#his knight [Connie]

[outoftheirdifferences]

Discussed starter for @ambulance-mom / @rose-son

"Wake me if you need anything, okay Steven?"

Her parting words for the night had still echoed in Connie's mind as she'd settled in to sleep on the couch. It had been several weeks since what Steven was calling his 'meltdown', and he seemed to be well on the road to recovery... but even still, the girl knew that full healing would take time yet. Her part was simply to be there for Steven every step of the way, whatever form that took.

Right now, the form it took was staying over in the beach house with him for the weekend. She wasn't trying to get too in his face if he needed his space, of course; but they'd both agreed to this. She loved spending time with him anyway, of course; and this way, she was just downstairs from his room, right there in case he needed anything at all.

A few hours later, Connie felt something jerk her back to wakefulness. For long moments she lay there in the dark, unable to put a finger on what had woken her. She fumbled blearily with her phone, which proclaimed the time to be just after 3 AM, as the last traces of a dream about accidentally taking Lion to school with her and trying to hide him from her teachers poked at the edge of her subconsciousness where she wasn't quite sure if they were real or not...

Then she heard it again: what sounded like an anguished groan from upstairs. All at once fully alert, Connie wasted no further time; in one swift move she was off the couch and scampering up the stairs to her boy's room. Pausing outside the door, she knocked gently before poking her head around the frame.

"Steven...? Are you okay...?"

[melsimps]

Connie, when the twins were little: Hey, kiddos-! I'm gonna put away my puzzle! If you wanna come look at it, come look at it now before I put it away.

Marc, walking past on his way to the kitchen: Kids, come stare at your mother's puzzle!

Connie: [trying her hardest not to laugh]

[aroarachnid]

"but if it were me, I'd really wanna be, a giant woman"

stevens relationship with gender is so fascinating to me. his entire diamond days arc is a clear trans allegory, but more specifically reads as a transmasc allegory, what with everyone reffering to him as "rose" or "pink" and feminine terms despite his repeated insistence that he is *steven*. and yet he never actually corrects anyone when they use she/her. he only corrects his name. this was pointed out in the tags of that one post youve probably seen:

this post doesnt show it, but steven is delighted when blue said this. obviously you can read this as steven being glad that shes making an effort, even if incorrect, and is just choosing to let the wrong pronouns slide. but its never explicitly stated. and like i said, he never corrects she/her, he only corrects his name. although it is interesting that, by the time the movie rolls around, the diamonds have switched to he/him.

its also interesting to mention how excited he was to put on pink diamonds outfit, and also how quickly he took it off once he got the chance.

of course stevens relationship with his mother and his identity issues are going to play a big part in how he percieves his gender, given that for a large chunk of the show he actually belived they were the same person, at least to some extent. ("im my mom and my sister?! what kind of magical destiny is this?!). how would you define your "agab" when half your family is telling you that you are a centuries old alien called rose/pink who has no sex and used she/her? not to mention all of the various gender identities and pronouns his fusions have.

thats not even getting started on how the gems percieve gender, which is to say, they generally don't. gems are sexless beings and their society has no concept of gender, although after spending a long time on earth im sure the crystal gems have a better understanding (i actually could talk about the gems relation to human gender a lot more but ill save that for another time). for steven, a child raised by gems for a good chunk of his childhood- who use feminine terms as a default-i can see how that would lead to some interesting perceptions on gender presentation.

thats not even getting into stevens gender noncomformity. and while gender presentation doesnt necessarily have anything to do with your gender identity, its interesting to note and i just think its really cool that a male protagonist is so unapologetically feminine

also i could talk for days about connie and stevens knight/princess dynamic, and how it parallels pearl and roses, but in a healthier way that nips the whole "obssesive self sacrifice" thing in the (rose) bud as soon as steven notices it. but then id have to talk about pearl and then wed be here all day lol

so yeah, stevens relationship with gender fascinates me. I mean, does the concept of "cisgender" even apply in the way we usually mean it to, given stevens unique experiences?

[merrilinie]

During a hunt, Merlin wonders off after claiming he could hear meowing. None of the Knights could hear the sound but Merlin was adamant and insisted he go find the poor thing. They let him after he promised not to wonder too far and almost an hour later he returned with his neck heir bundled in his arms.

From the piece of fabric came a soft, rumbling purr.

They all watched him as he cleaned the little thing up with his water. The animal itself barely even fit in his whole hand, small and wet and covered in dirt and tiny little bugs that could be seen jumping up every now and again.

Arthur told him to leave it so he wouldn’t get fleas but Merlin wasn’t listening, too busy carefully drying the kitten up and whisper sweet words of comfort despite the obvious language barrier.

Percy gave him some more water so the little thing could eat and Merlin beamed, which was the only reason Arthur gave up on trying to get him to abandon the thing for everyone’s well being.

He bought him back to Camelot with them, never letting go of it throughout the entire ride.

Any time he wasn’t serving Arthur or helping Gaius, he was with the little kitten. He helped it rid its fleas and slowly fed it until he was much more kitten shaped then it had been. He admittedly used a little magic on the fleas, as well as the blisters and cuts on the little things feet.

After a week he named her Constance, Connie for short. After a proper bath the kitten was revealed to have a few white spots on its black fur, around its paws and chest.

Eventually, when she was bigger and much more a healthy young cat, she started to follow him around the castle as he tended to his tasks. Connie could be seen sitting on his shoulders and back as he hunched over to clean Arthur’s boots and armour, or in his lap as he restitched a torn short, or most commonly, trialing along after her owner with a swishing tail.

She was bigger than most cats with a rich looking face and an endless amount of fluff, which was the only give away that Arthur actually liked her when he was caught with fluff on his white tunics.

[hanjisungslag]

haiii >_< what type of fantasy characters/stererotypes would aot characters be?

- any characters you want but def reiner pls＾ ty baby

🧝‍♀️ aot characters & fantasy

characters included: eren, armin, mikasa, sasha, connie, jean, annie, reiner, bertolt, levi, erwin & hange!!

notes: this was so fun to do omg

✧ eren jaeger - hero gone villain

okay i know this is a bit basic to do… but c’mon!! he’s literally the epitome of ‘i’ve become what i sought out to destroy’ and i just can’t think of him as anything else. he fits the stereotype too well😭.

✧ armin arlert - mage

he is soooo side kick mage, no? tell me you can’t imagine armin (specifically with the mushroom hair) wearing a wizard gown, hat and holding a magical old stick. he doesn’t like to leave his tower often but is usually forced to when something goes amiss - i can imagine him sighing deeply while reluctantly grabbing his magical old stick.

✧ mikasa ackerman - sidekick

bad ass sidekick who lives in the woods & is probably on the run. i’m thinking… arcana muriel vibes for this but less stoic and quiet (and less cursed) but, she definitely learnt to fight in the woods when she was 3 OR taken in by an old, rugged guy whose family died tragically. either way, everyone’s terrified of her but she steals bread for orphans or some heroic shit like that.

✧ jean kirsten - prince

himbo prince😭 i mean this in the BEST way possibly mkay! he’s not really a himbo however… he just gives prince who accidentally got entangled in a weird adventure and he doesn’t know how to live without servants. he’s be like “erm, i am not crossing that muddy river.” BUT THE CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT WOULD BE INSANE by the end, he’d like finally understand how bad the government is or how poor the townspeople are and give them money.

✧ connie springer - the fool

sigh… the fool, the court jester, etc etc. he would be himbo prince jean’s court jester 100% and they’re like actually pretty good friends, they’ve known each other since they were kids. he also gets dragged along with jean on a weird adventure and he would be the comedic relief. (also a shoulder for jean to cry on when he gets mud on his fancy royal shoes).

✧ sasha braus - henchman

hunter/henchman hellooo…? literally expert at using a bow and arrow? grew up in the woods?? she would EAT so hard being a henchman and to make it even better, when someone hires her they don’t know she’s a girl and whenever someone finds out, they’ll be so shocked!! feminism!

✧ reiner braun - the beast

dare i say… some sort of big beast? like a big, fluffy beast but make it sexy, beauty and the beast vibes perhaps. imagine fighting this big and surprisingly attractive who lives under a bridge. IM SORRY THAT WOULD BE SO FUN… i’m thinking like diane from sds vibes too!!

✧ bertolt hoover - squire

young, little boy training to be a knight aka a squire. tell me you cant see this little cutie patootie dressed to the nines in armour, learning how to swing a sword?! maybe him and annie trained together or dare i say, he looks up to her.

✧ annie leonhart - knight

sworn shield to a princess that she falls in love with. imma need someone to write a fanfic about this RIGHT NOW!! we all know annie knows how to whop some ass so, of course she was chosen by the king and queen to protect their precious daughter but what happens when… she falls in love! GAH!! of course, she could never speak of her feelings - maybe one day.

✧ levi ackerman - assassin

leader of some sort of renegade, like a special group of assassins. no matter what universe this man is in, his crown will never fall! his title carries on throughout all possible realties m’kay. same backstory though 100%, raised in the poor ditches but learnt how to fight and now he’s a leader of a renegade! you have to pay big buck to get levi to assassinate someone, he’s the best of the best after all.

✧ erwin smith - commander

i’m sorry to be basic and boring but a commander of an army. HE HAS TO BEEE 😭it’s too perfect, i’m sorry. except imagine the army is all medieval and dripped out in chainmail!

✧ hange zoë - pirate

a pirate. LIKE CMONNN especially s4 hange with the eye patch?! i can totally imagine hange running a ship and sailing the seven seas. they’re literally a commander too? it was written in the stars, they’re perfect for the role! i can totally see them playing devious pranks and tricks on other pirates trying to secure the same treasure.

[yawujin]

potential spoilers˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ aot boys react to a royal reader

type | no titans, no death/gore , fluff , comfort , light hearted , short read , gender neutral reader

the queen of paradis island, historia reiss, introduces you, the monarch of a neighboring nation, to all of her male friends. . .

armin arlert ♡

he gives a long bow to you, trying to remain calm and collected but in reality, he's eager to learn about the nation you rule over

he listens intently to the in depth explanations and stories you tell him about your country... with you apologizing everytime you feel he is getting bored

"oh, no! please, continue." he encourages with a sweet tone in his voice

he is thoroughly intrigued and, though he wouldn't tell you this, he loves how eloquently you speak

(he is definitely going to practice his speech patterns using you as an example)

bertholdt hoover ♡

when first meeting you, he didn't know whether to refer to you as "highness" or "majesty" so he accidentally blurted "your majness" which you still tease him about from time to time

you usually remind him that he doesn't need to be so formal or nervous when you are near

was pleasantly surprised when he had heard you considered knighting him

'maybe going to war for them wouldn't be so bad..."

connie springer ♡

feels super cool for knowing two monarchs

like armin, he asks a bunch of questions about your country

he would seriously love to visit it someday

he really thinks highly of you and your ability to balance being royalty while still being a down to earth person

eren jäger ♡

kisses your hand out of courtesy which angers jean bc he thought he was about to be the first one to do it lmao

compliments your nation, making sure to mention how much he admires it because it's a FREE country

you gift him a few pictures of landmarks in your country for him and his friends to view

starts missing your company right before the day you have to go back home

jean kirschtein ♡

kisses all the way up your arm in an effort to one-up eren he just rolls his eyes he really dgaf

"shall i show you around, your majesty?" jean offers his hand to you

you take him up on his offer and the two of you take a stroll

he listens to you speak, not daring to interrupt you...however...

the more you lament on the struggles of being a monarch, the more he wants to comfort you

"what's your favorite food?" he suddenly asks. you answer, but not without questioning him. "just wondered if i could make it for you." he quickly looks away. "if you want." he murmurs.

marco bodt ♡

also kisses your hand

no matter how close you two get, he will always give you a bow (even if it's a short one)

you like marco because you feel like you can be open with him

you believe this is the same reason marco likes you

the two of you often engage in harmless gossip together and joke around with each other all afternoon

you tell him all the details about your country, making sure to include the cons of living there

doesn't make him steer clear of wanting to visit though!

"i can't wait for you to show me around! " he beams

reiner braun ♡

goes the extra mile and gets down on one knee to bow to you, and kisses your hand.

the most likely to compliment you on how beautiful your various items of clothing are

after hearing what you said about bertholdt, he wished you had considered him as a knight too :(

as time passes, you two build a great rapport, he treats you like he would anyone else while still holding a huge admiration and respect for you.

[novantinuum]

Fandom: Steven Universe Rating: Teen Audiences Words: 4.2K~ Summary: Connie clenches her fists at her sides, envisioning a world where she still feels the safe, comforting weight of Rose’s sword strapped upon her back. But instead, it’s the Crystal Gems’ darkest, most forlorn hour... and she’s absolutely useless to them. Is there anything she can do to aid them in this struggle, anything at all? (Or: the beach fight in Reunited, but from Connie's POV.)

Woo, cleared another long-held WIP out of my drafts! I've always been very interested in what the beach fight was like beyond Steven's little mindscape adventure- and also, given her sword breaking, I thought Connie had a lot of potential mental angst to explore in that moment- thus this fic was born.

I highly recommend you read this one on AO3, it has some special formatting I cannot replicate on tumblr.

Enjoy!

___

It’s not that she hasn’t seen a sentient Gem poof before, but there’s something about the raw brutality by which Peridot’s form is torn asunder by Yellow's energy bolts that makes Connie feel outright sick to her stomach. She’s unable to bite back an alarmed yelp as she watches that green, triangular gemstone plummet into the sand, wholly inert.

(Ever the bold knight, Pearl strides in front of her and Lion, brandishing her spear in a wide-sweeping defensive stance.)

“Stop!!” Steven hollers, so loud and with such frenzied intensity that his voice breaks midway through the vowel. He darts forward to address the two Homeworld matriarchs directly, straying away from the safety of the rest of the group… away from the Crystal Gems, away from his dad, and away from her.

Her heart’s re-enacting a high tempo concerto in the confines of her chest, sweat beading at her brow as her mind grasps to understand what exactly he plans to achieve by pleading mercy from the two most powerful Gems they’ve ever faced while at such a strategic disadvantage. Peridot’s down, the house is wrecked, her sword’s been shattered, and worst of all, every last offensive effort they made against Blue alone only managed to knock her to her knees. Love him as she may… what impossible kindness is capable of standing against such ruthless might as this?

“Don’t do this!” he stubbornly continues anyways, and throws his hands in gesture towards his chest. “Listen to me— I’m the one you’re missing! I’m Pink Diamond!”

The militant monarch’s eyes narrow into thin, loathing slits the moment this claim (carrying almost unbelievable consequence, but true nonetheless) passes through his lips into stark reality.

“You…!” she seethes.

Yellow Diamond breaks into a terrifyingly swift sprint towards their party before any of the other Gems can shift even a finger to react.

Steven’s name urgently explodes from between Garnet’s lips, as if her split-second warning (much less a warning coming from someone who’s standing by the splintered wreckage of the house a good thirty feet away from him) would make any difference at all, as if any force in this universe— magical shield or not— could stop such a tremendous, terrifying presence from enacting her merciless judgement once it’s set in motion towards her mark.

The diamond’s foot plummets down upon the nigh-defenseless boy with the sheer unrepentant force of a freight train slipping off the rails.

Connie screams.

__

A boundless eternity passes within the depths of her soul, nestled in that vulnerable space between heartbeats. She watches the dust settle as she leaps off Lion's back, watches that cruel matriarch lift her heel from the massive crater she’s conceived. Still holding her breath as if a mere, misplaced huff of air could permanently shift the course of time in some brand new terrifying way, she locates Steven lying motionless in the sand. His suit jacket is scuffed and dirtied, and one of his arms is contorted in what— from her years of soaking up ambient anatomical knowledge through her mother’s stories about work— appears to be a wholly unnatural alignment.

(One of the Gems— she’s so distraught at this point that her mind is unable to process who— shouts his name, voice laced with an unfettered urgency. As expected, there’s no response.)

And then, with zero warning whatsoever, the waking world around her explodes into chaos.

Garnet bares her gauntlets against Yellow Diamond without even a second thought, shouting with a primal ferocity Connie’s never seen from her before. Pearl and Amethyst and all the rest of the Crystal Gems boldly follow her charge, weaving together their attacks in flawless devotion until practically operating as a single-minded organism. All in all, there’s simply too much happening to reliably follow. Spears, whips, and hammers clash against their towering foes to no success. And how could they? Compared to these diamonds, they’re nothing but fleas scurrying across the shore. They’re outmatched, fighting a battle that’s cursed to be lost. In the end, even the full splendor of the ocean’s might at Lapis’s beck and call fails to land a satisfying blow. Blinking back confused tears, she clenches her fists at her sides— harboring anger at herself (for ruining her weapon, stupid, stupid, stupid), at Steven (why on Earth did he voluntarily put himself in danger by trying to reason with them?), heck, at this whole damn galaxy— and envisions a world where she still feels the safe, comforting weight of Rose’s sword strapped upon her back.

But instead, it’s the Crystal Gems’ darkest, most forlorn hour... and she’s absolutely useless to them.

A strong palm lands on her shoulder, gentle yet urgent in its hold. With great reluctance, she pries her gaze away from the chaos of battle in the distance, the skin around her eyes dampened and puffy.

“Connie, w-we should go,” Mr. Universe says, his voice wavering with barely-contained grief. He glances beyond her for just a second, and she’s almost certain he’s looking at his son, his body crumpled in a broken heap in the sand at the heart of the battlefield. “I can’t let another one of you kids get hurt on my watch.”

He’s already reaching forward to grab her by the arm— too panicked by now to think about such fundamental things like politeness or personal space— when she makes her bold decision.

“No! I can’t leave yet!” she proclaims, brushing his hand away. “There’s still something I can do. And it may be stupid, and dangerous, b-but…” Connie wipes away a sudden wave of tears, matching eyes with her best friend’s dad. She flashes a watery smile. “It’s what he’d do for me, yeah?”

His expression surges with palpable dread as she turns her attention towards the fierce skirmish raging behind them.

“Wait… w-what—?”

She takes off running before he can even finish his question. In any other situation she might feel guilty for spurning his protective instincts— for leaving him in the dust, altogether anguished in his terror, shouting her name with an urgency that downright seizes at her pounding heart, begging her to not throw herself into the chaos of the field— but there’s no time to waste, not here, not ever, not when Steven’s very life may depend on the actions she takes now.

She has to pull him away from all this fighting before he gets crushed in the fray… or worse.

“Someone— cover me!” she cries out, nearing the front lines. Her foot collides with something hard and cold. She gasps, her glance snapping down in an instant. It’s a stray can of soda, unopened, something one of the party guests must’ve dropped while evacuating.

“I see you,” Garnet says, landing in a deep crouch near her. (It would not surprise her at all if the Gem already anticipated what she plans to do, seeing it as the most likely possibility amid a churning sea of choices.) She bares her gauntlets once more, and circles around. “Stay close, and be quick!”

“Connie!” she hears Mr. Universe wail from the sidelines.

She ignores him, though— she has to, least she let the final embers of her resolve be snuffed out by the sheer weight of her fear— and pushes her fragile human form through the thickets of this otherworldly battle anyways, following Garnet’s lead. ‘Cacophony’ is the only word she can think of that truly fits the harrowing scene ahead. There’s no more strategy in her friends’ strikes, no more clever battle formations… only their desperate, desperate defense against the wretched beings who created them. The Crystal Gems who are still standing thankfully seem to be holding their own… but just barely. Pearl’s losing momentum with each slice and slash of her spear, Amethyst and Lapis look like they’re halfway to abandoning all hope, poor Lion is tuckering out after such repetitive use of his concussive roars, and Bismuth’s filled with so much despairing fury towards their opponents (for the harm they’ve caused to this planet… for the harm they’ve just caused to Steven—!) that her footwork has grown rushed and sloppy. In the few seconds Connie’s watching her, the rainbow-haired Gem is almost hit by a direct bolt from Yellow Diamond twice.

Her chest seizes tight with dawning dread. This entire operation is falling apart. They don’t have much time left, do they? She must recover Steven, and fast!

Garnet keeps a watchful eye for any incoming projectiles as Connie skids to a screeching halt next to her friend’s comatose body lying limp in the sand. (And oh, has she never been more thankful to not see blood.) Okay. Okay. Here he is. Now all she’s gotta do is… ferry him to a safe distance. Steeling her core in preparation, she squats down and tries to leverage herself to scoop him right up. Her legs, though… in the midst of her terror, her legs are simply too wobbly to bear his mass, and after one valiant but failed attempt she’s scared she’ll hurt herself (or him!) trying again. Which means… she’ll just have to drag him.

“Sorry—!” she says with a faint hiss of regret as she grasps both of his arms by the wrist and starts to pull him across the battle-swept sands. Sure enough to her suspicions, one of his shoulders definitely doesn’t feel like it’s aligned in its socket right, and she worries that yanking him along like this will only serve to further exacerbate it. Still, what other choice does she have?

What choices do any of them have, all tangled up within the fallout of this thousand year war?

As Connie drags Steven off the battlefield towards his house, Garnet circles around the perimeter a few more times, ever-diligent in her role as lookout. She’s grateful for her help. Truly so. It allows her to focus her energy on protecting her best friend instead of constantly having to keep an eye out for stray attacks from the Diamonds. And boy, oh boy— she digs her heels into the sand, spent muscles all but screaming for her to rest, to drop her load and continue on alone— will her body need every last drop of energy she’s got. That’s why relief surges through her heart with all the ferocity of a tidal wave when Mr. Universe’s frantic voice comes into range once again. Because it means she’s here. She’s succeeded. She’s pulled him all the way to his father, halfway off the field.

The exhaustion hits immediately. Huffing for a lungful of air, she drops the half-Gem’s arms to the ground and collapses to her knees. For an extended moment, the unwanted melody of warfare rings through her ears like canon fire. She can’t move. She can’t even breathe properly. She can swear her friend’s dad is trying to say something to her— can feel his hesitant touch brushing against her shoulder in what barely counts as a whisper— but she can’t even manage to distinguish a single word. Her eyes brim with fresh tears, every last sensory input overloaded. It’s all too loud. It’s all too damn heavy. It’s all too—

“Connie,” Garnet slices through the static with astute authority.

She snaps her head up, her eyes flitting between the Crystal Gem leader (currently kneeling at her side) and a still panicking Mr. Universe (clutching his unconscious son’s hand). Her breath settles, slowly but surely. Her fingers twitch, tracing shallow patterns in the sand. The ringing lessens.

“Thank you,” the Gem continues, pushing herself back to her full height. The long skirt of her wedding outfit flares behind her as she glances back towards the chaos of the battle. “For protecting him where I couldn’t. Now stay back, and keep watch. If they poof all of us, promise me you’ll evacuate the beach.”

“I-I… of course,” Connie says, her gaze still wet with terror and barely contained grief. “But y-you… you don’t really think you’ll—?”

Lose, is the word she can’t bring herself to say. Surely you don’t think you’ll lose?

The Gem warrior gives a sharp, almost defeated exhale before grinding her fists within the tempered hard-light of her gauntlets and leaping right back into the fray.

Connie cries out after her, suddenly stricken with a churning feeling of dread (what grim futures did Garnet just witness?) as she scrambles to her feet, arms outstretched towards a self-appointed destiny she can no longer reach. A strangled sob wrests control of her body. If she still had her weapon they wouldn’t be asking her to stay at the sidelines. She’s nothing to them anymore, is she? She’s nothing without that sword. If she closes her eyes she swears she can still feel it… can still feel the perfectly countered weight of its thorn etched handle within her grip… but with it shattered, she’s completely useless out here. Feeble. Organic.

Weak.

“Connie,” her friend’s dad pleads for her attention, his tone warbling with all the wavering emotion of an out of tune guitar. “Connie, please! She’s right. You know she’s right. We have to get off the beach! There’s literally nothing we can do against Gems as powerful as that, we’re just humans.”

Slowly, the last of his words reverberating within her mind, her eyes widen.

“But he’s not,” she breathes, turning her head towards her friend’s still body on the ground.

“W-what are you—?”

She grasps his hand within her own like it’s their final lifeline, gently tracing her thumb along the back of his knuckles. If anyone could swerve the dangerous wake of this conflict into something better, it’s Steven. He’s certainly managed the impossible before.

“Steven!” she calls, her brows threading together in the wake of her thunderous desperation. “Come on, please wake up!”

Hot, messy tears threatening to cloud the edges of her vision, she lets go of his hand. Glances back towards the battlefield. The remaining Crystal Gems aren’t faring well in their war right now. Pearl and Amethyst appear exhausted enough to collapse at any moment, and the Diamonds have pushed the other three to the very extremes of their defensive capabilities. If they have any chance left of winning this encounter, it’s gonna require a miracle of encouragement.

“Come on, Steven,” she calls again, voice dripping with the burden of her pending despair. “We need you.”

No response, yet again.

Her breath ripples through her chest. He… oh stars, is he not healing? From what he’s described in the past about his healing powers, she’s surprised he hasn’t leapt back to his feet with newly restored vigor already. She leans forward, pressing her ear to his chest to listen for a heartbeat.

A harsh shriek ringing from across the sands interrupts her investigation, however— and Connie spins her gaze around just in time to watch Yellow Diamond strike down Lapis Lazuli with a fierce bolt of destabilizing energy right to her chest.

She swallows, already sensing their options eroding away at the wrathful whim of the tides.

Time is truly of the essence here, and much like an hourglass theirs is mighty limited in this state.

Connie stands to her feet once more. With him showing zero signs of pending consciousness, it’s growing harder and harder to ignore Mr. Universe’s intensifying plea for her to leave the battlefield.

“Wake up, please!” she cries, a pitiful final appeal before her inevitable shame-filled retreat.

Her lips screw shut amid her sheer heartbreak, fists clenching at her sides as she silently gapes at her friend’s pale, expressionless face.

We’re supposed to be in this together, remember?

And then…

Connie’s eyes blow wide, her entire body shuddering as she senses a familiar presence dance along the very fringes of her mind like stray raindrops splashing against her cheeks on a late spring day— a wholly recognized sensation, but not an overwhelming one. She gasps. The presence carries with it an instant aura of comfort and affection, as well as a hundred billion panicked questions like ‘what happened’ and ‘where am I’ and by golly, it’s the exact same subtle presence she’s aware of at the very periphery of their mind whenever she’s fused with him as Stevonnie.

“Huh? Steven?”

Her heart’s practically rattling within her rib cage as she feels that ghostly presence flutter within her thoughts once again, speaking in his voice, calling out to her by name.

“Connie, it’s me!”

Holy stars. It’s him. It’s actually him.

She doesn’t know how, but it is.

Her brows shoot up within her lingering confusion. Even though she’s well aware that this is a Gem thing, she’s unable to fully fight off the impulse to search around as if some conscious, flesh-and-blood Steven were somehow standing right next to her, whispering directly in her ear. “Wha- Where are you? How are you do—?”

“I’m not sure, but… I think it’s a classic psychic ghost type situation.”

“Ah, of course!” she exclaims, peering down at his motionless form. She’s heard all sorts of madcap tales about his astral projection powers— about how he used them to speak to Lapis through his dreams when she was stuck fighting for control of Malachite under a mile of ocean, or to drive the body of one of the watermelons he brought to life, or to make mental contact with the Cluster like he did not too long ago— thus it makes sense for this new mode of communication to be some sort of natural extension of that. “So, what’s the plan?”

“The Diamonds won’t listen to me out there, but… maybe I can get through to them here. They’ve gotta know Pink Diamond wasn’t shattered.”

There’s a brief, meek pause before he makes his final request.

“Please protect my body while I’m gone.”

“Got it! Good luck out there, Steven.”

His active presence fades from her mind like the setting sun over the cloudy horizon, taking that comforting aura right along with it. Connie’s form all but deflates as she exhales, her shoulders curling inwards as she wraps her arms around her torso and tries her best to keep whatever remains of her brave facade from cracking in two. Mr. Universe gawks at her, his attention clearly piqued by her conversational mention of his son.

“Wh—” his countenance is pale and streaked with fresh, messy tears, swirling with a conflicting mixture of grief and last-ditch hope— “h-how were you talking to—?”

“He’s okay,” she blurts out, her own voice quavering at the edges as the reassuring realities of this fact wash over her like a cleansing shower on a muggy summer’s day, a blissful salve to her previous strife. “I promise you, he’s okay. He… I think he’s trying to make contact with the Diamonds, like he did with the Cluster.”

His father closes his eyes for a moment and inhales deep and strong, steeling his nerves as he basks in the reassurance of this news. Then, rolling his shoulder back and standing at the ready: “Well, what can we do to help, then?”

“Keep him safe while he tries to work his magic, I guess. Listen, we gotta pull him further back so he’s out of striking distance.”

He issues her a swift nod. “Leave it to me.”

And after all her struggles she must admit she’s kinda jealous at the sheer ease at which he scoops Steven up in his arms, but, well… fair is fair. He’s clearly had fourteen years of practice on that front. The two of them turn tail and run towards what remains of the house, barricading themselves against the foot of the stairs. Connie doesn’t take a full breath until they’re out of range of the worst of it. She helps Mr. Universe set her friend down in the sand, and now that she’s calmed down a little, sets her attention to giving him a full once-over. And thank the stars, his chest is visibly rising and falling now.

Biting down upon her bottom lip amidst her rippling anxieties— sorry, Steven, this has to be checked— she reaches to untuck his dress shirt. A true miracle after the ruthless velocity of the hit he took, his gem is unblemished. No cracks at all, not even a tiny chip. So that means he should be fine, yes? His body’s just conserving energy to heal from the impact? It’s hard to pin down any precise points of improvement, but she swears a little bit more color has returned to his cheeks these past few minutes.

She also swears that the rest of the remaining Crystal Gems must have had a psychic encounter with Steven too, because there’s a tangible surge of renewed vigor that’s taken the front lines by storm. Garnet throws her punches a hair harder. Pearl swings her trident with just a tinge more finesse. Amethyst and Bismuth aren’t holding back their strikes in lieu of focusing on self defense quite as much. Not only that, but the Diamonds almost seem more distracted now, more vulnerable to their coordinated group attacks. (Is this Steven’s doing, she wonders? Has he found a way to weaken them from within whatever weird psychic mindscape his untethered spirit is drifting within?)

But no matter the underlying reason, the evidence surging to life upon this beach is undeniable: slowly but surely, despite every flagrant disadvantage they hold, the tides of this struggle are turning towards their favor.

“I think he’s doing it,” she marvels to Steven’s equally as mystified father, the pair crouched right next to the boy. “I don’t know how, but somehow he’s wearing them dow—”

And then she’s blinded.

Stripped of all coherent thought or word or rhyme.

Helpless of anything beyond peering through narrowed slits with her flattened palm shielding her view as the entire beach is engulfed with a pulse of magnificent pink light.

But no, no… it’s far more than just light. Her encounters with fusion can tell her that much.

It’s a song. A symphony. An entire story told in oscillating waves of light and sound that her organic body isn’t remotely equipped to process the fullest gamut of.

Sucking in a shaky bout of air, Connie tilts her sight to her periphery to follow the light to its source. And in her joy, her heart nearly skips a beat at what she finds. His body may still lie comatose upon these course sands, healing from an impact that surely would’ve killed a less stubborn soul, but Steven’s gem is glowing as bright as a miniature sun. Any lingering signs of injury heal in an instant as this potent aura radiates from his core.

Clear on the other side of the battlefield, the Diamonds are drawn to their knees in awe of this power. Blue falls into hysterics, sobbing an ocean’s worth of tears into her hands… and Yellow— uncharacteristically still and silent— seems so shell shocked by the revelation that she can’t summon even a word of doubt in retaliation.

When Steven’s bold display of might finally fades, there’s zero quarrel on who this struggle’s victors are. Their attackers make no moves to re-engage, and the Crystal Gems remaining sprint across the shore to help each other to their feet. She… stars, she can hardly believe it. They won. Even with half of their company down for the count— two poofed, Steven unconscious, and her shamefully stripped of her sword— they managed the impossible: they held the line against two of Homeworld’s most ruthless matriarchs and survived.

Of course, their battle isn’t quite over. Steven has yet to wake up.

Greg hollers out for Garnet and the others, alerting the lot to their position. They waste no time in hurrying towards the house to congregate around them. All the while, she clutches his hand within a vice tight grasp, running her thumb along the back of his palm, hoping… begging… no, yearning for him to be okay. He has to be okay— right?

“Show her to me,” Blue demands, her tone soaked in stalled grief as she hovers over them with all the lingering dread of a bad omen. “I must see her gem with my own eyes.”

“Bismuth,” Garnet warns as the Gem in question moves to shield him with her body. “Let them through.”

Her eyes flare with abject turmoil. “B-but how can you be sure any of this is—”

“Let them through,” she repeats, propping a gemstone laden hand upon her shoulder. “The battle is over. They have no desire to hurt him now.” Then, directed at her specifically: “And give him space, he’s about to wake up.”

Connie swallows hard— a part of her unwilling to let him out of her immediate care given the daunting uncertainty of these circumstances— but then again, Garnet’s not the kind of Gem to knowingly lead them astray. Despite her own tumultuous feelings on the matter, if she says they’re safe, then they’re safe. After all, they won. She won. Despite every last insidious variable working against her— a broken sword, spine-tingling terror, her lack of strength— she served her purpose. She, a mere human, proved her worth on this battlefield of Gems. Drawing in a deep breath of air, she drops her friend’s hand and pulls back with the others.

Sure enough, he’s starting to come back to them, his chest rising and falling with greater frequency and his features scrunching inwards on his face.

Steven’s eyes flutter open, his whole body jolting as he drinks in the unlikely picture of the scene before him… family, friends, and enemies alike clustered together upon the beach they were fighting upon just mere minutes ago… all gawking at him in slack jawed wonder.

“It’s you…!” Blue Diamond breathes in sheer disbelief. “Pink!”

[rosenotactuallyquartz]

Who's your fav character of su?

my top three favourite steven universe characters

(because three are particularly special to me)

pearl

i’d use the favourite character label for pearl because of how much i admire her. being there for steven through his personal trauma. giving connie + steven support that she + rose never had while also learning from them. she has to work through her flaws, trauma, grieving the loss of the love of her life, never having a childhood, struggles with understanding humans so that she can properly care for a human child. but she loves so strongly and that helps her significantly. she loves him just as rose would have loved her son. steven always says things like, “pearl is smart and she’s always trying to protect me from danger!”

gosh, i love everything about pearl as a rebel against homeworld. homeworld says that pearls are inferior gems with irrelevant feelings—sugar writes in end of an era that rose fell in love with certain aspects of pearl’s personality, one of her main traits being how fiercely opinionated she is. homeworld says that pearls are not built to fight, pearl learns sword fighting for a war against homeworld gems who were supposedly built for fighting. she’s incredible and garnet’s first impression of pearl is “terrifying renegade.” homeworld says that pearls are made to serve, to simply stand there and follow orders from a superior who they don’t have a personal connection with. once they’re on earth & pearl can be who she is, she not only has her own personality but she’s able to fall in love and form a meaningful relationship. she wants to take care of her, keep her safe, make her happy. but she won’t do anything for her in some shallow, traumatizing homeworld way that involves her standing there & looking pretty & following orders. no, she’ll fight for her, she’ll be her knight because that’s the kind of personality she has. that’s the kind of love she has for her, it’s protective, caring, and bold rather than pure worship, feeling weaker than her, & timidity. it’s not always easy, and she has to work on complex trauma from homeworld (i.e., overprotective mixed with difficulties grasping that rose loves her for simply being herself and not because of the things she’s doing for her) but she makes progress and her growth is continuous, from flashbacks to the final episode.

in sworn to the sword, she has a memory in which she saves rose at the very last moment from a homeworld gem who’s supposedly “built for fighting.” she doesn’t even focus on how powerful she is in that memory, because all she’s thinking about is how scared she was for rose & the relief she felt when she was saved. she’s so smart & empathetic, so you can tell that she really cared about rose’s abuse trauma and the pain she tried to hide. by then, she is understanding humans more and therefore she only tells steven a little bit (i.e., having her feelings invalidated & being pushed to continue when she was upset that her colony would hurt living things in now we’re only falling apart), knowing that too much detail would be too scary for a child.

she also has lovely outfits (especially her outfit with the legwarmers) & songs. she can be so comforting & nurturing, yet so fierce & protective. which is great for both rose & steven.

rose

i’d use the comfort character label for rose because of how much i relate to her. our personalities, our views, the things we’ve been through, & some other more personal things. just a little tip for anyone who reads this: if you struggle with sympathizing with yourself, sometimes looking at a character you love & relate to is helpful! i have so much empathy for rose, and then i think, wait, but i’m so much like that. as a bi & poly girl, i feel so understood by her story in that way, too.

like pearl, she’s a complex and flawed character. she genuinely believed all life was precious, urged the crystal gems to protect even humans they didn't understand, and never wanted to shatter anyone. she saw beauty in everything but couldn’t apply that to herself—she couldn't forgive or love herself, or see the beauty pearl saw in her. it’s heartbreaking that pearl always tells others how much rose cared about all life, knowing rose’s only exception was rose herself.

while that’s not as comforting, it’s meaningful. you learn a lot from it. onto nicer things.

she’s also comforting because she’s so endearing to me. she says the most adorable things, has the cutest facial expressions, everything.

she’s associated with other things that bring me comfort; my favourite colour is pink, i love animals & she has a bunch of lion friends. i loved princesses & fairytales as a child & she gives me nostalgia with her healing powers & other princess traits. my four-year-old self watched princesses who did everything right, did no wrong, were loved by everyone. straight with one specific body type. i couldn’t quite relate to them, & of course i wanted to be a princess. but rose! she’s sapphic & chubby & she fights with her knight who uses she/her pronouns & she makes mistakes & has mental health issues & is disliked by some. i can’t even begin to explain how refreshing that is. she’s unique, realistic, relatable, different from the stereotypes, complicated, & just as beautiful (if not, more) as any princess that i loved growing up. her story with pearl has so many fairytale features & yet it’s so complex, which is really cool.

connie

connie is my third favourite character, and she is relatable in some ways as well as admirable. she resonates with me because of how i was growing up. so, she gives me some comforting childhood nostalgia too. overachiever, “gifted,” shy. i empathize with her so much & i love watching her character development.

connie + steven are different from other kids. connie is super smart & mature & quite anxious, while steven’s a gem with some really traumatic experiences. their closeness is so meaningful. they grow together while they enjoy being kids & making childhood memories together. connie also reminds me of how pearl would be if she was a kid who grew up in beach city. i could say the same about rose with steven, and i love the parallels. the kindergarten scene in now we’re only falling apart particularly made me notice the similarities in their personalities and the way they interact. like pearl, she starts off being nervous, following all rules. she’s seen as inferior to homeworld. that doesn’t matter, because her best friend & eventual love interest admires her even though he is a diamond who lives on earth as a quartz. he’s more playful, & their contrasting personalities are good for them.

i love how caring she is. she doesn’t understand everything about gems, and she’s a kid! of course it’s confusing and distressing. but connie never runs the other way when things come up because she knows this is confusing and distressing for steven, too. i love when she says, “i want to be part of your universe.” she always knows when she needs to check on steven, talk to him about difficult things, reassure him, & she even trains with pearl so that she can protect steven and the earth. her courage and determination amazes me, too. she sees the gems summon their weapons, resurrect, heal, see the future. she’s human, but she doesn’t let that phase her. she learns to fight and she’s incredible at it. she has so much empathy that she can truly put herself in other people’s shoes, ask them meaningful questions. she’s just a wonderful person.

if i made a top ten list, you’d also see steven, amethyst, garnet, ruby, sapphire, pink pearl, & blue pearl. there’s even more characters i love after that, but yes! i don’t know how to end this! bye, i suppose!

[do-you-ship-it-polls]

Do you ship it?

reason under the cut!

They literally invented romance. They grow from each others first real friend, to best friends, to finally a relationship by the end of Future. She swears to be his knight and to defend him. He rejects this because he wants them to be equals and fight side by side.

The only times they fight are because they care too much about each other. In response to a MARRIAGE PROPOSAL when they AREN’T EVEN DATING YET IS TO HUG HIM AND SAY NOT NOW. Their growth together is one of the most beautiful stories I’ve ever seen.

That quiet built at the end of Snow Day when they just sit by the window silently and watch the snow fall outside is one of the greatest moments in the history of Western Animation. When they first met, he saved her. At the end, she saved him.

In short I am completely normal about them Your Honor

[byhimawari]

“One Scoop for Two”

(a RivaMika drabble)

“Eren. You should try, too.”

Excited and curious for him to try the unfamiliar but delectable treat, Mikasa hands Eren an —what the Marleyans call — ice cream cone. After witnessing Connie’s and Sasha’s reaction, she  was quick to buy one for Eren and her to share, deep down hoping they’d also forget the task at hand for just a second out of their blood driven lives and actually bond. 

Eren takes and observes it, also curious, albeit not in the same way Mikasa and the others were, because unlike them, and Mikasa knew, his mind is at an unreachable place where sharing ice cream with her is, quite frankly, of no importance.  

“Ice cream?”

Mikasa blinks in surprise, caught off guard that he knew what it was called before she had the chance to tell him. “You knew?” 

Eren’s features grow somber, an immediate indication that her hope for bonding has now become a cold case. She can almost hear the needle drop at the bottom of her glass heart. 

“From the old man’s memory, that is.” 

Mikasa doesn’t pry about his visions, knowing if she even asked, Eren would be too vague or reluctant to share. Instead she just nods, as she always does, her shadow standing besides his but never quite touching a constant remnant of what she will always be.

—

Levi, after great effort, finally manages to yank Hange away from their foolery of chasing cars and yelling at inanimate objects. How troublesome it was for the ship to dock at the busiest port in Marley. It’s enough to keep eye on the brats, what more having to babysit the Commander? 

Speaking of brats, from a distance he sees the gloomy one standing with the reckless one, seemingly offering him ice cream with a faint glimmer of excitement in her eyes. Levi, against himself, because he’d rather blow their cover than admit that Ackerman looks rather appealing in her outfit, observes and sees the dejected slump of her shoulders as Eren just stares at now melting dessert in his hand. 

He sees them chat for a moment. Eren’s facial features appear deep in thought. So deep in thought, in fact, he hands Mikasa back the ice cream cone mindlessly and excuses himself, walking away completely unaware to the confused and surprised gaze that follows him.  

Normally he’d pay them no mind. He’s used to seeing Mikasa waste her valuable time and efforts on that kid. But there was something in the way her eyes glowered to the ground, a melancholic aura surrounding her like a dark cloud, that got under his skin, where his foot literally ached to kick something, someone, preferably the Titan boy himself, in order to ease the itch. And it’s when Levi sees Mikasa throw away the ice cream cone before walking away herself that he decides that he’ll definitely kick Eren’s ass. It only makes sense. 

What doesn’t make sense, however, is Levi suddenly finding himself ordering one of those damn cold, much-too-sweet contraptions for himself and then walking hastily through an alien town in search for the woman worth a hundred soldiers turn damsel in distress. Yet, there he is, playing knight in shining armor for reasons he will never admit aloud. 

Though his approach is everything but courteous and noble. 

“Oi, gloomy brat.”

He finally finds her, sitting lonesome on a bench, staring blankly at nothing as she so often does when in her sunken moods. Mikasa doesn’t move an inch. He expected as much. 

“Go away. I’m not in the mood.”

He expected that much, too. Even from behind, he knows exactly what sour face she’s making. But of course he doesn’t falter. He walks over to the bench and sits beside her. Levi notices her tense and he prepares himself. 

She swiftly turns her head, “I said I’m not in the—!” 

Levi shuts her up, softly pushing the tip of the ice cream against her mouth. Her eyes widen in shock, then it evolves into her piercing glare.  

“C-Captain! What was that for?” she wipes her mouth and nose with the back of her hand.

“You wanted ice cream, didn’t you?” Levi asked plainly, pulling the cone back slightly, “I saw you dispose the one you bought earlier without even tasting it. What a waste.”

There’s a pregnant pause between the two. Mikasa then just sighs and turns away to look back at nothingness.

“I got it for Eren,” she says quietly, as though embarrassed to even hear herself say it aloud.

Ah, just as he thought. Seems Levi has a knack for accurate observation.

“I take it the brat didn’t want any?” Levi scoffs irately as he leans back against the bench, “Tch. Even common courtesy the boy lacks.” 

“He’s just going through a lot,” she’s quick to defend.

Levi’s quicker to rebuttal, “And you’re not?” 

His words came out much sharper than he intended, like a paper cut to the tongue, and he realizes from the slight fall of her face that she felt the sting too. He sighs. Sometimes even he forgets that underneath her steel armor is still a delicate heart.

“Look, I understand he’s on edge, as we all are by just simply being here, but…” Levi starts but then his eyes drift to the tip of the ice cream, noticing it’s starting to melt. He twitches slightly, not wanting it to get on his skin or clothes. But still, he continues before his train of thought goes away, “That doesn’t justify him taking you for granted. He was wrong for that, just as he was all the other times.”

She turns back to look at him with eyes he has seen so many times before; defeated but stubborn. It’s the same eyes she always has when she’s with Yaeger. Levi sees right through her, not because she makes it obvious, but because he’s the exact same, loving from afar but standing so close. He understands.

“It’s just ice cream, Captain,” she attempts to dispute.

And because be understands, he’s determined to make sure she does too.

“Is it really, Mikasa?”

She doesn’t respond, her vanquish clear. Mikasa knows that it isn’t just ice cream. He knows that she knows. It’s supposed to be something that binds them, to create a fond memory, to close the gap.

Just like the one melting in his hand.

They were never just ice cream cones to begin with.

After some silence, Mikasa nods, acknowledging his point as the storm in her eyes slowly comes to a calm.

“Just don’t stop yourself from enjoying something just because someone else doesn’t want to enjoy it with you, you gloomy brat,” Levi quickly reiterates as to not make the silence between them awkward.

But then his attention shifts and his brow furrows uncomfortably when be sees the trail of ice cream start flowing slowly down, his skin surely to meet its sticky demise.

Without any notice, Mikasa leans towards the ice cream he holds and uses her lips to take a generous bite at the top, stopping it from melting onto his hand. She shivers at its coldness, having swallowed too fast. Something fluttered within Levi’s chest at the sight, like that of a butterfly floating to the rhythm of his rapid heart, and he doesn’t know if he likes it or not.

Levi clears his throat, trying to ground himself away from the corners of his mind.

“Next time, just enjoy it yourself or find someone else who does,” he says, “Like right now. You’re not bad company.”

Levi tenses, realizing the weight of the last bit he said, subtly confessing that he enjoys her company, thus implying that he could be that person she can always eat ice cream with, should she ever wish…should that chance ever come again.

“Thank you, Captain,” she says warmly, a rare soft smiles on her lips that he never thought he’d have honor of witnessing himself, “For…the ice cream.”

It’s chaste when he smiles back, but ever the skilled one, and really, he should’ve known better, Mikasa catches it before he has the chance to make away with it. There’s a gleam in her eyes that, wishful thinking as it may be, tells Levi that the chance, someday, will indeed come again.

“You must’ve been watching me closely for you to notice all these things, Captain.”

To that, he only chuckles, taking the risk of not denying it. Levi tilts the ice cream cone towards her mouth, keeping his hand there for her convenience.

“Shut up and eat your ice cream, brat. It’s melting.”

fin

[autistic-ben-tennyson]

Drafts for my next fanfic: Couple’s Therapy

I thought of doing a Connverse/Benlie fic for a while and am a bit more confident with my writing skills than I was then. I don’t have all the ideas down but I do have some of the character dynamics figured out. Basically what happens is Steven visits Bellwood with Connie while on his road trip, post Future, and they end up having to help Ben and Julie sort out some of their issues.

Connverse does remind me a bit of a healthier and better written Benlie which is why I picked them. Both shows take a lot of inspiration from anime like Sailor Moon and Evangelion with Ben and Steven being the male version of Usagi Tsukino with a bit of Shinji Ikari thrown in. Both also get hate from their fandoms and are seen as “bland” for being a heterosexual white boy while ignoring the nuances of the character. People in both fandoms make Julie or Connie into toxic girlfriends usually to prop up another ship like Stevinel or Bwen which is gross or Brooken/Bevin. Nothing against slash but there’s no need to trash the female characters to prop up gay ships. There may also be some racism from Bwen/Stevinel fans with Ben/Steven’s love interests being POC.

My interpretation of Ben and Steven’s dynamic is sort of a middle ground between them being bros and @theangrycomet’s headcanon that they can’t stand each other. Ben’s attitude reminds Steven a bit of pre development Lars and Kevin (SU’s Kevin, not Kevin Levin). Both envy each other and think the other has it easy. Steven envies Ben’s relatively normal upbringing and his ability to remove his powers if he wished. Ben is irked by Steven not having to deal with people like Will Harangue and him having far less responsibilities post CYM.

They do eventually connect over some of their shared experiences, mainly the gem and Highbreed wars. Hearing about Steven befriending and healing Lapis and Peridot may remind Ben a bit of Reinrassig. Ben opens up a little about wanting fame because he’s always been in the shadow of Gwen and wanted to feel special reminding Steven of his issues with Rose/Pink. Ben’s love of aliens like Feedback because they make him feel strong and guilt over the loss bring back memories of Amethyst’s insecurities for Steven and Ben’s need to act strong as the leader to the point he pulls 4 all nighters reminds Steven of Garnet’s struggles as well as his own in episodes like ‘The Test’.

I think Connie and Julie would have an easier time getting along. Both being good at school and fond of activities like tennis, although Connie has no plans for it as a career. Connie’s political ambitions and need to prep for college early do remind Julie a bit of Gwen which worries her on whether Connie has issues with perfectionism. Priyanka is still a better parent than Natalie btw. Julie is shown to be very competitive and headstrong which concerns Connie. Remember how she demanded a rematch when Ben used Brainstorm to win a round of mini golf. Both of them have some trauma that’s often ignored and are quick to respond violently in a panic attack. Connie at least had Garnet to help her practice mindfulness which she may try to share with Julie who was neglected by the other characters and the writers.

Both can relate to feeling undervalued. Steven forgetting that they were meant to be a team when he sacrificed himself to Homeworld and not caring about how it hurt Connie. Ben not caring about Ship and insisting she stay home in ‘Pet Project’ or his treatment of her in ‘Duped’ and ‘The Flamekeeper’s Circle’. Julie being dismissed as just the “girlfriend of Ben Tennyson” in the latter episode does bring back memories of Pearl telling Connie she means nothing and is just supposed to be a knight for Steven. Both can also relate to saving their partners in their darkest moments. Connie helping monster Steven in ‘I am My Monster’ and Julie stopping Ben from abusing the power of Ascalon in ‘The Ultimate Enemy’.

I do have some other ideas down such as Ben and Steven unintentionally swapping jackets like Ben and Rex did in Heroes United or a race between the Dondai and DX Mark 10 which will boost Ben’s ego much to everyone’s annoyance. It will stay mostly canon to the shows with the stuff I don’t like in Omniverse getting cut, sort of like Ben 10 Guardians. The US in SU has different states than Ben 10 which is mostly the same as the real world. I do not hate Kai, Ester, Kevin or Rook btw or those who prefer them with Ben, I just prefer Benlie even if the writing went downhill. Nor do I hate OV or its fans, I just prefer UAF. Writing this post, I also realized that Ester and Spinel have similar powers which is just a coincidence but funny. I wanted to write this for a while but never got the time or motivation to do so until now.

[outoftheirdifferences]

@talesofourworlds / continued from (x) on the new editor

Hey mom, something came up so I'm going to be a little late getting home today. Nothing's wrong, just--

"Hm?"

She glanced up from tapping away on her phone at the other girl's question. An unexpected question, if Connie was honest. She wouldn't be at all surprised if Rinwell had been asking about the temple, or gem tech in general, or even the giant sword slung over her shoulder.

The question about her phone, of all things, was more surprising. Of course she knew that there were parts of the world where modern technology was far less common than it was in America, so she certainly didn't think it was a dumb question... it would surprise her more if this was the first time Rinwell had seen someone using a phone at all, she just supposed this must be the first opportunity the girl had found to ask about it.

That didn't mean she had an immediate answer to hand; Connie scrabbled together an explanation.

"Oh, it's my smartphone."

She had nothing to hide on the screen, just the pervious few texts back and forth with Mom about whether she had everything she needed for school that morning, so Connie tilted the device in Rinwell's direction to let her see it more clearly.

"They're what we use in this part of the world to talk to other people when they're not with us. See, I can type out a message and send it to my mom, who also has one of these, and she'll receive it almost instantly. Or I could call her up and speak into it, and she'd hear me and I'd here her.

"Of course they can be used for all kinds of other things too, you can get a ton of apps for them. But they're still primarily about communicating with other people."

Of course, now she was even more curious about where Rinwell came from. If it was not only somewhere phones didn't exist, but where people dressed like Spirit Morphs Saga characters on a regular basis, and had owls for pets... it sounded like the sort of place she wanted to know about it.

"Say, maybe we could take it in turns to exchange answers? I don't mean to pry, but I'd love to know about where you come from too. If you don't mind, I mean."

[rom-e-o]

I've always wondered how Connie and Scrooge (modern or otherwise) would react to my Percival and Thorne, considering how different they are as characters and the whole 'Marley is NOT dead to begin with and is also Scrooge's husband' thing.

Here's Percival's notes from my Google docs:

Born to Zachariah Winthrop Scrooge and Kathleen Quill Scrooge, conceived in a drunken tryst gone wrong, Ebenezer is the co-CEO of his and Jacob’s multinational, multi-billion pound tech conglomerate, Asplex Industries. Known as the Shark of London in the world of business, Ebenezer is renowned for his cunning and ruthlessness, tied only with his terrifyingly true ability in the art of inventing high-quality technological innovations, closer to the realm of madness.

And here's Thorne's:

Born to Gene Thorne and Lilith Knight under the name Alexander Thorne, and adopted by Abel and Lenore Marley at ten-years-old, Jacob is the co-CEO of his and Ebenezer’s multinational, multi-billion pound tech conglomerate, Asplex Industries. Known as the Snake of London, Jacob is known for his charismatic nature and silver tongue, able to predict market trends with incredible ease and convincing subsidiaries to sign with them by speaking only the truth.

I don't really touch upon it too much on the fic, though I will get back to rewriting it I SWEAR, but Percival ends up getting back on good terms with Belle and her husband Richard (Dick Wilkins) who were childhood friends of both him and Thorne.

And we also know how Percival ALMOST fucked up his relationship with Thorne (*cough* Percival didn't think they were married because it wasn't legal in England before 2015 but Thorne did and Thorne thought Percival didn't love him and that this was all transactional *cough)

They get therapy don't worry

Honestly I feel like Connie and Scrooge would see Percival and Thorne very differently, and Connie herself would feel some level of kinship with Thorne thanks to her experiences with Orin.

But honestly those are just some of my thoughts ngl- ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Ooooh, this is such a fun question! There would be some interest, for certain.

My Scrooge and Connie’s personalities from their modern to classic renditions don’t vary too much in disposition (aside from their speech patterns, the presence of different amenities, etc.) so I feel both sets would react similarly in both timelines, but differently from each other, haha.

My version of Scrooge tends to lean a bit introverted, is a slight (intense) perfectionist, and can be a little shy and skittish. Some might even call him nervous, but only in his personal life, because romance is so new to him again, and it’s been a long time since he’s wanted anyone in his life. He doesn’t want to mess anything up. Professionally, he’s always charming, well-spoken, and a true gentleman. Handsome, too. An Adonis, which is his nickname, haha.

I think he’d see Percival and Thorne, firstly, with intrigue. His business partner is still alive, and they’re … together? When I started “Begin Again” I decided to make it vague if Scrooge and Marley were business partners or more, and to what degree. Their relationship is left extremely vague. After Isabel, he really had ONLY Marley as companionship. So, a version of him and Marley being a couple is not a concept that completely blindsides him. I hc him and Connie as both bi/pan (especially because Scroogey has so many lovers and OCs that love him across universes - it just feels right.)

I think he’d ask how he was still alive, and if there really was something he could have done to save his partner (in the classic verse or modern verse.)

Finding out about the car accident and aftermath would remind him of his own redemption, and I think he’d find comfort in knowing that he was given a second chance across many timelines. And seeing him reconnect with Belle and Dick, something he has yet to do in the modern verse but has in the classical one (I am in the same boat of needing to get back to writing fics, including this one, so I feel you lmao) would give him reassure.

“I must say, our backgrounds of ruthlessness are…similar. Your resilience is inspiring."

As for Thorne, I think he'd want to learn more about him and kind of compare him to the Marley he knows. How similar are they? He's got the same charisma, that's for certain.

The funny thing? My Scrooge LOVES sparkling water, and Thorne finds it refreshing, as we’ve learned from their dinner date. For some reason, I see him feeling victorious.

A: Haha, finally, someone else who understands that is a perfectly lovely beverage. Please continue to give your husband grief.

C: Darling! You shouldn’t inspire a married couple to fight. Especially you and Marley.

A: Normally, I wouldn’t, but like you said, it’s a version of me from another universe. Fair game, my dear. Trust me, we’ve all earned our fair share of teasing. 😌

Speaking of Connie, she’s never met Marley, but she’s heard stories upon stories. To meet him from another would would be like meeting a celebrity!

I think she would find kinship with Thorne, exactly like you said, because of what she faced with Orin. Also, he provides Percival with love and companionship, and they become a couple and family.

She adores Ebenezer, so to know that he found love in that universe with another, let along one he has such a storied past with, brings her happiness.

"I'm glad he's loved in your universe too." <3

Also, Connie finds out about the boxing, and begs to be taught, haha. She only know pilates, and promises to be a good student. "I have an ex-husband I may need to punch one day. Can you give me some pointers?"

I feel like I just barely scratched the surface, but I think there is a lot of fun stuff these four could get up to, haha.

I totally feel you about fic writing, haha. It's always worth the wait when you publish (the characterization, the banter, the imagery ... top-tier across the board), so please don't worry about taking those beats to make sure you love it! I will be SO READY to keep reading those updates!

[dadsbongos]

wild bug sluts at club cocoon!

@toxycodone aot fic is here!

12.5 k words / warnings - pinv sex (unprotected), cunnilingus, HEAVY tragedy, thematic objectification, toxic relationships, cannibalism but not for realsies just for play, modern AU, gendered trauma -> fem reader but only for the angst of it all she's more like an actual character

summary - Reiner and Zeke share a birthday, Zeke usually takes all the attention but a year ago Reiner decided to do something selfish: now he has to face it and you. You just want to go out with someone that likes you.

~~~

“You think she knows how to make a tequila sunrise?” Eren leans against solid oak, flagging the bartender before folding his arms -- silver rings glinting beneath a mosaic of colored lights. Pinks and blues melting into dark purple on black tile.

“In a bar like this, I’d hope…”

“Hm, and what do you mean by that?” Eren shoots a quick, halfhearted glare.

Reiner sighs, “Bars with personality.”

“Ha!” Eren puts in his order as the bartender finally graces them, something much blander than a tequila sunrise before smacking knuckles against Reiner’s chest, “And a tequila sunrise? Can you do that?”

She blinks at him, lips bent dismally, “Yes. I can.”

Eren nods curtly, watching her work before murmuring to Reiner, “Ooooh, didn’t even ID us.”

“They ID’d at the door.”

“I was joking,” Eren suddenly snorts, “Zeke gets dragged here by his girlfriend sometimes, and they don’t even ask for his.”

“He’s like fourty, though.”

“Thirty-two, but close.”

Once both men have their drinks, plus a bottled water in Eren’s other hand, they make way to their booth. Occupied by Armin and Mikasa sitting shoulder-to-shoulder as Armin scrolls his phone. Mikasa’s chin digs into his arm so she can share the view.

“Lame-os,” Eren slides the water towards Armin, “You on Reddit at a club?”

“A guy left his wife when she was diagnosed with brain cancer and he’s asking if he’s in the wrong,” Mikasa looks up from Armin’s screen, “So far, I say so.”

“Where’s Jean?” Reiner scans the bumping throng clotting the dance floor, pinpointing Sasha’s bouncy ponytail and Connie’s bald head and twinkly earrings along the fray. Nowhere around them is the patchy bleached hair of Jean.

“No idea,” Mikasa’s eyes continue roaming the post as Armin lifts his head, swiveling the area before shrugging.

“Go find him.”

Reiner takes the sarcastic bite as a tride duty, swinging back his sunrise before clanking the glass onto the table. He promises to be back soon; Eren calls him a true knight in wrinkled cotton shirt.

His first step into the crowd is met with much resistance, packed flesh squeezing him around the shoulders. Hands skim his forearms and heads thud into his biceps and he’s graceful enough to not take the contact personally. A Saturday night is bound to be lucky for those parched of bitter liquor and hot skin. Reiner regrets sucking down his drink as his feet jumble along the floor.

Even with the advantage of being a head taller than most nightcrawlers, Reiner struggles to discern his position. He’s jostled between a woman in a blue slip dress and a man in a Hawaiian shirt and jeans. Turning swiftly is a mistake, feeling as if his brain swirled off its stem -- caught in a cyclone like the lone olive in a martini. More pressing, however, is the fact he cannot make Eren out; everything outside the bumping floor is bathed in pitch black. While everything contained on the floor is purple, overhead hues blurring together on shimmery dresses and wandering legs until all he sees is an eye-twitching shade of violet.

Jean is most likely fine -may have even ran off to the bathroom- because seldom does Jean find himself the center of danger, that’s Eren’s prerogative. Irritation begins to nip at Reiner the more he’s pushed, irritation he knows is solely his own doing.

Nobody asked him to hunt Jean down, but he wanted to be the hero in finding him. Nobody asked him to not shove back, but he would look like a meathead jackass otherwise. Alongside being much taller than others, Reiner is much bigger: typically the biggest guy in the room on any given day. He wields it well, he promises his mother, he isn’t rough nor is he particularly vexing, knowing any fights he picks he’ll win.

Reiner almost elbows the next person to touch him.

A soft hand curling around his wrist. Nails scooping crescents down to bone.

Instinctually, he rips away only to whirl around and glare upon the bold grabber. A rehearsed apology surges onto the tip of his tongue, which he must bite back: why should he apologize?

You grabbed him.

Now, you’re smiling up at him.

“You looked lost!” you shout over the thumping music.

Dark lipstick stains your words, dredging any purity or innocence, and a tight dress draws eyes to cinched spilling fat. Vibrant pink splashes across you, hot flares highlighting the folds of fabric around your waist. He has the strangest impulse to flatten them out. A flash of blue drowns you out before he’s blessed with another burst of bubblegum.

Babydoll lashes bat at him, your head cocks, “Don’t tell me you’re drunk.”

“I’m not,” he has no reason to answer you, and there’s no logic to why he feels the need to prove it.

“So, you’re lost?”

Reiner shakes his head, almost like a child asked -with crumbs all over his face- if he got into the cookie jar. The hand previously snug around him arises, fingers splayed wide.

Does he have to be one or the other?

He supposes he wouldn’t even know what to say otherwise, so he must be.

Surely, you’re the answer. Surely, you can help. Surely, after he takes your hand he’ll feel all better.

Blue and purple lights section off chunks of your face, eyes low and smile wide -- sharp canines neon in the lighting.

You look like sex.

Reiner misses sex.

He webs thick fingers between yours and glides through sweltering, clumped bodies behind you. Hungry hands swerve him into the mens’ bathroom, it reeks of alcohol and overly enthusiastic cologne; a scent immediately overwhelmed by dewy rose perfume. Arms flung around his neck, you’re smearing lipstick around his chin, on his cheeks, and along his jawline.

Blindly stumbling into the first stall, Reiner sighs against your mouth, “Jump.”

Big hands brace the backs of your thighs, lugging you up and pushing you against the door -- slamming it shut and fumbling to slide the lock. Reiner feels you snip his bottom lip with knifepoint teeth, making him squeeze your hips, bruising himself around you. As his fingers worm beneath the hem of your teeny dress to smuggle your panties, you unlatch from his face.

Warm skin and a thundering chest, your pulses are practically mingling. You cradle his face, “So handsome, aren’t you? You look like you like me.”

“Does that make me more handsome?” he, admittedly, sounds pathetic. Not that he can imagine a better way to sound if it makes you hold him tighter.

“By far,” you titter against his mouth, dragging your palms down his cheeks and smoothing them along his throat. Digging your thumbs into his adam’s apple just to hear him wheeze.

So confident. So brash. As if he won’t drop you and walk out right now for the offense.

He doesn’t, he only kisses you harder.

Again, he reaches higher up your dress and, again, he’s met with pain. You suck the bottom lip you tore open and swallow his blood.

“You want me?” you tease.

“Bad,” he confesses, hot-faced and receptive to whatever you’ll give.

“Good boy,” you round your hands around his neck as if to choke him, “Would you let me do whatever I wanted to you?”

The bathroom door swings open. Men’s shoes squeaking across dirty floor and their voices a low rattle.

“Anything.”

“I’ll take care of you, Reiner.”

“Okay.”

Confused hums and awkward chuckles from outside the stall are somewhat familiar. Eren, maybe. And someone else. Someone he tries to forget about. Someone you held hands with on his birthday, at another person’s party.

Nails shredding through his tendons, vastly different from the playful indents you made on his wrist. Bared teeth sink into his neck. Thighs wind tighter around him, until he’s sure you could snip him in half. Spiney barbs prickle from your flesh into his, tethering you both together. Pain and pleasure burn him up, scorching every contact point between you both until he’s shuddering and whining and twitching. You bite harder, when you pull back there’s blood drenching your gums.

Reiner blinks up at you as your mouth gapes, you stare him down along the bridge of your nose and he feels small. Tedious workout schedule and pride be damned, he is petrified under your fangs and wriggling between your legs in vain.

Despite -or perhaps because of- his struggle, you’re laughing. You’re laughing and you surge forward to bite his head off.

Which, at the prospect of not having to return empty-handed to his friends, seems better than living. He would rather you kill him than return to the apartment he shares with his worst friend Porco, and he would rather bleed out in a dingy bathroom stall than go to bed alone.

You’re beautiful, at least. His most selfish request now could be that he stares at you a few more minutes.

Reiner’s knees flail, buckling the instant you’ve got the taste of his flesh -- he staggers back onto the toilet with a clang and screech of protesting porcelain. Someone bangs on the dark green stall wall, and the faint, hedonistic laughs of voyeurs sounds faraway underwater. Raw iron floods his nostrils, mixing with your floral perfume. His muscles lock, disregarding his acceptance to fate, giving one final defensive squeeze to your hips before he’s entirely limp.

Softly, your lips skim his one last time. You smile against him with a whispered ‘thanks, big guy’ and he’s inclined to smile back.

This is okay.

This is okay.

This tequila sunrise is okay.

You make it better.

“Too much orange juice,” Reiner pushes his glass away, a lone maraschino cherry left to spin in the sudden ruckus. Bobbing in a fingernail’s depth of cloudy orange.

Much too boldly, you and Eren reach for the stem at the same time and Reiner has to hold the glass still as you two try shoving the other away from a mediocre prize. As usual, you win, but only after having smacked Eren’s hand away.

“Hey!” Eren whines, reaching over to yank the cherry out of your mouth. He barely manages to snatch the stem between forefinger and thumb, twiggy thing snapping off completely. He throws it in your face as you laugh.

You beam at the attack, letting the stem bounce off your cheek as you chomp the cherry.

Not the trait of a cannibalistic creature at all.

You’re just a fleshy and tender human, but they don’t bite their mates’ heads off so that reality makes it harder for him to indulge fantasy. Easier is the mockup version of you to be around, the one where you two aren’t close friends and you’re not a person. He prefers to imagine sex with the version of you that’s a cruel, carnivorous mistress because that might be the only you he deserves.

So, he’ll continue killing himself off by your hand instead of confessing anything.

“Here, we can makeout and you’ll get the taste,” you stretch forward, puckering your lips cartoonishly.

“How nice of you!” Eren sarcastically chirps before sliding out of the booth and extending a hand for you.

He’ll continue watching you flirt with Eren.

Wild pounding on creaky wood startles Reiner awake.

He shoots up, chestnut brown sheets flying around his hips. Porco’s grating voice booms through the otherside of the door, “Your friends are here, fuckface! Get up!”

Reiner wants to strangle his roommate on a good day, and this is looking to be one of the worse ones. He physically rolls out of bed with an aggravated start, one which completely fizzles out once he’s opening the door. Porco has apparently abandoned ‘Reiner’s friends’, his keys missing from their shared hooks and shoes gone.

Reiner’s dream is already oozing out his ears in favor of following Eren’s retort,

“Did he forget he’s friends with my brother or some shit?” Eren tries to bury his annoyance beneath playfulness, an attempt that totally bombs.

Armin shrugs, perfectly permanently disinterested in dull conflicts. His eyes scrawl over Reiner, bare chest and loose plaid pajama bottoms, before jingling his keys, “You ready?”

“Oh,” Reiner huffs, looking down at himself, “Oh, no. Shit.”

“Hurry up!” Eren chastises, brushing a silky lock of brown hair behind his ear.

Armin says a sentence with your name in it that Reiner cares not to listen to, instead throwing himself into his closet for real clothes.

Something breezy but not opaque, something clean but not overdressed, something he can pretend matches the dress you sent to the group chat without seeming creepy. Though, who is he kidding?

When his thought process starts and ends with what you’ll think: it’s inherently creepy.

Eventually, he’s rushing out toward the door for his shoes in black jeans and a compression shirt which Eren immediately ‘boo’s.

“What?” Reiner hisses, lacing his sneakers.

Armin clicks his tongue, scrounging for the politest way to say his piece before realizing he simply can’t, “You’re gonna look like a douche. We can wait a little longer if you want to change.”

“Eh,” Eren dissents, “I feel like his haircut does enough of that.”

“Like I wanna hear that from you,” Reiner shoots a quick glare from Eren to Armin and stands to grab his house keys, “Alright, let’s go. Who else did you have to pick up?”

Armin says your name again, and it sounds sweeter this time now that Eren’s uninvolved.

Reiner is stuffed into the back of Armin’s clean Sedan while Eren is in the passenger’s seat. You and Connie step out together, with Armin only having to text you about his arrival since you’re not so irresponsible as to nap at 7PM. Connie locks your shared apartment while you’re popping towards the car as fast as your heels will allow.

Reiner snaps the door open for you to slide in.

“Hey, big guy!” you cheer, wrapping an arm around Reiner -- dress midnight black and tight, “Aw, we match!”

“Aww,” Connie coos, shoving into the back after you, slamming you into Reiner, before examining the blonde’s outfit, “Oh. You look… unlucky.”

“Be nice,” you bat your roommate’s shoulder and settle into your seat, letting Connie click your seatbelt in place.

“Mikasa just texted me, she and Sasha are already inside,” Eren announces as Armin takes off again.

“Seriously?” Connie groans, “I thought we were meeting outside!”

“Mikasa says it’ll be easier to get us in this way.”

“Yeah, ‘cuz bitches are lining up to go to a place called ‘cocoon’.”

You raise a brow at Connie, “They are, though. The place is really hot right now.”

“Just side with me,” he pleads, only earning a shrug and meek ‘sorry’ from you in response.

Armin shakes his head, although Reiner can see his fond smile in the rear view mirror, “If Mikasa says it’s easier this way, I’m sure she’s right.”

“Sasha’s gonna get drunk without me!” Connie fesses to his real conniption.

“Con’,” you frown, “I can get drunk with you. And Sasha’s gonna keep being drunk when we get there!”

“It’s not the same…”

Reiner watches in silence. Basking in the good humor and tunes of his friends’ prattling. Your group is not one that looks well-put, as much as he adores everyone he’s plenty ready to admit how strange the gang looks lined up. Especially on nights out.

Armin in a baby blue shirt and plain jeans because he plans on minimal socializing, though he has a black hair tie on his wrist in case Eren loses one. Eren in a sage green flannel unbuttoned over a white Tee with cargo pants that have enough pockets to hold the phone Mikasa won’t want to hang onto. Mikasa, Reiner already knows, will be in an outfit Sasha picked out for her because Sasha likes when they match.

Connie is the only clue as to what those two will be wearing because he also likes to match -- a brown shirt that says ‘I <3 MILFS’ in white and baggy pants with a leather studded belt and chains jangling off the loops. Tiny hoop earrings decorate his lobes with a simple chain necklace over his sternum. If Reiner has to guess, the only thing he’ll have in common with the couple is the color brown (Sasha loves the color brown, so it isn’t a wild assumption).

Then there’s you. Black dress. Tight dress. It tapers off at your midthigh and cups your breasts. Your hair is styled and you smell like a rose bush was dipped in sugar. On the surface: plain party attire, but Reiner can map out what’s so great about it. Short dresses have more mobility to dance, your hair looks pretty and will gain many admirers but is surface level enough you won’t have to spend an hour detangling in the morning, similar to your makeup. Captivating, but so straightforward to fix you could do it while drunk under flickering bathroom lights; and so easy to remove even Connie could do it while you’re about to pass out in bed. You balance the look he could only scratch at.

Casual yet attractive and breathable while maintaining the perfect illusion of careless, effortless sex appeal.

cocoon blinds each occupant in the car as Armin pulls into the lot, cursive lettering lit up in such a bright white it burns blue at the edges. Connie opens his side door at the same time Reiner does, both men holding it open for you to slip through.

“Ah!” you debate which side to exit, something Reiner knows he shouldn’t take as seriously as he does, before ultimately shouting at Connie, “Catch!”

You toss him your clutch and fumble for Reiner’s hand to tug you through his door.

Reiner supposes it shouldn’t matter that you picked him. Connie doesn’t seem to care, no matter how much Reiner wishes he’d at least look offended. Eren and Armin are already heading for the entrance once the Sedan is locked, paying no attention to how it's Reiner’s hand you’re holding now.

“Thanks, Reiner!” even you are shimming after the rest of the guys. Letting his hand fall astray.

“‘Thanks, Reiner,’” he sighs, eyes shut as he steps onto the curb -- pausing when a sick crunch meets his sole, “Eh, sick…” he gags at the sight of mushy greenish guts and twitching legs on his shoe. Guilt then attacks him, and he apologetically smears the insect’s remains on the concrete, “Oops…”

He’d hate to be crushed alive by some pathetic whelp of a giant and called ‘sick’.

Upon siding with his group, Reiner discovers what Mikasa meant by “easier to get you guys inside” and simultaneously admires and hates her for it. She’s perched over the bouncer’s shoulder, arms folded and eyes sharp as if she’s his boss; and for all her unbothered swagger she may as well be. As soon as she’s spotted Eren and pointed your group out, you five are waved in after a cursory ID check -- abandoning the rest of the line to swear and whine.

“I’m gonna hit the bar,” Eren announces, “Anyone up to join?”

“You just got here,” Mikasa ‘tsk’s, “Order a water too, at least.”

“Sure,” he probably won’t, even Mikasa knows that, “Anyway. Any takers?”

Armin automatically deducts himself from the conversation as the designated driver, as does Mikasa since she’ll be driving herself and Sasha home. Connie shakes his head, murmuring something about scoping the population before bouncing off with the other two.

“Can you get me- “

Eren cuts you off, “No, come with me!” his front as the group’s leader melts away as soon as he’d tried putting it up, “I hate going up to bars alone.”

Your face sours, entirely disinterested in spending your opening minutes waiting to get noticed at a clogged counter.

“I’ll go,” Reiner steps toward Eren before nodding at you, “What do you want? I’ll get it for you.”

“Nice that someone has manners,” you ‘teehee’ at Eren’s expense before placing a hand on Reiner’s shoulder as the music rises so he can hear you better. He cranes his neck lower, your lips brush the shell of his ear, “Can I get a hummingbird?”

He nods, “Should’ve known. You always start with that.”

“Ah!” you cover your mouth, eyes wide, “Am I predictable?”

He nods again, “I like it.”

“Really?” you tilt your head and he dare not nod a third time.

“It’s cute.”

Eren tugs Reiner over with a hand on his bicep, you wave the men off before spinning to find your friends in their booth.

“You sure you even need a drink?” Eren muses, “Pretty bold back there already.”

“Shut up,” Reiner doesn’t like discussing his feelings with Eren -- not because of introspective masculinity bullshit, he just gets sick when Eren has your name in his mouth, “What’re you getting?”

“No idea yet,” he shakes his head, muttering, “Nothing weird like a fucking hummingbird, though. Why does she get those?”

“I dunno. I’m craving a tequila sunrise, though.”

“Craving, huh? You sound like an alcoholic when you say it like that.”

Reiner takes the insult in good faith, because honestly he can hear it, “Yeah, whatever.”

“You think she can make a tequila sunrise?”

Reiner’s neck itches, “In a place like this, I’d hope so.”

“Hm, and what do you mean by that?” Eren shoots a quick, halfhearted glare.

Reiner sighs, “Bars with personality.”

“Ha!” as the bartender finally graces them, Eren puts in his own order (something straight and bland, quite fitting), “A hummingbird, and…” he smacks Reiner’s chest, “And a tequila sunrise? Can you do that?”

He’s trying to come off easygoing, like he’s perfectly willing to change any drink in the lineup if she finds it cumbersome.

He sounds like a total dick.

“And a water. No, two waters.”

The bartender levels him with a flat stare and nods.

“Ooooh, didn’t even ID us.”

“They ID’d at the door,” Reiner glances around the room, he’s not sure why. He doesn’t know what he’s looking for -- just that he needs to.

One of Eren’s many silver rings pierces his vision beneath the colored lights.

“I was joking,” Eren snorts suddenly, “Zeke gets dragged here by his girlfriend sometimes, and they don’t even ask for his.”

“He’s like fourty.”

“Pretty much. Thirty-two.”

“Oh my God,” Reiner grumbles, clenching his eyes and massaging the bridge of his nose.

“Hm?” with their height difference, Eren doesn’t have to crouch to look the man in his scrunched face, “What? You okay? Headache?”

“No,” shaking off the uncomfortably stiff sense of familiarity, Reiner groans, “Deja vu or something. It was weird.”

“Oh,” Eren shrugs, already grabbing for their drinks and turning away, “Okay.”

Reiner swipes the water bottles when he notices Eren struggling to juggle both in one hand. They come upon the party’s booth to find Armin and Mikasa curled into the back of the horseshoe seat, faces lit by the blonde’s phone.

“Losers,” Eren cocks a hip against the dark lacquer frame and Reiner settles a plastic bottle in front of them, “Now who's addicted to their phones?”

“Still you,” Armin cracks without pause, “You can’t cook without watching something.”

Mikasa swerves a potential squabble by announcing what her and Armin are pouring over, “‘Am I the Asshole: broke up my brother and his girlfriend because I’m in love with her,’” she glances up at the men standing across the table, “Thoughts?”

Reiner doesn’t think anything of it. Preferring to search for you in the bumping throng.

After a taught pause, Eren sits by Mikasa, “I think you found Porco’s Reddit account.”

Reiner flinches. Eren doesn’t take it back, though, even as Armin softly gasps and smacks his friend’s leg. Mikasa says nothing, but the bored roll of her eyes from the screen to Eren’s face betrays intrigue. Praying to cut this gossip rehash short, Reiner says the only possible thing that can come to mind,

“Where’s Jean?”

“Jean?” Eren scoffs, pulling out his phone, “Fucker said he’d ‘try’ to make it. He’s probably spending the night with his sushi date from last week.”

“He’s been canceling last minute a lot lately,” Reiner teases Eren’s messy, hateful nature, “You think he’s okay?”

Armin’s brows furrow, “I don’t think he’s sick.”

“I bet he’s pissed about something!” Eren snaps.

“Like what?” Mikasa frowns.

Reiner slouches into the booth, head lolling against his shoulder and poking out of the back frame to survey the floor. Sasha and Connie are dancing, but he cannot pin you in the dark crowd -- even under coral lights. His frenzied search masqueraded as not wanting your drink to grow warm before you have a single sip.

A sharp slap captures his attention, skin on hardwood. You’re radiant. Eyes sweeping from Reiner’s shocked face to the pale yellow syrup cocktail.

“That mine?”

Reiner nods, voice petrified in the bulb of his throat.

“Awesome,” you twirl around the table to slam against Reiner, shoving him deeper into the seat.

Your bare arm brushes Reiner’s, he jumps at the sudden low temperature of your skin -- offensive porous abrasions scratching him, like a dried foam scrubbing his skin raw. Chugging the zesty mix, you noisily gulp it despite the violent fizzing. Barbie pink lights dazzle off the bubbles as some spits through your lips. Syrup and elderflower rolls down your chin and onto your collarbones like mucus slobber. He’s never seen you so messy.

Slamming down the glass, you rasp for breath and thumb at the gooey lipstick print left along the rim.

“What’re we talking about?”

“Jean, he sucks,” Eren answers.

“He was supposed to come out tonight,” Reiner clarifies.

“Oooh,” you lean off the leather cushions, perching a cheek in your palm and laying your chest against the table. It gives your breasts a natural push.

Not that Reiner thinks you need it. If anything, your cleavage is fascinating even when he can’t see it: when it's hidden behind big Tees and sweatshirts. He adores your cleavage when it’s plump and shoved into everyone’s faces and he adores your cleavage when it��s hanging braless and he adores your cleavage even when it's being peppered with kisses from someone else’s lips.

So it makes sense his unbecoming stare is noticed.

Obscured are the sounds and sights of your friends -- they chirp amongst themselves like they were yippy children again. Completely unfocused on whatever adult matters are pervading Reiner’s mind. Which makes it easier for you to chide him like an exasperated nanny.

“You’re obvious, big guy,” his eyes dart to your face, shiny and glossy. You shake your head before asking the next thing to make him panic, “Do you like my tits, Reiner?”

“Uh…”

“Does it like my tits?” you cup his crotch, arm firm and purely clinical. Assessing rather than caressing. Unlike his fantasies, you’re groping with a cold, objective palm, “Do I make you feel good, Reiner?”

“I- you- uhm,” he stammers, heart punching into his throat and mouth sand dry. Not from want. From dread. He doesn’t know what to say, he can’t be sure what response will get you to handle him with more care.

“No? Not gonna get hard for me?”

Breathlessly, he whimpers, “I’m sorry.”

“After everything you did for me? You can’t just get hard?”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re selfish, you know that?” the dimples in your skin smoothen, plasticine and without fault. Freezing your nonchalant expression in time with shell-like precision.

“I’m sorry,” maybe if he apologizes enough you’ll stop bringing it up.

“I thought you wanted me. Needed me. You’re just greedy.”

Loving you is fruitless, lusting after you is wrong, but to not do either feels even worse. He is ripe with affection for you, suddenly pretending otherwise is unnatural.

So he just has to keep apologizing, “I’m sorry.”

And pray you stop talking to him.

“Your friends are here, fuckface! Get up!”

Reiner scrambles out of bed at Porco’s voice. Expedite that with the fist his roommate mercilessly beats against his door and he’s left desperately unscrewing himself from his sheets.

Before he can berate the loudmouth for so rudely interrupting his rest, Porco is slamming out of their apartment and leaving both Eren and Armin huffy.

“He knows he’s friends with Zeke, right? He went to my high school graduation,” Eren grumbles.

“He probably doesn’t care,” Armin placates before turning to Reiner, “Wanna change? Like, maybe put on any clothes?”

Immediately, Eren glances down at Reiner’s groin, clad only in slim boxers, “Nice cock.”

“Shut up,” Reiner flushes, whirring around to retreat into his room and dress.

“Good view,” Eren chuckles, loud enough to ensure both blondes hear.

“Don’t embarrass him,” Armin is laughing too, though.

Reiner makes haste to finish getting ready before popping into the backseat of Armin’s Sedan. He’s sure the all black ensemble will treat him well in a dim club, but he’s similarly sure all his friends will have a ball continuing to pick at his plain shirt and jeans.

“Armin’s wearing the same thing, I don’t get what the problem is.”

“Armin has a disarming face, plus his outfit’s got color.”

Reiner opens the side door for you as you and Connie hop down the stairs of your apartment. Greeting you with a, “Is my face unsettling?”

“No!” you gasp and throw yourself into the car, curling an arm around Reiner’s shoulder, “Which of you said he was scary-looking?”

“I never said that!” Eren defends, wide-eyed at Reiner, “I didn’t say that!”

Connie barks a laugh, reaching around you to poke Reiner’s stiff jaw, “Gotta admit, man, you’re intimidating. Especially in that, you look like Eren trying to be emo in high school.”

“Whatever,” Reiner swats Connie’s hand, as loose a wave as one would to shoo a housefly. He doesn’t hate the outfit, in any case: it matches yours… somewhat.

A black dress you sent to the group chat weeks ago. One he’s tried shoving out of his head because the only thing it’d been good for was demolishing all productive thought. Rather than advance his career or make up with Porco or even grow the courage to ask you out, he’d fist his cock and picture you in that little black dress.

Upon pulling into the lot of cocoon, you slink out of Connie’s door -- nails dug into the scrawny boy’s arm for balance as your heels choke your ankles. He hisses and you apologize quietly. Reiner wishes it was him. He just as quickly wishes he wasn’t so hopeless.

“You think she knows how to make a tequila sunrise?” Eren leans against the bar, flagging the bar tender before folding his arms -- silver rings glinting beneath a mosaic of colored lights. Pinks and blues melting into dark purple on black tile.

“In a bar like this, I’d hope…”

“Hm, and what do you mean by that?”

Reiner barely blinks before saying, “Bars with personality.”

As if the response were programmed into him.

“Ha!” Eren requests his own drink, two waters, and a tequila sunrise before floundering, “And a… uhh, what did she want?”

A (what he hopes is) charming smile smatters Reiner’s face to disband the evident annoyance in the bartender’s face, “A hummingbird.”

Your classic opener on any night out.

As the woman nods and gets to work, Reiner finds his mouth opening on its own mind,

“They ID’d us at the door.”

“Huh?”

“What?”

Eren shrugs up at Reiner, “I dunno. I didn’t say anything and you just reminded me they ID’d us at the door. Are you okay, man?”

Reiner shakes his head, “Did I?”

“Yeah. It was weird,” Eren narrows seafoam eyes at the man, “Are you okay?”

He’d be better if it were you beside him instead of Eren.

“I don’t know why I said that,” he mumbles instead.

“Me neither,” the brunette billows through pursed lips as their drinks are laid out. Then sympathetically glancing back towards the woman behind the counter, “Should I get you a water, too?”

“No, I’ll live,” Reiner flashes another grin, “Don’t worry about me, I’m tough.”

“Okay…”

In the wake of his oddity, Reiner decides to sit back with Armin and Mikasa while Eren joins Sasha and Connie on the dance floor. You’re nowhere to be found and your hummingbird oozes condensation over the table, as if to coax its predator.

“If my boyfriend did that to me, I’d kill him,” Armin spits in disgust, tossing his phone screen-up on the table.

Mikasa nods, sitting up to grab her bottled water, “Sasha would cut off her own hand before doing something like that.”

Needing a distraction from his self-inflicted problems, Reiner decides to indulge in aggressively personal relationship troubles of internet strangers, “What’s going on in the Relationship Advice sub tonight?”

Armin rotates his phone and slides it across the table to where Reiner sits at the edge of their horseshoe booth, “Just read it. Unbelievable douche.”

Reiner hunches over the table, leaving his friend’s phone face-up, eyes squinting through the harsh light.

A peculiar title makes him raise a brow at the sober pair. Mikasa folds her arms and nods him along, “You haven’t gotten to the worst, yet.”

The title, in all caps read: FINGER’S GETTING FINGERED. FUCKED UP, RIGHT?

Mouth dry, Reiner wets it with his entire tequila sunrise and wishes it’d, miraculously, make him black out in the single swig. He blinks down at Armin’s phone and rubs a knuckle into his eyes to clear any mistiness. Stubbornly, the title remains the same, though it’s not what his attention is pinched by anymore. Because the body is somehow worse.

YO, POCK. YEAH. YEAH. I KNOW. IT’S FUCKED UP, ISN’T IT? YOU SHOULD DO SOMETHING. I DON’T KNOW. YEAH, I’LL BACK YOU UP. YEAH, THAT’S A GOOD IDEA. SOMEONE SHOULD TELL HER THOUGH, RIGHT? I WOULD WANT TO KNOW. ARE YOU SURE? YEAH, YEAH, I CAN DO THAT. OKAY, MAN, YOU BETTER WIN. HAHA. YOU GOT IT, POCK, GET THAT FUCKER.

I’M NOT LYING! SERIOUS. POOR THING, I KNOW, HE’S THE WORST. POCK’S NOT TAKING IT WELL, EITHER. THAT’S PROBABLY WHY PIECK ISN’T HERE, ‘CUZ SHE KNEW YOU’D SHOW. I KNOW. EREN? OH. EREN’S WITH ZEKE IN THE LIVING ROOM.

ZEKE. ZEKE! CALL THE COPS!

“Awful, right?” is whispered into his ear. Sharp chin digging into his shoulder as you bend at the waist into the booth, hands holding you up by their perch on your knees.

“Terrible,” Reiner doubles down. Sweat bullets down his face, your eyes piercing him -- irises pins in a sea of bulging white. So white it’s searing green around the edges.

Then, your nails are puncturing the solid table, knuckles burning the way they did when you held another man’s hand at a birthday party (and then later that night when you had to pull thrashing men apart). Reiner would consider it a soft mercy if you used those nails to stab him in the heart this very instant.

Chittering whispers precede a hiss parted with low, jerky hums. Your jaw clacks shut as soon as Eren saddles up beside you, smoothing a hand up your back until it rests between your shoulder blades. He smiles down at Reiner, working soothing circles into your stiff muscles without acknowledging the flimy green overtaking your bare skin.

“I’ll get her, bud. You can go home. You’ve done enough for everyone tonight.”

I’LL GET HER, BUD. YOU CAN GO HOME. YOU’VE DONE ENOUGH FOR EVERYONE TONIGHT.

Every comment under the post is the exact same, too. Except for the very top one, in lowercase as if to hide from its eye-catching peers was a mere:

reiner youre fucking insane. i dont care its your birthday i dont care if youre drunk i dont care. i dont care. youre insane. dont talk to me until you tell her. - bert

Reiner pouts up at you miserably, your thin stare unforgiving and unmoving. He feels crowded despite the fact you’re nearly half his size. Petrified, Reiner can’t even think of something to say and redirect your attention. His brain is silent except to register your face in front of his, to log your breathing.

Suddenly, you’re climbing into the seat beside him.

One leg thrown over his lap with the knee digging into his chest, effectively keeping him pinned. The other leg is spread to keep you upright in the booth, arms cage around Reiner and chest pressed obnoxiously against his; he can feel your heartbeat. Sharp. Pointed. Calm.

There’s no rage in this attack because it’s not revenge: it’s justice.

You bob left and right behind the knee pinning him, needlepoint eyes whizzing over his upper body. Searching for the express spot to cut him down as fast as possible.

Before he can so much as blink, you’re striking his pulse and your nails slice open his cheek and arm. Instinctually, his arms fly up to rip you from his neck, scratching your back and tearing your dress’ zipper down. His legs jerk beneath the table, a loud crack echoing through the club.

Nobody comes.

Everybody watches.

You tear into his throat violently, digging through skin and tissue like someone might pry your meal from you.

His arms go lax around you, a soft hug he selfishly takes to his grave.

Until there’s a shriek behind wood and vinyl, “Reiner! Reiner, get out here!”

Reiner wakes smelling the tang of raw meat. Just the scent alone enough to make his mouth water and imagine the many dishes aided by a hearty helping of meat.

Like pasta.

Pasta is a great carb-loading meal, and despite keeping himself cut with outrageously defined muscles Reiner cannot recommend pasta enough. His only gripe with the food is he cannot eat it when he’s wearing his earbuds. Something about the malleable silicone suctioned into his ears makes the squishy tearing between his molars much louder than it should be. It disgusts him until he’s unable to finish dinner.

He hears that squish now, coupling a fresh whiff of open carcass: making him so nauseous he may literally burst.

Wet, sloppy chewing and ragged swallows, intermittently severed by the sound of sharp teeth clacking and ecstatic hisses.

Fingers tickle his sides, middle and pointer parting the puckered slash down his abdomen for you to bend down and suck from. It doesn’t feel too different from giving blood at a clinic. It doesn’t feel like much at all.

Even as the fingers melt together and broaden. Even as you cradle his head with bent slabs, strapping him down via insecticine pincers, and dig into his cranium you’re quite gentle. Like a lover.

Mingling kisses with nips, you crack his skull between jagged, sawing mandibles. Grinding him up into a fine, white powder.

Reiner wakes up screaming.

Porco is knelt over him, face blown in worry and breathing erratic, “What the fuck?!”

Reiner takes a slow draw of breath, gaze bouncing around in a panic to verify he’s in his room, “What?”

“‘What?! What? What’s wrong? What were you dreaming of? You were catatonic until you screamed and I came in!”

What was he dreaming of?

It’s already beginning to fade. He thinks he should let it -- best to forget and move on.

Best for Reiner, maybe, but not Porco.

Porco, who looks more terrified than Reiner feels. Porco, who forwent their passive-aggressive feuding to make sure his roommate wasn’t dying in bed. Porco, who’s nearly stradling Reiner in his scurry to wake the man.

And not best for you.

“Pock,” Reiner can’t forget, “I have something to tell you.”

.

.

.

Armin and Eren are perusing Armin’s Reddit homepage when they’re stunned to a still, only able to glance at each other as Porco shouts,

“Motherfucker!”

Porco storms out, straight past the younger men, and slamming the front door behind him after snagging his keys from their hook. Eren is first to shake himself to life, standing slowly to creep through Reiner’s door.

Reiner is pulling on a white shirt, rather steadily for a man who’d just been screamed at.

“What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Reiner?”

“Nothing you need to worry about, Eren,” Reiner tugs on pale, baggy pants, looping a belt around his waist, before passing his friend with a short clap on the shoulder, “Alright. Let’s celebrate Zeke’s thirty-third birthday.”

And, really, it was nothing to Eren. What happened on Zeke’s thirty-second birthday was not for Eren to know yet because he still had to tell you.

Not in the Sedan, though. He can live a little longer in the dreamworld where you still like him.

He pushes the backseat door open for you as Connie straggles behind, locking your apartment. You wave excitedly and clamber in beside him with a loose side-hug.

“Hey, big guy! It’s been too long,” you squeeze. Connie slips in shutting the car door.

Connie’s scruffy buzzcut tickles the round of your shoulder as he looks over Reiner while reaching for your seatbelt (knowing you won’t click it into place yourself), “Looking good!” he huffs when you don’t make his job easier, “Dude, can you move?”

“Huh?” you follow Connie’s eyes, “Oh! Whoops!”

Eren snickers quietly at your antics before announcing to the car, “Mikasa says she and Sasha are already inside.”

“No!” Connie dramatically clutches the sides of his head, “My ‘fit doesn’t make sense without Sasha!”

“You just walked from the apartment to Armin’s car, I think you can live walking into a club without her!” you pat his back, “You’re strong, Con’.”

Reiner smiles gently at the man’s dilemma: a maroon shirt with ‘HUNTERS’ in bold white. Hardly as humiliating as Connie deems, especially since most people will overlook it in comparison to his twinkly jewelry and pants three sizes too big. Connie loves using his best friend privileges to bud into Sasha’s relationship, and everybody else loves watching what those two will do to make spectacles of their group next.

“Hide behind me!” you suggest.

“Yeah,” Armin pitches in, tone light and flowing with nothing but good intent, “She’ll catch enough attention for both of you.”

“Good thing,” Eren patches, as if the addition was needed.

“Thanks, guys,” you wax your palms down the bunched hem of your dress, kneading your thighs nervously, “I started getting second thoughts as soon as I sent the picture!”

“You look good,” Reiner says quietly, so he could pretend to have not said anything if you didn’t like the sentiment.

Thankfully, you’re sweet like pie and giggle, “Thanks, Reiner,” your eyes drift over yourself, “It feels good to dress like this again. I missed it,” you giggle and wink playfully, “Missed being scandalous.”

Tight black dress that pushes up your breasts and displays plenty of leg, the last time anyone had seen you in such a revealing piece was a year ago. Zeke’s birthday. Since then, you’d partied in more concealing shirts and skirts and Reiner hated it: knowing you were recovering from an emotional scathe. One you never would’ve heard if Reiner was a better person.

“We missed our girl,” Eren pipes from the passenger seat, earning a nod from Armin, who is turning into the club’s parking lot.

cocoon’s LED sign is blinding as the sun crashes beneath the horizon, forcing Reiner to shield his eyes with his hands as your group merges with the winding entry line.

“Oh,” you pinch Reiner’s bicep, “Happy birthday, big lug!” his surprise must be evident because you laugh blatantly, “Thought I’d forget, huh? You can’t hide from my birthday cheer, you know?”

“I don’t mind Zeke taking the attention,” Reiner promises, a lie he’s mastered telling, “I’ve never had a big birthday.”

His mother tried, but there was only so much a single parent could do let alone one on a shoestring budget.

At that, you shake your head, sympathetically patting the skin you assaulted, “You should someday. Maybe when Zeke finally mellows out at old age.”

“I don’t see that happening.”

“We’ll have to see.”

After momentary tilted silence, a man slightly bigger than Reiner in a tight black shirt approaches, waving everyone forward. Eren elbows Connie: ”See, Mikasa already being inside was a good idea, huh?”.

Bypassing the bar entirely, Mikasa herds the group from door to booth, of which she had Sasha save. Sitting beside Sasha (who's wearing a maroon shirt with ‘COUGAR’ in bold on the front, completing Connie’s outfit) is a golden ray of light in a kid’s green-and-blue party hat with circular glasses on a thin wire.

“Other birthday boy!” you hurrah, bounding past the group to wrap around Zeke, laying your head atop his.

Never one to mind your over familiar affections, Zeke brings up a hand to cup yours on his chest, “Hey, pretty girl. It’s been awhile.”

Reiner feels a hot white flare in his chest, something flagrantly upset by what he should know is common ground for the older Yaeger. What makes his anger all the worse is how he cannot pick it apart morally: Zeke is freshly single, you and Reiner aren’t together, and you’re both adults. Reiner can only chalk his jealousy up to that -- pitiful jealousy.

“I know, I know! We’re terrible,” you sigh, unlooping from Zeke to sit beside him as more people slide into the horseshoe booth (Connie resorting to extreme whining so Sasha is sandwiched between him and Mikasa), “We need to hang out more.”

“I’m old now,” Zeke ‘tsk’s, “I’ll die trying to keep up with you. Oh,” he points at Eren with raised brows, “They didn’t even ID me at the door.”

“No shit, you’re thirty-three,” Eren goes to add that his girlfriend brings him here every other weekend, but wisely realizes that would be insensitive. Since it’d be his brother’s now ex-girlfriend. To make use of his already open mouth, Eren thumbs at the bar over his shoulder, “Drinks, anybody? I’m gonna make a stop.”

Reiner knows better than to assume Eren is willing to visit by himself and nods, “I’ll go with,” he gestures to you, “Hummingbird?”

As you’re gearing up to confirm, you stand, “Actually, I’ll just go with. You guys will probably have a lot of drinks to carry back,” you poke Zeke’s shoulder, “Drink, birthday boy?”

“Margarita. With mezcal and lime. Key lime,” a chorus of grumbles escape the table, Zeke guffaws, “Not my fault it’s just better!”

“Waters for you two,” Eren shields his brother from more teasing by speaking up, glossing over Armin and Mikasa, “Sasha and Connie?”

With the punks’ orders in place, you wonder aloud what Jean and Bertholdt will want once they arrive. Only then does Reiner realize he doesn’t recall Bertholdt’s preferred beer with the same certainty he used to.

Zeke interrupts the realization, “No idea, but Pieck will get a negroni.”

“Pieck’s coming?” you mumble, sounding downright shy. You don’t want to be that person, and you doubly don’t want to ruin Zeke’s birthday by excluding one of the friends he didn’t make through his brother.

“Uh-huh,” thankfully, Zeke is a grown man who can understand nuance. He sympathizes with your hurt, yet he’s grateful you’re not the type to lay his evening to waste over that pain.

“Negroni for her, then, cool. Cool,” you turn sharply, eyes wide, “Cool. Cool. I’ll be going to the bar now.”

Eren surges to give chase, quickly put to pause by Reiner’s hand on his chest. Reiner shakes his head subtly, “I’ll get her. Spend time with your brother.”

Cramming through the swamp of bodies towards the bar, Reiner finds you chewing a thumb nail at the counter. Brows knitted towards the center of your face and an arm curled around your churning stomach. Frantic, jittery tugs to the bottom of your dress interrupt the nail nibbling. Reiner can’t take it anymore.

He calls your name over the pounding music and you jerk to attention, an uneasy smile finding your painted lips. Laying a noncommittal hand on your shoulder, Reiner follows the summon with a question, “Can we talk out back?”

Mistakenly relieved by his request, you eagerly nod and lace your hand with his. Fingers knotting and nails shoveling shallow crescents along the back of his hand, Reiner silently wrings you out to the alley behind the club. Dumpsters hide your bodies from onlookers still waiting in line, as well as filling the space with a stale rotten stench that makes his nose wrinkle.

“I have to tell you something,” he laments, no longer the paragon of tranquility he was when dealing with Porco.

“Okay.”

You’re sweet like pie, after all. You really are. He doesn’t deserve you. He thinks that’s what makes looking you in the eyes the hardest part of confessing.

Reiner deserves Porco, and Porco deserves Reiner -- they’re meant to be roommates, although neither is sure how it happened. Entitled dickhead going to bat against entitled dickhead: Porco isn’t going anywhere.

You could. And you wouldn’t be wrong to leave.

“Last year, at Zeke’s birthday, I’m- “ his knees beg to cave, but he strains anyway. Forcing himself rigid to avoid collapsing no matter how terribly he wants to, “Marcel wasn’t cheating on you with Pieck. I lied and said that to Porco so he’d say something to you. I didn’t think he’d start a fight, but I guess- I just- I should’ve… known. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Marcel didn’t do anything wrong, I was just…” he can’t believe himself, even a year later he can’t verbalize it without wanting to die, “I was jealous of him because I’m in love with you.”

Staring up at Reiner, you’re shocked into silence. Eyes wide and pupils small, dread and terror gushing into the bowl of your jaw, you’re certain you’re about to puke.

“What?”

You heard him perfectly well.

“I lied to Porco and said his girlfriend was cheating with your boyfriend, his brother,” Reiner knows you heard him, and he doesn’t know what he’s gaining by putting it simpler. He is, however, precisely aware of what he’s going to lose, “Marcel never cheated on you with Pieck. Aside from what he said about the way you dress, he was a totally fine boyfriend. I just… I just wanted you.”

A car roars by the backside of the alley, punctuating your chunky silence. Faint bass pumps through the club walls. You hug yourself as if to wall Reiner off by force. Head shaking.

“You- I can’t… oh my God, Reiner!” you whirl around and hyperventilate against the brick, muttering variations of that same sentence string to it.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats.

He prefers his fantasies, where you’re not a person but instead a monster that can tear his head off his body. He prefers to die.

You charge back inside, no doubt to shiver in the arms of Eren just like you did last year when Reiner started this whole thing. Part of Reiner can’t believe he’s been honest, he plucks a few arm hairs clean out just to be sure: both blessed and cursed with the truth.

He’s facing reality.

You know. Porco knows. Soon, everyone will know, and everyone will decide what to do with him. So, he lets you finish the story between hiccups and sobs while he kicks rocks into the dented, graffiti’d dumpster.

For a moment, he has the strangest urge to smoke. Reiner has never smoked before but now he’s certain he needs one. Maybe one of those particularly expensive ones in Zeke’s pocket, the brand that makes Eren’s water when his brother so much as opens the pack.

Finally stepping back inside, Reiner is surprised to see nobody preening over your crumpled, weepy form. The only indication he has that you’d even carried this burden inside is the fact you’re hugging Pieck. You’re blabbering into her ear as she giggles, close-eyed, and rubs your back. Upon separating, you squeeze her hands and she nods to whatever you’ve said last.

Then you flounce away, head flipping this way and that until you find Connie and Sasha.

Reiner apprehensively approaches the booth, where a red-faced Zeke is listening to Jean and Eren bicker. Their newest debate topic is one he cares little for since he’s certain it’ll change before the end of the night.

“Hey, birthday boy,” Reiner claps Zeke on the back, kneeling against the leather seat to ensure his friend hears, “I’m heading out.”

“Already?” Zeke scowls up at him.

Fumbling around his pockets for his phone, Reiner nods and holds up the device to shake, “Porco called. Smells gas.”

Porco should not be home -- Reiner hopes Porco isn’t home, but either way the younger Galliard’s estrangement from their group makes lying easier. Something which is also Reiner’s fault.

“Jesus,” Zeke, a recent home-renter understands the paranoia and waves Reiner off, “Hope your place doesn’t blow up.”

“Thanks, man. Happy birthday.”

Zeke doesn’t return the sentiment whatsoever. Reiner tells himself that is fine.

Pieck is beautiful: black hair shiny and alluring despite numerous fly-aways and unkempt strands. Eyebags that cradle relaxed brown eyes. Nose strong yet with an adorable bump. Voice lullaby soothing. Twelve months ago, you were envious of her, and twelve months ago you wanted to no-holds-barred box her in the middle of poor Zeke’s party. Today, however, you’re squashing her tight and murmuring apologies into her ear.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know, I just heard it was true and I didn’t even talk to you! I should’ve known better, you’re so nice and soft and I just wanna be friends…!”

A graceful little simper escapes the older woman, she accepts your nuzzling and even encourages it -- hugging you closer, “I’d like that, too. I’m not upset, I would’ve been pissed too if I were you.”

Her empathy only makes you feel worse.

“Though, I do wonder what made you come to this realization…” she muses.

“Oh, it was, uh…” you teeter off to find your answer wandering through the club towards the door.

If asked by any rational and well-meaning person, you could not tell them why you excused yourself to chase Reiner. You could not explain why you grab him by the arm and spin him around. You cannot justify why you look up at him all downtrodden and bashful and wanting.

“Why tell me now? Why not earlier?”

“Same reason I did it in the first place. I’m a coward, I can’t face you.”

Despite his stature dwarfing your own, you can easily tug Reiner away from the crowd. Fluttering from the face of the club to the bathrooms and slinking inside the unisex solo-stall. You stow Reiner away before locking yourselves inside.

An aggravated knot curls your face inwards, lips puckered like you’ve tasted something putrid.

“You could’ve just… you should’ve…”

Reiner watches you reel, you stutter and shiver and cross your arms and uncross them and tap your foot and curl a finger through your hair. He holds back from speaking or reaching out, fixed on the idea that any poking through your film could make you fly away.

“Have you told Porco?” to your question, Reiner merely nods, “And Marcel?”

“I don’t have his number, I assume Porco’s told him by now.”

“You’re okay with that?” you fold your arms again, Reiner hates himself for daring to peek at how it fluffs your chest, “You’re okay with Porco just telling Marcel?”

“I can’t be picky about this. I’m not the one I hurt.”

You’d have to be really stupid to forgive him so quickly. You would have to be dumb beyond comical relief, dumb beyond scary, dumb beyond dumb itself.

You step closer, both arms slithering up Reiner’s chest until your fingertips graze his lymph nodes.

Luckily for Reiner, you’ve never been described by partners as the sharpest tool in the shed.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” you don’t know how to lie.

“Sure.” You don’t know how to read a room.

“I’m serious, okay?” you don’t know how to stand up for yourself, “This doesn’t mean anything. I’m just…”

You’re just fucking desperate. Just like Marcel and every other boyfriend before him said.

“You just want to use me for tonight,” Reiner nods, “I’m okay with that.”

Winding your arms tight around his neck, you lean onto the toe of your heels to kiss him -- nodding against his face with a muffled, “Yeah, Rei, just for tonight.”

Big hands wrap around the backs of your thighs as Reiner sighs into your lip lock, “Jump.”

You hardly get the chance to when he’s already lugging you up, one arm braced under your ass while the other cups your back and fumbles to slide your zipper down. Reiner feels you snip his bottom lip timidly earning a clutch from him until your tits are spilling out onto his chest. He’s prying your tight dress off, fingers on your bottom wrinkling up the hem of your dress to snatch your panties. You flit off his face.

Reiner swallows hard.

Red is smeared around your parted lips, soft puffs of air escaping as you stare him down. Your hair is muffed from its style, and he’s sure he’ll only make it worse.

Still holding you by your back, Reiner swings you back to undo his pants. Your nails shinny for leverage against his neck, legs kicking harshly into his sides -- like he’d drop you.

His cock twitches against you, tip weeping into the rolls of your stomach and you clench up at the sight of how deep he’ll stretch inside you. Then your eyes hone in on the way he carefully prods your hole, lip blistering between his teeth as he slowly rocks inside you. Every little hiss and huff from your throat makes him cautiously glance at you, thumb swirling wetly, apologetically around your clit.

“I know, I know,” he husks as tears prick your eyes, black mascara stains coagulating beneath your lashes, “Just squeeze me, pretty girl. I can take it.”

Your head flings back once Reiner has sunken flush. His hand on your back slides up until he’s got your shoulder to aid each sharp thrust. Amusement crawls over him when your hands fly to wrangle around his biceps, ankles locking behind his waist.

Wide, doe eyes vapidly blear over his pinching face, inspiring a sudden charge of those warm, obsessive feelings that got him in this trouble a year ago. Reiner drags his initials across your swollen clit and coos, “So pretty, pretty fucking girl. Cute and squirming on a big cock.”

Mewling at the praise, you buck against him -- whining when his tip slams a particular spot in your sucking cunt. Before you can catch a proper breath, Reiner tugs you again: ragged and gnarly mumbles leaving him as his pistoning hips quicken. Hard and fast into your guts as you squeal: pitchy and wispy and unable to breathe around the impression he’s scarring inside you.

From your hot-faced moaning and quivering muscles and tits jiggling in time with his rough plunging, Reiner’s eyes are kept busy. So busy he almost doesn’t notice when your abdomen scrunches up and your hole pulses around him. Almost.

“Fuck!” you shudder forward, arms curling around his neck to press sloppy, open-mouthed kisses along his jaw. Legs flailing behind him.

“Fuck…” Reiner echoes after you, “Cum on me, pretty baby -- cum all over me, sweet thing.”

Someone bangs on the door, followed by Zeke calling your name. Reiner feels you spasm around him tighter, something he could excuse if it weren’t for the sudden gush of slick that followed.

“You okay? You’ve been gone a while.”

You look at Reiner, blinking with the silent question of what to do.

Reiner is no use whatsoever, merely winding the hand not playing with your clit into your hair and pulling to expose your throat. Eagerly bruising the flesh with his teeth.

“Zeke,” you whimper, earning a jealous bite from Reiner, “Ah! I’m fine!”

A sick laugh cracks from the other side of the door, a sarcastic “okay” leaving the man.

“I’m fine,” you sputter, skin clapping loudly on Reiner’s and drool wetting the corner of your mouth, “I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine,” you gasp, back snapping as Reiner’s cock twitches, ringing ecstasy through you, “I’m fine! Oh!”

Wet, squelchy splashing picks up as your cum pools and dribbles out, dripping from his soaked thighs and splattering right onto the floor with every dive of his hips.

“Not inside!” you buzz in a panic as Reiner’s gravely pants and growls crescendo into huffs and moans. His rhythm thrown completely, “Not inside, Reiner!”

“Okay, baby,” he kisses your cheek and pulls out, sodden cock slapping against your tummy again, “Whatever you want.”

The ominous promise is overshadowed by the shiny glint he catches with your cum and his pre sheening beneath ugly bar bathroom fluorescents. His fist bobbing along the shaft until he’s painting your clenched gut white with thick ropes.

Reiner holds you a moment longer, and the fact his arms aren’t shaking under exhaustion nor your weight serves good promise he could go again if you desired. Unlucky for him, you don’t think you want to. You don’t think this was ever a good idea.

Undoing the lock of your legs, your heels clack against the floor. Gravity berates you quickly. Reiner’s cum begins running down the pouch of your stomach only for the man himself to swear and scoop it up with his fingers. A sticky smear is left behind, and he rushes to clean that too.

Reiner, with no better alternative, is forced to dampen paper towels from the dispenser to supplement the shower he’s sure you’re hankering for. Airy grievances leave him until you push back.

“I wanted it, Reiner.”

He’s on his knees, fingertips kissing your bare skin as he cleans you off. You look tall from his angle: you look broad and strong and beautiful. Stray hairs stick wildly like pricks. Or antenna. He nods slowly, tossing the soiled clumps away before rising to his feet (now you look small again, but no less beautiful).

“Can I zip your dress?”

“Sure.”

Your tone lacks romantics. Devoid of the warm fuzzies currently congealing Reiner’s veins.

He’s smiling, cheeks vibrant red, as he maneuvers your skewed number and shimmies your tits back into their cups before holding the back closed. His knuckles branding up your spine as he re-zips you. He holds you by the waist with his other hand, lips sugary on your forehead.

You can’t recall the last time a man was so adoring to you after sex. Even in your coldness, his devotion is sickeningly syrupy. You can hear the ‘i love you’s he’s bravely withholding.

Marcel was not the most giving man you’d ever dated. Far from the cruelest, but still not very charitable.

“Marcel hated this dress,” you mutter, staring at Reiner’s legs crowded around yours. One of his shoes poised between your heels so he can sap up as much of your space as possible.

“You’re serious?” Reiner is happy you’re speaking now, so he’s blinded as to what the best thing to say at this moment would be. Because it definitely isn’t, “Any guy would love looking at his girlfriend in this.”

“He said I looked slutty.”

“You’re pretty when you dress slutty.”

Hanging your head, you snivel against Reiner’s broad chest, “Am I?”

“All the time,” Reiner rubs your arms warmly (your skin is smooth, pliant, inoffensive), relaxing his cheek on your head, “You’re pretty in your pajamas and your work clothes. You’re pretty all the time.”

You hadn’t noticed the intensity of your stressed muscles until Reiner was massaging them out with gentle hands and a honeyed voice.

“Marcel met you in a dress like that, he can’t get mad when your entire wardrobe doesn’t change for him. Marcel can’t pin your wings,” as if to emphasize, he pinches the skin over your shoulder blades.

Flinching, you whack against his sturdy abdomen (internally groaning when you realize the giant likely didn’t even feel it), “Corny.”

“It’s true.”

Drifting back from the embrace, you turn and unlock the door before fluttering into the club’s swarm.

Reiner waits, counting down fifteen before strolling out.

“So, the apartment’s good?”

“Zeke, were you… waiting on the bathroom?”

“Something like that,” Zeke’s nosey and invasive to an absolute fault, if Reiner had to guess it’s in the man’s top three flaws, “Anyway, I take it the apartment’s good?”

“Pock called ixnay.”

“Good,” Zeke slides closer, clapping his friend on the back in a way that feels too celebratory, “Let’s drink, then!”

“You already reek.”

“And you do, too, so let’s cover that smell up with alcohol.”

Reiner feels smug despite his position on your shitlist -- after all, you let him fuck you, so that has to mean something positive, doesn’t it?

“Sure,” Reiner wraps an arm around Zeke in turn and together they manage to the bar, “Been needing a sunrise all day.”

…

“You smell fine, really,” Sasha eagerly hands over the body spray in Mikasa’s purse regardless of her insistence.

“I can smell myself,” you grimace, “I feel disgusting.”

Connie shakes his head, silver earrings blinding you when they blaze under pink bulbs, “It’s probably just the Zeke fumes. Dude permanently stinks like cigarettes.”

Admittedly, you can pick up the stench of a cigar box -- old and musty and catching your nostrils like dust, but more so is salted sweat. So you spray away, ignoring your friend’s comforts. Once you’re drenched in the addictive scent of tangerines, you return the spray and promise to buy Sasha a new one if it’s drained.

“Don’t be crazy,” she rolls her eyes and elbows you, “You didn’t drain that thing. Besides, I’d never let you buy me a new one.”

“That’s Mika’s job,” Connie nods as backup.

“Yeah,” Sasha giggles, and their glee makes you perk up, “Mika’s in charge of the expenses.”

Arms find your waist, a back stifling your own, and even though you can tell it’s Eren by the brown hair hanging into view and the rings and the cologne -- you strangely feel suffocated. He isn’t hugging hard, and he’s not the type to intentionally cause you anxiety, but you feel as though he’s got you caged.

A terrible thought, for sure, so you forcefully shove it back. You don’t want to make him uncomfortable.

“Ran off on us, I was worried,” he affectionately slurs.

“Sorry, ‘ren,” you pat his arm, “Was with Reiner.”

“Oh,” he backs away, now spinning into view with wiggling brows, “You were with Reiner?”

Sasha shoots Eren a concerned glance.

Instinctually, you try to ease everyone’s minds, “It’s not a big deal.”

Even though their assumptions are correct.

Your name is called from over your shoulder, Bertholdt and Jean are waving you over. Grateful for the segue from a rapidly curdling conversation, you bid the group adieu and race for the boys.

…

Close to midnight, designated drivers Armin, Mikasa, and Pieck are hauling the rest of the party (each person varying tipsy to slammed) to Denny’s, since the older birthday boy was starving for pancakes. Pieck quietly addresses the freckled teenager operating the floor as the drunkest of the group, Zeke, is led inside by Eren and Jean.

Meanwhile Sasha is helping you out from the Sedan, you spot Reiner staring through the glass doors. Coincidentally, also staring at Pieck. Totally unintentional. You’d have to be an idiot to get jealous.

“Hey, Reiner,” you beckon him over.

He heeds, now looking at you instead. It feels better. It feels right.

You also feel terrible, and guilty, and gross.

“Can we talk?”

Talking quickly dissolves into Reiner eating you out in the backseat of Armin’s pristine Sedan.

Maybe you can delude yourself into thinking this makes you both even. Maybe you can trick yourself into thinking this is a worthwhile apology. Maybe you can rationalize that he’s earned forgiveness this way. Maybe, maybe, maybe- maybe- maybe-

“Fuck!” you thrash up off the seat, hips jolting into Reiner’s hot mouth.

Thumbs spread you open for his lashing tongue to wiggle deeper inside you, nose nuzzling your clit and eyes shut as if he’s the one in bliss. Your thighs muff his ears as his hungry slurping continues. Worry that you could pop his skull burdens you up until Reiner tongue-fucks the concern from your ditzy head.

Shaking his face into your cunt, Reiner flays your lips with broad, soaked strokes only to hurriedly revert to precisely attacking your sensitive hole.

It isn’t supposed to be good.

He isn’t supposed to be good at this.

But he is and you’re whining like a bitch and he’s sloppily, greedily drinking you down.

“Productive talk?” Armin glances over both you and Reiner as you walk into the Denny’s, specifically where your thighs are clenched and the fabric of your little dress folds.

You let out a noncommittal hum before slipping past him and beside Connie at one end of the two tables staff was kind enough to let Jean and Eren push together.

Reiner approaches, dropping keys into Armin’s awaiting palm, “Locked up.”

Armin glares up at the man, “Did you keep your promise?”

(“Promise me, Reiner, promise me you don’t do anything to that car that will make me kill you.”

“I promise, Armin. We’re not animals.”)

Reiner suspires quick and itching to escape his friend’s deathly stare, “I’ll pay to get it cleaned.”

“Fuck you!” Armin mimics strangling Reiner, “Fuck you!”

“I know, I’m sorry…”

“You’re worse than animals! You’re parasites.”

“I’m sorry, seriously,” Reiner doesn’t like likening you to a parasite -- you’re lovelier than that, “It wasn’t full blown sex, just oral.”

That, surprisingly, does seem to calm Armin somewhat, “Which one of you was ass-out on the seats?”

“She was.”

“Okay,” Armin sighs, “Okay. I can live with that. Just - fucking - just go with me to clean it so we can use your card.”

“Done.”

“Asshole,” Armin bites as he turns. Which is fair in Reiner’s opinion.

What’s unfair, however, is the way everyone hounds you at the table.

You sit crinkled, eyes focused on your lap, “Nothing, really. Nothing happened.”

Armin bristles and Eren scoffs. Zeke downright laughs. Reiner sits across from you and tells them to mind themselves.

“We could all see it coming!” Sasha jeers, beaming over at you full of mirth and sunshine and good intent, “Reiner’s been in love with you since you met!”

Bertholdt flinches at the call, spiking a glare the blonde’s way.

“About time you moved on from Marcel,” Connie nods in agreement, the past year lifting from his shoulders like a sack of bricks. As the one to have held and soothed you in the aftermath of Marcel’s apparent cheating (and subsequently Porco and Marcel’s bloody brawl), he couldn’t be happier to hear you’re back out there, “That guy sucked.”

“He was…” okay. He was okay. He was okay. But Reiner’s…

Your eyes dart up to Reiner.

Reiner’s a liar. His actions inherently manipulative. No matter how terribly Marcel’s words could sometimes make you feel, he was a faithful boyfriend. Reiner’s crush could potentially be obsessive.

“He sucked,” Pieck reaffirms, smiling at you warmly.

You don’t know what to do with Reiner.

Except to grab his hand over the table and nod, “Yeah, he sucks.”

Reiner fondly brushes a thumb over your knuckles. Cheeks rosy.

Bertholdt is squeezing his fist so tight there’s blood crusting beneath his nails.

When everyone’s belly is full and your large party is spilling out of the Denny’s, Connie nudges your side. Whispering while nodding towards Reiner, “You coming home? Or…”

“Reiner and I need to talk some more.”

(Reiner and Bertholdt are preoccupied with conversation.

“Are you serious?”

“I told her. She knows.”

“You’re fucked up,” Bertholdt has half a mind to shout at you from across the barren parking lot to confirm if Reiner’s claim is true.

“You weren’t part of it.”

“You told me what you did! That made me part of it…” Bertholdt chides heatedly, grinding the heel of his palms into straining eyes, “She actually knows?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Okay…” Bertholdt rakes through mussed black hair and blinks weary eyes, “Then I’m sorry for avoiding you, I just… You were insane for that.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry.”

“We’re good. You didn’t do anything wrong.”)

“Yeahhh,” Connie drags out, elbowing you in dramatics, cheering, “Get it, girl!”

You shrug, Reiner suddenly at your side and directing you towards Armin’s defaced Sedan by his grip on your hand, “Sure.”

Connie laughs because he assumes you’re being uncharacteristically shy.

Maybe he had a point, though, because as soon as you’re in Reiner’s apartment, you’re on him.

You don’t want to talk. You don’t want him to explain himself (honestly, you don’t know what more he could say). You just want him to make you forget he ever opened his fucking mouth.

“After this,” you gasp into his mouth, nails sharp in his back, “Make me a drink.”

“What kind?” he entertains, pulling your hips to roll against his.

“Something sweet, like nectar. But I want it strong.”

“Whatever you want, baby.”

…

Waking the next morning with a pounding headache and sore hips, you trip from Reiner’s earthy sheets and lazily haul on his white shirt from last night as well as his boxers before quivering into the kitchenette. With an eye closed, you barely find the dark rum from your many guava nectar cocktails before shooting it. Nursing a hangover with more alcohol: always works.

A scoff fishes your attention, Porco sitting at the couch with a steaming mug on the table. No coaster, like a beast.

“You can have the fucking coffee.”

“Thanks…”

Saying Porco watches you fix yourself a cup of coffee would be too lax, he moreso studies you. How you gingerly wait for approval before opening his fridge for creamer and cabinet for sugar. How you stir the sweeteners into your mug. How you don’t bother with a test-sip before tucking everything away.

You haven’t spoken with Porco since you arrived at Zeke’s house twelve months ago -- an awkward hello between two people that never clicked. But you were dating his brother at the time, so you couldn’t just avoid him.

Now, you’re crawling out of his roommate’s bed, which (as expected) is already providing less opportunity to avoid him.

“Did he talk to you about last year?”

A lie can’t even form on your tongue, “Yeah.”

Porco’s brows raise in shock, pointing at you, then the closed door to Reiner’s room, “And still?”

“Yeah.”

As if sensing the moldy turn of conversation, Reiner makes his appearance. He scratches his bare chest and yawns, mumbling gratitude to Porco for making coffee. All awareness of their conversation yesterday seems unapparent on the blonde now, and it may as well be. Reiner remembers yesterday in full clarity, meaning he also remembers why telling Porco the truth was so easy.

Porco wasn’t going anywhere.

“So, what?” Porco’s question is open to both of you, but his eyes needle you specifically, “You two dating now?”

Reiner gives pause. He, too, studies you. He remembers why telling you the truth was so difficult.

You feel a burning in the back of your eyes, you blink it away and find trepidation swelling your throat shut. You clear the blockage with a swig of scorching coffee before answering, “Yeah.”

When that feels too bland, you take another swig and try again:

“Yeah. We’re dating.”

Reiner wasn’t expecting you not to go anywhere, either.

[girlsneedff]

AOT Men and Nicki Minaj Songs

Armin, Connie, Eren, Jean, Onyakopan, Reiner headcanons with reader

SFW & NSFW - Minors and Ageless blogs please leave this alone

ARMIN A. - Good Form

You were always confused why the fuck your friend would talk about his exes begging for him back, wildin about what he’s doin. He always seemed so embarrassed about it when his phone would be blowing up while you guys were out with friends. Once, he asked you to grab his phone, and a message came up. Usually, you wouldn’t look too deep into his phone- but it happened to be open to a chat from a girl. You almost dropped the damn shit.

It was a video. He was eatin the fuck out of some girl’s kat. The way that he was lookin up at the camera with those dazed eyes. His tongue lolled, forearms wrapped around her shaking legs- damn. Then went right back to work all while this girl is screaming in the back ground. Your hand went to your mouth so fast.

She texted:

“I miss you. Don’t tell me you don’t miss this too.”

He replied:

“Please leave me alone! And delete that video, it’s embarrassing…”

That lil dweeb is a freak-

You shut his phone off and hurried up to give it to him, trying to make your lack of eye contact seem normal. Especially since Good Form was playing in the background now. Specifically: “And when he eat the cookie, he got good form”

CONNIE S. - Beez in the Trap

Yk that goofy ass dance that 2 Chainz does behind Nicki? Yea that’s Connie. All the time. Every day. And you’ll feel his presence- just acting stupid behind you- but it’s best to not give him the attention. He comes with you to the beauty supply? Bein a weirdo. Payin at the grocery store? He’s moonwalking behind you, alarming the poor cashier. He’s lucky he’s cute.

“Connie if you don’t quit shakin ass behind me and act normal, thank you.”

“I’m not doing anything.. you must be imagining things.” He says, as he ‘subtly’ slinks back to his spot on your left.

The corner store cashier is just sick of it all today.

EREN Y. - Starships

He heard it for the first time while he was waiting in your room for you to get ready. Too embarrassed to ask you what the song was, he shazamed it, and now acts like he found it on his own.

If he’s not the one driving- he’s sticking his head out the window or standing up in the sun roof just feeling the breeze whilst belting this song. He’s lucky that there’s people to hold his legs, cuz homeboy would have been flew out of the car. It’s his favorite song ever- and he’ll say it proudly. He’s not about to let people shit on his tastes. This man is prideful- he dgaf what anyone says.

“Yeagar if you stick an appendage out the window, you might as well lose it cuz I’m not saving you anymore.”

JEAN K. - Your Love

Real suave guy. And the girls he pull is a testament to that. He views himself as a knight in shining armor. He thinks he’s the samurai in the music video… Ever since one of his lovers showed him the song, he’s resonated with it.

They ask if he knows a Nicki song- he says this one. Then Eren proceeds to dog him for it.

He tries to defend himself- swears Nicki is talkin about him. That’s where you have to check him.

“Boy- she is talk about a man with waves and a durag. Get serious before you piss me off.”

ONY - Needles

Drives a Maybach. Blaring music with the car bounce. Everybody wants to carpool with him, and he usually lets them (except for Connie, cuz he spilt Fanta Orange in his shit just after he came back from getting his car detailed). He definitely fucks people in his back seat. Just because of the fact that it’s a Maybach and he can get away with it- when the car is bouncing, people will never know if he’s getting his rocks off, or if he’s just flexing.

As soon as Pink Friday 2 dropped, and you played the song during a carpool somewhere, he now plays it at least 10 times a day. Full blast. Maybach bouncing off the walls.

“Boy nothing about you is shy. And at this point, your life’s a pile of needles-”

You begrudgingly get in shotgun, and say hi to everyone in the back.

REINER B. - Roman Holiday

Hb is crazy let’s not forget. He’s a workaholic. Came home stressed from work, and his just ranting and raving, and you tryna be the good partner, you’re tryna soothe him. Whether it be suggesting therapy, giving him head, or cuddling, man needs to chill.

This song is just his mental when he’s going through his day to day. I don’t even think that he would know what the fuck this song is, let alone know any of Nicki’s work (shameful).

“I don’t have any medication. Are you saying I should see a psychiatrist? And who the hell is Roman?”

“…it’s a Nicki song. Roman Holiday.”

“I’ve never heard of that song, or that artist.”

“Oh… this is real sad.”

[quill-pen]

Gotta ask, how do you think Ezekiel responds to being given flowers?

Connie knows he’s not as experienced in courtship and relationships, and wants to give him the full romantic experience (which he also gives her in return in many ways). This includes doing things for him that his former partner never did.

One time, while they’re courting, I can see her surprising him with a bouquet at his flat. It’s tied with a ribbon and a locket charm. Daisies for loyalty, lilies for unconditional love, and carnations for gratitude and fascination.

“I-I took a carriage out to the country and picked flowers I thought you’d like. Not everything is in season, so I asked a florist for help with the others! I, um, hope you find it to your liking.”

It’s obvious she wants him to feel loved and treasured, but is just a wee bit shy. That fear of rejection from Orin would rear its head. “I-I’ve never bought flowers for another person before. I’m sorry if I could have done better.”

Awwwww, Connie.🥹 Spoil your shy knight, girl yes!

This idea is actually so cute. Ezekiel has definitely never received flowers before. He's never really been romanced at all before. His ex was all about him treating and spoiling her, not the other way around. So flowers are a pleasant... shock.

I definitely see him staring in dumbfounded silence upon sight of the flowers. Connie's explanation causes the cute Scroogey blush to creep across his face and up his ears. His eyes probably shine with a little moisture and his lips curl ever so slightly into a smile. "No, no, Connie," he assures her. "Y-You did... wonderfully. I-I-I just... I've never rece-ceived flowers before. And I love flowers. Growing up, a florist and his wife would let me hide in their greenhouse from my bullies. They taught me so much about the plants they grew. Carnations were the wife's favorite, and they became mine too."

He tenderly touches the flowers before turning back to Connie and taking her into his arms. He's losing his hesitation with her, becoming ever more comfortable with touching her and holding her close, letting his hands rest easy around her waist, maybe a tad lower. "Thank you, Constance. I-I don't deserve thoughtful treatment. Such romance."

That locket charm certainly goes on his pocket chain, close to his heart with a portrait of Connie inside.💕