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napeoftheneck · 2 years

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9:10 pm

The oil candle burns. Its illumination warms the cold hues of his office as Levi works on yet another pile of paperwork, except he’s becoming actively more distracted as the seconds go since his door opened and closed silently, and a body laid down on the leather couch to his left a few minutes ago.

He didn’t bother to look up at the intruder, then, knowing exactly who would dare to just come in like that, the familiarity of the action implanting itself as a daily habit in his brain.

Except that usually he just keeps on working, focusing on the task at hand so he could quickly finish and eventually follow up with his nightly routine with you, but today seems like it won’t allow that to happen. He can hear your light breathing, can see you from the corner of his eye, and he has to physically restrain himself from looking your way as he knows that all hope will be lost to his paperwork if he does.

It’s been a rather difficult day for the pair of you. With the preparations for an upcoming expedition getting more and more draining, everyone’s nerves start to naturally get worse. People are getting angrier at each other, you can see the cadets’ profound fear right through their eyes, and some people start spitting shit without knowing who’s listening.

And apparently, even Levi Ackerman isn’t immune to what people can say behind his back.

He knows who he is. He knows he can be perceived as cruel, stoic, inconsiderate, all sorta shitty stuff, he’s aware of it all and learned how to live it long ago without letting it bother him in the slightest. He can be called a cold-blooded killer right in his damn face and he’d agree, but when someone else is put in the narrative, and when that someone is you, it apparently changes everything.

He was unbothered at first, used to the banter thrown at him left and right, but he made the mistake of thinking about it, and his comrades could visibly see his irritation get worse throughout the day.

And they already deal with the grumpy man on the daily, it wasn't really that big of a change, except everyone started to slowly realize that he isn’t reacting like he usually does when they pick on him.

And to top everything off, you weren’t near the whole day.

He doesn’t know who was talking. Doesn’t know their names if he wanted to punish them or file for demotion, but he thinks that it barely even matters. He probably wouldn’t do anything if he could just because he thinks that maybe, maybe what they said is true.

“I don’t know how they ended up together, to be honest!” One of them had said. “They’re polar opposites! I don't know how the Sergeant handles him.”

“He ssoooo doesn’t deserve her. She’s way too nice to be stuck with someone like him.”

“What does she even see in him? He may be pretty in the face but he’s such an asshole, dude!”

“I bet he doesn’t even treat her right. How can someone like him even love?”

He didn’t need to hear that. He already had his doubts, he didn’t fucking need to hear that.

For real, how did you even come to like him back? How does anyone fall in love with someone like him? Yet here you are, sleeping on his couch, waiting for him to finish work because you can’t fall asleep unless you’re touching him.

Yet you wake up every day and look at him with that smile on your face, like he deserves everything good in this world.

He can’t help it, the constant feeling of never being enough. You’re like the sun, too bright and too warm to be contained, a gold shine forever painting the surface of your skin that he wishes he can kiss forever, just to make sure you were actually real.

You’re warm, considerate, kind, everything he’s not, his polar opposite, yet here you are.

How is this possible?

Levi loses his fight with his body and finally gazes at you.

You have an arm under your head, laying on your side to face him, eyes lightly shut. Your uniform still hugs your body, hair a neat mess on top of your head, and you make sure to keep your boots off the couch like Levi always tells you.

God, what would he do if you left? If you just realize how shitty he is and decide you don’t want anything to do with him anymore?

“You’re staring.” Your soft voice slightly startles the saddened man, his eyes widen a bit, but you keep yours closed. “Are you done with your paperwork?”

“No, not yet.”

You flutter your eyes open. “A break, then?”

Levi hesitates. He wants to touch you, wants to keep you as close to him as possible, yet feels undeserving even of that.

He doesn’t reply. His eyes do their little zoning out thing that you take notice of, and you can see what Hange was telling you of him just before you pass by. His jaw is set too firm, Adam's apple moving harshly against his delicate skin, and his eyebrows are furrowed. You don't even think that he is aware of his frown.

He only snaps back to reality when you start moving off the couch and closer to him. Something flashes in his eyes, you think you are mistaken when you take it for panic because it is wiped away from his expression as quickly as it appears.

Levi’s heart is surely going to burst out of his chest if it continues on like this. It gets even worse when your hand touches his, and you can’t help but notice when his chest trembles as he tries to regulate a healthy rhythm, and it only fuels your worry more.

You climb on his lap, his hands immediately finding your back, while yours roam from his trembling, toned chest to tense shoulders that only seem to relax under your touch.

You smile at him. You’re always smiling at him.

“Do you wanna talk to me about anything?” You ask in the softest voice you can.

Levi’s brain seems to high-wire because, once again, he fails to reply. His confused frown turns sad, turns desperate only little by little, and his arms tighten around you like you can disappear right then and there, turn into fine dust and leave him strangled with only bittersweet memories.

His usually straight lips are curved the slightest of curves downwards, and his gaze seems unable to look anywhere but your eyes.

Levi isn’t great with words, you’ve known so for so long already, so when he stays quiet, your hand finds a cold cheek. He leans in your touch, even though you can see that he tries to restrain himself from doing so, and the look on his face just breaks your heart.

Your smile fades, expression morphing into sad worry.

“What’s wrong, my love?”

My love. Your nickname to him will forever have him feeling as if he’s hearing it for the first time.

You think it’s the expedition, just like it is for all of you. He usually gets cranky before expeditions, giving you all those instructions here and there, pulling you away for some extra training even, but this is new.

The more he trains you the less worried he is about you in expeditions as you slowly but surely become another version of him minust all the extra crack, but the worry you see in his expression right now isn’t the kind of worry you’re used to before marching to your death.

Maybe something happened, something shifted, made his anxiety skyrocket, but you’ll never know unless he tells you.

Even as you hold each other like this, he doesn’t think he is loving you enough. He thinks you deserve the world, the sun, the stars, everything that shines just the way you do, everything that he is not.

You’re so good. Your love for him is way more than he deserves.

Levi shuts his eyes before they can get teary, and you’re immediately pulling him in your embrace. With a hand in his hair and the other going up and down his back soothingly, you hold him as he should be held, with all the love and care you can provide.

His arms tighten around you so much that you hear a vertebrae or two cracking, but you never let out your discomfort. You massage his scalp as he nuzzles your neck, and his breath is still shaky.

You’ve barely ever seen Levi like this.

“I’m here,” You gently tell him. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’m so sorry.” His muffled words barely make it to your ear.

“What are you apologizing for?” You whisper softly, lips brushing against the top of his ear. “There’s nothing to apologize about, my love.”

There is. He thinks. There are plenty.

“Can I touch you?” His voice is small, yet dark and husky.

It warms your heart that he still always asks for that when he’s feeling down, to touch you, to feel your skin against his. It grounds him, he’s told you. Makes you feel more real.

You nod against his head and pull back to help him unbutton the shirt that lies underneath the green coat. He pulls it out of your pants, unties the binder tied tightly around your chest, and just pulls you back into your previous position again.

His lips lightly graze the skin of his neck, you fight the urge to pull away from the ticklish spot, but you’re soon distracted by the hands that roam your upper body. His touch is intimate, as if he is massaging.

Fingers trail from your stomach, to your waist, then up your back until he lovingly presses you to him by your nape with a firmer grip.

You let him do everything he pleases, letting your own eyes close as you rest your temple on the side of his head, fingers forever sinking in the raven hair. He plants a light kiss to where your shoulder meets your neck.

“You’re too good.” You hear him muffle. The feather-light touch of his fingers running down your middle soon turns into his whole hand. It trails down from your neck, between your breasts, down your diaphragm and onto your side until he settles right before your belt, and his touch turns firmer here. “Always too good for me.”

You pull away just enough to look him in the eye. Your hand returns to his cheek, and this time, you find dazed steel staring back at you, as if drunk on your touch.

What the hell could’ve happened to have him end up like this?

You pull him in for a chaste kiss, but the hand on your nape brings you closer, grip filled with need and something else, something you can’t tell, something that seems to be bubbling over him. You're pressed flush against him, bodies soon molding into one, and maybe Levi forgets his strength when he holds you like this because you’re almost out of breath.

You take matters in your own hands, then, bringing your hands up to his shoulders and you begin to massage, earning a breathy moan from the man underneath you. His grip loosens on your nape when you massage a knot away in his, and you’re given your chance to breathe when he soon relaxes enough.

You rest your forehead against his, panting slightly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Your very soul could shatter at the look in his eyes, then. Because he looks up, eyes ever so glossy and oh so damn sad, desperate, scared you dare say. He tries to whisper something but it comes out incoherent, and you don’t ask him to repeat it when he doesn’t. A calloused hand falls from your nape to hold your cheek, mirroring your very position, and he pulls you in again.

It is gentler this time, slower. Your hands still massage every possible tight muscle you find, deliciously swallowing the pretty sounds he produces from the sensation.

Something clicks, then.

You pull back, his hands still roam your upper body. Levi’s lips try to chase after yours but they attach to the corner of his lips instead, to his cheek, down to line his jaw, and down to his neck. You move slow, make every kiss count, make sure that he feels your intention, make sure he feels loved.

That’s a difficult task, Levi never had anyone that makes him feel this way until you came along, and the unfamiliarity of the feeling always sends him close to tears.

There’s nothing lustful laying behind either your intentions. You kiss his scarred skin like it’s the last thing you can give him. You unbutton the first few buttons of his shirt and let your hand feel the toned muscles of his chest as you kiss away the pain, feeling his adam’s apple struggle where your lips land.

A hand slips in his hair, he tilts his head back.

“I love you so much,” You tell him, your lips brushing his skin. “So, so much, Levi. I can barely verbalise it.” Your head raises to hover above his, your free hand gently caressing where his skin is still wet with your kisses. The hand in his hair brushes it out of his face so you can take a clearer look, and it’s fucked up how you feel your own eyes water. “You’ll never know how much you really mean to me.”

“I don’t deserve this.”

“You deserve the world,” You reply instantly, teary eyes pouring emotions into his. “Walls, you deserve everything good this universe has to offer, Levi.”

The words tick him off. He tries to hide his face, tries to look away from you as he finally begins to break, but your hold is firm when you hold him still.

“I could write endless poems about every little quirk you have. About the color of your eyes. About every scar I've traced on your body, all the way down to the way you hold your damn ridiculous tea cups. I love you so much, Levi, I can barely contain it.”

A silent tear escapes the corner of his eye, and you never hesitate to kiss it as it lands down to his cheekbone. You linger there, feeling rough hands softly trace the line between your shoulder blades. You don’t notice that your own tears have been released until his thumb wipes under your eye, returning the favor.

“I wish I could love like you,” He whispers.

“Your love is already more than enough.”

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napeoftheneck · 2 years

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Will you ever continue “the rule of beasts”??

Hey! I actually do intend to eventually if you guys would be interested :) I have no pending requests at the moment, so if you want you can shoot me a request and I’ll write it !

#attack on titan imagine #attack on titan x reader #aot imagines #Eren Yeager x reader #eren jeager x reader

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napeoftheneck · 2 years

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no one touches me my sunshine is back

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napeoftheneck · 2 years

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Jo!! CONGRATS ON THE 500!!!

I have a cute request based on this fic I wrote. Levi looking under the bed searching for reader. Imagining him like that with strands of his hair brushing the floor makes my heart soft <3

Thank you Nela!!!!

I've read your fic. SO SWEET!!! 🥺SO TOUCHING!!!

I could imagine everything immediately <333

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napeoftheneck · 3 years

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At the Doorframe (Annie Leonhart x Marleyan!Reader)

Hey besties! This wasn't requested, but I wrote a little scenario I thought was quite sweet and I thought I'd upload it here!! I imagine the Warriors would've had friends or loved ones at home, I was surprised when nothing like it was really touched on, so I wrote one!! I wrote this reader as gender-neutral !!

Title: At the Doorframe Genre: Angst?? Ig??? It's sad Warnings: Mentions of war, depictions of anxiety(?), general sadness

ATTACK ON TITAN SEASON 4 SPOILERS BELOW THE CUT!!

Your eyes killed her.

Annie swore to be a level-headed soldier her father would be proud of, however, whenever you looked at her like that, she reconsidered her entire identity. In moments like these, as the soft dawn chased them down, it was more of a hindrance than anything.

Your hands fidget slightly, filling in the blanks your lack of words left, jogging your memory. Annie is wordless too as she watches you, head hung slightly lower than usual.

She should’ve been celebrating like her father or the other warriors. Yet, she stood at her doorframe like a scorned child. You clear your throat, though your cough is shallow as if you hadn’t been clearing it of anything at all.

“You’re really going,” you murmur. “That training went a lot faster than I thought it would.” Annie finally looks up and meets your eyes through blonde eyelashes and knitted eyebrows. In the harsh apricots of a dying summer sun, the fabric bundled around your arm is glaring. You catch her eyes wandering to it and re-adjust yourself awkwardly. “You’ll see me again.” She concedes, unsure of whether she was convincing herself or you. You smile, though Annie understood the lack of sincerity. “I know.” You respond. “You’re strong - miles stronger than anyone else in that group,” Annie nods. You mirror her strangely. They were your words. You were believing in them and you, of course, held yourself to them; why were you nodding with her as if you were accepting them too?

Silence plagues you again.

It’s unwelcome. It’s unwelcome because it’s entirely still in a time when Annie wanted nothing more than to scream or cry, to dig her nails into your skin so that you would understand just how scared she actually was and you would cry, too. Instead, she watches you swallow rhythmically as if to swallow a wave of building nausea.

It’s not a stranger to her; she feels it, too. Annie is suddenly hyper-aware of the ticking clock above the front door. Her eyes drift upward.

“I’m leaving soon,” she confirms. You seem to recoil physically. You’re suddenly far less composed than before, fists balling into tight balls beside your legs. “Oh.” You attempt to seem less viscerally bothered by her words than you were, but your body betrayed you because Annie could see the tears building in your waterline much clearer now. “Okay.” Annie reaches for something behind the door, fiddling with it awkwardly. “Sorry.” She murmurs. “‘S okay.” You reply. You sniff quickly. “I’ll have to get back before they realise I’m gone before the ceremony, anyways. Um. Good luck.”

They.

They’re your family. Addressing them like that was unpatriotic. Despite being free from the presence of any lecturers, Annie can’t stop herself from noting it. She scolds herself for thinking about you like that. You were nothing like her. You didn’t deserve to be held to these esteems; you weren’t a warrior. You were good.

She nods. “Thanks.” You kick up some dirt with the tip of your boot, wet eyes cast downward. If your superiors would’ve seen you like that, they would’ve deemed it an act of humiliation and scolded you. However, Annie does no such thing. Instead, she is silent. Her throat bulges with unsaid words taking the form of bile. She wasn’t sure if it was out of fear or apprehension or if it was a horrible mixture of both. It certainly wasn’t the excitement Porco described - it wasn’t pleasant.

She leaves those words unsaid as she watches you turn your back to her.

Gravel crunches under your house shoes as you walk, apprehension plaguing your posture despite how hard you attempted to look sure of yourself.

You stop in your tracks.

Annie squints, raising a pale hand to the sun. She had just about been able to make out the silhouette of your legs, running, when she suddenly feels your weight collide with her, knocking her slightly backwards. Your arms are around her neck, your face nuzzling deep into the crook. Wetness pools around the fabric of her shirt and it takes Annie a moment to register that they were from tears.

Sobs racked your already shaking body, though Annie realised that they were stifled in fear of anyone being awoken. She reaches to embrace you tighter, shutting her eyes as she presses her hand to the back of your head, gently locking you to her. “I don’t want you to go,” you whimper into her shoulder, and Annie’s resolve threatens to come apart. “I want you to stay here with me,” “I know,” She responds. “It’s my duty.” “It’s an unfair duty,” Annie is silenced. “It’s evil. What if they find you? What if they’re stronger? What if you die?” you cry, breaking the embrace to look at her head-on. "You'll be in trouble if anyone hears you," Instinctively, her voice hushes. Instinctively, Annie surveys the surrounding area for any officials quickly and frantically. Her eyes are wide, but Annie isn’t entirely sure why she was so taken aback; she had contemplated her own death every night since being elected. But hearing it from you, and like this was jarring. It was a stranger she wishes she didn’t have to face. But there you stood, in front of her, with two hands eclipsing the view around her. She couldn’t run or look away. She couldn’t fight death when it was looking at her like that. "I don't care anymore, Annie, I-"

You’re teary-eyed when she kisses you. It’s entirely foreign, albeit welcomed as you stagger backwards at the sudden impact. Your sobs are swallowed, instead translated into your lips as you embrace her again.

Annie doesn’t understand why she did it. Although, as she breaks the kiss, she is almost convinced that she had rid you of any mania.

She knew better.

As you pressed your forehead to hers and smile at her, although she returns a small simper and a word of assurance, she is entirely knowledgeable to just how temporary it was. In a few hours, she would be gone. You would be alone and you would remain so until she returned.

The clock continues to tick.

She’ll dwell on it later, she thinks. For now, though, you are here and you are well. If not forever, she could have this moment where you were whole. If she were to die on that island, if it meant being able to be there with you in that single moment forever, it would’ve been worth it.

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napeoftheneck · 3 years

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·˚✎ ﹏ masterlist

╰─▗ ▘➤𖥸 requests are currently OPEN

╰ please read my rules before requesting anything

╰ last updated: 09-06-21

→ Ymir ✧ Rivers of Crimson - angst, hurt/comfort, happy ending

→ Annie Leonhart ✧ At the Doorframe - angst, marley reader

→ Eren Yeager ✧ The Rule of Beasts - angst, warrior reader

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napeoftheneck · 3 years

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At the Doorframe (Annie Leonhart x Marleyan!Reader)

Title: At the Doorframe Genre: Angst?? Ig??? It's sad Warnings: Mentions of war, depictions of anxiety(?), general sadness

ATTACK ON TITAN SEASON 4 SPOILERS BELOW THE CUT!!

Your eyes killed her.

Your hands fidget slightly, filling in the blanks your lack of words left, jogging your memory. Annie is wordless too as she watches you, head hung slightly lower than usual.

Silence plagues you again.

It’s not a stranger to her; she feels it, too. Annie is suddenly hyper-aware of the ticking clock above the front door. Her eyes drift upward.

They.

She leaves those words unsaid as she watches you turn your back to her.

Gravel crunches under your house shoes as you walk, apprehension plaguing your posture despite how hard you attempted to look sure of yourself.

You stop in your tracks.

Annie doesn’t understand why she did it. Although, as she breaks the kiss, she is almost convinced that she had rid you of any mania.

She knew better.

The clock continues to tick.

#I love her #homo moment #annie leonhart x reader #annie leonhart imagine #aot x reader #attack on titan x reader #aot imagine #aot imagines #attack on titan imagine #attack on titan imagines #attack on titan season 4 spoilers

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napeoftheneck · 3 years

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hi! i love your writing. woudl you ever write a hange x reader smut?

Hi!! I actually don't write smut, as I have no way to confirm if the anon is above 18 (and I myself am a minot) and it makes me feel a bit icky if I do!! BUT I would absolutely write Hange if you send another request, they are one of my favourites to write.

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napeoftheneck · 3 years

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hey bestie! How about a fic about a Marleyan warrior who came to Paradis along with Reiner, Annie and Bertholdt. The Marleyan warrior then falls for Eren ( and Eren falls for her too ) her identity then gets revealed and Eren feels BETRAYED y'know cause he loved her very much. Then, after reader and Reiner gets back to Marley, she falls into depression, she also gets traumas from what happened. The 4 years later, during the raid of Liberio, Eren sees her. Then she transforms and they have to fight 😭😭

HEY!! I've posted this !! you can read it here Do yall say yeager or jeager???? sorry if i used the wrong one LMAO

#aot season 4 spoilers #attack on titan season 4 spoilers

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napeoftheneck · 3 years

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The Rule of Beasts (Eren Yeager x Warrior!reader)

MAJOR ATTACK ON TITAN SEASON 4 SPOILERS !!!

Hey bestie! Sorry this took so long, writing for Eren is a STRUGGLE on its own but pairing that with a Marleyan reader makes it seem like I’m writing the 95 Theses. I’ve done it though! I just want to thank you guys for requesting despite having no teaser to see what I write like! I appreciate it. Hope u enjoy :)

Title: The Rule of Beasts

Genre: Angst

Warnings: Blood, canon-typical violence, war, depiction of depression/trauma/PTSD brought from war, swearing, major injuries, Eren is mean as hell in this (I use she/her pronouns for the reader in this as it was in the request! If you want any changes, please feel free to dm me or submit an ask!). ALSO, the quote used for the title is one I've seen EVERYWHERE, but I can't find who originally said it. If anyone knows, let me know!!

Major spoilers for Attack On Titan season 4 below the cut!!!

“We’re not friends. We were never friends.”

Since your return to Marley some years ago, those words persecuted you like a condemnation. The dismay they brought you was incessant, though it was nothing compared to the agony concealing it brought.

Reiner seemed to be handling it well. He could look his mother in her wavering eyes and recount the story of the potato girl with little faltering and he could sit before Gabi, Udo, Zofia and Falco to give impudent answers on the spot.

You were nothing akin to it.

Upon your return, you were no longer the dominant and capable warrior sent by Marley to scour Paradisians. You were a husk.

The way they gawked at you, whispering as you passed and lowered their voices to a soft, below-octave hum as if you could break if they spoke any louder told you everything about how they had seen you now. Now, alongside Reiner, you were shaken.

You were a child that allowed herself to be shaken by the horrors of a war you weren't prepared to fight in. Not alongside Reiner, anyway.

The fact that you had survived had been a testament to nothing. It meant nothing.

Without your frequent appearance past public displays of your status, you meant nothing. When you returned home, your facade crumbled. You were plagued with thoughts of what you had done to them - to him.

You slept and dreamt of the moment where Eren Jeager had confided in you and you looked him in the eyes and swore to cleanse the world of those beasts that killed his mother. You shared tender moments with him knowing that those beasts were your friends - that they were you. You nodded along as he spoke of a world where you could live together, peacefully, without Titans. Meanwhile, your true allies would be waiting for you that dawn to plan how you could ruin them more.

Whenever you dreamed (it wasn’t often) it was of him. Sometimes it would be of moments you weren’t present for - of the moment he heard your name when listing missing soldiers. Often, it wasn’t.

“Don’t touch me, don’t even-don’t even look at me! You took years of my life from me and I’ll never get them back. Do you understand that?!”

There it was again. It happened every time. You were on the branch, you felt the thick air heave through your lungs, yet you felt like you were drowning in it.

You knew the situation well now. He had no hands to fight you with. Ymir watched from beside him. If you looked up, Reiner would be stood tiredly, Bertholdt would be slumped against the trunk. “(Y/n), just let it go.” He would sigh, raking a large, scarred hand over his face.

You wished you listened. You never did. No matter how many times you’ve dreamed this dream, you never said what you needed to. You always said the same thing; “Eren,” it was always so tired. Your vision would always fade. “I wrote you a letter every day where I told you everything in vivid, drawn-out detail - I confessed to everything - but I couldn't ever show you. I couldn’t hurt my friend like th-“

“We’re not friends. We were never friends.”

A loud, echoing roar sounds from beyond the stage before you and you are momentarily struck from your daydream.

The declaration of war was upon you and, deep down, you knew something gruesome, something catastrophic would come of it. You weren't dull. Yet, there you sat, complicit. The crimson band around your arm burned your skin even under your coat like a crucifix upon the skin of the unholy.

You are grounded now, suddenly conscious of where you were.

The coldness of the night bit harshly your nose and ears, tearing you from whatever remaining stupor that had a hold on you.

Your eyes snap upward, toward the piercing flashes that now emitted from under the stage. People clambered around you, squealing and shoving their way past you. You angle your head to see what had caused such a commotion, but it didn’t take you long to discern the state of the audience.

Rubble, blood and fleeing townspeople flooded it.

From your spot behind the stage, you could see the resulting catastrophe clearly. However, it’s when you look up that left you staggering backwards.

Him.

It was unmistakably him, though the attack Titan looked much larger than you retained. It was much greater, now, because you were below it. You were at its mercy.

No longer, like before, were you in his territory. You weren’t the charlatan among others, he was. Because he didn't belong here. He was a threat to your people, your land; no longer to his own.

The fear made the damage look grim; it made him look massive.

Eren was in there.

You think of it and suddenly you are 15 again. Suddenly, you are brushing his hair, coaxing him to sleep through rough rain and thunderstorms. You suddenly feel his arms around you again, you feel the warmth from the night of your graduation.

You fought with yourself, biting back the feeling of familiarity, of recognition.

He wasn’t your friend anymore; he was the enemy now.

You didn’t want to fight him.

You just watched him kill what seemed to be hundreds of your people, and you were certain he had brought his own people with him, but you couldn't find it within yourself to do what you knew you must.

Someone grabbed your arm, and you momentarily tear your eyes from the familiar beast.

“Ms. (L/n)! You’re safe!” You don’t recognise the woman speaking to you, but she grasps your sleeve as though she knew you well. Her hand was coated thickly with crimson. A child weeps behind her dress. She weeps something about having lost her daughter to the rubble and she begs for you to do something.

Your expression hardens as she’s whisked away by a guard, who orders something about getting to safety. You watch her disappear into a large crowd as you search your pocket for the familiar coldness of your switchblade.

Eren Yeager had killed your people.

He had, in this stunt, mowed through thousands at this point and surely would do what he could do to make his destructive way to your friends.

You flick it along your palm.

Violence for violence was the rule of beasts. You would get to him before he could.

#LMAO i hate writing eren #so this is like #90% reader-centric #whatevs #eren x reader #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan imagine #shingeki no kyojin x reader #shingeki no kyojin imagine #eren yeager x reader #eren jeager x reader #eren yeager imagine #eren jeager imagine #aot season 4 spoilers

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napeoftheneck · 3 years

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YOUR YMIR FIC IS SO GOOD DO YOU HAVE A AO3?

Thank you!!!!! I have an AO3! I’m currently writing a Hange/reader and a Levi/OC, and working on a Momojirou fic! My AO3 is urnanimegf <3

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napeoftheneck · 3 years

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aot boys when you call them “daddy”

18+

warnings: nsfw with some characters, female-bodied reader, dumbest shit you’ll ever read 🤩

pairings: eren x reader, armin x reader, jean x reader, connie x reader, reiner x reader, porco x reader, zeke x reader, bertholdt x reader, colt x reader

↳ to be added to my taglist, please fill out this ♡form♡

thank you for the request ✰

#I didn’t ask to be born is so funny plsss

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napeoftheneck · 3 years

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→ Ymir ✧ Rivers of Crimson - angst, hurt/comfort, happy ending

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napeoftheneck · 3 years

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hi legend can u do angst w a happy ending w ymir pls 🛐

hey cutie pie, this has been uploaded! you can read it here

#ymir was my first request #i stay winning #yall saw lesbian in my bio and ran

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napeoftheneck · 3 years

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Rivers of Crimson (Ymir x Reader)

I absolutely can bestie! I had a hard time trying to find out what I could do for some angst without being yk. One of those “I’m not Christa :(“ fics, so here’s some hurt/comfort w/ some extra angst mixed in !! Angst is my absolute favourite to write, I’m so elated that it’s is my first request. Especially with Ymir, too !! Thank u <3<3

Title: Rivers of crimson Genre: Angst w/happy ending, hurt/comfort Warnings: Canon-typical violence, descriptions of injuries, angst, swearing, Ymir being kind of a meanie, fighting, implied comphet if you really REALLY squint Word count: ~1.7k

IMPLIED SPOILERS FOR SEASON 2 OF ATTACK ON TITAN !!

(There was no specific request for a WLW reader, so I tried to keep it as gender-neutral as I can :>)

Ymir had never really felt helpless since her youth. Even then, in those moments, she felt as though she had been ruling, that whatever she could do would bring praise and gratitude and triumph. It was only after she had been adjudged when she realised that the reason she sought after that feeling of authority for so long was because of just how dependent she had actually convinced herself she was.

Becoming a god was the loneliest feeling in the world, but solitude brought a power not many had; it brought independence. She never had to worry about others.

She often found herself watching her fellow cadets when they returned from battle. Ymir would often follow as they broke down, crumbling to their knees in wracked sobs upon hearing of the demise of their loved ones. She would listen to the hums of commiseration from other soldiers or watch as they would help the mourning fighter to their feet and lead them away from others' scrutinising eyes. She wouldn't pity them. The feeling of sympathy was foreign to her.

Ymir had been fighting for a grand portion of her life now. She had held herself to those same beliefs since her first day of training, so she was specifically surprised when she had taken such a liking to you.

She fought it for a while. Whenever you would sit with her at lunch, she would make an effort to seem uninterested when you spoke of your day. When you stumbled during training, she would correct you, but would mask whatever tenderness that found her voice with a sigh or a comment implying that you “need to suck it up”.

Yet, despite how she pushed and strayed from you, you remained a constant in her life of inconsistencies. Eventually, you were the closest to what she could call a friend.

Ymir ignored how, whenever you would patch her wounds or link to her on cold nights or how often you would sleep in the same bed, she was far too mercenary to label you as something other than a friend. Even that was stretching it.

Though, in moments like these, Ymir wished that she was raw enough to let you know. Because, in moments like these, she would be terrified to misspeak.

You wouldn’t fight often. Not like this.

You had mentioned having to “get up early” off-handedly during dinner when excusing yourself from the table. Ymir asked about it and you mentioned a scout that had been injured, whom you volunteered yourself to replace for an outer-walls mission. You said it all so casually. Ymir couldn’t grasp any sarcasm in your voice or crack in your authored facade as you brushed through your hair in the mirror of her chambers. She didn’t see you make eye contact with her once. You spoke to her coolly about how happy you were to finally be able to sleep, about the dinner and how it was cold that day, about how Jean had snuck some of your apple at lunch that day.

Ymir just stood in silence, considering and rejecting things to say in response.

“Were you gonna tell me about how you’re leaving tomorrow, or was I just supposed to wake up without you and put it together myself?” She spoke before thinking. You hesitated, hovering over your cupboard. “Ymir, it’s not a big deal,” you finally sigh, running a hand through your hair the moment it’s freed. “I said it was just a capture mission. Hange said we won’t go far-“ “You can't go.” You narrow your eyes. You had now frozen in your tracks completely; no longer pacing around the room to place things in their correct spaces. “I’m not a child,” you speak gently, as if to a rabid dog. The blaze in her eyes was enough to pardon it. “I don’t have to ask your approval to work. I don’t need you next to me,” you deride lightly, insignificantly, as you turn your back to her. You didn’t plan to sound so dismissive. “Are you seriously being this fucking petty right now? You could die out there,” Ymir, however, fully intended her venomous rhythm. She towers over you, if not just in her tone alone. “You’re being stupid. You know you're not strong enough to fight with that squad.” Your breath hitches in your throat. Ymir regrets her words immediately, but she doesn’t waver in her stance. “What the fuck is your problem?” you sneer. “You insist on how little you care about me, but as soon as I do anything without your permission you yell at me?” “That’s not what this is about, (y/n)-” “Then what is it about, Ymir? Why are you so scared?” “I don't give a shit about what happens to you! I'm just-” Ymir catches herself before she can finish her sentence. “No, I-” “Exactly,” before she can correct herself, though, you are biting y our lip the way you do when you're biting back tears and you are in front of her. “Move. I need to go to bed.”

She is wordless as she steps to the side and allowing you to pass her. It isn't until she hears your footsteps down the hall when she speaks.

“If you come back, I won’t be here.” She hears you stop. Ymir doesn't expect you to come running to her, arms open and folded clothing discarded into a pile on the hallway floor. She isn't entirely sure why she's digging such a hole for herself - she doesn't mean what she's saying - of course she doesn't, she adores you, so why is she so set on pushing you as far away as she possibly can? Why does she feel that she needs to? “Good.” you reply. The footsteps continue, then you are gone.

You are gone for three days.

Ymir, at first, didn’t count the hours. She stewed in her angst alone for a grand portion of the morning without you; she dutifully avoided talking about whatever mission you had left for at the table that morning.

Despite herself, Ymir had to eventually confront her weakness after the third consecutive “Are you okay?” Of that day that she wasn’t doing as good of a job of hiding her worry as she had thought.

She thought she didn’t seem too bothered when your name was mentioned at the breakfast table.

She thought she didn’t look too obviously intrigued when, 30 hours since you left (she swore she hadn’t counted), she heard Captain Levi murmur something about a retrieval squad. She thought she didn’t sound so desperate when she attempted to bring it casually up in conversation, yet she couldn’t fight the cracks in her voice and she couldn’t stop herself from wringing her hands over her wrists in worry when she thought nobody was looking. Helplessness went from being a stranger to a thorn at her side in a matter of hours.

It had been the dawn of the fourth day when Ymir was awoken by a creek by her door. She remained stiff as she listened to light footsteps approach her bed, but she softens when she hears you. When she sat up, unsure of whether you were actually there or if she had just been consumed by grief and began to hallucinate, you winced.

She blinks.

There are no words exchanged. Ymir debates speaking, though her body moves before she can and, in minutes, you are sat in the bathroom and she is kneeling in front of you.

Ymir isn’t certain (it seems like she hadn’t been certain about anything at all for the past week) why she wasn’t crying. She isn’t sure why she’s so terrified to touch you, or to speak, or to maintain eye contact for longer than a millisecond.

You were in frightening shape. Had she not been petrified to talk, Ymir would be swearing under each breath. Blood still seeped from your open wounds, cascading in small, splitting rivers of crimson down the side of your face. It had likely been far too long since you had fought any kind of titan, Ymir thought. Their blood would've been long since steamed. It was your blood. You must have noticed her hesitance as she wiped it, gently, dreading that she would uncover another wound, because you broke the abundant, pregnant stillness

“They lost two scouts.” “Oh.” Ymir responds. An unfamiliar feeling settles uncomfortably in her gut. “I’m sorry.” You nod, then you are silent again.

Ymir takes a moment to resume her conscientious work.

There is no obligation between either of you to say anything more. Your eyes are fixed downward, resting heavily on Ymir as she squints at the cap of some kind of disinfectant. She’s biting her tongue. “I didn’t mean anything I said,” Ymir spoke to you suddenly and without looking you in the eyes. You’re thankful because it told you that you weren’t the only one too frightened to do so. “I do give a shit about what happens to you,” You laugh insignificantly, shaking your head. “I thought you died. I thought I lost you and the last things I said to you was that I wouldn’t be here, but I will. I’ll always be here.” She is desperate, rambling until she realises it and lulls herself.

You would say something dismissively comforting had it not been for the silence Ymir’s hand brought as it raised to your cheek and gently brushed a stray tear away. It is so small and trifling, yet it is gracious and fragile and kind and it means the universe to you.

“I know,” you respond. You don’t need to hear a long-drawn, significant plea. You don’t need it because, truthfully, you knew you likely wouldn’t get it from Ymir in the first place. However, as she guides you gently back into her bed, engulfing you in the white sheets, and places a small kiss on your forehead, something settles within you.

It was a feeling one would associate with the moments after receiving an apology; it is warm, tender, relieving.

You were home. You were safe.

You were loved.

Although she hadn’t said it, it wasn’t needed, because as Ymir’s arms tighten around you, you certainly felt it enough to maintain a sleepy smile as you drifted off alongside her.

#yall i love ymir so much but i think she is SO hard to write #ymir x reader #ymir #aot #attack on titan imagines #ymir imagines #ymir x you #aot imagines #attack on titan imagine #ymir oneshot #attack on titan oneshot #attack on titan x reader #shingeki no kyojin x reader #request!

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