#petra uses she/her and he/him

[sunfishsiestalah]

only the holy month of ramadan can whittle down this mostly one-sided and unspecified beef between the former ecologist and the wonderboy sbu agent, for a time.

mf is secretly salty that her reproductive organs are still mostly functional despite working and living in a nuclear wasteland for more than half a decade

[isaacathom]

i had a ridiculously long post in my drafts about my lil firefly knockoff thing ive got buzzing around the brainpan but what if i didnt do that, and made it much shorter

basic setting shit - different systems are daisy chained together by something called the Interstellar Highway, which are fantasy bullshit that basically tunnels through space and loop around the edge of systems for a speed boost. Because of the speeds needed, every system on a highway has a structure called the OnRamp, which basically fucking catapults you onto the highway. theyre great.

it used to be that you would stop at every system on the highway to refuel and to check ship integrity, because engine efficiency wasnt good enough for long journeys. however, in the last 40 or so years, industrial-grade engines have gotten to the stage that they can go 2-3 systems without stopping, and that has naturally meant some systems have started languishing.

the system the story takes place in is one of those, where it primarily acted as a pit stop. the only traffic it really gets now is its own import traffic, which generally goes maybe 1 system over in either direction for essential goods.

because of the lack of Business, the systems sucking shit, and a lot of people in the inner system rely on a gig-economy of delivery ships that travel between them and the onramp.

the ship at the story's core is one of these gig economy ships. it's a like 30yo ship, bought on loan by one Captain Foster Cline, whose hectic routes throughout the system have gotten him within sight of owning the ship outright, but not quite.

the crew can be divided into sub groups, starting with the "captain core":

Foster Cline, a guy in his 50-60s. pretty nice guy overall, jovial and hard-working. owns and manages the ship, and can do most of the jobs alright

Andrea Seward, lady in her 40s. shes very cautious and 'safe', preferring known routes and repeat customers. handles a lot of the paperwork and accounting, though she can apparently pilot.

Ogawa Yuuji, guy in his early 50s. really sweet guy, always trying to help and offer advice even when its unasked for. works as the ships gunner and security guy, as well as being a general strong pair of arms.

These three have known each other for years, Cline and Ogawa in particular going back to before he bought the ship, and Seward being one of their first 'hires' when they went into business.

Then we have the younger gen:

Jalen Romilly, man in his late 20s. He's a guy who likes to follow rules and structures, always wanting things planned out and knowing what's happening. He's also particularly worried about diseases and germs, so he keeps his areas of the shop spotless. He's the ship's slow and steady primary pilot.

Gideon van der Karmozijn, man in his early 30s. He's a creative guy, loves tinkering and trying new shit, and he's always confident it will work. He's the ships primary mechanic, and secondary pilot.

These two are more recent hires, the last 5 years or so, replacing an irregular churn through other pilots and mechanics over the 30yrs of the ships operation.

The basic vibe is this ship always starts its route at the OnRamp, and the captain core + Romilly will sit down and plan out what jobs they're taking for the next little bit, trying to layer as many on top of eachother as they can for maximum profit, with the understanding that they'll revisit the list at every stop to tack more onto the end, continuing a month-long rush of work before they will return to the OnRamp station for a week.

It's gig economy delivery, and it can vary a good deal. You'll get people asking for medicine, businesses asking for raw materials, groups requiring transit from point a to point b, people needing you to transfer shit on their behalf, so on. Most of them it's pretty uneventful, though the need to try and get good profit margins means sometimes tensions can flare. it can be a big mess.

The "show", such that it is structured in my mind, would begin with 2.5 ish episodes of the 'regular shit' for these guys. obviously some of their more exciting or complicated jobs, drama with someone unwilling to pay, so on. at one point they do end up picking up a package from a shady 'merchant' where the implication is that their goods are all stolen. And it's like, well... ? not much we can do. Cline has been a good client of theirs for years, yknow how it is.

then during the third episode, they follow up on a job that needs them to go to a vineyard in high country of one of the planets to pick up a delivery bound for a bar on a different planet. they land a little ways off, and the captain core traipse off to go sort everything out with the owners while the younger gen man the ship.

at which point a group a ruffians descend upon the ship to try and take it.

karmozijn manages to barricade himself and romilly into the bridge and radio for help, and ogawa bounds off. before the others can respond, they get cut off by some members of the group, and shit just fully ensues. cline and seward get into a short firefight in the woods, ending in cline being fatally shot and seward scaring off the hijackers by convincing them that the vineyard owners are coming with firepower (they are, but they were still a few minutes out). on the ship, meanwhile, ogawa ends up fighting the hijackers in the engine room, managing to defeat or scare them off but receiving serious injuries.

with the aid of the vineyard owners, they get cline's body back to the ship and karmozijn is able to very patch-repair the mechanisms in the engine room so the ship will go. because, well... they're in the inner system, aren't they? high country, no less, middle of fucking nowhere. ships damaged, going slow as shit but theyre in a rush. nearest hospital? nearest hospital with SPACE? fucking hell. romilly is eventually able to make contact with an ambulance ship thats willing to make a detour to meet them on its way to somewhere else, and thus they get on a fuking move.

they don't make it to the rendezvous before ogawa dies.

whereas there was nothing they could do for cline, ogawa shouldn't've have died. his injuries were bad, yes, but evidently manageable. with prompt medical treatment, he would've pulled through. and they couldn't get him there.

the ship, two crew down, hobbles back to the OnRamp. each begins a rapid suite of various tasks - Seward is handling job cancellations, paperwork, the police investigation, and also volunteers/demands to be the one to tell Cline's daughter what happened. Romilly is handling talking to Ogawa's family, as well as hiring a new gunner on the double so that they can try to resume work quickly. Karmozijn is handling ship repairs, trying to make it fit into their suddenly stretched budget. and everyones grieving, and everyones handling it pretty poorly.

into this hectic period, covered by a few episodes in my mind, the crew expands not by the expected one, but by three - the new crew:

Petra Cline, Foster's daughter, in her early 20s. she's an adventurous sort who loves to try new things, and in this specific instance shes pissed. She all but demands to be allowed aboard by reasoning with Seward that since the ownership deeds were in Foster's name, as his next of kin she legally owns the ship. Seward decides not to press the issue (it may come up later anyway)

Zayvia Eskarra, nb in their mid 30s. An awkward and poorly social but lovely individual, they're brought on as the ships new gunner largely by dint of being the first person to apply for the position.

Ko Xue, woman in her last 20s. She's confident and brash, working on a vibes-based level on a lot of things. after the first 4/5 crew job goes Okay Ish but not ideal, it's agreed that they need a new pilot to replace Romilly so that he can shift into a managerial position (Sewards idea), and Ko takes that primary pilot role.

A new crew of 5/6 established, they continue on, doing a whole bunch of shit. its largely the same work, very episodic job-of-the-week business. the main underlying thing is the way the crew adapts and grows close, or apart, as the case may be.

there are a few key plots that would occur throughout in the show:

Ko is an extremely qualified ship pilot. like, highway certified. The fact she's working as the primary pilot for a dinky gig ship is bizarre, and it eventually comes to light that this is effectively a side gig for her main job, which is working for a prestigious, slightly dubious inter-system organisation who have their fingers in a lot of pies. she joined because she thought they'd help her make a difference in her dead-end system, but has found that to not be the case, and is locked into an exceptionally long contract. this interferes with her work on the ship on a number of occasions, and some members of the crew are PISSED when her status is revealed because it means shes loaded. its a whole thing.

Romilly has a family (siblings and parents) he supports with his delivery money, who occur throughout depending on how he's doing. there's a lot of drama there about whether he can afford to send the majority of his paycheck their way, especially closer to the vineyard thing, and later too. complicated stuff for him.

Eskarra is, notably, the only member of the crew who is not from the system. They're actually from a place some 4 systems down the highway, having been stranded here when the ship they were working on got 'pulled over' for illegal smuggling, being briefly locked up, and then being unable to pay for passage back home. This causes a sense of disconnect, since they arent anywhere near as familiar with the system as the others, which Eskarra attempts to rectify by like. doing chores. i love them.

Ko and Karmozijn hit it off really well because they both like pushing the ship to the limit, something that upsets both Seward and Romilly, with Romilly taking particular issue with the way Ko handles the ship - he is forced to concede she is the far better pilot, however. As close as the two become, though, Ko expresses little interest in him outside of their shared interests.

Eskarra and Romilly start lowkey dating. its a whole thing

Seward basically alienates everyone aboard the ship as she tries to live up to being the kind of captain that Cline was, which she demonstrably cannot be. she takes a special dislike to Eskarra because they are 'inferior to Ogawa in several ways', many of which have nothing to do with Eskarra's job.

Petra Cline, on the other hand, gets to be on pretty good terms with the majority of the ship, though shes on better terms with the new crew than she is with the others owing to, yknow, The Situation With Her Dad. She's the main person who is still close to Seward, because shes the one person Seward isn't rude to (or the one person who gets an unforced apology from her when she is).

She also bounces between different sectors of the ship as she learns various parts of the trade - piloting from Ko, mechanics from Karmozijn, and very limited combat stuff from Eskarra (predominantly knife-based and gun safety, with very limited opportunity to actually fire the gun bc Eskarra refuses to discharge the gun on the actual ship on principle). She does not interact with Romilly much at all, lmao.

and then we hit Da Big Thing, da big plot that i have in my noggin - a few episodes long arc in the acute sense, and certainly a longer thing overall. The Party Split.

now i have no fucking idea how we get here. my vague vibe is that there's possibly a ship that crashes off the highway into something, and theres a general sense of oh. we should uh. we should do something about that. after maybe arriving to help ferry some of the passengers to the OnRamp, maybe one of them goes 'hey. my mcguffin. can you go back and get it. ill pay you to get it' and the crew goes... yeah. sure. sure we can fetch your mcguffin. just sign this thing right here to show that we're not scavengers in case anyone asks and we'll go for it. its good pay.

and basically they're hunting for this thing, and since the ships fucked its basically picking through debris, and they aren't the only ones. guess who shows up? the shady merchants from earlier! where better to steal from than a downed ship? and they heard about a valuable mcguffin 👀

conflict ensues t'fuck. seward, romilly, and eskarra basically head out on the hunt, leaving ko, karmozijn and cline (lol) on their ship. everyones under fire. this is a mess. at some point, karmozijn tells cline that the communications are being jammed and she needs to go tell the captain (seward) that, and also that the shields are busted. she agrees, books it out. she doesnt find seward, instead finding eskarra, who is maybe Understandably Unhappy that she entered what is at this point an active fire fight, gives her a knife JUST IN CASE and tells her to fuck off back to the ship, they'll deliver the message. off they go.

on the ship, karmozijn has abandoned his station and headed to the bridge, has a conversation with Ko that quickly devolves into 'we should just get out of here, this isnt worth it' which Ko seems very lukewarm on.

on the ground, Karmozijn finds Seward to relay the message, which confuses her because Ko has been communicating with her consistently throughout the whole thing, including during her conversation with Karmozijn. And the shields seem fine? Somethings up.

Karmozijn abandons his attempt to be coy and flat out asks Ko to elope with him, which she rejects. He knocks her out, seizes the controls, and ITS. GO. TIME.

Karmozijn, Ko in tow, leaves the crash site.

Seward and Eskarra, stuck out far from the ship, end up being cut off from connecting with the rest of the crew by members of the shady group, being captured.

Cline and Romilly end up meeting up at the site where their ship used to be, and witness the departure of Seward and Eskarra with the other group.

the next bit is basically an episode for each team:

Karmozijn keeps Ko under lock and key, telling her that she could just travel with him (the under appreciated mechanic), but that if she won't he plans to just drop her off on the outskirts of some town somewhere with all her things. She manages to finagle him into letting her start packing said things in preparation, then slips away from him and leaves in the emergency shuttle. he does not pursue. she puts up a report about the ship theft, particularly paging her wealthy primary employer about the matter, and heads back to the crash site.

Cline and Romilly are forced to survive together, which is somewhat difficult because they aren't close, the ship is in so many pieces that its not a super viable shelter, and they aren't in a very hospitable area. Romilly focuses on finding things for their survival (food, shelter, so on) and Cline tries to apply the things she's learned from Karmozijn to create a distress beacon. The two end up genuinely coming to some understandings about the other, as their respective skillsets compliment fairly well. its a good camping time. it is pretty dicey though.

Seward and Eskarra are taken back to the shady merchant's base of operations and interrogated about whether they found the mcguffin or know anything about it. Despite her general demeanour, Seward holds up really well under the pressure, whereas Eskarra cracks pretty early - (un?)luckily for them, they don't know anything anyway. Seward makes a few escape attempts, without Eskarra, and for which Eskarra is punished - this does nothing to change Seward's actions. It doesn't help Eskarra that it is revealed (to Seward, anyway) that Eskarra was a former contractor of the shady merchants.

Finally, Ko returns to the crash with the shuttle and picks up Romilly and Cline, gets them fed and warmed up, and then they all mutually agree that they need to at least make an attempt to rescue Seward and Eskarra. They are actually successful, despite Seward trying to convince them to not go back in for Eskarra (Romilly, their pseudo-boyfriend, insists. thank god for homosexuality). its drama

the mcguffin almost certainly ends up being in Cline's possession, or possibly Romilly's, as the two people who remain at the crash site. so they can get back to the station (possibly with a detour for a refuel) and they can get that good good money.

obviously there are still like. consequences from this. which take some time to resolve. for instance, Karmozijn still has the fucking ship. Seward has made her dislike of Eskarra pretty fucking explicit. theres shit going on. they gotta fucking figure that out. they're also down a mechanic, a role cline probably fills at least in the interim.

its a whole thing. this is all meaningless.

[11thfempachi]

"People expect us to be small and quiet and innocent" Kim Petras makes every single one of his songs about being a whore, being a bitch, getting fucked, being an object in a female form and gets treated like a genius of pop industry and a queer icon. Ayesha Erotica made a song about a woman who enjoyed anal rape and is considered funny and silly despite an entire list of controversies. Lily Orchard known for SU video essay used to write graphic incest and pedophilic abuse MLP fanfiction in his TWENTIES. Ezra Miller - a "non binary" man - assaulted a child. Ethel Cain made religious abuse and incest his aesthetic and literally uses slurs and no one bats an eye. Hunter Schafer posted a psychopathic manifesto about how being a woman is being an object and everyone praises him. Chris Chan raped his mother and he's seen as a victim of bullying first. Eli erlick has a massive following on Tumblr despite being a rapist. You tried to close the Vancouver rape shelter leaving women escaping abuse basically homeless and everyone supported you. A man with several porn accounts with explicit urls got banned for posting said porn and ceo of Tumblr got harrassed for weeks over it. When jkr said trans males sent her porn and she didn't engage with them she got harrassed for "not taking action" despite her saying she literally reported said porn.

Who the fuck expects you to be dainty and demure? All you do is mock, harass and abuse women and the entire world save for like a couple women on Twitter finds an excuse for you. Shut the fuck up

[javic-piotr-thane]

so Petra is being harassed horribly online, and Tyler isn't helping her because their boss (Barry?) thinks letting more utterly vile hate comments be published is "really adding value to the online offering" of his paper

immediately introducing the [first] [as i don't doubt there'll be more] layer of meaning to the episode title huh

[nottragic-stilltoothsome]

Everything I found in Szarr's palace, for all your fanfiction-writting needs. I haven't found any other post like this one, so i hope i m not copying anyone. Posting it here, because editing the official wiki feels intimidating. Feel welcome to add anything I missed.

Astarion's siblings (the other spawn):

Petras - one of the two you meet in the Flophouse.

Dalyria - the other one from the two you meet in the flophouse. Her diary can be found in the "guest room". Before Cazador turned her, she was a doctor, a "Physician General to the Parliament of Baldur's Gate". She thinks vampirism is a disease and plans on curing herself of it by drinking blood of someone young and healthy - other spawn's daughter, Victoria.

Leon Onufrio - before Cazador turned him, Leon was a sorcerer. He is the one whose daughter's (Victoria's) body is found, cursed, in the room where with the Kozakuran dictionary.

Leon put a protective counter-curse on her, to discourage other spawns from attacking her. Despite his efforts, Dalyria bit her, hoping it'd cure her vampirism. Needless to say, it didn't and Victoria died @easterlingwanderer found out that if you use "speak with the dead" on the body, it turns out that it was a random urchin and Leon did get Victoria out of the city on time. After removing the curse inflicting you with necrotic demage, you can loot a letter of her body from her father instructing Victoria to read said dictionary, so she can freely move around the castle.

In the favoured spawn room, you can learn that Leon was the one usualy occupying it (along with his daughter). His diary reveals that he put extra effort to be Cazador's best hunter, so he can keep Victoria away from others and that he came up with a plan with Figaro to disguise and sneak Victoria out of the palace.

He also notes that he doesnt like the way Violet looks at Victoria and Cazador's wicked smile, when Leon asked him what his master was planning to do with his daughter.

Violet - you can find her Diary in the Dormitory of Spawn. She notes that she put garlic in Yousen bed as a prank.

Aurelia - a tiefling

Yousen - @neophytepagan noticed he is a gnome

Other:

The chamberlain of Cazador was Antwun Dufay. In his diary, which can be found under his bed in his room after a successful passive perception check, it says that he had a lover Lurianna (a werewolf, who can be found dead by walking through fake north wall of chamberlain's office, or through another fake wall in Chamberlain's private room). He knew about Cazador's Black Mass enough to fake his death in order to avoid the threat of taking Astarion's place. Unfortunately for him, it seems he confused the actual death potion and fake death potion, and really died. His lover drank the other potion, which melted her guts. The actual fake-death elixir can be found in his desk, which puts the player in 10-turn coma. He ordered the elixir from Bonecloaks', where he also ordered most of the things the palace needed to function (like bloodstain remover, candles and food for "guests").

Godey - Cazador's right hand. Astarion says that while Cazador was the master of the palace, the kennels (the room where the spawn d be tortured, when they did something Cazador didnt approve of) was the domain of Godey. Godey tortured the spawn when Cazador didnt feel like it. Cazador trusted Godey with the key to the sealed ballroom for the duration of the ritual.

Through the palace, fanatic-servants cleaning the palace: Syrin - human, Greenfern - wood half-elf, Vilhelm - human, Varderola - also human. All of them are servants, who Astarion said are devoted to Cazador and came to the palace of their own will, beggining Cazador to turn them into vampires. Vilhelm is most noteable, as you can talk to him and he asks Astarion why isn't he downstairs, that he is late and the ballroom is already locked. If pressed, he informs that Godey has a key and that the Cazador is going to punish Astarion for missing the ritual (and from his expression, he seems to quite like the thought).

Chamberlain Dufay wrote a blooddonnors ledger, instructing the Spawn to favourite the lower class as prey, as too many missing patriars may drow too much attention.

The language Cazador uses is Kozakuran, from a distant land of Kara-Tur. Astarion notes that they were strictly forbidden from learning it. From Cazador's Journal you can learn that Astarion was not an unreliable narrator when he said Cazador liked torturing him the most: Cazador paid the most attention to him in the journal.

In the favoured spawn room, there is a ledger with the list of spawns who have been favoured (its only Leon and one time Violet).

Amanita Szarr - on her 13th birthsday, invited by her Uncle Cazador. She was invited to the ballroom. She became a vampire, but was not happy about it. She rejected her family name Szarr and named herself Lady Incognita. She claims she stays in the attic and writes stories. One of the books written by her can be found on Cazador's desk.

Mrel Alkam - vampire mastress from Athkatla that Cazador wrote a letter to.

[yourlocaltrashcan657]

Cadets Queen

A/N: This was inspired by a Tumblr Post I saw which got deleted 😭

“Look at that ass.” Reiner mumbled as he looked towards the shorter girl in the dining hall.

”You’re not talking about Y/N are you? She’s a bit older than us from what I heard.” Jean muttered as he placed boxes of food down.

”If I had to guess, she’s in her early 20s. Maximum.” Connie said as he looked at the beautiful girl.

”I got a chance then.” Reiner said as he smirked mischievously and crossed his arms over his chest, still staring at the girl in the distance.

“Reiner, you’re so different from the older brother figure when you say stuff like this..” Armin mentioned, getting Reiner to turn his head to him, a shocked expression spread across his face.

”I don’t blame you for saying that though, she does have nice uhm boobs too.” Connie admitted as everyone looked at him, shocked.

”H-have some respect you guys! That’s a female you’re talking about..” Armin stuttered as he looked at Y/N, talking to Petra.

”She’s got good thighs.” Jean simply said, ignoring Armin’s comment and smirking straight after he stared at them.

”Armin is right you guys. Y/N may be pretty but you shouldn’t stare at a woman like that!” Eren said as he gripped the broom he held in his hand.

”What a hypocrite you are Eren! You say that like you don’t look up and down at her all the time.” Jean yelled, Erens face going red from embarrassment. “You really think no one sees?!”

”S-shut up Horse Face!” Eren shouted. “And I do not!”

”You g-guys should quieten d-down!” Bertolt interrupted as he tried breaking up the small argument. Looking up, they all saw Y/N glancing at the scene before them along with Petra. “S-she’s staring..”

Quickly waving at the group, Y/N awkwardly smiled before rushing away with Petra to the training ground. Blushing red, the boys began somewhat celebrating the small interaction with her.

”S-she smiled at me.!” Bertolt said as his face was flushed dark red.

”Bertolt don’t lie! She obviously saw how amazing I was at challenging Eren me ran away after she took a glimpse of me!” Jean exclaimed.

”Like hell! She probably ran away after seeing you horse face! She waved at me since I’m in the same squad as her.” Eren shouted.

”She looked so hot.” Connie said as he stood still, his face tinted pink.

”Did you see the way her body swayed as she left.?! I’m gonna marry her.” Reiner muttered to himself, which Armin heard.

”S-she was probably t-trying to be nice you guys!” Armin explained as he covered his bright red face.

“Oi.” A voice called out from behind them. Turning around, the emotion from their faces washed out as they met eyes with Captain Levi.

”C-captain!” Eren stuttered as he stood tall and saluted to Levi. “Do you need anything.?”

”Your cleaning is shitty as always. We have another experiment ready for you to do, so come with me.” Levi said bluntly as he walked forward.

”Will the Squad be their.?!” Eren asked enthusiastically, stopping the Captain is his tracks.

”Yes.” Levi grumbled, not wanting to turn back to see Eren sticking out his tongue at the other boys, but soon spoke up. “Y/N won’t be their since she’s busy helping with paperwork, Hange will be in her place.”

“Hah!” Jean exclaimed before zipping shut and allowing the Captain to leave.

”Dammit.” Eren muttered as he headed towards the hallway, leaving his guy friends alone. “Hange replaced with Y/N too..”

”She’s doing paperwork huh?” Reiner asked as he smirked again. “I’ll just walk by and y’know, ask if she needs help.”

”Reiner no.”  Connie grumbled as he held onto his leg as if it would stop him. “PLEASE! WE’LL SPLIT THE TIME! I BEG YOU.”

”You guys, that’s an invasion of privacy.!” Bertolt said as he follows after them, coming up with excuses to stop them from bothering Y/N.

”Reiner you damn bastard. Thinking you can allow yourself to do that to a woman!” Jean argued as he followed after them.

”You guys! We have actual chores to do y’know!” Armin said before running after the group. Meanwhile, Levi stood behind a large pillar listening to what they all had said. Even before he had stepped in, he listened in from the hallway right beside them. 

None of them ended up hanging out with Y/N.

.

.

.

Weeks went by and each and every one of the newer recruits got to know Y/N and talk to her more, to which the other cadets seemed to sigh at or shake their heads. Some of the recruits even receiving compliments and nicknames made them think they had a chance.

”Y/N is allowed to sit with higher ups?” Armin asked confused as most of the newer recruits turned to see her. Y/N sat between Hange and Levi, Erwin’s seat being empty due to an overload of work. Mike sat down in front of the trio before zoning out once Hange talked about Titans.

”She must be a highly skilled soldier then, she gets to sit with her Captain too.” Connie suggested before munching on his stale bread.

“Hey Levi, can I go sit with Petra.?” Y/N whispered subtly.

”….” Levi thought as he looked at his Squads table. “No. Too many guys.”

”Please! I’ll only talk to Petra when I’m there.” Y/N promised. Levi nodded before sipping on his tea, Y/N got up before strolling towards the Squad. Most of the new recruits and some of the older ones stared as she walked over to the distant table and sat down beside the short haired girl.

”These new recruits never know yet still try and make a move.” Mike mumbled to Levi as he watched Erwin walk in. “Surprised it doesn’t piss you off every time.”

”Trust me Moustache, you don’t know what to feel.” Levi grumbled as he sipped on his drink moodily.

“Good Afternoon. What're we discussing?” Erwin asked as he sat down beside Mike.

”We’re talking about the new recruits and Y/N.” Hange giggled before stifling her laugh. “Not to mention Levi being jealous.”

”I’m not jealous.” Levi bluntly said.

”Doesnt she call those new recruits nicknames?” Hange teased. “I don’t think I’ve heard her ever say anything like the names she calls them.”

”She doesn’t need to, we already have trust with one another. Besides, ‘Levi’ is enough.” Levi answered, still curious on what the other nicknames Y/N called the newer recruits.

Eren made sure to sit at a good distance from Y/N but still close enough to her, Eld and Gunther talked together and stopped Oluo from trying to make a move on you. Meanwhile back at the newer and much louder recruits table, Reiner and Connie began arguing along with Jean talking some nonsense whilst Armin and Bertolt tried calling them all down. 

“I clearly have a better chance with Y/N. You’re a horse-face in case you didn’t know!” Connie said as he looked at Jean.

”And you’re bald, what’s she gonna do with that bald head you got? Use it as a deodorant?” Jean angrily exclaimed.

”You guys really need to stop yelling..” Armin whispered to the duo.

”Yeah, yelling nonsense.” Reiner muttered. “Eren sitting next to Y/N, puckering up to her. Besides I have the best nickname so that means Y/N likes me best.”

”What’s your nickname then huh?!” Connie asked.

”You don’t need to know that, what happens with me and Y/N stays between us. That’s loyalty.” Reiner snickered.

”Calm down meathead. Y/N calls me the Great Stallion!” Jean said smugly.

”Only because Y/N was being nice to you. You really do have a horse-face.” Connie argued.

”You guys! Stop arguing, other cadets are getting annoyed.. especially the veterans.” Bertolt whispered shyly.

”Shut your mouth Mr Shy smile!” Connie said angrily, causing Bertolt to blush dark shades of red.

”Man those new recruits sure are noisy..” Nanaba muttered to Gelgar.

”I’m just glad one of them hasn’t said something too stupid yet.” Gelgar replied before chuckling.

”I’m just saying, I think I could take Y/N to the beds first and I’d be the best.” Reiner said confidently, loud enough for Levi to hear.

The cup in Levi’s hand had cracked as soon as the words left Reiner’s mouth, Erwin kept his calm posture however deep inside he was startled by the comment. Hange was close to balling her eyes off, whilst Mike had smirked.

”Never mind.” Gelgar muttered as he kept his head down.

”We spoke too soon.. Levi’s not going to take that right?” Nanaba asked quietly as she looked over at Levi’s table. All of a sudden, Levi stood up and walked over to his Squads table, heading towards Y/N. 

“Captain, is there something you need-“ Y/N began to say. Very quickly Levi kissed her temple before grabbing her hand and kissing her knuckles too, in front of the Survey Corps.

”I’m going to do my paperwork.” Levi bluntly said as he tried dragging her off. “Let’s go.”

”O-okay.” Y/N stuttered before strolling away with Levi, smiling at his confidence. Meanwhile the whole of Mess Hall was quiet as they stared at the doors that the duo left in.

”She’s dating Captain Levi?!” Connie exclaimed, quickly breaking the silence.

”Isn’t he a lot older than Y/N? He’s like 35 and she’s probably 17!” Jean yelled, confused.

”She’s isn’t 17, who told you guys that?!” Eld asked from the distance. “Y/N is the same age as Captain Levi y’know!”

”WHAT?!” Eren exclaimed as he stood up, shocked at the announcement.

”Yeah! And she’s not dating Levi, she’s been married to him for the past… 7 years?” Petra said as she began pondering at the thought of their marriage length.

”God fucking dammit. All of the hot ones are always taken.” Reiner muttered as he slumped in his seat unhappily.

[astarions-wife]

Okay so looking at the facts, Astarion says he was “one of Cazador’s first” spawn, which makes sense considering it was ~200 years prior, which puts this at 1294 for his turning. However he says “one of” which implies he wasn’t the very first, meaning one of his siblings was before him.

Through the game, we can rule out a few of his siblings as being first. Leon canonically has to be the last, as I doubt that Cazador brought another spawn into the mix during the last 10~ years. Leon has a human child, that he had prior to vampirism, and with both the favorite spawn ledger, and Victoria’s appearance, we can assume she’s likely between 8-10 in that general range. The favorite spawn ledger goes for (six) years, with Leon being 5/6, and Violet taking one year. This can easily imply he has only been a spawn for six years, and also says that given Victoria’s appearance, she was probably only 2-4 when brought to Cazador’s palace, but that’s a story for another time.

Pale Petra’s tells Dalyria in the inn that it’s been “a hundred years of eating rats”, so he was probably turned in the late 1300s, judging by this. Dalyria on the other hand was a physician to the Parliament of Baldur’s Gate, and given that the medical group she speaks of wasn’t founded until the early-ish 1400s, it’s likely that she was found during this time period.

This leaves three: Yousen, Violet, and Aurelia. Now I highly, highly doubt that Yousen was the first of the spawn. A gnome is an odd choice for a vampire spawn in the first place, so he likely wasn’t the first. This would leave Violet and Aurelia, although given one of my previous posts about Violet (found here), Violet likely wasn’t the first—the shadow curse was founded in the past hundred years if I’m not mistaken, and considering the evidence seems to lead her here, she was probably around the same time as Petra’s, perhaps a bit before.

This leaves Aurelia as the first spawn, which makes sense to me. She seems the most anxious, the most scared. She’s the only one who truly, truly begs you for help if you talk to her once Cazador is gone, and centuries of trauma would do that to anyone. Therefore, my ranking is as follows, in order:

-Aurelia

-Astarion

-Yousen

-Violet

-Pale Petras

-Dalyria

-Leon

I know their ages are different, but timeline wise this puts Leon as the youngest, and Aurelia as the oldest—which it doesn’t mean anything, but it’s interesting to think this, considering they’re the original two who are sent after Astarion at the Elfsong Tavern.

As always, this is completely in theory! Only a few of them have concrete evidence, so let me know if I’m missing anything—and feel free to use this for writing or lore as you see fit!

[ineadhyn]

One of Astarion's most interesting scenes to me is the one in the flop house where we meet Dalyria and Petras. So, obviously, I felt the need to analyze it.

Astarion's behaviour switches the very moment he recognises his siblings. He has been snappy and theatrical before, but this now feels different. More raw. His posture changes, he bends forward in a pose like he's ready to attack. The moment he sees them, he enters fight mode.

And indeed, he does attack. He immediately goes for Petras, aiming for the weak spots he knows, his intelligence. It's bite or be bitten. If he doesn't do it (a choice you can make in his origin run for example) Petras does just the same, insulting Astarion using his known flaws: his arrogance, his egoism, claiming Astarion is all talk. This tells so much about Astarions life with them.

Dalyria is a bit calmer, she seems to care about both of them, at least enough that she doesn't want to see either of them killed. Dalyria does believe Cazador's claim of freeing them at least on surface level. She can be convinced to trust Astarion when he says he'll free them. She wants to be free. Asking why Astarion would come back if he was free, there is a certain longing in her voice. She's also the one telling Astarion about the ritual place, hoping Astarion might actually be able to free them, or at least not kill Petras.

Still the aggression in the room is not only between Astarion and Petras. Astarion also snaps at Dalyria when she's barely said anything. "That's not a way to welcome back a brother, Dal." The three of them are like dogs in the kennels of a dog fighting ring, barking at the sight of each other. Trained to compete and not giving each other an inch. You can imagine what it must have been like sharing one bedroom.

Then Astarion does his theatrical "Didn't you miss me?" Did they? Probably as much as Astarion pities them. A bit, because they've known each other for so long, but not enough to go out of their way. Just after saying he pities them, Astarion dreams about completing the ritual (which includes sacrificing them). Mostly I see the "Didn't you miss me" as Astarion wanting to make a confident first impression on them. Although it's too late, because his first instinct was to pull up his usual defences when interacting with his siblings: snapping at them.

And then Astarion actually gets physically aggressive and burns Petras. This is new. Petras didn't expect this. He says "What the hells happened to you, Astarion?" In combination with the other spawn scene when they call Astarion the runt, that never put up a fight, this paints a clear picture: Astarion has never been physically aggressive during his time with Cazador. Probably because he didn't have the means. He was simply too weak, being tortured more than any of the others. Petras talks about eating rats and dogs, Astarion got rats and bugs (he says that when talking about the bite with Tav). Also of course being broken into submission by being sealed into the tomb for the one time he didn't obey. (Worthy to mention that even then Astarion did not fight, he ran.)

Now that Astarion has some power for the first time, he uses it. And holy damn can I understand why he wants more. How good it must feel to be able to defend himself with more than words for the first time. This bit of power makes him say "I am not afraid of anything anymore."

It's enough for him to say "I am going to stop Cazador." A thing none of the spawn expects of him. Astarion would never rebel against the master. Cazador himself doesn't believe it until his last moment. They were all wrong about Astarion. Cazador indeed never broke him.

Also, pay attention to the leaning forward pose. Astarion does that on multiple occasions. It's his "my instinct screams to fight and defend myself"-pose.

(I am not entirely sure if "do not slouch before me" is also referring the same pose, or if it's more of an instinct to bow or cower. But that's for another day.)

[leviismybby]

Would Levi let these people babysit your kid?

Erwin: He would but only for a few hours, he trusts Erwin with a lot of things but his kid? Not so much. Erwin never held a baby, he wouldn't be able to handle a toddler and Levi is afraid thay Erwin would forget about your kids since he is busy with work.

Hange: He trusts them too just not with his kid, even if his kid has fun anytime they babysit them, he has to explain to them that they can't experiment anywhere near his kid.

Nanaba: Yes and surprisingly she is good with kids. Although it takes her a bit to get comfortable around the kid, she manages. You have to ask her twice, it is kind of hard to convince her.

Miche: So so, unlike Nanaba, Miche isn't good with kids, he would be like a silent guardian watching over the kid like a hwak.

Moblit: Out of everyone, Levi would definitely let Moblit babysit. He knows how caring Moblit can be, he still warns him not to drink around your child tho.

His squad: Yes, they don't let him down in anything so he has no problem leaving them to look after his child. Petra is especially sweet with the kid.

Eren: Actually he would but would check up every 15 minutes to make sure that Eren's dumb ass isn't messing up.

Mikasa: He would, she would care and be careful with his kid more than anyone in that squad. She is also has a soft spot for the kid despite denying so.

Connie, Jean: You have to beg him for this if there is no other option. Levi explains to them 300 times what they can and can't do. Connie is also good with kids, he has siblings too so he can handle the little Ackerman, most of the time at least.

Sasha: Yes, she knows how to handle kids because she has younger siblings and is funny so your kid would have fun. Levi isn't surprised that the lunch box from his kid is empty for once.

Historia: He would, she is sweet and besides, she can use it as training when she has her own.

Ymir: Nope. She said "Fuck them kids" and Levi doesn't even try asking.

Kenny: Absolutely not. Do I even need to explain why not?

[abiatackerman]

A stupid promise

⚔️Levi Ackerman x Female Scout Reader⚔️

Canon universe! Fully Romance! Age gap! Sweet!Fluff and comfort! 1.4k words!

Summary: Falling for a captain who's 10 years older than you was stupid. Making a promise with him in the middle of the night was stupider!

Tags: @laevieee @spouseofleviackerman @levisbrat25 @itsnathateasy @violentvaleska @anti-cupid @meowmewow7 @mikabella7 @ellazenin

🩷If you wanna be tagged let me know🩷

✨Masterlist✨

🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

Falling in love with someone who's almost 10 years older than you is crazy. But it feels more like stupidity than craziness when the man is not just "some men" but technically your superior and the leader of your squad.

You can't blame yourself. His handsome face always makes people think that he's in his 20's. You thought the same too. But when you heard from Petra that he's actually in his thirties, you were heartbroken.

This is actually maddening how his behaviour gives you hope too! Why can't he just act rude and stoic just like he behaves with other soldiers? Why does he have to nod whenever you would smile and wave at him instead of ignoring you? Why does he have to act more gently when he's teaching you how to fight? Can't he understand he's making this too hard for you?

You rub your temple as you close the book you were reading with frustration. You know it's your fault, you always act gentle and sweet around him even though his expressions are scary. But that's how you actually act around everyone! Can't he just ignore you and be more rude? That'll make things easier.

"You look frustrated."

You look up at the sound of Petra's voice and remove your hand from your forehead.

"Hey sorry.... I didn't notice you."

You say softly with a tired smile as she smiles back too. She's currently your roommate, also your squadmate. You both were selected by Levi.

Petra's selection makes sense. She's a fiery soldier with amazing fighting skills. But you? Even after being taught directly by Levi the best you can do is protect yourself and escape. You tried to ask Levi why he picked you up and he just answered casually.

"You'll be able to stitch us up if we get hurt."

That's what he's answer was....

"Captain called you...."

You were snapped out of your thoughts by Petra's voice. You smile worriedly.

"At this hour? The last thing I want now is to spread rumors about us."

You say bitterly making Petra chuckle as she sits beside you.

"You're more worried about losing your self control and doing something inappropriate, aren't you?"

You bite your lower lip at her words and Petra shakes her head. She pulls you off your bed by your wrists and pushes you towards the door.

"I bet it's something serious, Y/N. You know how captain Levi is, right? If it wasn't something serious he never would have called you! He told Oluo to let you know. I met Oluo by chance in the hallway and he told me. Even he looked worried! Go!"

You sigh and nod at her words as you walk towards Levi's office. Your heart is jumping with excitement, nervousness and fear. Some inappropriate, sinful thoughts are haunting you and you can't just shove them off.

You treat Levi often so you've seen his body plenty of time and god forbid.... He's sexier even though he's short. You'd gladly let him do whatever he wants with you... Even you would be he's plaything even if he wants....

Thanks to just how crazy you are, for him.

You cough and clear your voice and knock on his door. You swear you can feel your own heartbeat.

"Come in."

The candlelight is illuminating the cozy organised room with a delicate glow. It's clean as usual and filled with the fresh smell with his....

Along with the smell of blood.....

"Captain Levi!!!!! My god what happened?"

Panicked, you run towards him. There's a huge wound on his arm which seems like a pretty deep stab. Levi is trying to stitch the wound up.

"Went to Mitras for inspection. Near the underground. Met some past rivals on the way. Didn't see it coming."

As always, blunt and straight. But you're happy he explained. Nodding you take the surgical thread from him. As you keep stitching silently you feel your hand shake slightly as your eyes tear up.

Levi doesn't even flinch, but you know it's stinging. When the tread is entering his skin, going through his muscles drawing blood in front of your eyes.... You just can't bear it anymore.

"I heard you were pretty good? Turns out you're pathetic."

You flinch at Levi's words and look at him with wide eyes filled with tears. He's not not even looking at you.....

Right, you were always delusional....

"I... I'm so sorry captain..... For disappointing you."

You mumble, focusing on his wounds again. You hear Levi sighing as he leans back a little, displaying his built abs and chest in front of you, making you blush.

Right, his upper body is bare. You didn't notice because you were too worried and panicked about the wound. Now that you have finally noticed it, his smell hits your nose, making you go crazy.

This can't gets any worse.

"Tch, listen.... I'm your captain, you're my subordinate. We've dedicated our hearts to kill those filthy creatures, we don't have time for whatever you're thinking. So forget it."

His words stings, but he's right as always.

You finish stitching him up and nod. Damping a clean cloth on water, you start to clean his blood off.

"That's what my brain says, but my heart doesn't listen."

You bite your lower lip after saying this. What have you done? It sounds like a stupid-common dialogue from typical romance books.

But Levi doesn't read those, right?

"Tch, how cheesy. Listen brat, you should listen to your brain, not heart. Otherwise you won't be able to survive in this shitty world and I can do that myself."

Levi tries to take the cloth from your hand but you shake your head.

"No captain. This is the only reason you've put me in your squad. Let me do my job properly, otherwise I'll feel bad."

You say looking at him pleadingly and Levi "tch"s again. You just smile a little, wiping your eyes with your shoulder and keep cleaning his wound silently. As some moments pass, you speak with hesitation,

"Please captain, don't hate me."

You say with desperation as you wrap a bandage around his wound. You patiently wait for his answer and remove your hands from his arm. And then.... You feel his hand on your head.

"Idiot, why would I hate you for liking me?"

Your eyes widen with surprise as you look up at him. He pats your head and before you realise, tears start to fall shamelessly from your eyes.

"Tch, look I don't know how to handle a girl when she cries. If you would have cried because someone has hurt you I would have beat the shit out of him but this is frustrating. Don't cry."

He pats your head awkwardly and you chuckle through your tears and wipe them off.

"Brat listen, you're a nice girl. I do hope you survive through these shits and get someone who's kind like you. Forget about me, I'm just an old man."

He says in his usual tone and you glare at him.

"What if I survive till the end with you? And what if I'll still love you in the future even when you'll be old? Will you give me a chance?"

You ask in a stubborn tone and Levi gets up from the bed.

"We'll see. If you survive and won't get bored of this old man, I might give you a chance to impress me. Now go and sleep, it's late."

Levi says those words, not looking at you. Actually he's trying to hide his smile from you. It's not secret that he's gentlest around you. Now if he's gonna show you his smile because of your adorable acts, it'll give you more hope, which he doesn't want.

"That's a promise, captain. Good night."

He looks at you over his shoulder as he tries to put on his shirt.

"Yeah, the stupidest promise this shitty humanity has ever heard of."

He says sarcastically as you laugh and walk towards the door. He's face softens as you wave him goodbye and walk out of his room.

He knows he shouldn't have made a stupid promise like this. He knows he shouldn't have fallen for you in the first place. You're his subordinate and it's just not right.

But he's a human too, with a heart. And that's why he wishes he'll be able to keep that stupid promise.

Is that too much to ask? After all the shits he has been through, can't he at least deserve this?

He sighs as he shakes the thoughts out of his head and walks towards the stove to prepare his black tea. He has a lot of shitty paperwork to do after all!

[thatbennybee]

ChordStriker!AU Q&A

I'm doing a bit of a Q&A about my ChordStriker!AU on insta after sharing this teaser WIP, so I figured I'd present some of the questions here! (Feel free to ask more btw!)

↓↓↓

Rock!Poppy

Q: "Is Poppy's family (Peppy & Viva) still with her since the Bergens didn't attack them?"

A: Peppy is with her, but he is confused/in mental decline like canon King Thrash was. Viva is missing. Poppy was old enough to remember her.

Q: "Will Viva play somewhat of a role in this AU?"

A: Yes, she's had a much bigger impact on Poppy's life, even till this day even though she's been missing for many years now. Poppy has never stopped looking for her.

Q: "Is King Peppy still a liar in your AU?"

A: Nah, he's normal. Sometimes hating him with my entire being is hard, so he gets to be a good dad this time. He's just not all there mentally so Poppy is more like his caretaker now.

Q: "Poppy's relationships don't last long because she gets bored... So how long is Branch going to last?"

A: The Rat Pack (Snack Pack) is wondering the same thing, but Poppy's never used the bf/gf/partner labels before meeting him which is strange... 👀

Q: "Does Poppy still party?"

A: She's a total party animal! Her parties are even more intense than a Pop Troll party since Rock Trolls are pretty extreme. LOL

---

Pop!Barb (Barbie)

Q: "What does Barb look like?"

A: For now, this is her design, it might change once I have time to draw her digitally.

Q: "Does this mean Barb has to go through the events of Trolls 1?"

A: Nope, Barb never befriends Bridget because they have never met. They have found a way to remain undetected in the forest. (Thanks to Branch’s constant nagging about safety)

Q: "How does Barb's gang look? Is there any significant differences in their dynamics?"

A: I haven't had time to finish them all, but here's some of them for now. There's more members of The Lunch Rush, but this is all I have for now!

Val Thundershock → Valentina Wondershock.

Only Queen Barbie calls her Val. She is very optimistic & loves to sing & dance! She's Barbie’s right-hand troll, BFFL & knows everything about her. They have a very... "close" relationship. ;] She's a popstar who's managed by Demo and loves to help make Pop Village a happier place.

Riff

He's a university student studying to be an engineer. He's very soft spoken, doesn't like to make a fuss and is probably the nicest guy around. He's quite close to Barbie and sees her as an older sister. He's actually on friendly terms with Branch. His favorite treat is lollipops. 🍭

Carol

But you can call her Carrie! Everyone does. She's a bit of a diva, loves to look good & dull things bore her. She will ignore anything that doesn't catch her eye, even trolls. Best to be looking your very best!

Sid Fret

Just call him Sid, no need to be so formal. He is every trolls dream guy and he knows it! He's a great roller derby racer and loves the attention trolls give him. Sure, he's a little self-absorbed, but he's a very loyal friend.

Demo

Not much has changed about Demo. He's perfect as he is <3 He's just a little more excitable & cutesy than before. He cares about Valentina a lot & they are very close friends.

Petra

She is the blueprint, she's the moment, she's everything. A model, actress, singer, you name it, she can do it. She's perfect... Who doesn't want to be her?

---

Branch

Q: "How different is Branch in this AU vs canon Branch?"

A: He is the same Branch essentially, just without the development he gains at the end of Trolls 1 & so-on. None of it occurred, so he is still grey, miserable & a recluse. He helped Barb to come up with a plan to keep everyone safe after nagging & warning her for ages, but after that, he returned to his bunker & is still not well-liked by the village.

Q: "Does she know Branch's whole past? If she does, what was her reaction?"

A: Not sure if you meant Barb or Poppy, so I'll answer for both. Barb—no. I don't think she'd ever find out, and she's also not the type to ask. Their personalities clash a bit too much, she stays out of his way like he asks her to.

For Poppy—I think it would come up naturally in conversation after a while when Branch feels more comfortable sharing. Poppy isn't the type to pry, but makes it clear that it's out of understanding, not a lack of caring. She can tell that he is closed off for a reason. She relates to that. I think she'd be beyond pissed once he told her, though.

Q: "Will Branch's brothers be in this?"

A: Yes, but Floyd will be getting the bigger role this time.

Q: "How quickly does Branch fall for Poppy? I'm sure the answer is yes, but is he happy?"

A: I'd say he's quite guarded in the beginning. He is cautious around her for the first few weeks, but he starts to come around once he picks up on Poppy being emotionally guarded herself.

Things move quickly once their walls come down around each other, & a mutual understanding is there. Poppy fell for him first. (At least, that's what Branch lets her believe, as it was love at first sight for him, but he'd never tell her that; she'd get a big head about it.)

[samandcolbyownme]

Okay okay hear me out 👀

Could you please write pornstar! Sam, Colby, or Jake and it’s really smutty then he helps her clean up after and asks her on a date ?? ☺️

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, pornstar!Reader, pornstar!Sam, friends to lovers, recording, kissing, fingering, oral (m rec), squirting, use of slut, unprotected sex, creampie, filth

Word Count: 2.9k | unedited

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

You and Sam were neighbors, who coincidentally do the same type of work - porn.

It took a few months to figure it out, but once you both knew, it’s like you clicked instantly. He’s seen your content, and of course, you watched his.

You mainly did solo stuff, every now and then you’d appear in other videos with both men and women, but you mainly kept to yourself.

Sam on the other hand, he was just as popular as you were, so you can imagine just how hectic his job can get.

You were currently sitting on your couch, listening to your manager ramble on about how you might want to kick it up a notch and start doing one on one videos, or whatever it is you’d like to do.

You let out a small sigh before unmuting your mic, “Can I at least pick the guy?”

“Oh absolutely, y/n. That’s all you. I’m just trying to give you ideas on how to stay our top girl.”

“Am I in the run to be bumped down or something?” You tilt your head and she shakes her head, “No, I just have the owner of the company on my ass about wanting the girls to look into doing other things. I think your solo stuff is great, they just want..”

“More.” You cut her off and she nods, “Yeah, more. But you can pick whoever, someone in the industry, someone not.. just be creative and trust me, I know you can.”

She smiles and you laugh, “Yeah, I usually don’t have any issues with that.”

“Oh. Hold on.” She lifts her phone and sighs, “Talk later, babe. I gotta go.”

The zoom meeting ends and you tilt your head back, staring up at the ceiling until a lightbulb goes off. You set your computer down, walking over to your door and next to Sam’s.

You know a few times and step back, waiting for him to open the door, “Hey, what’s up?”

“You have a minute?” You tilt your head and he nods, “Yeah, yeah. Come in.”

You walk into his apartment and turn around, “I know we’ve been friends for a while and I know this.. industry is normal to us, but I need a favor.. if you’re willing..”

He nods, “Yeah, anything.”

“How would you feel about doing a video with me?”

There was clear tension in the air, no matter where you and Sam were. Same room, on the phone, didn’t matter.

“Oh hell yeah.” Sam nods, “I’m down to help you out.”

“You are?” You sigh, “Oh good, this means I don’t have to awkwardly ask everyone to collab.”

“How would it be awkward?” Sam tilts his head and you laugh, “I don’t normally.. like asking.. I like being asked.. you know?”

“You seemed to have asked me just fine.” He teases and you sigh, “I take it back.”

“No, no I’m kidding!” He laughs walking over to you, “I will be more than glad to help. I have some free time later if you want to get it done and out of the way today?”

You nod, “Sounds good. I’ll.. just, uh.” You walk towards the door, “Go get everything set up. Do you want to film it ourselves.. or did you want me to have Nash send in a camera guy?”

“Up to you, sweetheart. Whatever you’re more comfortable with.”

You nod, “Okay. I’ll figure something out.”

You left before your cheeks could turn any redder, needless to say, you were excited.

You’ve had a small crush on Sam since the first day he moved in, you’ve just been too chicken to say or do anything about it.

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

There was a knock on your door and you froze before walking over. You took a deep breath and opened it, giving Sam a smile, “Hey, come in.”

“Thanks.” He smiles and walks in, “You know, for as many times as I’ve been here.. it always amazes me how nice and pretty your apartment is.”

You laugh, “I think the same about yours, honestly.”

He laughs and tilts his head, “So what’s the game plan?”

“I figured we can kinda just film it ourselves? I can do the editing and stuff afterwards, if that’s cool with you?”

He nods, “Yeah, fine by me. This is your show, I’m just a part of it.”

You point towards the hall, “Follow me.” You lead him back to your spare room and open the door, “This is where I film all of my stuff.”

“Oh so this is where the magic happens, huh?” Sam smirks as he walks in, “You wouldn’t think this room is what it was used for.”

“Try to keep it nice and discreet incase any snoopy family members come over, you know?”

He nods, “Yeah, I get that.” He sits down on the bed, so what’s.. how did you want to do this?” He looks over at you as he leans back and you shrug, “I mean.. I figured we could give the people what they want..”

You click the camera that’s having the bed on and you walk over to him, leaning down to brush your lips against his, “And just have you treat me like a slut?”

His lips part and his hand slides up your arm to grip the back of your neck as he gives you a few small nods, “I can do that.”

He closes the space between the two of you and you both pause, seeing if each other felt that burst of electricity, and you must have because he pulls you right back in, and you were now straddling his lap.

You grind down onto him, moaning into his mouth as his hand slides around to grip the front of your neck.

He rolls you over and pushes your shirt up with his free hand. His lips trail between the valley or your boobs and you gasp as he takes your one nipple into his mouth.

Your back arches upward and his grip tightens, causing a squeaked moan to slip through.

He kisses back up to your lips and moves to stand up, “Do you have another camera?”

You nod and point to the camera sitting next to the one that’s already rolling. He walks over, grabbing it and comes back with it on, “Take your clothes off for me, I wanna see that slutty little body.”

You bite your lip as you sit up to take off your shirt, revealing your chest with a smirk.

Sam groans lowly, “Fuck, yeah, baby. That’s it.”

You lay back, lifting your hips to push your shorts and panties down your thighs and you kick them off of your ankles.

“Spread your legs, sweetheart.”

You run your hands over your chest as your knees move away from each other, revealing your pussy to him and the camera.

“I’m going to fuckin’ ruin you.” Sam looks at you and you nod, “Please. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

He nods down, “Gotta do something for me first.” His eyes follow as you move to the floor in front of him. He angles the camera down, glancing to make sure you’re in frame before his eyes stay on you.

You undo his jeans, biting your lip as you pull them down to reveal the outline of his strained cock within his boxers.

You slide your hand over it, stopping to slip your fingers into the band of his boxers and pull them down. Your eyes fixate on his cock before moving to look up at him, “You’re so big.”

He smirks, reaching down to pinch your chin, “You can take it, baby. Now open for me.”

You lick your lips, parting them as your mouth opens wide.

You take in a breath as you stick out your tongue, your eyes staying on him as his cock slaps against it a few times.

You lean forward, wrapping your lips around him as you work the tip, earning low groans from him, “Fuck, baby.” He bucks his hips, “Take it, I know you can.”

You bob your head up and down, your eyes starting to water as you feel him grow closer to the back of your throat.

His fingers tangle within your hair, gripping tightly as he holds your head still. His hips thrust forward, fucking your throat at a slightly fast pace.

“Fucking hell.” He groans, “Look at me, I wanna show everyone just how much this slut can take.”

Your watery eyes move up to look at him from under your lashes, his lock onto yours and he thrusts fully in, early a slight gag from you.

“Fuuuck.” Sam moans as he pulls out to repeat his action, “Good girl.”

He pulls out, his hand staying in your hair, “Get on the bed.” He lets go of and you smirk as you move to the end of the bed, crawling up on it.

Sam kicks off his shoes and steps out of his pants and boxers, “You’re already so wet, just look at this pussy.” His fingers drag up and down your folds as he points the camera directly at it, “it’s just begging to be fucked.”

You wiggle your hips, “Please.”

Sam bites his lip as he pushes a finger into you, “What’d ya say, baby?”

“P-please.” You repeat yourself, moaning as he curls his finger, “I need you.”

“Louder, baby.”

“Please!” You push your hips back, “Fuck, please! I need you to fuck me, need you so bad.”

Sam pushes his finger in and out a few times before adding another, “Fuck, just listen to that.”

Your soaked cunt squelches against his fingers as they move, “Fuck, I just know you’re going to feel so good on me.”

He bites his lip as he pulls his fingers out, “Roll over, baby.”

You move onto your back and look up at him. He leans forward, the camera on your face as he slips his wet fingers into your mouth.

His lips part as he watches you suck your wetness from his fingers, “Fuck, you like the taste of yourself, huh?”

You nod, giving him a smile and he groans, “M’gonna need to fuck you more often.” He leans down, resting the camera by your head as his lips connect to yours.

Your nails drag up his back as you pull his shirt over his head and tossing it once it’s off his body. His lips find yours again and you gasp as his cock slides into you.

“Oh fuck.” You throw your head back, moaning out loudly as his thrusts pick up fast. Your legs wrap around his waist and your nails dig into his back even harder, “Oh my god.”

“So fucking good.” Sam groans loudly, “What are you, baby? Hmm?”

“I- fuck.” Your back arches, “I’m your slut.”

“Fuckin’ taking me like you are, goddamn.” Sam pushes his body up, staring down at you as he pins your thighs outward, “So fucking hot.”

He leans down quickly, grabbing the camera before leaning back up. He pans it over your body, holding it over your face as it scrunches up with pleasure, “I-I’m so close, so close, baby.”

“Yeah?” Sam groans as he continues his thrusts, “Cum for me.” His free hand slides over, stopping to press this thumb against your clit, “Cum all over me, baby.”

Your back arches and your head rolls to the side as moans and whines leave your lips in a string of noise, “Fuck, fuck.” Your walls squeeze his cock, “I-I, fuck, there there!”

The circles on your clit grew harder and you could do nothing but whine as your body twitched with the thrusts of his cock.

“Oh fuck.” Sam quickly pulls his cock out, rubbing his fingers over your clit quickly which causes you to squirt, “Look at that. Fucking hell.”

Your hips roll back and forth and you’re practically screaming at this point.

Sam lays down and you sit up, moving to straddle his waist and slide back down on his cock.

His hands grip your hips and his eyes stay glued to your face, “That’s it, sweetheart.” He bites his lip as his hands slide up to grab your boobs and knead.

“You have such beautiful tits, baby. Fuck..” he grabs the camera and holds it steady in front of you boobs that are bouncing with each one of your downward thrusts, “Look at them.”

You tilt your head to the side, “F-fuck, fuck.” You lean forward, your hand pressing into his chest, “Feels so good, baby..”

“Yeah?” Sam moans as he bucks his hips upward, “You feel even better.” He sits up, lips crashing onto yours as you continue to roll your hips.

He swallows your moans with ease and tightly wraps his arm around your waist as he rolls you back over, “I’m gonna fill this pussy.. this slutty fuckin’ pussy.”

You whine at his words, clenching around him, “p-please, I want you, baby, I want you so fucking much.”

Sam kisses down your neck, taking your one nipple into his mouth and bites down.

You tangle your fingers in his hair and tug, moaning out as you cum once again around him.

Sam pulls out, his fingers finding their way to your clit to urge you to squirt again, and you do. The liquid splashes around, soaking the bed under you as it just keeps coming.

“Fucking hell, baby. That’s so fucking hot.” Sam groans as he leans down to suck your clit. Your hand snakes into his hair, moaning loudly as the slight overstimulation that’s settling in.

All you could do what whimper and moan, bucking your hips every so often.

You swore you were seeing stars.

He moves back up, lips on yours as his cock slides back into your achingly soaked cunt.

His thrusts quickly turn sloppy and you feel his cock twitch, pumping his cum deep into you. He grabs the camera as he sits up, angling it down as he pulls out.

You bring your legs up, squeezing your thighs together as your hands hold behind your knees.

“Look at that.” He breathes out, sliding his finger upward to collect the leaked cum and pushes it back into you.

You spread your thighs, sitting up as you reach out to lick his finger clean.

He points the camera towards you face and you smile, “Best fuck I’ve ever had.” You giggle as he raises his brows, “You mean that?”

You nod, “One hundred percent, baby.”

He turns the camera off and gets up to shut the other one off, “Don’t move.” He points to you and you nod. He walks to the bathroom, coming back with a wet washcloth, “Let me clean you up.”

You nod, lying back to spread your legs again.

You watch as he wipes off your center, then your thighs, and he grabs the other one and leans up to wipe off your chin, “Gotta little dried saliva on there.”

“Do I?” You sit up and wipe off your chin with your hand and he shakes his head laughing, “No, I’m kidding.”

You laugh and stand up, bending down to grab your shirt and shorts, “Thank you for doing this.”

“Just helping out a friend.. right?”

You stare at him and nod slowly, “Right.”

After a few moments of silence while getting dressed, Sam walks over to you, “We both felt that right?”

You nod your head with a smile, “I meant it when I said you were the best fuck I’ve ever had, so.” He smirks and nods, “would you.. want to get dinner?”

“We can.. get it delivered and edit our video?” You smirk and lay a hand on his chest. He tilts his head, his eyes flicking from your hand to your eyes, “May have to go for an unscheduled round two, if you’re okay with that.”

“That’s why I said about editing the video together.” You bite your lip and pull him in for a kiss. His hands tighten on your waist and he leans back, “Just so you know.. I don’t like sharing. Once you’re mine.. you’re mine.”

You nod, “funny, because I feel the same exact way.”

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

Two days later, you’re awoken by a phone call.

“Hello?” You mumble as you place it against your ear, and your manager, who is way too excited at this early in the morning yells, “You’re about to hit eight million likes!”

“Huh?” You sit up, “Wait, wait what?”

“Yeah! That video of you and Sam is going absolutely viral on all of our pages. The passion. The sexiness. The squirts. Baby, you are killing it!”

“Oh.. fuck.” You laugh, “I’ll be sure to deliver the message to Sam, “Thank you! I’ll get on right now and look.”

Sam rolls over and slides his hand up your arm as he sits up, “What’s going on, baby?” He plants a few kisses on your shoulder and you hold your finger up.

“I’m going to need more from the two of you. You guys are a powerhouse.” She sighs, “Proud of you! Keep it up!” She hangs up and you turn your head, “We’re about to hit eight million likes on that video.”

“Eight?” He sits up and looks at you, and you nod, “They want more from us.”

“I have no problem delivering.”

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

Thanks for reading! I love you all so much! Catch you in the next one!

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

[amywritesthings]

silver underground. | chapter 23

( Read on AO3 )

Pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader (attack on titan / shingeki no kyojin) Word Count: 4.6k Summary: the night of day 163 - also known as the final confession

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI - angst, mentions of death, sensuality, levi is sad(tm) but we are finally giving him what he needs! Credits: dividers by @saradika-graphics

Previous Chapter. / Next Chapter. | Masterlist.

As soon as Captain Levi hauls himself upright on the saddle of his horse, he’s gone.

Like a bat out of hell, his horse takes off towards the direction of the old Survey Corps headquarters.

Dust and dirt from the hasty exit licks at the tip of your boots.

The rest of the Levi squad had only finished settling on their own horses, with you the last to remain on the forest floor.

“He seems eager to get back,” Petra states with a slow apprehension to her tone.

Oluo grunts in reply, and you know.

You can feel his eyes locked onto the back of your skull.

Asking—

What happened between the two of you? 

Why do you remember the outcome of the last mission? 

What aren’t you telling us?

The myriad of questions are not lost on you, because you ask them yourself.

After all, you were barely given a chance to explain.

To understand.

Even before the rest of Levi squad made it to the fall site, the tension between you and Levi was palpable.

The way Levi stared at you, held you, in the aftermath.

Trapped between the before times and what you’ve been reduced to before his very eyes —

“James, are you good?” Gunther asks, softer this time, but it's all white noise.

Figure out if you mean it.

If you really do remember — any of this.

Levi's voice is the only one registering in your mind.

If you think you know me, then say it with your whole damn chest and hold nothing back.

You do. You know him.

Captain Levi.

Child of the Underground.

Captain of the Special Operations Squad.

Though you know him as something else; something profound; something too devastating to lose.

The one who almost got away.

Before you can say a word, your body moves on autopilot: you shove your foot into a worn stirrup and jump up and onto your horse with the reins gripped in both hands.

Snapping them with newfound urgency, you leave the remaining members of your squad behind to bridge the gap between you and Levi.

Go.

Wind sweeps your emerald cloak like wings behind you as you ride, urging you horse faster, faster, faster—

And you inhale.

The more that you breathe, the more that you push yourself forward, your body feels less like a foreign entity. 

Your fingers flex without a detached delay. 

The leather against your palm feels right, like—

…like you’ve finally woken up on the right side of the bed again.

By the time you reach the headquarter courtyard, his midnight horse is already tied to a banister at the stable.

In a rushed dismount from your saddle, your shaking hands hurriedly tie the knot around the same banister and rush towards the open doors.

As you run inside your shoes switch from crunch to click, from dirt to concrete floor.

The sky, once swirling in uncertain grays, opens to a light rain. 

An incoming storm echoes through cavernous hallways, turning grayed stone to black.

Everywhere you look, he isn’t there — the foyer, the rest areas, the abandoned offices —

"C'mon, c'mon..."

As you turn the corner towards the kitchen, your eager ears pick up the leisure pace of two sets of boots.

You move faster, hoping to see that familiar head of raven hair.

To your surprise, you find Hange and Moblit at the very end of the corridor chatting after a meal. 

When they notice your arrival, Moblit gives a little half-smile of recognition while the Section Commander holds out their arms, eager to greet you.

“Hey, hey! She’s back from all the action!” Hange yelps with excitement. “Now tell me, how—”

“Where’s Levi?”

Your sharp question interrupts Hange’s cheerful greeting.

In this light, Hange appears so much clearer to you. Gone is the fuzzy confusion; their outline now just as sharp as their wit and wonder.

(Something like a found safe space, warm and comforting.)

“Levi?” they question. “Huh, I didn’t think he was back.”

So they don’t know yet.

He didn’t say anything.

But he's here, you know he made it back here—

Urgently, you step towards the two.

“I need to know where he is. It’s urgent.”

“Did something happen?” Moblit gently presses.

“I remember,” you state, as if that’ll explain anything. They blink in tandem. “I don’t know how, but it—”

Your hand rises to your mouth, covering it and giving yourself a moment to think.

Except the problem is that you need to say it — thinking, second guessing, slows this down.

Focus.

Your hand drops, and your voice says the first thing that comes to mind.

“Hange — you and I once drank Moblit so horrendously under the table that he was bedridden for two days.” 

Hange’s boot squeaks against the floor in an echo as they stop dead in their tracks. 

“And whenever we meet in the city, Moblit and I order dumplings from that one nice old woman just outside the hospital. I think — you get the most basic order and always make sure to bring something back for Hange.”

Moblit’s eyes shoot wide. “Whoa, that—”

You hold a hand out to placate Hange, who looks like they’re two seconds away from screeching with elation.

“I can’t explain to you know I know all of this, and I don’t have time to figure that out right now. It’s just sort of word-vomiting out of my damn mouth the longer I let myself talk — so I don’t want to stop talking, and I’ll figure out the details and the rest with the two of you later, but it—”

It could disappear at any minute.

You can’t breathe.

It’s so hard to breathe, but do your best to gulp an inhale anyway.

“Please, just… I need – to talk – to Levi.”

Before I forget again.

Before he thinks I’ve forgotten him all over again.

Both Hange and Moblit stare in a haze of surprise.

By the time you open your mouth to plead a third time, Hange holds up a hand. 

Their expression darkens with a seriousness they so rarely possess.

“If he’s not by Erwin’s office or with us, then chances are he’s in his bedroom."

His bedroom.

Relief floods your system.

“Right,” you exhale, jolted by adrenaline. “Thanks, Hange.”

With that, you speed off in the opposite direction.

Up the stairwell.

Down the hallway.

Be here, be here, be here.

Fist raised, you lunge forward towards the wooden door—

Yet the door opens freely, and you’re trapped staring into the eyes of Levi Ackerman.

He blinks away his surprise to that evergreen mask of indifference — resignation? 

There’s no edge to his shoulders. They’re sagged.

Lowering your fist, you’re met with silence. 

(You’ve come to hate silence more than anything.)

So you speak first.

“Can we please—”

“Yeah.”

No pleas heard. No begging to be done.

“Yeah, might as well.”

Levi simply agrees.

The hand gripping the edge pulls the door towards him, conceding with an invitation inside.

Terrified doesn’t even begin to cover it — you push your way through, only to pause when your mind begins to recognize just how familiar this room feels with the light dance of rain outside an open window. 

Everything is so neat. Clean.

(And in the back of your mind, a voice says it’s exactly how you left it.)

The door locks shut, and the rest of the world ceases to exist.

Levi casually walks past you, pulling a chair from his desk and flipping it to face his bed.

He sinks down onto it, knees spread apart while his arm rests casually over the back.

“Start, then.”

His voice is guarded, shortened, as his eyes watch you from under wet, black fringe.

You stare, twisting your fingers around and against each other to self-soothe your nerves.

Your nostrils expand as you muster the courage to speak.

Yet when you do, your voice is smaller.

(So much could go wrong in one single moment.)

“I’ll start, just…"

"Just what?"

"Don’t shut me out.”

His eyes narrow. “I told you I wouldn’t.”

“I know, but this is different,” you argue weakly, wetting your lips.

“Try me,” he flatly goads. “I told you from the beginning—”

“—that you weren’t going to hand us our memories, fuck, I know already,” you bite to chomp off the rest of his statement, tired of hearing him push further distance between you. “Let me talk this bullshit out at you, alright? Not with you — but at you. Because the more I talk, the more things come back — it’s like my fucking unconsciousness is working faster than the rest of my body.”

His jaw clenches, but he says nothing.

When a few moments have passed, you take several steps forward to meet him — but turn to sit on the edge of his bed.

(Like you know belong there.)

He stops moving entirely, brow knit as he watches you descend.

Start, then.

“Before everyone swooped in, I told you that I thought I knew who I was. But… the more time goes by, it isn't a maybe anymore."

Your eyes remain on your hands, noting the calluses and age-old lines of scars across your fingers and palms. 

"And the longer time goes on, the more I talk, it becomes so much clearer."

Remember.

“I never knew my birth mother,” you continue, “not really. As far I know, she died when I was small. A lot of the details are still fuzzy, but some other sick bastard took her place. I think it's so hazy because there’s not much to remember about her. Mother... cared only about winning money."

Lost in your own thoughts, you drop your chin to your chest and exhale.

"I might have had siblings. None of them actually looked like me. They were just... stuck, too. And so many of them died."

All nameless faces.

All battle fodder for the almighty coin.

“I knew that the only way to live was to fight, so I fought. Hard. Every damn day until I couldn't stand on my two feet sometimes. That’s how we met.”

When you lift your eyes to stare him, he doesn’t react.

His nostrils flare in a twitch, but Levi remains in control of himself.

“My mother pit us against each other for money,” you continue softly. “That’s why I kept seeing this small, skinny boy in my dreams at a pub. For weeks, over and over, it was you. I gave you food — I wanted a friend. And…” 

You trail off, chewing on your next words very carefully. 

“And you gave me that. A friend. A chance to join your gang and live a life that was mine.”

Absently, your hand raises from your lap to your neck.

In the hopes of quelling your budding anxiety, your fingertip runs along the delicate silver chain at your sternum.

An old habit that won’t die, even in a state of memory loss.

Yet you catch him, right as it happens:

Levi’s hardened eyes shamelessly drop from yours — to stare at your fingers.

Your fingertip dips and circles the gray gem, mindful of its smooth texture.

Moments pass.

His eyes do not lift.

A familiar warmth spreads through your chest.

“My necklace.”

Then his eyes raise, as if suddenly aware of where he’s staring. 

“You gave it to me, didn’t you?”

You see him in your mind’s eye: a younger version of Levi sitting there, embarrassed to be offering such a delicate, sentimental gift to another person.

His gangly, teenage self overlaps the exhausted, battle-worn Levi across from you in his chair.

Both fighting.

Both surviving.

You feel so small as you try to remember the finite detail. Hitting a wall the longer the silence stretches, you're unable to pinpoint the exact memory.

Your nose scrunches in frustration, searching for that train of thought like a life line. 

“It was for my fifteenth— No, maybe my seventeenth—”

“Eighteenth.”

His voice is barely a murmur. 

Levi’s eyes do not leave your face.

“It was your eighteenth birthday.”

He manages to capture the memory eluding you before it can float away and dissolve to the wind.

A smile loaded with relief passes your lips.

It’s only a small nudge in the right direction, but it’s all you need for the memory to blossom like a flower on the surface in Spring.

The image of yesteryear blooms— 

White, billowing sleeves rolled to his elbows.

A cinched vest kept his clothes from flying off his small frame.

“With a lot of alcohol.”

“Yeah.”

“And a lot of extra cleaning the next morning.”

He exhales, slow and drawn out. “Something like that.”

You inhale sharply through your nose, emotions overwhelming you.

“Ever since Hange gave the necklace back to me, I can’t help but touch it any time I feel stressed or panicked. It’s like all of those bad feelings, they… go away. Disappear like the way titans do.”

Worries, gone like ash.

A ghostlike sensation runs against your lips, forcing you to reach and run along their seam.

Even if it's far away, you see it: a tilted head; black fringe.

Even now, you feel it: his lips so close; eyes wandering; the loss of reason.

“And you… you kissed me that day.”

Your first.

Both of your firsts.

When you smile, you notice then: his knuckles against the back of the chair turn translucent white.

“Wrong,” the captain tightly states.

Wait.

You freeze, fear settling in your belly.

“What?” you question. “But... but you did.”

He’s gripping the wooden backing so hard it could snap.

“I didn’t,” he forces out. “...you kissed me.”

Oh.

Oh. 

He’s not shutting you out.

Elation sweeps over your mind like a soothing balm as memories of pawing hands and inexperienced desire enters the forefront—

Finally clear as day.

Do you regret it, his voice whispers in the abyss.

“I never regretted that,” you reassure him, like you can finally answer him with absolute honesty. “Though technically you leaned in, and I ran with it.”

He huffs in disbelief. "Yeah?"

You smile with certainty. "Yeah."

Kisses between you two were just the tip of the iceberg. You know that now. 

You’ve seen it, felt it, tasted it—

In this very bedroom.

After a pause, the captain’s voice comes out strained.

“Of all the damn memories, that’s the one that stands out?”

You can’t help but huff with exhausted amusement.

“It isn’t the only one," you reply. "There are a million fragments I’m still piecing together and not everything makes sense, but there are some things that are just so vivid to me now. like…”

“Like?”

“Like our friends.”

Emotion flickers across his expression as he sits up further.

It’s like he’s been waiting to hear the names of your deceased comrades on your lips.

“You remember—”

“Isabel,” you whisper. “And Furlan. Yeah, it’s… bits and pieces just like everything else, but we grew up with them. I remember how we'd all spend hours zipping around that damn stolen ODM gear like we owned the joint. Somehow four kids managed to make an entire home in the Underground. And I wasn’t — I couldn’t be there when they—”

Profound sadness hits you like a ton of bricks, clipping your words.

I couldn't be there when they died.

The picture isn't complete, but you remember the sinking feeling in your belly when he had told you. So much time had gone by — you can vaguely pick out Isabel's wild red hair and recall thinking maybe the sun looked just like that. Furlan's infectious, warm laugh echoes in the back of your mind.

And you nearly joined them as a memory.

(No wonder why Levi was so angry with you at the start of it all.)

The rain continues to tap against the stone walls outside as another stretch of silence befalls the room.

One of Levi’s hands reaches for his face and runs down the length of it, tugging the skin as he goes.

His eyes drop to the floor, his dampened fringe shielding them from view.

“Un-fucking-believable…”

Your brow furrows.

“What?”

“This.”

That same hand sweeps a frustrated gesture between the two of you.

“This shouldn’t be possible,” he grunts. “You hit your goddamn head almost a year ago and — and you nearly did the same fucking thing again today, and you’re telling me that’s all it took to suddenly wake you up?”

The harshness of his words cause you to rear your head back. 

Hange nearly ran to you with open arms when you told them you remembered.

You had thought perhaps Levi would do the same once you had proven your mind to him.

Yet he’s reluctant.

Angry.

“That isn’t what I’m saying,” you retort, narrowing your gaze. “I tried telling you months ago that my memories were fragmented, but you didn’t want to hear it. What, were you hoping I wouldn’t remember?”

Instantly his eyes are back on you. “I didn’t say that.”

“It sure feels like that, Levi,” you snip. “Was it because of our fight?”

The whites of his eyes explode.

“Our what?”

“Before we went on the last expedition,” you clarify under your breath. “When you tried sidelining me with counsel to Erwin. I asked you why you didn’t trust me to fight at your side, but it wasn’t that you didn’t trust me.”

What is the excuse you always, always, use?

It was such a vicious question in the heat of the moment.

Levi doesn’t hide his surprise this time.

Although he doesn’t answer your question, you can see it:

The same turmoil that pushed him to the brink of shouting, coming back to haunt him.

Because if I lose you this time, then that’s it!

The rattle of the storm increases in volume right outside his open window, billowing the sheer curtains from the wall.

You promised.

You promised him so many things that day.

Nothing will happen to me.

I’m not going anywhere.

“I won’t die on you, right?” you say to yourself, as if in a daze — trapped between the present and the past. “Because if I did, you’d drag my ass from Hell yourself.”

His face twists, contorts in pain, only for a second.

He catches himself at the precipice before he can truly react, swallowing it down—

And then it hits.

You understand what he isn't saying.

“You haven't stopped blaming yourself,” you realize out loud in a bewildered whisper. “Even after saving my ass a second time, you're still holding onto that guilt like it was a choice you had made instead of me.”

You stand abruptly from the bed and cross the room towards him.

Levi immediately jumps out of his chair like a cat that’s been dunked in water, terrified you’ll push him back under.

No matter how compelled you are to be near him, he repels. 

“It wasn't your fault,” you urge, softer this time. “Look at me. Levi — it wasn't your fault.”

His bluish-gray eyes narrow in defense. “Don’t start this—”

“When I fell—”

“No.”

“Levi,” you chastise. “You said we could talk.”

“I did,” he hotly retorts. “Not about that day.”

The air in the room shifts.

“Anything but that day,” he repeats, softer this time. “Please. I just —”

Struggling with what he wishes to say, his chin drops to his chest.

“...despite all my best efforts, despite whatever plans I put in place, I watched you fall in the same shitty forest not once, but twice, like it's a sick fucking dream I get to repeat over and over until I learn.”

All of your facial muscles smooth with sadness. “Except there wasn't anything to learn because you did nothing wrong. Levi, you caught me.”

“But not the first time,” he says simply. “Not when it mattered.”

The way he speaks about himself…

Humanity’s Strongest, reduced to one perceived failure, as if he could rewrite history and control your mistakes. 

Timidly you slide a boot forward, testing his resolve. 

Levi doesn’t move. His head remains bowed.

“You have spent months punishing yourself for something that I chose to do,” you urge under your breath in a damn-near plea. “What is it that Erwin tells us to do? Dedicate our hearts?"

"Don't use that shit against me, James," he warns.

Raising your hands in surrender, you shake your head wildly. "I'm not. Believe me, I'm not, but you need to understand it was my choice. I wanted to save the others. I wanted my life to matter."

You see his jaw clench like he's forcing himself to hold back what he wants to say.

You step another boot forward.

"Six months ago when I first saw you in that hospital wing in Trost, when you tried to rile me up, it was—”

“An error in judgment," he interrupts.

“Exactly what I needed,” you finish over him. 

His head lifts. 

You meet, eye to eye.

“I couldn’t understand why I was so transfixed by you,” you continue softly with the utmost sincerity, hoping he will hear you out. “You walked out of that room and all I wanted was to know you. To understand you, like you held this invisible key this entire time that could unlock whatever the hell it was that I was missing. But all you ever did was pull away from me, hide from me, trying to convince me you were some villain in my life—”

“James.” 

Abruptly Levi steps forward as if ready to walk straight through you—

—like you’re nothing but a ghost’s apparition.

Instead he is met with living, breathing warmth. 

Your eyes can’t leave when his breath tickles the skin of your face.

Levi stares back, entranced by the color of your eyes.

Infected, plagued, by the reality that stands before you both.

One false move, and it’ll be a repeat of the conversation in the tree tops that made him retreat.

“I have tried to keep you safe almost my entire life," Levi murmurs, and you can practically feel the vibrations of his voice rocking through your body.

“And you did.”

“I didn’t.”

“Levi, you—”

“I pushed you into danger—”

“Pushed?”

“—and I am sorry—”

Your hand shoots out, turning his cheek to look you dead in the eye. 

“Stop it.”

Levi freezes, looking so much more uncertain now that he did ten minutes ago.

“Stop," you repeat with exasperation. “You're not listening to me. I'm here. I'm right here.”

He swallows to coat his throat, motion thick. His neck bobs.

"I don't know how else to convince you it isn't a fluke," you continue, voice cracking. "You won't let yourself see me. You won't let yourself believe I'm not dead. Levi—"

And just when you think you’ve lost him—

He turns towards the warmth.

His cheek nuzzles your open palm, eyes wearily slipping shut, as if helpless to do so.

You’re holding the first face you remember and the last face you’ve seen —

The partner you left in the forest so long ago.

The man that wants more than he’ll ever allow himself to take.

Levi's confession is barely audible:

“...I don't want it to be too good to be true again."

The floorboard creaks as his foot shifts towards you, angling himself towards you. 

He inhales slowly through his nose, relishing in a private thought, before shaking his head. His hair nearly tickles your forehead.

When he doesn't open his eyes, you decide to take matters into your own hands.

If he won't see you—

Slowly, cautiously, you reach for his hand until yours curls over it.

At first his fingers flinch in your grasp, his blue-gray eyes snapping wide to watch.

Then eventually they relax, surrendering.

Higher and higher, you skim it past your ribcage and pull it up to your left breast. 

His arm tenses, eyes shooting wide. 

You remain relaxed. Focused.

“What is it you feel?” 

“I don’t under—” 

“Just… pause, for once in your life, and tell me what it is you feel.” 

You press his palm harder against your chest, your heart hammering beneath your skin. 

“Please.”

Albeit apprehensive, Levi doesn’t move away. 

His eyes dart to your lips, your sternum, until they lock onto your joined hands.

“You.”

Strained — he chokes on his response.

“I feel… you.”

As if pulled by gravity Levi steadily leans closer, brushing your nose with his.

His jaw clenches, the muscles taut in his mouth, before his palm flattens of his volition against your chest.

Your eyes flutter, relishing in his proximity.

You turn to him, seeking out his body heat.

For the first time in months, you feel it with such certainty.

Familiarity.

His free hand rises to your cheek, cupping the side of your face.

You suck in a sharp breath between parted lips, and he makes a small noise like he’s agonized over being apart from you.

“Every time that I’ve been given the choice, I always choose you,” you confess softly, a mere whisper. “I run right towards you even when I don’t know you. You are the only thing that has ever made sense to me in this world.”

There — you memorize the slide of his calloused palm, running gently along the height of your cheekbone.

Slow, as if mesmerized by your skin’s softness.

Shakily, you continue and choose the point of no return.

“Tell me you don't want me anymore, and I’ll stop running to you. If I have somehow misjudged you and what you might still feel—”

“Say it.”

Levi’s voice engulfs you — the heavy baritone, barely touching your lips.

His expression darkens like he wrestles with two separate trains of thought.

Conflict etched in his brow, he swallows once more and speaks with a tenderness you only remember in dreams.

“Say you remember me.”

After all this time, you've waited for the puzzle to connect.

The pieces that were once scattered now sew themselves together; anew.

He asks without asking.

You answer without uncertainty.

“I remember you.”

As if mesmerized by the curves of your body, Levi’s hand glides from your chest up your throat—

Until his fingers cradle the back of your head.

His other hand remains on the side of your face, holding you as though you could turn into water at any moment.

"Say it again."

You don't hesitate to obey his command.

"I remember you."

To make your point, you turn your chin into his hand — eyes locked — to press a gentle kiss to his palm.

He nearly hisses from the physical contact.

"Again."

Levi's breath slides into your mouth like a phantom kiss of his own.

(Touch starved after so many months apart.)

“I remember you, Levi Ackerman. I remember you, I remember you, I remember—”

You stop talking when he leans in, lips barely brushing yours. 

Your breath halts. 

His is ragged. Soft.

Then he speaks, as if to pray after a long night of war:

“Dirty trick."

That’s all it takes.

Levi reaches out whip-fast, using the palm against your skull to pull you into a searing, life-altering, mind-numbing kiss. 

You go pliant against him, melting like candle wax, willing to take anything he’ll give.

Lips press and pull, his breath hot on your tongue.

His hands search you as if he doesn't know where to touch first — your face, your neck, your shoulder — until he decides to loop his forearm at the small of your back to dip and lift you without ever breaking the kiss.

You jump until your knees bracket his hips, and he pulls you flush to his body.

Levi hastily kicks the chair out of his way to carry you directly to his bed.

And after all this time, you feel it — know it — remember it.

The absence dissipates.

The world finally starts to turn.

You have found your way home.

.

author's note:

...hehe. So how are we feeling, Levi Nation? Let me know in the comments!

Thank you for your patience as I took a little break this summer to write some modern!Levi with Press Four for More Options. To readers old and new, I am so grateful for your encouragement and support. (Every reblog gives this writer wings.)

[feyascorner]

4 | The Fangs Between Us

summary. Astarion, if anything, you are sure is a liar. It’s impossible to tell what he’s truly thinking and whether his words hold an ounce of truth. You just wish you’d been an exception.

With lidded eyes locked with your own in a trance you can’t break ahold of, he sinks his teeth into her neck.

You’re at a complete loss of words, and you feel nothing but shame knowing that rather than the distaste you should feel, you feel something else.

Bitter. Not jealous, no, not quite, but really damn bitter.

warnings. angst, comfort, slow burn, reader is a bard

pairing. Astarion x GN!Reader

parts. TFBU masterlist

a/n. 7.6k words,,, but have a bit of Astarion POV somewhere in here featuring Gale!!

You’re dying again.

But rather than the usual nightmare consisting of him pinning you to the ground with his hands on your throat, he’s standing above you. In that dark alleyway a week ago, where the spawn had nearly taken your life. The ground feels muddy again, and despite there being nothing at your neck, you still can’t breathe.

And then, you’re alive again, lurching up from your mattress with sweaty skin sticking your nightwear to your body. After your eyes adjust to the bright sunlight flooding into your room through the window, you sigh.

You want to ask if he’d been real. If he’d truly been there that night, saving your life against the spawn despite his words just the other night. Despite the stomach-churning way, he looks at you.

Hope is a dangerous thing.

It doesn’t take you long to get ready. When you clamber out your door, your eyes glaze over his own, standing still as a rock just beside yours. Even though you know he’s right there, just a wooden door away, it doesn’t feel like it at all. He feels like an illusion—perhaps a ghost to haunt you for what you’d done to him. He’s been here for days now, and somehow, you feel further from him than you did when he was just a shadow of your past. Lingering. Driving you mad.

In some ways, this is worse.

Especially with the way your last interaction concluded, you’d expect yourself to feel nothing but negative turmoil for him. Yet, with the dreams haunting you every night and the endless afternoons you spend wallowing in your experiences with him in the past, it’s hard to do so.

Even more so when the terrifying force of hope grabs hold of you like a shackle to the heart.

You’re not sure if what you saw that night as an angel was really him or if you were simply hallucinating as a last-ditch attempt to console your imminent death. You hope—no, you question if he’d been the one to save you and fetch the Fist. Unfortunately, you have nobody to ask, as none of your other companions seem aware that you’d “seen” Astarion at death’s doorstep and the embarrassment that floods you intends to keep it that way.

It had to be him, surely. Why else would he have been at Elfsong Tavern that same exact day? Why else had Petras seen him the night before that, murdering that blond elf seconds after you’d been there?

Astarion, if anything, you are sure is a liar. He’s like this by nature, like an instinct resulting from the centuries spent under Cazador’s dreadful rule. It’s impossible to tell what he’s truly thinking and whether his words hold an ounce of truth. You just wish you’d been an exception.

‘Did you save me? Why?’ you want to ask desperately. You curse your past self for ending your last conversation that way. You’d hoped it would’ve at least gone a bit better.

“Perhaps we should throw him back in the Duke’s dungeon,” Lae’zel grumbles, tearing at her piece of bread as she sits on the armchair in the living space downstairs. Why she prefers such stale food is beyond you. “That istik is clearly not helping.”

“Give him time,” you mumble, thankful that at this time of morning, most of the house is still asleep. Only you or Lae’zel seem to be awake at the break of dawn. “We don’t have much of a choice anyway, given nobody else we know is a vampire spawn.”

“I’ve already given him tenfold the time I wish to give him. If it were up to me, he’d already be dead.”

“He is dead.”

She doesn’t laugh. You snort and reach to the cabinet, where instead of your usual supplies, you find a bottle. The crimson liquid at the bottom is scarce, but there’s just enough for a few more sips if you ration it right, which is what you assume he’s been doing, considering he hasn’t asked once to go hunting.

You wonder if he’s feasted on the necks of poor beautiful maidens in the city, captured by his charm and lured to an untimely end. You imagine their long, silky hair falling across their face as they bare their necks for his teeth, wincing the first few moments they sink down. But afterward, it would feel intimate—close, even—as he lets their blood sully his own. And once he finally pulls away with a piece of their lifeline, he’d grin down at them with stained lips painting them like lipstick…

Your brows furrow, but not for them. You seriously hope he just fed on goblins, or something along those lines. You’d even look past gnomes.

“T’chaki. Whatever disgusting thoughts you’re having, I suggest you stop,” Lae’zel snaps, and you blink. “And put that bottle away. You look like you want to devour it yourself.”

You do so sheepishly. “Please tell Gale to take Astarion to the forest to gather more blood. He’ll starve to death at this rate.”

“That would be ideal. Though I wouldn’t have the pleasure of putting my own sword through his chest.”

Your frown is visibly apparent, and it deepens her own. “Such a declaration shouldn’t displease you. My people believe an attempt at murder is enough to declare war. You should be trying to kill him, should you not? He is hshar’lak.”

“For the last time, I’m not going to-”

“She’s right, you know. As rare as that is,” you nearly jump at the cleric’s voice, though Lae’zel only glares. She’s leaning on the doorway, chewing on a half-eaten apple. “I won’t force him to leave, but I do hope you seriously reconsider your decision to harbor a vampire spawn. We trusted him once, and it didn’t end so well. I’d prefer avoiding making the same mistake again.”

He saved me, you want to say. The words are on the tip of your tongue before you reel them back, sealing them into your own heart. “Why are you awake so early?”

“We’re out of supplies,” she says. “I’m going to the market. Care to tag along? I wouldn’t hate the company.”

Your eyes flicker to the stairs as if expecting something, but you force yourself back to your companions and nod. “Alright.”

He was a magistrate.

At least, that’s what he remembers. His memories of the days before his heart stopped beating are fuzzy, like they’re muffled by water as he drowns in the unending 200 years of torture. Even without Cazador, even after stabbing through his corpse a dozen times, it doesn’t feel enough. It will never be enough.

He hears the front door open downstairs and finds himself lowering his book a tad to peer down outside the window his bed is pressed up against. You clamber out, stumbling over yourself as you tie your boots halfway through the door. He can hear you calling into the house through the thin glass panes. “Apples, pork loin, what else?”

“Bread and cheese!” another shout downstairs. It’s the cleric, he deems from the tone of her voice.

“Right, right,” you snort, waiting for her to catch up with you.

His eyes don’t leave you as you make your way down the street, eventually vanishing as you round a corner leading to the main marketplace of the city. And when you’re finally gone, his attention flits back to his book, rereading the page for what feels like the millionth time.

He likes reading—as much as he can, anyway—when he’s not hunting or running from the sun as if it’ll chase him down even in the shadows. He has three books. And if someone were to ask, he’d be able to recite them all by memory.

He had a fourth one, once. One you’d gifted him, but no longer does he want it. It sits under the bed, gathering dust for what he hopes to be forever.

He hasn’t spoken to you in days, and he expects nothing less. He hasn’t spoken to anyone, really, only receiving glares from Shadowheart, ignored by Lae’zel, and—well, Gale, he supposes, offers conversation, but Astarion’s the one to avoid those particular interactions. The wizard’s absence is not the only one he’s grateful for. 

Yours, for one, after how your last conversation ended, is not one he wants to risk another of. Yet, the past few days, despite never daring to approach him, he’s seen you looking from afar with the eyes of a kicked pup. But the second he comes too close, your guard is up again, your words curt, and sentences abruptly ending in his presence. Only when you think he doesn’t notice do your true feelings surface in this pathetic display. He almost pities you.

Unfortunately, in all the realms of words he’s described himself as he has never considered himself a sympathetic person.

He revels in your obsession with him. One that he will no longer reciprocate.

He glances at the empty jar of blood on the bedside table and clenches his jaw.

A hefty bit of time later, when he’s sure most have left the home, he climbs down the stairs where the first floor is still overtaken with darkness. The curtains have been put up in a clumsy manner, but they do their job efficiently enough, as he’s allowed to pace across the wooden floors and reaches for a drawer beside the sink. There’s a glass bottle of animal blood inside–it’s running dangerously low.

“You look awfully drained.”

Astarion fights the urge to groan at Gale’s voice.

“If that’s your attempt at vampiric humor, I hope you’re aware it would only have hungry spawns lunging for your neck,” he shoots back, snatching the bottle and popping it open with a swift move of his thumb and lifting it to his lips. He drinks, gulping down whatever’s left. While on any other occasion, he’d feel appalled at not even using a goblet, his hunger has been itching at him for days, now. If he didn’t know how foul Gale’s blood tasted, he might’ve even considered the damned wizard.

“I’m warning you, I taste positively terrible.” Ah, he must have been staring.

“I assure you, I’d more likely scout the city for rats before drinking another drop of your blood,” Astarion retorts back, setting down the glass bottle. “Now, please hurry and tell me what in the hells you want before I escape for those aforementioned rats.”

“Adjusting well to your life here, I presume?”

Astarion stares at him like he grew a second head.

“I was jesting.”

“You do a poor job at it.”

Gale sighs irritably. “You haven’t come downstairs in days; we’d thought you were dead already…again.”

“I’d rather not be in the presence of multiple people who appear ready to lop off my head at any moment,” Astarion snaps. “As much as I’d love decapitation for my cause of death, now is not the right time for such events.”

Neither of them laugh.

“The others…” Gale takes his time talking as if he’s searching for words that aren’t there, and it makes Astarion’s eye twitch. “You understand why they’re apprehensive about you being here. In all honesty, I am too.”

The spawn’s brows knit together, and he rolls his eyes. “Whether or not they want me here, it was their choice to keep me trapped in this bloody house. Even when I insisted I didn’t know a damned thing about what my dear siblings were up to, your leader chose to “take responsibility” for me...whatever that means. So by all means, Gale, just open the door for me, let them know I won’t be returning, and you’ll never see me again.”

Astarion expects him to yell at him, snap at him, maybe even cast a spell, but he expects him to do something with the words that spill out of his mouth like vomit. But instead, the wizard opens his mouth, shuts it again, and seems to be in thought. “I haven’t heard you talk for so long in ages. Nice to know your endlessly running mouth is still there.”

“You’re one to talk.”

He snorts, his eyes flitting to the curtains messily nailed onto the wood surrounding the windows, and Astarion can see his face fall. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to let you go, for I’ve made a promise with Tav to check in on you in place of themselves…and the others, of course. And I may be a man of many words, but I am not a man of lies.”

Astarion almost laughs at the irony. “Is that what hiding the bomb in your chest was? Honesty?”

“Oh, please,” he waves him off. “That was eons ago! And besides, I’ve got that all sorted now, so no more eating magical pairs of shoes…thank the Gods. Though the magical enhanced gems weren’t so bad-”

“Please tell me someone other than yourself will be hovering over me like a parasite.”

“I’m afraid not,” Gale smiles. “Lae’zel wouldn’t hesitate for a vampire head hanging over the fireplace, Shadowheart would most likely place a curse on you, and Tav rarely comes home at all. So, unfortunately, and also most fortunately, you are stuck with yours truly.”

Astarion groans. And though he’s about to shoot him with another quip, the front door swings open, and Shadowheart steps into the house. When she notices him standing beside the kitchen, her body visibly tenses.

“You’re supposed to stay in your room.”

“I’m also not supposed to starve to death in that room, as much as I’m sure you’d approve of that.”

Her gaze flickers to the empty bottle of blood, and immediately, her face hardens. She narrows her eyes, and Gale, as usual, steps forward. “Now, Shadowheart, let’s not get too hasty-”

“If you are ever starving to death,” she glares. “You best hope not Tav is the only person around. If you ever even ask them for their blood again, I’ll show you just how much blood you have stored up.”

Astarion scoffs, grinning. “Such a terrifying foe you are. But there truly is no need to worry so much. I don’t need their blood, and I never intend to ask them for a single drop again. Not anymore.”

Shadowheart looks only half convinced, but after a moment of contemplation, the atmosphere turns less rigid, and she sighs, stepping backward. “I really did not miss having a vampire in our home.”

He’s about to let out another condescending laugh when he hears a shift in the dirt outside the open door. Neither of the others seems to notice. “And for the record, if you ask me for blood, you’ll end up even worse.”

Right then, he watches you step into the house, arms stuffed with paper bags filled to the brim with fruits, meat, and bread, and you nearly stumble on your own legs as you try to guide yourself to the kitchen counter. “Did we really need this much for just a week?”

“Of course we did. My famed stew is not made so haphazardly, you know. It requires skills, talents, and lots and lots of patience-”

You finally set down the groceries and notice Astarion’s presence in the room. He knows you do because of the way your posture straightens, becoming more guarded. It makes the corner of his lips lift in a way that’s sure to make you uneasy. 

But when your gazes finally meet briefly, you turn away as if it doesn’t bother you in the slightest. 

His eyes widen. Did you just ignore him?

He shifts, just enough to catch your attention, but all you do is listen to Gale’s ramble about his bloody stew. He’s sure nobody on Faerun gives a damn about his soup at this very moment, and you're no exception. Yet you’re clearly preferring his words over Astarion’s glares in such a blatant display.

You are ignoring him.

“Moving on,” Shadowheart groans. “We’re going to investigate the families of the spawn victims. We’ll let you know if we find anything. Oh, and tell Lae’zel she needs to move her weapons out of the living room before I throw them into the sewers myself.”

Gale shudders. “I’ll tell her, but certainly not those exact words.”

Astarion’s eyes follow you the whole time as you wait for Shadowheart at the door, hand holding a sheet of paper which he assumes to be the list of victim families. And the entire time, you refuse to even look in his direction.

It evokes something in him. He’s not sure what, but it does. Annoyance, he supposes.

Gale finally turns to him when you and Shadowheart shut the door closed behind you. “Now you and I can get groceries for you…as long as it’s only animals, of course.”

Another hour with the wizard might drain him of what remains of his life force (which is very little considering that he’s dead), and he thinks a few hours might just be the cause of his perishing.

There are too many bodies. Too much blood that reminds you of the evil that you believed was dealt with. Their families weep, and you can do nothing but stand to the side, watching as they claw at the Fist’s uniforms, begging to know what could be done. Begging to see their loved ones again.

You feel selfish, almost. Having finally seen your own former beloved, you only allow yourself to watch from afar, afraid of getting any closer.

So you’d escaped the town square, fleeing to the roofs where you could properly assess any potential victims’ families and determine if they were even worth approaching in the emotional wreck they were in. The list of bodies nearly crumples under the crushing weight of your own hands. The silence looming across the rooftop patio is far more relaxing than the chaos below.

Well, save for the company perched beside you.

“So what’s with your lyre?” Alfira blinks. “Where is it?”

“Sold it.”

“Why? That’s such a waste!” she frowns, rubbing at a smudge on her own instrument. “It was made of such fine wood too…I do hope you didn’t undersell that beauty.”

You roll your eyes. “Maybe I should’ve sold it to you at a higher price.”

“If not your lyre…” she tilts her head, scooching her stool closer to yours. “Then what are you playing nowadays?”

“I don’t play anything.”

Her eyes widen. “You don’t play anything? What does that mean?”

“I quit, Alfira,” you sigh, finally turning to look at her. “I’m not technically a bard anymore.”

“Don’t be ridiculous! Once you’re a bard, there’s no backing out of it. It’s in your very blood,” she explains, lifting her own lyre to you. “Go on, play something. I know you have it somewhere in you.”

Your face falls at her offer, but she remains firm, urging you to go on. It’s only when you realize she has no intentions of ignoring your words that you finally take the lyre into your own hands. It feels too foreign. It’s not your own instrument, but it’s a different kind of familiarity than that. While your fingers used to itch to sing their tales, you now feel nothing, just an empty husk of what once burst with inspiration.

Still, you try, even if just for show. Your finger tugs at one of the strings, letting it snap and vibrate its hum. You try another and another, but they’re all disjointed, barely managing to hold on to one another before your brows furrow, and you drop your hand. It just doesn’t feel right.

You hold it back to her. “I told you.”

“Well,” she looks down at her lyre. “I’m sure even the greatest bards have struggled with their music from time to time. It’s just a bump in the road.”

No, you want to tell her. It’s the end of the road, and there’s nothing you could possibly do to solve it, because you’ve already tried it all.

“Here, I started a new song,” she smiles hopefully. “Maybe it might spark your own musical talents. Care to listen?”

While a part of you is hesitant, the way she excitedly clutches onto the lyre makes you relent. “Sure.”

She begins to sing, and even if it’s better than it had been when you last saw her in the grove, it’s shaky. You suppose she must always be like this when producing a new song, at least until she grows accustomed to it. Still, it fills the air with a calm melody and drowns out the sounds coming from below on the streets, which you’re grateful for.

The breeze feels nice on your skin. You let your shoulders drop, closing your eyes as you drink in the notes produced by her lyre.

“I don’t need their blood, and I never intend to ask them for a single drop. Not anymore.”

The words echo in your head. It shouldn’t hurt you, really, you didn’t intend on giving it to him anyway, but a sick part of you wishes he could’ve at least asked, and you could’ve been the one to reject him. Not the other way around.

It feels like getting rejected for a confession you never made.

You blame yourself for eavesdropping.

“So? What do you think so far?”

You barely register that her song has ended, forcing you to focus back on the bustling city below. With a clear of your throat, you nod. “It’s good, it’s just…”

Her eyes seem to glow as she leans towards you, curious to hear your next words. Why she has so much faith in your advice is beyond you. You’d helped her with her last song, but it’d just been a stroke of luck that you managed to capture the emotions she wanted to convey through its notes. It certainly did not help that you hadn’t touched an instrument in months. “...Nevermind. I’m not sure what I was trying to say there.”

Her smile drops, and she holds her lute closer to her chest, nodding. “I see. It’s a shame.”

What she’s referring to, you’re not sure.

She digs through her pocket, managing to scrape out a crumpled sheet of paper which she puts on your lap. You do your best to make out the words messily scribbled on the sheet, which you determine to be the unfinished song. While you shoot her a wary look, she pushes the paper back to you when you attempt to offer it back.

“I have faith in you. More than anyone else, for a song like this,” she smiles. “You don’t have to help me finish the song like last time. Just absorb it. At least read the lyrics for me, will you?”

You want to say no, but you end up pocketing the sheet instead.

After you say your farewells, leaving her to continue humming to herself, you regroup with Shadowheart. Your own spirit falls when judging from her expression, she’s had even less success than you.

“We’re going around in circles,” Shadowheart sighs beside you. “None of the families know anything, and as much I’d love to stay an hour at each house to console them, at this rate, we’ll die of old age before finding these spawn…are you listening?”

You blink, snapping back into attention as you turn to her. “Did you say something?”

She raises a brow at you. “And what are you so distracted for?”

Mourning something that hasn’t happened, but you don’t tell her that. “It’s nothing.”

She doesn’t appear convinced, but neither does she pry. You’ve always had a mutual understanding with her when it came to one another’s secrets—don’t push. And even when either of you want to, you stay true to your silent agreement. You’re grateful for it at times like these.

Suddenly, there’s a bump to the left of you, not enough to make you stumble, but enough to make you glance back. They’re small, and you assume they’re a halfling or dwarf, despite their shoulders seeming too narrow. However, you forget about the details when your eyes hone in on their bare feet, absent of any shoes, much less socks. Something is wrong. Very wrong. When you look back up, you barely catch the way their hand slips back into their cloak, and immediately, your own flies into your pocket, where you’re now missing your dagger.

Shit.

You break into a sprint, forced to ignore Shadowheart, who calls out for you from behind, as you try to chase the hooded figure who swerves through the crowd of people on the street. Despite the people who curse and hiss as you shove through them, you’re only barely managing to tail the small cloaked figure, and in no such world are you willing to lose that dagger under circumstances that are not your own.

It’s pathetic, you know, to hold on to such a small part of him for so long. You’re sure he’s thrown away all of your own belongings, so why hold onto the dagger he kept strapped to his chest for months, holding it near his heart? You reckon this may be a blessing brought upon the gods who pity you, and you ponder if they’re watching you now, laughing at your pathetic display of desperation.

Still, you refuse to let it go like this.

The figure turns an alley, and your feet pick up. It’s a dead end.

You screech to a halt, slipping out a smaller blade that glints in the light allowed to seep into the isolated corner, eyes narrowed. The figure stands with its back to the wall, and you gawk at the way their shoulders shake as if they’re laughing to themselves. “Give it back, thief.”

They don’t budge, only continuing to tremble, and eventually, you’ve had enough. You march toward them, yanking back their hood with your knife, readied to retaliate if they dare, but immediately, your face pales. At the same time, Shadowheart finally manages to catch up to you.

“Hells, this crowd is a disaster,” she hisses, dusting off her shoulders. Then she shoots you a frown, eyes flitting back and forth between you and the supposed thief. “Whose child is that?”

You realize she hadn’t been laughing but shaking from fear.

She’s tiny. Unnaturally frail for her age which you guess to be around 9 or 10, which you note before letting her go from the grasp you have on her cloak. And from up close, you see that her bottom lip has been gnawed raw, still red from the last time it bled. She’s grasping onto your dagger for dear life, looking up at you with wary wide eyes, and you find your face relaxing. You bend down on one knee so you’re not just staring down at her, sighing. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, really.”

Her trembling eases a bit, but her grip around your dagger tightens. In her hands, it almost looks like a sword. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you angry. I swear, I didn’t mean to.”

Shadowheart steps to stand beside you. “Please tell me this child isn’t yours?”

“No, of course not!” you snap, and she snickers. You roll your eyes and turn back to the girl. “I won’t hurt you; I swear my life on it. But I need that dagger you’re holding.”

She hesitates, her eyes desperately searching for honesty in yours.

“It’s—important to me,” you mumble sheepishly. “Please.”

You watch her glance between you and the blade in her hands multiple times, then slowly reach it out to you. You offer her a smile, sheathing it beside your hip once more. You feel whole again. “Thank you. Now, I won’t tell your parents this time, but you really can’t go around stealing people’s things–”

“Berry!” she blurts.

You blink, and she picks at her own hands. “I live with Miss Cora.”

The puzzle pieces click in place.

“You’re the one Cora has to lull to sleep.” The words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them, and you regret them with how her cheeks puff and paint her face a light shade of pink.

“You’re one of the orphans, then, I presume,” Shadowheart crosses her arms. “Any reason why you’re lurking in the city—without shoes, might I add—and robbing people of their belongings?”

“I wasn’t trying to steal,” she insists, then meets your eyes. “I didn’t know how else to talk to you alone.”

“Alone? With me? Why?”

“I know where Roger—I mean, Miss Cora’s husband went that night,” she looks down. “I didn’t know who else to tell. I wasn’t supposed to be out…but I needed fresh air. And…And I saw…”

You hold your breath. “Where did he go?”

“It was the Blushing Mermaid,” she splutters. “He went and never came back. I-I can’t tell Miss Cora…If I do, she’ll hate me and kick me out. I can’t leave, so please, don’t tell her.”

Shadowheart leans to your ear. “That’s not possible. He couldn’t have been there.”

No, you think. You’d been there. You’d been at the Blushing Mermaid that night, and while you weren’t exactly in the best state of mind, you surely couldn’t have missed a literal murder taking place. Regardless, you shake away your lingering doubts and take her shoulders.

“We won’t,” you assure her. “For now, I need you to go back to Miss Cora. It’s not safe in the city by yourself right now.”

She wipes at the tears threatening to spill from her eyes with her arm and nods firmly, readjusting her hood and cloak so that her entire body is covered once more. You place a hand on her head.

“Thanks for telling me, Berry. I’ll find out who did this to Roger, and you’ll be the first person to know,” You manage the best smile you can at the moment. “And please, next time, just tap my shoulder.”

Her lips purse, and she flees to the Highberry residence.

“Well,” Shadowheart finally uncrosses her arms. “At least we have a lead now. It was starting to feel hopeless—though I’m not sure if this is a lead at all.”

Regardless of your own doubts, time is running out. Every night you spend with no progress is another waste of nearly a dozen lives in the city. So you shove aside your skepticism and sigh. “It can’t hurt to try.”

“What do you mean he just left?” Lae’zel seems just about ready to stab her sword through Gale’s chest, and you can’t bring yourself to blame her.

“I’m telling you, he just vanished! Into the thin air, nearly,” Gale groans in exasperation, throwing up his arms. “We were returning from the forest after his hunt, and I didn’t even look away. One second he was there, and the next-”

“He’s a rogue, you foolish wizard,” the githyanki hisses, and you cross your arms beside her, offering Gale no sympathy. “We must go search for him, drag him back, and keep him pinned to a wall with a spear.”

At this, you balk. “Well, no, we’re not going to-”

“And you,” she spins around to you. “You must stop defending the spawn over your unreciprocated feelings. Your urges to make love may remain, but his does not.”

Your face flares, and you hear Gale nearly drop the book he’d been holding. 

“I am not—”

“It’s painfully obvious to the rest of us. It’s been days since he joined us, and all of us must deal with your imploring eyes while he seems promptly set on ruining every conversation any of us have with one another,” she continues, and as such, in Lae’zel fashion, she does not hold back the sting of her words. “I am indebted to what you’ve done for me, and for that, I cannot stand aside and watch you reduce yourself to this lovesick mutt over a bloodsucking leech.”

Gale clears his throat. “Lae’zel, now I believe that’s more than enough to-”

“Seal that mouth of yours, wizard, before I rid of it for good.”

He does so immediately.

You stare at her, appalled at her words. Imploring eyes? Lovesick mutt? You don’t even want to mention the bloodsucking leech comment. All you can do is keep yourself from opening your mouth, in fear that something that sounds dangerously close to defending Astarion might escape against your will. 

A smart choice, as Lae’zel sighs, her patience wearing thin.

“You are a warrior. One of the most formidable I’ve come across,” she scowls. “Do not disappoint me this way. You do not owe him anything. That kainyank is the one who nearly took your life.”

A part of your heart cracks. You ignore the stinging in your palms as your nails dig into them, unsure what you’re even supposed to say at this point, and you fumble over your own words dying to escape your throat. Because you do owe him something. Because if your suspicions are true, you do owe him for the night you encountered the spawn, and the night before that, when you came across Petras. Being indebted to him feels like another battle in itself, and you’re not sure if you want it to be true or not. You don’t have the heart to tell her that.

So instead, you snatch your dagger from where you’d last placed it down and march for the door.

“Tav, please, don’t leave like this,” Gale reaches for your arm, but you yank it away.

“I’m going to bring him back,” you say, but it’s more of a demand. A tone you rarely use toward your own companions, but you can’t bring yourself to care at the moment.

Lae’zel hisses as you’re halfway out the door. “You are a fool to be unable to see that he does not care for you.”

He had saved you. A person who does not care about you does not bother to save you.

You clutch the dagger close to your heart, and you ignore how cold it feels in your hand.

By the time you’ve run through most places he could possibly be, you finally arrive at the Sharess’ Caress, panting as you stare up at the taunting aura of the building. You don’t know how many hours have passed since you left the house–-perhaps days, or even minutes, but every second feels like a million more than it should. You push through the door, barely managing to catch your breath, as you’re immediately greeted with the aroma of a thousand different perfumes.

The fumes make you scrunch your nose, and you’re quickly slammed into the last memory of entering this place. The woman at the front desk, the windows draped with curtains to prevent most if not all the light spilling into its halls, the music echoing from the more private rooms for personal viewing…

You hate it all.

“Ah, savior, you’re back!” a voice says, and you flinch at it. One of the drow twins, Nym, waves you toward her, but you don’t budge. “It’s been months since you last rejected my advances, hasn’t it? I suppose you couldn’t resist yourself and came back-”

“Where is he,” you spit, your voice wavering. You don’t mean to be rude to her, truly, but your patience is close to nothing, and you don’t know how much longer you can go before you have to take a rest and return to the house in shame. At the very least, you have to drag Astarion back with you.

She pauses, then motions upstairs. It seems she understands the urgency in your tone because she steps out of the way, urging you forward. So with a nod of acknowledgment, you march up the stairs towards one of the more luxurious private rooms. 

Door after door, you’re greeted with an empty room. Only when you come to the final room do you hold your breath, fist nearly shaking from merely knowing he’s on the other side. Lae’zel’s words echo in your head like an insistent tadpole, unable to force it to leave or quiet down. You opt to overrule it with the sound of the door swinging open.

There’s a woman.

Though you manage to release your breath when you see that she’s fully clothed, the collar of her shirt is pulled back, revealing her neck for the spawn who has his fangs bared inches from her skin. She doesn’t seem to notice you despite the ruckus you made entering the room, too lost in the man in front of her, but he does. His attention flickers to you and stays there, not showing an ounce of surprise as if he expected you here.

With lidded eyes locked with your own in a trance you can’t break ahold of, he sinks his teeth into her neck.

He doesn’t break eye contact as he drinks and all you can do is stare in disgust, eyes wide but your legs unwilling to unplant themselves from the wooden floors. Your sandwich from earlier threatens to hurl the other way, and your nails dig into the skin of your palms, nearly breaking the skin. You’re at a complete loss of words, and you feel nothing but shame knowing that rather than the distaste you should feel, you feel something else.

Bitter. Not jealous, no, not quite, but really damn bitter.

He tears away from her neck, blood staining his lips as you remain planted in the ground. The woman gasps, and her hands fly up to her neck. Even now, he’s only staring at you.

“Thank you, dear customer,” she rasps gratefully, despite how pale she looks. He doesn’t even acknowledge her until he wants her out.

“You can leave now.”

She looks back and forth between you and him, surely noticing how he doesn’t seem remotely fazed at how you’re glaring daggers at him and nods, scrambling to leave.

The door shuts with a loud thud.

You watch him reach to wipe at his mouth, your voice hollow and cold. “Are you done?”

“Clearly, seeing as I made her leave.”

“We agreed that you wouldn’t drink from people.”

“We agreed I wouldn’t drink from people in the house,” he corrects, pacing toward the window where the moonlight had illuminated him as he drank from the woman’s neck. “I kept my word.”

He leans against the windowsill, and you take a step toward him, still keeping a hefty distance. “She’ll report you to the Duke. My word won’t be much help if he insists to throw you in a cell.”

“This is a house of pleasure, my dear. Nothing gets out of here if you have enough gold,” he laughs, throwing his head back. “How else do you think I’ve been getting my share of blood if I hadn’t gone around murdering the innocent?”

Your teeth grit together, eyes narrowed as you scan the state he’s in. Despite appearing nearly dead just hours earlier, his skin now seems to glow against the moon, the bags under his eyes having gone missing and leaving a wide grin on his face instead. If this was a few months ago, you’d admire him, but not now. You want to punch it off.

“You don’t look happy, darling,” he fakes a frown and makes his way closer to you. You swear your heart stops for a moment when he brushes his knuckles against your cheek. “Is it that woman? Are you jealous?”

You slap his hand away.

“Gods, is this all a game to you?” you blurt in exasperation. “I’m trying to understand you, Astarion, I really am. And all you keep doing is–”

“There is nothing to understand. This is just who I am.”

“I’m not a fool. Will you, for once in your life, please drop this mask and just talk to me?”

“What in the hells makes you so sure I’m lying? I must have made quite the impression on you when we still considered ourselves allies.”

You try not to flinch at that.

“You were there that night,” you say, but it comes out like a question. “When I was attacked by the other spawn. And the night before that with that guy from the tavern. You killed him without even drinking his blood.”

At this, the tone of your conversation shifts, at least from his end. His eyes darken as you take a step back. “Who told you that?”

“Petras.”

He seems taken aback for a moment but quickly recovers. You wish you could do the same. And the laugh that escapes his throat sounds like he pities you. “My dear, I didn’t realize you were so naive.”

You blink.

“He’s deceived you, I’m afraid. Probably covering for his own arse to stay on your good side. What spawn would want to risk pissing off an adventurer capable of killing a vampire lord? In the time we were apart, I’ve done everything in my power to avoid you at all costs. You can see why, can’t you?” he gestures to the air between you. “I mean, look at us, darling. We’re no good around each other.”

It hurts more than you’d like to admit, but your stubborn streak forces you to keep going. “That night with the spawn-”

“I must say that I’m rather flattered that I was the last thing you saw at the hands of death,” he laughs, and it sends shivers down your spine. “But I’m afraid that too was a gift from death. I, myself, had no part in it.”

“But why were you there then?” you’re starting to sound desperate. You want to slap your hand over your mouth but something tells you that would be even more humiliating. “Why were you with the Duke in the morning?”

“I was captured by the Duke days before he brought me to you. He spent the time interrogating me, and in the end, I gave him nothing, as I will do with you. I only found out about your—predicament when he did, and he decided you’d fare better in gathering information I do not have.”

You would’ve preferred to die in battle than to feel the crushing feeling of your own chest. You want to curl up in a hole and never crawl out. 

“Now, is that all?” he asks, drinking in your defeat like a trophy he wished he could place on the top shelf of a glass cabinet. “Any other accusations you have to throw at me?”

Lae’zel had been right. Shadowheart had been right. All of them had been right, except for you. This was far more than you could handle, and you had been foolish to think otherwise. The hope you held onto now dwindles into a small flame that can easily be blown out by a few selective words--those of which he has full authority over.

“Have you always been this cruel?” Tears threaten to well in your eyes, but you force them back, veiling them with all the strength left in your voice. Now, you just sound angrier. “You’ve never been a good man, but you weren’t a heartless one either.” You wonder if maybe that was a lie as well. The loving words, the soft touches, the gentle eyes. That perhaps the guise you’d thought you’d seen through was not a guise at all.

“Is that what it was then?” his face falls. “Did you stop the ritual to keep a feeble man by your side?”

Feeling is not weakness, you want to scream at him, but you know it'll do no good.

“Ascension would have changed you, and it’s not for the better. You know what Raphael said. I just did what I had to for the sake of your safety.”

“Power would have made me safe. From the world, from the sun, from people like you. Now I rot away in this destroyed city with nothing to feed on but stolen cattle and rats.”

“You’re not listening to me. You would’ve lost your soul, and become like Cazador–”

His composure cracks at that. “Don’t you dare speak of that devil.”

“Don’t give me reasons to.”

The air is thick enough to slice with your dagger. With squinted eyes, he scans your face before continuing slowly.

“Darling,” despite the term of endearment, it doesn’t sound endearing at all. “You are searching for sympathy from a man who does not have any left to give.”

“You did have sympathy,” you hiss. “With Yenna, with Shadowheart, with the owlbear, with Lae’zel, Karlach, and the rest of the damn city, you did. It wasn’t obvious, but you felt for them.”

“Perhaps once. For a fleeting moment. That moment is not now.”

There’s nothing that you can say to that, really. All you can do is stare at him, eyes wide and unable to choke out words, crying, screaming, anything. But now, the dagger you carry everywhere feels twice as heavy and twice as cold. You want to search his face for any signs of deception, but you’re too afraid of what you might find, so you force your eyes to the ground.

Silence hangs in the air like a chain tightening its hold around your lifeline.

“I was fine,” you whisper, face burning. “I was getting better. I was getting over you, and you came back.”

His hands limply fall to his sides. “You are the one who refuses to let me go.”

When you don’t respond, afraid your voice will crack and give out the last of the thin thread that holds you together, he steps toward you again, now a mere feet away. All you can see, and what you’re willing to see, is his chest as he breathes out his words. “Do you hate me?”

You have no idea, truly.

“You should.”

Lifting your head, you focus on his eyelashes rather than his eyes. Doing otherwise might provoke you to do something you’ll regret. “Do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Hate me.”

The pause feels like another lifetime as your heart pounds rapidly, your palms feeling too clammy, and your throat too dry. He blinks, slowly.

“Yes. More than anyone."

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[magicdustsworld]

Honour

Levi Ackerman x Reader

Synopsis: You've heard tales of the infamous humanity's strongest soldier – Captain Levi. The first time you meet him, you come to know how wrong they are.

Tropes: Hurt/Comfort, Angst

Warnings: Graphic description of violence, injuries, bit of something I can't add, gn!reader, Canon AU, no mentions of y/n.

Word count: 1.9k

Event: Submission for the prompt day 6 - Love at first sight on @levievent

“Square up, cadet!”

The terse call from one of your fellow soldiers instantly prompts you to straighten your spine. Footsteps serenade before halting right beside you, he scrutinizes the area you were assigned to clean. A hefty sigh leaves your lips, hopefully you’ve done a good job enough considering you’ve been on it since the last twenty minutes.

“Is this what you call clean?”

Just like that all of your hopes are shattered.

He presses the pad of his finger on the glass pane, dragging over the surface – a speck of dust grazes his skin. You swallow a lump, “I- well…”

“What are you mumbling like a maggot, now?”

Chewing on your bottom lips, your eyes flickered from him to the window “No, I- I thought it was clean-”

“Don’t get cocky, newbie.” He leans towards you. “I don’t know what the hell is up with you freshly out trainees-”

“Oluo, stop trying to imitate Captain Levi!”

A third voice chimes in, soon a hand is placed over your shoulder and you are met with a concerned mien of an auburn haired woman. “You okay?”

You nod and Oluo lets out a grunt. “Did I do something wrong?”

A corner of her lip curls up, “Not necessarily.” Her eyes flicker to the window pane then back at you. “You just need a little… guidance.”

You blinked, “Guidance?”

“Yeah, I will help you out around here.” She muses. “Its just- the captain can be quite a clean freak so if you want to be in his good books, you should get used to spotless and abrupt cleaning sessions.”

-

“Hm? Captain Levi?”

“Yeah,” You affirm, sitting beside Petra in the mess hall. “What is he like?”

She tilts her head – taking a second to conjure a proper response for you. Her spoonful of porridge has halted near her mouth before it is put down. “The true captain Levi he is well… cold, irritable, violent and always has a poker look on his face.”

 “Was he always like that?”

“As far as I’ve seen,” Petra answers and you nod. Silence for a second stretches the table until she starts again, “I’ve heard rumours that say he was a thug but he joined the scouts after Commander Erwin pulled some strings. He hails from the underground so-”

“From the underground?”

“From the underground.”

A pang of unease surges through you. Although you’ve lived your entire life on the surface, you aren’t elusive to the underground district. A region where no sunlight permeates, a hub for the criminals and the thought of such an enigmatic figure of the military being from there happens to cause an apprehensive pang.

She chuckles, “Pretty conflicting for you, right?”

“Well uhm,” You try to suppress the coy smile from forming on your lips. Running your fingers through your hair, you answer, “To be honest, I had a rather different picture of humanity’s strongest soldier.”

“Don’t let that title deter your eyes, cadet.”

This time, it is the soldier sitting across you who intervenes in the conversation. You shift your gaze to him, “Excuse me?”

“Don’t get all blinded by that strength and titan kills,” He replies with venom lacing his tone. “He doesn’t care about any of his comrades.”

“Duran!”

.

You try to twist your body, wincing from the pain that surges from your ripped abdomen.

Warm blood gushes out from the ghastly wound, hands coated with blood of yours – it’s a futile attempt to stop the bleeding by pressing on the area. The pressure only causes the backflow of blood causing it to rise up your throat and akin to bile, you throw up. Consciousness slips in and out of you by each passing second and the way your shredded intestines coil in fingers, the smooth pulsing flesh grazing your skin sends tremors up your shoulders.

A splitting headache shoots through your mind and you grunt. You can feel the anxious yet despondent stare of the medic by your side. The rather slow paced bandaging of your torso helps little. It’s almost like they have given up. Honestly, you can’t blame them for their surrender, the injuries you’ve sustained from almost being chewed up as titan fodder is far from curable. Even if you manage to not lose your life now (which is impossible with the amount of blood you’re losing), you’ll only be a burden to bring back to the walls (a factor which would risk the loss of more lives).

Either way, there is no win.

A zap of the ODM gear momentarily distracts you from the pain. Sooner than you can comprehend, there’s another figure kneeling beside your worn and moribund form. You are greeted with a lingering warm touch on your shoulder and just like that, your ragged breath ceases.

“What’s the condition?”

“The organs are ruptured and I can’t stop the bleeding, Captain Levi.”

The quivering voice of the medic stalls you that this is in the infamous Captain.

You don’t know what comes over you but you try to speak; resulting in a coughing fit with blood dripping down your lips, marring your skin with its tint.

Levi’s attention shifts to you, his thumb brushes a slow circle over the fabric of your uniform, “Easy there, Soldier.” He says, tipping his head as a sign. “You don’t need to speak.”

You gesture your understanding with a scuffling nod. Significantly, your vision is blurred due to obvious reasons. Yet, it’s not impossible to mark raven bangs fanning his forehead, sharp features, steel blue eyes that gaze down at you with… is that concern?

“Don’t get blinded by all that strength and titan kills, he doesn’t care about any of his comrades.”

Didn’t they say he doesn’t care?

“If you want to know does your sacrifice make any difference or not,” He starts, voice lowering yet a newfound grit ignites. “It does.”

It doesn’t. You want to say. It doesn’t make a difference. It is only your first expedition and just like the average rate of sixty percent of the new cadets who traverse beyond the walls for the first and last time – this is your last as well. 

It’s what they are obliged to say in the last moments. The same words will be spoken to your family as well. Just a responsibility.

“You will be remembered,” He tells you, his shoulders turn rigid as he turns his full attention on you. “If not by anyone else, by me you will. Your will and memories will live on as long as I live.”

Never did you think you’d be put in a situation where mere words of assurance would prove so much to you. Never did you even think that you’d receive them from the proclaimed stoic captain. It had been a cloudy today, for the reason the sight of an aberrant circling the region near your flank was unnoticed. Till the time a messenger had rode off to relay the news, the destruction had commenced. You had given up as soon as the titan got hold of you, even after you were released from its hold, the sustained wounds and the pain rippling through your gobbled up gut wall were toppling you down into a spiral of decadence.

 The storms running in your head were ruining the garden of clarity until a ray of sunshine pierced through the clouds in the form of Captain Levi.

Humorously, the gloomy sky clears up – the soft warmth of the sun mingling with the air of death falls upon you.

“It’s just the captain can be quite a clean freak so if you want to be in his good books, you should get used to spotless and abrupt cleaning sessions.”

Maybe the vast amount of blood loss was affecting your capability of rational thinking; you hold up your bloodied hand. Without a second thought, Levi seizes it.

“I will kill each and everyone of those bastards who did this to you.”

For reasons unknown, you find tears prickling up your eyes. You choke out a sob as the tears fall down. Your body is weakening but Levi holds your hand in his – interlocking the fingers. The blood drips down from the conjoint to the cufflinks of his shirt; he doesn’t let go. Instead, you are met with a tender touch of him wiping away your tears.

“The pain will end soon enough.”

It will. You need to accept it.

Through the impaired vision, you can make out his beautiful steel blue eyes staring back at you. Tears have not collected over his lashes but the silent intentions evoked by his gaze is more than any emotion you’ve known. It’s a good enough sight for a last sight.

“So will your suffering,” He continues with a cinched determination. However, the grave voice is coated with a tinge of sincerity and an emotion you can’t decipher. “Wherever you go now, you will be free so-” He pauses, swallowing a lump in his throat. “So forget about this wretched world anyway. You are destined for peace.”

It’s ironical but you crack a smile.

Since you were a child, you had perceived death to be scary. Then… Then why was it so beautiful?

It’s so cruel – all of it. It’s the first time you are meeting him but why did it also have to be the last? Couldn’t you be granted just more time for this fateful meeting to happen? But- you assume- but not meeting him ever would cause you a lifetime of regret. Even in this little moment, even with the life slipping from your fingers, even when the illusion of a reaper starts to stall near, you know it’s him. You know it’s him because you couldn’t give any reason. It’s Captain Levi and he’s like the moon you’ve found amidst the veil of stars.

You part your lips and Levi gets the clue that you’re about to speak so he intervenes. “Don’t-” You shake your head, gesturing for him to lean in.

He complies but it’s getting too hard for you to keep your eyes open.

Therefore, you say your first and last words to him.

“Thank you, Captain Levi.”

.

It’s an empty tomb but Levi still stands before it.

Due to urgent reasons, most of the corpses couldn’t be retrieved. Besides, the gloominess of the day which serenaded just after your death made it rather difficult to bring back all the bodies. It doesn’t matter really.

Levi heaves a breath, kneeling down before the tombstone. Like a fever dream he reverts back to the moment when he saw you for the first time. Worn out and clinging to life while your blood stained the grasses red.

He doesn’t know why, neither will be fret himself over knowing the reason. Yet, when he saw you drowning in the ocean of despair, he found himself suffocating as well.

He reaches into his pocket, grasping an object before he sets it over the stone. It’s empty. He knows. You aren’t here. He knows. He had to leave you behind. He knows that as well. Sunlight falls upon the ivory and azure wings of freedom – your insignia of the Survey corps. Levi has never understood the concept of bringing home the corpses. It wouldn’t change a thing. The dead is the dead after all. Dwelling over the past would only affect the present and future. In a way which rarely proves to be good.

However, the memories thrive. They always do. So keeping the brief encounter with you in his memories, he speaks to you for one last time.

“It was an honour to meet you.”

[bloodlust-1]

Are you still taking requests? I literally cannot control myself when it comes to angst so I was thinking of a fic where Tav gets kidnapped by Cazadors spawns and is getting tortured by him, so Astarion goes crazy with worry and anger trying to get them back

Like I said i am insatiable when it comes to angst

The dramaaaaa.... LET'S DO THISS SHITT. I do love me some angst too :')

Hope you enjoy @blades-are-for-skating-ya-dingus <3

. Shackles .

Astarion x fem Tav — angst

T/W: abuse, blood

Notes: I’m so proud of this one ahh. This makes me hate Cazador even more.

Tav's body trembled as the shackles dug into her wrists, her bare skin exposed to the cold, damp air of the dungeon. She had been captured by Cazador one night by his spawns. Tav never returned back to camp that night, and the only thing that was left for Astarion was a note he found on a spawn:

-------

"My Dear spawn, how dare you to run away from me. Know that there will be consequences for your actions, and your lover will not be spared from my wrath. You will regret ever crossing me, my child."

-------

Her wrists were bound by heavy shackles, chains attached to the wall, preventing her from moving more than a few inches. The sharp metal dug into her skin, causing her to wince in pain every time she struggled against them. Her body was covered in bruises, cuts, and burns, the result of Cazador's ruthless torture techniques.

Cazador stood in front of Tav, a wicked grin on his face. He held a whip in his hand, the same one he had used to lash Tav's back until it bled. She could barely lift her head to look at him, her body exhausted and broken.

"Pathetic," Cazador sneered, his eyes filled with malice. "You thought you could hide from me? A mere mortal challenging a vampire? How foolish."

Cazador stood in front of her, his face twisted into a sadistic grin. "You think your lover, Astarion, will save you from me? He will help me ascend and be nothing more than dirt on the floor. And soon, you will be too. Tell me where is the boy."

Tav's heart sank at the mention of Astarion's name. All Tav wanted was to trade with a merchant to gift Astarion a better dagger. But now, here she was, captured and tortured.

"Never," Tav spat, defiant even in the face of her tormentor.

Cazador's grin widened. "We'll see about that, my dear. We have ways of making you talk."

He signaled to his spawn, Petras, and he poked at Tav's skin with a hot metal rod. She cried out in pain, her body bruised and bloodied. But she refused to say any information.

"You will never have Astarion again," Tav gasped, her voice weak from the beatings.

Cazador's smile turned into a scowl, and he grabbed Tav's chin roughly, forcing her face to meet his. "You wretched thing."

Cazador motioned for Petras to stop as he approached Tav, snatching the hot iron rod from Petras’s hand. Tav's eyes widened in terror as she realized what he was about to do.

"Please, no," she begged, tears streaming down her face.

But Cazador didn't listen. He pressed the hot iron against Tav's skin, causing her to scream in agony. The smell of burning flesh filled the dungeon.

"I will make you suffer until you give me what I want," Cazador growled, enjoying every moment of Tav's pain.

Tav's body shook with sobs as the torture continued. She thought of Astarion, their love, and their plans for the future. She refused to let Cazador break her, even if it meant her death.

"I said no, you bastard!," Tav cried, her voice hoarse from screaming.

Cazador continued to torture her, and Tav's thoughts became consumed with memories of Astarion. The way he looked at her with love, the cold touch of his lips on hers.

"I love you, Astarion," she whispered, tears streaming down her face.

But as the darkness of the dungeon consumed her, Tav feared she'd never see Astarion again.

~

Astarion's heart raced as he crept through the dark and musty corridors of the dungeon. His mind clashed between anger and guilt. Astarion feared that Tav was somewhere within these walls, shackled and tortured by Cazador.

When Astarion reached Tav's cell, he caught sight of her. Tav's face was pale and bruised. She was shirtless and barely conscious.

But even in this state, Tav was still the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes on.

His hands trembled as he quickly picked the lock, and with a loud click, the chains that bound Tav fell to the ground, and Astarion's heart swelled with relief and anger. He scooped her up in his arms, ignoring Tav's cries of pain from the bruises and cuts covering her body.

"Shh, my love. It's me," he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "I've come to take you away from this place."

Tav's tear-stained face looked up at him, and her eyes widened in surprise. "Astarion? How did you find me?"

Astarion fixated his eyes on Tav's face, the sight of her hurt gaze ached his dead heart. "I will always find you, no matter where they try to hide you." He pulled the shirt off his back and covered Tav's bare chest.

Carefully, Astarion carried Tav out of the dungeon, making sure to avoid any spawns or traps along the way. It was especially hard when Tav winced to every movement.

Astarion stealth his way out of the palace and went back to camp. He felt anger gnawing at his chest. He should have been there to protect Tav, But he had failed, and now Tav had suffered because of his shortcomings.

When they got back to camp, their companions rushed to their side, relieved to see Tav alive. Shadowheart, Wyll, Gale, and Karlach swarmed around Astarion.

"Get out of the way! She needs to rest!" Astarion snapped in a fit of anger. His emotions were pouring out in the worst possible way, and whoever was in the way needed to move.

Astarion gently settled Tav onto his bed, frowning at the sight of her bruised and battered body. She winced in pain as he placed her down, but he quickly reassured her, "I'll take care of you."

He grabbed a small bucket of water and a cloth, carefully cleaning the dried blood and dirt from her skin. Tav winced again, tears streaming down her face as he touched her injuries.

Gods this is all my fault. Astarion gritted his teeth from the sting of remorse.

"It's going to be alright," he whispered, his voice trembling. "I promise, I won't let anyone hurt you like this again."

Cazador will pay for this.

Tav weakly reached out to wipe away the tears that had fallen from his eyes, a small smile tugged on her chipped lips. "Don't cry, Astarion. You're here now, and that's all that matters."

He couldn't help but chuckle at her stubbornness, even in her injured state. "Your wit amazes me, my dear."

Astarion continued to clean and tend to her wounds, his hands gentle and careful than anything he'd ever touched in the past 200 years. Tav winced and hissed in pain, but she never once pulled away. She simply gripped his hand tightly as he worked, her eyes shut tightly.

Tav winced as he tended to a particularly deep cut on her arm. "It hurts," she whispered, tears forming in her eyes.

"I know, my dear," Astarion's eyes narrowed at her pain. "But I promise, I'll make it better."

After what seemed like hours, Astarion finally finished and leaned back, a satisfied look on his face. "There, all done."

Tav slowly opened her eyes and looked down at her now clean and bandaged skin. "Thank you..." The burn marks would scar her skin forever. It was something Tav looked past for her own sake.

"You are strong," he continued, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. "And I will do everything in my power to protect you and keep you safe from Cazador."

Tav reached up and cupped his cheek, she whispered. "I trust you.."

Astarion leaned down and pressed his lips against Tav's, pouring all of his emotions into the kiss. Tav pushed against his lips gently, while his hands held Tav's shoulders. When they pulled away Tav could see the desperation in his eyes and it was heartbreaking.

"Rest now, my dear. I'll be here when you wake up." And with that, Astarion stayed by Tav's side, watching over her as she drifted off to sleep.

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