner of your eye as your chest heaves.

“That’s what I’m talking about,” you sneer. “Fuck me like you mean it.”

He lets go of your wrists and you immediately begin tugging on his pants, unbuttoning, unzipping, undressing, trying your damnedest to ignore the way he pinches, pulls, and bites. He springs free and you drop to your knees, looking up at him like you’re about to devour him and fuck if he doesn’t want you to.

You stick out your tongue, licking a stripe from his base to his tip, drawing out a shudder from him, causing his mind to go blank. And when you swirl your tongue around his head—the groan that comes out of him is loud and he’s certain the people on the other side of the door would hear him, but it doesn’t matter because all that he can focus on is the way your mouth is swallowing him, taking him to the hilt, the way his fingers bury themselves in your hair, controlling your pace.

And that look in your eyes, refusing to leave his—concupiscent, lascivious, absolutely pornographic. He’d let you kill him, here, now, if he could have this image, this sensation permanently branded in his memory. How pliant you are as he guides you to his pleasure, how pleading your eyes are to be stuffed with him, how intoxicating are your nails as they dig into the hard muscle of his ass.

His pleasure is building, mounting, but he doesn’t want to coat your throat with his cum—yes he does, but not right now—so he pulls you back with an unceremonious pop! Your gaze turns bitter for a moment before false docility washes over your features. You give his cock a peck before shifting, bringing your mouth to his hip, sucking at the sensitive flesh, certain to leave a mark. He can’t even bring himself to give a damn, not even when your teeth sink in, deep enough, hard enough that a forensics team could pull your dental records off his body.

He pulls you up by your hair, bringing you to your feet. He turns you around, slams you against the door, relishing in the breathy moan that escapes you, in the way you perk your ass for him, pulling your cheeks apart, showing the shiny plug nestled in your tight asshole. He taps the base, the surprisingly cool metal, and watches as you jolt, desperate for stimulation.

“You ready, you fucking tease?”

“Please, just fucking fill me already,” you beg, face pressed against the door. If anyone’s on the other side, they’re sure to hear, but as it is, it’s just you two—the world has boiled down to you two. Nothing else matters but the music that floats between you two, the music that you two create as you both seek passage to Elysium.

He nudges your opening with his cock, throbbing, begging to be inside you. You squirm against him and he tightens his grip around the back of your neck.

“Be a good girl and stay still,” he orders before entering you in a single snap of his hips, groaning at the snug fit as your plug presses against him through the tight walls of your cunt. You meet him as he slams his hips forward, as the closet fills with the joint sounds of your gasps, your moans, as you two create a song so beautiful that it’ll be stuck in his head until next time.

Because there's gotta be a next time. How could there not when your pussy takes him so well, when your body responds to him the way it does like it was made just for him?

“Look at you,” he growls, pleasure rolling through him with each thrust, each twitch. “Such a good fucking slut for me. So—fucking—tight!”

The signs are there—the tensing of your muscles, the light fluttering of your walls, the quickening of your breathing—and he wants to feel you, feel the intensity of your orgasm just like the last time. He slips his hand between your legs, fingers rubbing your clit in the way he knows you love. It rolls off his tongue far too easily, a habit, a recognition of what you once were, what he hopes you would be.

“Cum for me. I want to feel my girl cum on my cock.”

Your orgasm is like a tidal wave—a massive surge that takes everything with it, leaving no survivors. The guttural scream that leaves you and the clenching of your pussy around him sparks his own, exploding all at once, making him see stars, grabbing onto you as tightly as you’re holding onto him. A deep satisfaction washes over him, feeling the release of tension he’s been holding onto for far too long. Tremors still wrack through your body and he finds himself uniquely jealous of the lasting pleasure you feel, the magnitude of your high compared to his.

But it’s the least he could do for his girl.

Even if you’re not his girl.

“Agh, fuck, I missed that,” you mutter, low and what he can only assume was meant for your ears alone. You tap his thigh lightly, communicating your desire for him to pull out. He groans as he complies, as his dick rubs against the plug one last time. As he tucks himself back into his pants, he notices the cum that trails from your swollen lips.

You shrug out of your jacket, handing it to him, before ridding yourself of your tank top and use it as a makeshift towel to clean yourself up. He watches as you ball it up and throw it to the back of the closet, leaving yourself in your black lace bra.

“That was fun,” you wink, extending your arm to ask for your jacket. “Till next time, handsome.”

You open the closet door, stepping out before his hand closes around your wrist. He doesn’t like the look in your eye as you turn back to regard him. He doesn’t like the lack of warmth, the attempt at indifference. He doesn’t like the harsh reminder that you’re not his girl.

“Next time?” he questions the promise in your tone, the certainty. He simply needs to know when.

You lean in, smile sickly sweet, unnervingly cold, until your mouth is level with his ear. Your voice is silky smooth and dripping with poison. “You and I both know that your girlfriend’s cunt just doesn’t cut it. We’re both addicts, Levi, and I’m tired of being clean.”

Two Weeks Later

The next time is a benefit concert, one that you’re both playing at, albeit at different stages at different times. The band manages to catch your first performance and you’re covering “Orion” like you were born to, like your entire purpose is to remind everyone of the power that bassists hold. It’s transcendent to watch as you perform, as you throw yourself into the music, the rhythm.

They catch Zeke watching with a hungry expression in the back, cataloging the way you make it look almost effortless and sound even better. Finishing strong, you look out to the crowd, glowing from playing, from their adulation. You ask them for another song to cover, watching the counter tick up, up, up as donations pour in. Someone requests “Coffee Shop” and your excitement turns palpable, loving the opportunity to play RHCP.

“Well, it’s not like she didn’t get better with time. Remember all of those times you and she would warm up with the Red Hot Chili Peppers? Look at us now,” Oluo remarks snidely, throwing a glance at Amy to Levi’s right. “What I wouldn’t give to play with her again.”

The last comment is loud enough for Amy to hear. She elbows Levi in the ribs before pouting that he stepped away from her. “Hey! Aren’t you supposed to defend me?”

Levi leaves before he has to deal with any more of her whining, thoroughly missing a decent fucking bassist who makes going into the studio worthwhile. After an hour of checking out the different stages, the different acts, he makes his way to the back of the stage they’ll be performing in later, only to find you, perched at the barstool, flirting with the bartender.

“What are you doing back here?” Levi asks, much harsher than intended.

“I’m playing with the headliners,” you shrug. “Erwin and Mike rep them.”

After the final encore, you emerge, sweaty and jubilant. The musicians from the day intermingle with one another, making it easy for them to get separated, lost in the sea of bodies, making it easy for him to find you and drag you to the bathroom.

The time after that was after a show in a park. You went down on him behind the bleachers like a couple of high school kids and were nearly caught like high school kids.

Then a show at the ballroom of a hotel—in the restroom, on the empty balcony, almost in the elevator, in a room that your label had gotten you in case you were too exhausted to take the train home.

A jazz club that had tiered balconies, perfect for private stripteases and overstimulation.

At a casino—which was the first time he had actually sought you out—he fucked you so hard that you forgot your name for a minute.

Again.

And again.

And again.

A symphony of moans, whines, whimpers, exhales, all permanently ingrained in his mind. Enough that he doesn’t fuck Amy anymore. Not when he can get his fix elsewhere. Not when he has the real thing.

She pouts, cries, complains, and he would say that it affects her performance but it doesn’t. She wasn’t good enough to begin with for it to affect her performance. He doesn’t find enjoyment in making music with the band anymore, not with Zeke hovering over them. It’s almost like he has a keen focus on Levi and the band, like they’re his only clients, like he doesn’t run one of the largest labels in the country.

He’s taken to playing alone as he used to when he met you.

He misses when music was something he looked forward to making, not just a means to an end. It’s getting to the point that Gunther is talking about leaving, too, taking the hit with the non-compete clause. It helps, of course, that Gunther can lean on his mother and grandmother for support. And Oluo has his mother’s restaurant.

And Levi? Levi has nothing but a record label that’s suffocating him, a woman he doesn’t want, and a woman he doesn’t have. He had moved here, hoping he could turn his passion into a career, one fruitful and rewarding. Before their deaths, he had promised Isabel and Furlan that he would do what he could to make it, to play and share his music with hundreds, thousands, millions.

Maybe he chose this particular rehearsal hall because it’s the one you frequent. Maybe he had chosen it because it was the cheapest in the area—but he doesn’t even live in this area. Maybe he just wanted to see you.

And see you he does, through the glass window of the door of his practice room as you pass with your bass. It’s such a weird thing, the way his heart hammers in his chest at the barest glimpse of you. He was fine—

For a year, he was fine. Except that he wasn’t.

Just as he decides not to pursue, the door is yanked open and you step in with your case. Your hair is tussled, breathing a little erratic, brows drawn together in confusion.

“Since—what—The fuck are you doing here? You don’t practice here,” you yammer, confusion seeping through your voice.

“I can practice wherever I want. I paid for this room, after all.”

His answer only seems to fluster you more, while you shake your head. “You—”

“Are you going to join me or can I get back to my practice?” he drawls. He had stopped playing, lost in thought, but he needs you to make up your damn mind. As does he.

Your eyebrows shoot up at his proposition, at the prospect of playing with him again before they relax and a contemplative smile forms.

“You sure?”

“Tch. I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t.”

“Okay,” you lilt. “You mind if we do some warm-ups?” You immediately start setting up, establishing your pedals in the space where you’ll be playing, moving like you’ve never been happier, the skirt of your dress swaying as you move back and forth.

“Anything in particular?”

“Mmm, no. Just throw me a beat,” you call, connecting the last of the cables to the amp.

“It’s good to hear that,” he mutters, having missed a competent bassist who doesn’t need explicit direction.

“‘S that so? Well, you guys are using someone who used to believe that playing bass guitar and playing guitar are the same.”

“How long ago did she believe that?”

“Hmm… Two years ago? If I remember correctly. You good? Or do you want me to start?”

He picks up “Naked in the Rain” and you flow into it easily, effortlessly, like it hasn’t almost been two years since the two of you played together. The smile that is plastered to your face is radiant in its own right, unadulterated joy, and fuck if he’s not feeling a little bit of it, too. It morphs into “Blackeyed Blonde” at your direction and it’s a rush for his bassist to take charge again, for the two of you to play off of each other.

You lock eyes with him as you move to the beat, to the harmony you’re providing to his outline, and it’s unquestionably sexual as the energy in the room shifts. It’s always been like this. This is what it should be.

You wipe sweat away from your forehead as the two of you come down from the warm-ups before tossing him an extra water bottle.

“You, ah, you have something you need to practice? Or just here to jam?” you ask as you open the bottle. He’s mesmerized by the way your throat moves as you drink the water, catching himself before you have a chance to notice.

“Today is unstructured. Do you have a song you need to practice? You’ve been writing more than you used to.”

“Yeah, well, got some shit I gotta work out,” you grumble. “You mind if I practice this one song? I have the drum tabs with me if you wanna take a look. Or we can see if you pick it up?”

A challenge.

But you’re his bassist and he knows you like the back of his hand, knows your music like it calls out to his soul.

“What do you think, brat?”

You wink and click your tongue against your teeth as you smile, keeping the offered pages in your case. The two of you have done this countless times just to see if you could. This is an old habit, an old game, one he’ll happily participate in.

Starting, he picks up the rhythm you’re giving him but waits to see how it evolves. It’s unexpected when you start to sing—you could, but you never used to. Now it’s a part of your package, but it’s still unexpected in this session that almost felt like things used to be.

The raw emotion in your voice is devastating, powerful as your eyes screw shut in concentration, engulfed in the music. He starts playing along, generally uncomplicated, and your face relaxes for just a moment before it twists into a mournful expression. Your lyrics are powerful, evocative, talking about him, about how you want to love him in wonderfully calamitous ways, leaving him bleeding and broken as when he left you.

He can’t bear it. He can’t bear watching you anymore, watching the emotions dance across your face—the pain, the betrayal, the longing. He can’t bear to watch anymore because it’s mirrored within him.

When he finishes before you do, he’s lucky that you’re so invested in the song that you don’t hear as his drumsticks are discarded, as his seat is pushed back, as he steps closer. Before you have a chance to open your eyes again, he’s cupping your face and pulling you to him in a fervent kiss, desperate to wash the pain away—yours or his, he’s not entirely sure. It doesn’t matter.

You pull back, pupils wide with desire, hands secure around your instrument.

“Here?” you ask, eyebrows knitting together, though you’re already preparing to remove your bass guitar.

“You were the one just singing about wanting to fuck me,” he points out.

“Those were the lyrics, jackass,” you mutter, gently placing your instrument in its case.

“Were they any less true?”

“No.”

A whispered admission. A whispered confession.

You turn, an indecipherable emotion behind your eyes as you step forward, as you extend your arm, your hand, wrap it around his throat. He gives you a growl in response as you push him back towards the wall, capturing his lips in a heated kiss, all teeth and tongue. Your grip around his throat loosens, remaining there only as a symbol of your power over him. His hands bunch the skirt of your dress, lifting it up so he can grab the supple flesh of your ass.

Your lips chart a path down his jawline, sucking a bruise just beneath his ear as your fingers carefully undo each button of his shirt. As much as he wants to mark you, claim you, remind you that you’re his, you must want to do the same. Once his shirt is open, you trail your lips down to his chest, nibbling on his collarbone and sending an intoxicating mixture of pain and pleasure through him.

He pushes you away so he can start loosening his belt only for you to swat his hands away and do it yourself. There is no foreplay this time, no teasing, nothing beyond base desire, base need. As you tug his pants and boxers down, his own fingers loop around the bands of your underwear, shoving them down.

His hands dig into your hips as he tries to turn you around, but you pull him off of you, instead pushing him to the ground and stepping out of your lingerie. You climb on top of him, positioning him against your dripping folds before sinking down on him, punctuating your breathing with a throaty moan.

The pace you set is brutal, unrelenting, full of words that go unsaid, unexchanged. Your fingers card through his hair, nails scratching against his scalp, sending shivers down his spine. His grip on your hips is certain to leave bruises as he rocks you against him, seeking that high for you both.

But this isn’t like the other times—this isn’t about the high, the addiction. This feeling that’s simmering beneath the surface isn’t addiction, though it could easily be confused as such. He wants you. He wants you in ways he was too stupid to admit nearly two years ago.

Your breathing becomes erratic as you near your end, as you press your forehead to his in an unusually tender expression that nearly crushes his heart.

It’s a cry, a plea, the breaking of your heart—

“Say it, please, say it, please, please, please.”

“You’re my girl,” he grunts, caressing your body as you shriek and shudder through your release. “Mine.”

He made the wrong choice back then. He knows that now, and he hates that it’s taken him this long to figure it out.

Once you’ve regained control of your faculties, he grabs your chin with a tenderness that’s been missing from these encounters, these indulgences. Your eyes are wary, afraid, achingly hopeful as he brings your mouth to his for a sensuous kiss, a delicate promise to you, to himself.

He doesn’t like living with regrets.

You break away, eyes taking in as much of him as you can before maintaining his gaze.

“You’re my girl,” he reiterates.

“No,” you whimper, voice cracking. “I was your girl.”

“I want—”

“No.” It comes out more forceful and he wonders if it’s for him or for yourself. “I hate you. I hate you for leaving. I hate that I can’t stay away from you. I hate that I can’t hate you. I want to be your girl, but you made a choice, Levi.”

You flinch as he tries to wipe away the tears that have started to fall.

“I’m going to make another,” he promises, fingers gentle on your face, careful in how he comforts you. “You’re still my girl.”

fic page (including link to the playlist) | Attack on Titan Masterlist

[clare-875]

Until The End (Levi x Reader)- Chapter 9

[The Plan]

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A/N: Posted on Wattpad (@CLARE_875) but also decided to post here :)

Summary:

"You can push me away, but I will still fight by you, and I will still follow you… until the end."

The ever-so-stoic Levi Ackerman has only ever known the terrors that living in a cruel world could bring. This all changed one fateful day when he encountered [y/n]; a girl renowned for her looks and abnormal speed. As they escape the confines of the Underground together, they soon discover that freedom doesn't come easy in a world full of Titans. As they rise through the ranks, [y/n] becomes known as "Humanity's Angel", a beacon of hope to humanity as she melts the walls Levi had built around his heart. However, she has her secrets too, and a dark past that might just threaten to pull them apart.

The storyline and characters of Attack on Titan do NOT belong to me, but all to Hajime Isayama; however, I do own this story, and all that occurs disparate to that storyline.

[Series Masterlist] [Chapter Eight] <--> [Chapter Ten]

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We're on our horses despite the early morning sun barely having passed the horizon. You look forward to Hange on their horse in a state of despair. You hold yourself back from giving comfort, knowing you couldn't do much and focusing on the road ahead. We had woken to hear that Bean and Sawney, the two Titans we had captured, and Hange had been experimenting on, had been killed. As we arrived at the scene, you saw what you heard was true as two skeletons depicting those of Titans lay steaming in the sun, soldiers surrounding Hange as they screamed at the sight in front of them. "Those subjects were very valuable... did one of the soldiers do it?" You turned to Gunther, who was staring at the corpses in disbelief. "Yeah, we don't know who yet," Eld replies, following Gunther's line of sight. "They were both killed at the same time before dawn. By the time the watchmen noticed, they'd used their maneuver gear to get away."

"So this was a deliberate plan involving two or more people..." Eld mutters as you nod, both looking at you grimly. "It seems that way." You watch as Hange screams the names of the Titans, clutching their head. "Look... Squad Leader Hange's gone nuts." You hear Oluo mutter between Petra and you. You tense up, used to criticism thrown at Hange's methodologies but sick of his disrespect at such a time. You elbow Oluo in the ribs, causing him to fall to the ground. "Respect your superiors, Oluo. Isn't that the first thing you learnt in training?" You mutter darkly as even Petra seems surprised at your lack of usual composure. "S-sorry, Captain," Oluo splutters on the ground, but you don't answer and instead look to Levi. "Let's go," he says as you look across to him, "It's up to the Military Police now." You go behind the squad to follow Levi as you see Erwin approach Eren, "What do you see? What do you think the enemy is?" You hear Erwin mutter to Eren as you walk past towards Levi. Well, something tells me Titans are the least of our worries right now. Somehow, the thought that would have provided you comfort yesterday scared you more than anything today. You and Levi wait for Erwin, who catches up with us after his interaction with Eren as we share a look and continue away from the scene.

.....

Days had passed since the selection ceremony whereby new recruits selected what branch of the military they would join, and you were surprised to hear that people had actually joined the Survey Corps. Levi, Eld, Gunther, Eren and you had been on patrol, so we hadn't been there. You wonder what Erwin said to have made them join in a situation like this, but decided that if Erwin could get Levi to join, he could get practically anyone to. You tended to your horse, brushing through the white of her mane before tracing the white patch on the brown of her head. [h/n] leant down slowly at the touch, and you smiled. "We've been through a lot together, too, haven't we [h/n]," you mutter as you turn to see Levi tending to his own horse, which was a deep shade of black. You grin, seeing him gently caress the stallion.

"Have you still not named him?" you ask as he turns over to me, "It's been what, five years? What if he gets lost or something." He turns to you with his deadpan stare, "Well, it's been five years, and he hasn't gotten lost." His lips then slightly turn upwards, "Besides, I'm not one to pick out a horse that needs a name to follow basic instructions." You gasp, putting on a look of mock offence as your horse leans down so its head is next to you, the both of us glaring at Levi. "Oh no, humanity's strongest soldier can't name a horse," you tease as you reach out and pat his horse, who immediately perks up at your touch, and you grin as he nuzzles into your shirt. Levi gives his horse a sharp look, but he doesn't care. He had always been so openly happy to receive your affection, unlike someone else you know.

"Aww is the scary man not giving you enough love~," you say in a chiding voice, to which Levi continues to glare at the side of your face as you continue to caress the horse. "You know what, I'll name you then," you smile, eyes glinting, "I'll name you Bob." Levi's eyebrows twitch as he looks at me, "You are not naming my horse, Bob." Your smile widens at his growing irritation, "why not, he seems to love it," you say, nodding to the horse that seemed to melt under your touch. "He doesn't like the shitty name. He likes you," he mutters darkly as you let go of his horse and walk over to his side, crossing your arms as you observe the two horses, who now seem to be interacting with each other. "Hmm, too late. I've already made up my mind", you reply, as Levi sighs in both defeat and annoyance. You were going to be the death of him.

You smiled up at Levi, who met your eyes before you reached up and patted his head just as you had done with his horse. "Tch, you didn't even wash your hands," he mutters though the tinge of colour on his cheeks betrays him. "And you aren't stopping me," you whisper back before you put your hands on your hips, to which he just avoids your stare. A comfortable silence takes over before you look behind you where, a few meters away, Gunther is giving the debrief for tomorrow's Exhibition. Levi sighs slightly, "Oi, go make sure all that shit's in order," he mutters, following your line of sight. "Yes, Captain," you reply, giving him a mock salute before waving at his horse, "Bye, Bob!" You see Levi freeze before rolling his eyes, his Stallion instantly perking up at his new name, making you laugh.

You see the squad are all huddled around Gunther, who is explaining the formation of the upcoming Exhibition to the rest of the squad. "The special operations squad will be here," you see him point at the drawing of the formation. "We'll be standing by in the centre of the last ranks." You see Eren follow his pointer finger, "We're pretty far back." You smile, nodding at his observation before kneeling next to him. "It's the safest place in the formation," you say as he turns quickly, realising you are now present. "We're even better protected than the supply carts." Gunther looked at you in acknowledgement before he continued the briefing. "Well, this time, our goal is just to go out and return." He then turns to Eren, who continues to stare at the drawing in front of him, "This Exhibition is short because it's a practice run for your journey to Shiganshina."

You see Eren perk up slightly at that, "Uh, I- I still don't know what this power should be used for..." you look to see Gunther staring at Eren earnestly, "Didn't you understand what the Commander's question to you meant?" You remember the brief interaction you had listened to a few days ago. What do you think the enemy is? "Did you all understand?" Eren asks, looking around the squad, as he is met by the shake of their heads while you keep your eyes on the ground. "It may not be a lie to claim we understand everything. But I think-" Before Oluo can continue, Gunther cuts him off, leaving him to sulk in dismay. "It's possible this mission has another goal. But the Commander decided it was best not to reveal that fact to the soldiers. So, we should just focus on getting there and back." You look up and meet Gunther's eyes instantly. He seemed to try to test his theory silently, but you gave him a nod as we both stood back up.

You couldn't tell them that a few days ago, Erwin had already debriefed you and Levi on the true plan, as it required all squad members who had joined after the fall of Wall Maria to remain in the dark. So, you decide to say the next best thing. "Believe in the Commander," you say as Eren nods hesitantly while the others reply more affirmatively. "That's enough training for today. Let's get ready to head back." The others look at you, saluting, "Yes, Captain."

....

The sun had already touched the horizon and fell down to the Earth when we arrived back at the base. The entire ride back had been you announcing to the rest of the squad that we had a new member of the team, Bob. Levi had not taken too well to the news you continued to spread, but you paid it no mind as the squad bought into the story of the dark stallion's new name, congratulating Levi. You can't help but smile, thinking of his darkened glare and the other squad members trying to stop their laughter after hearing the name, for Levi's sake. Even Eren had laughed, though it quickly ceased at Levi's threatening glare.

You dismounted your horse, following along next to Levi as we headed to the stables. A short distance away, you see Eren speaking to his friends whilst Mikasa frantically checks over Eren for signs of torture as he continues to deny her accusations. "Still, that short guy went too far. Someday, I'll see him pay for it..." you see Eren pause at that, "You don't mean Captain Levi, do you?" You stifle a laugh as you look to your side and see that Levi has been listening in. His glare darkens as he sees you struggle to maintain composure, but you squeeze his shoulder gently as you walk ahead and see him briefly relax. After putting [h/n] away, brushing her mane, and making sure she was fed, you headed into the headquarters and met up with Petra.

"Hey, Captain [y/n]~," she yells over as she approaches you, grinning while you sigh. "How many times have I told you to just call me [y/n] when no one's around." Petra looks up, a smile still lingering on her face as she replies, "I'm sorry... Captain." You smile despite yourself as we link arms, and she drags you in the direction of the dining hall. "Speaking of Captains," she says whilst looking over, and you sigh again, knowing where this is going. "Who knew horses could be so... romantic." You look over at her teasing grin, knowing she had been listening to Levi and your interaction before you joined the group on their debrief. "Did you hear the conversation?" You asked, rolling your eyes, "Most of it was me teasing, him swearing." Petra looks up, unfazed, "Oh [y/n], when will you learn? That's his love language." You laugh at that. She did have a point, you think, before shaking your head as she continued, "Oh, just confess already~ you've known each other for years, and I'm getting sick of you both just staring into each other's eyes like it's nothing."

Silence fills the corridors as you pretend to think for a second before you smile back at her, "not happening," you say, to which she pouts. "Anyway, enough about me, what about you, Petra," you grin, noticing her suddenly avoidant stare, "w-what do you mean," she asks. "Oh, come on, there's got to be somebody," you tease, "Oluo?" She looks up instantly, making a disgusted face, "no way," she exclaims as you laugh. "Okay, okay, yeah, I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy." Petra nods understandably as you continue, "How about... Gunther?" Petra perks up, "G-Gunther?" She doesn't notice said man waving us over to one of the tables where Eld and Oluo already sat, steaming tea ready to go.

"Hey, Petra, Captain, would you like to join us?" Petra freezes, red flushing her face as you quickly reply, "Yeah, we'll be there in a minute," to which Gunther nods after looking slightly concernedly at Petra. "So, Gunther, huh?" You say as Petra rolls her own eyes timidly before a teasing glint suddenly reaches her eyes. "Guess I'm just into the silent, mysterious type," she says with a hinting tone, knowing she's about to suggest Levi again. "Okay, enough boy talk, let's go."

We walk over and sit down, Gunther pouring the both of us a cup of tea before Eld looks up. "So Captain, Bob, huh," he asks, looking up at you and smiling. "What can I say, look no further than me if you ever need something named." He laughs softly at that, shaking his head. "I'll never understand how someone like you are friends with Captain Levi, humanity's strongest soldier. Don't get me wrong, I respect him more than anyone, but you're both so different." You smile at his statement as Petra perks up, "Well, her good looks do come in handy," she grins teasingly, nudging you in the side. Eld laughs, face slightly flushing red at Petras remark, "can't dispute that, sometimes I forget that you're literally Humanity's angel." You roll your eyes at their words, "You all flatter me too much."

Gunther looks up from swirling his tea as he observes the interaction. "Humble, too; no wonder they gave you that nickname." You hear him mutter as Petra nods and agrees swiftly, slightly shaking you within her grasp, "Come on, Captain, if you don't have the confidence, who will?" You feel the heat rise in your face as it's your turn to become flustered at their remarks, "What is this? Cause if you're trying to make me feel as though I'm the greatest woman alive it's working." You laugh as the others shake their heads and join in. Oluo looks up, attempting to hold his tea the way Levi does, "tch," he mutters, "Kissing up to your superiors ain't going to get you anywhere." At his words, you see Petra's mouth twitch in annoyance before she reaches over and karate-chops Oluo in the head, leaving him shouting and falling to the ground. We all laugh. How does it always end like this, you think to yourself as you look at Oluo's mock tears.

Soon, the conversation continued as Eld and Gunther talked to you about the upcoming Exhibition and some new techniques they had been practising. You nod, impressed by the strategies they had outlined, as they grin at each other, happy to have your praise. Petra talks of some new clothes she saw in the markets around Wall Rose, saying how we should go the next time you had a day off, and how she's sick of having to wear the uniform all the time. Surprisingly, even Oluo calms down and joins the conversation like a normal person. A few minutes pass before Levi makes his way towards us, finds a seat next to you, and nods slightly at Gunther, who pours him a cup of tea. As the conversation dwindles and comfortable silence takes over, you can't help but worry about the upcoming Exhibition. You think back to Gunther's words and sigh. You could only hope the Commander's plan would turn out the way it was supposed to.

.....

We were off. 

Erwin urged us forward as we made our way from Wall Rose through to the abandoned towns in Wall Maria. You hear Levi's usual words to stay close as you nod whilst galloping atop [h/n]. Already, you hear ahead of us the shout of Hange as a 10-meter Titan approaches before two support Scouts take it down. The plan devised had the support Scouts stay with us for as far as the abandoned homes would go; after that, we would be in Titan territory with only the formation we had debriefed on. As we exited the confines of the abandoned town, you heard Erwin speak up, following your line of thought. Putting an arm to the left, he shouted, "Go into the long-range Scouting formation." The Survey Corps started to pan out, you saw Eren looking worriedly at his friends, the new recruits, as we also separated from the bunch.

Soon enough, we had taken our place in the rear centre, with other Scouts scattered in fixed positions of the semi-circled formation but still within sight. This was done to extend the recon and message relay range as far as possible. This was where primarily Scouts in the front of the semi-circle would encounter Titans, thus releasing red smoke signals. Those who saw those signals would do the same until Erwin sees (positioned in the middle of the front row), to which he fires a green smoke signal depicting the safer route to go. This would allow us to advance whilst avoiding the majority of the Titans unless they have the advantage of obstacles or buildings in the terrain. However, this formation only worked with normal Titans whose behaviour was easily predictable. Abnormal Titans, however, weren't so predictable, and if unpredictable, it would mean Scouts would have to come into contact and in this flat terrain, maneuver gear wasn't exactly useful.

.....

We raced along, following smoke signals as we went further into the terrain. You look up, noticing green smoke rise to our right. "It's a green smoke signal," you say to the group before looking behind you slightly, "Oluo, you fire it." He replies, "Roger," before firing. We had been travelling for a while now with no disturbances; everything seemed well. You wonder if that truly is the case, though. "Reporting," a Scout approaches next to Levi, "Message to pass along! Right Flank Recon has been destroyed! Our recon system is partially inoperative! Pass this on to the left!" You and Levi share a brief look before his dark stare makes its way to Petra, "Did you hear that, Petra? Go," Petra replies affirmatively before taking her horse towards the left. A brief silence takes place as you look to your right and see black smoke signals rise to the sky; an Abnormal Titan is approaching.

"Eren, you fire it," you say quickly, "R-right!" he replies, looking for his smoke gun. "What a mess," you look to see Levi with an unsettled spark in his eyes, "We let it penetrate deep into our formation." You take in a deep breath at his muttered words, hearing Eren shoot the black smoke signal in the air. What a mess, indeed. We continue the course anyway as Petra returns and soon receives word from Erwin that the centre flank is to move through the Forest of the Giant Trees as the left and right flanks move around to avoid it. We nod at the messenger as we approach said trees, but you frown. No one around us, except Levi and you, knew what was truly going on at this moment. But you wonder how much longer the squad will last, being kept so in the dark. You look up at the trees, all reaching an average of 80 meters in the sky, trying to push that thought away, as we make our way through.

.....

"C-Captains!" It had only been a few minutes of us racing through the woods when Eren called out to us. You and Levi shared a brief look but didn't turn. "What?" Levi replies next to you with a blunt tone. "Well- we're in the middle of the woods! If the centre enters alone, we won't know if the Titans are approaching!" Eren's voice shakes as he speaks, betraying worry. "It seems something's approaching us from the right... How are we supposed to dodge the Titans or protect the carts?" Levi's voice doesn't waver when he replies, "Don't go on and on about the obvious... we can't do that anymore, of course." Eren takes in a sharp breath as he takes in Levi's words before he asks, "Th-Then why?" This time, you reply to his growing confusion, trying to ease his worry despite knowing neither Levi nor you can give a truly accurate answer. "Look around you, Eren, at all these massive trees. It's the perfect environment for 3D Maneuver Gear." Levi joins in with his monotone voice as you finish, eyes flickering slightly at me, grateful you had played along. "And try to use that tiny brain of yours... If you don't want to die, think."

"Yes, Captains!" You hear Eren reply as the sound of hooves enters the silence around us again. Despite the silence, you could feel the tension in the air. You could hear Petra's shaky breath and Oluo's muttering, along with the rigidness of Eld and Gunther. You could feel Eren's stare on our backs and could almost hear the cogs turning in his head as he soon came to the realisation. The realisation that even the squad around him didn't know what was going on, and he started to question whether the Captains in front of him spoke with truth or lies buried within their words.