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youre-ackermine · 6 months

Text

Echo

Characters: Levi Ackerman / Hange Zoe

Wordcount: 1025 approx.

Canon Universe / slightly suggestive / non-binary Hange / swearwords

It seemed like hours had passed since he had knocked on the carriage roof for the coachman to drive them back to HQ. The rain, no more than a drizzle when they had left, was now pouring heavily, adding its monotonous noise to the clatter of the wheels and of the horses' hooves on the paved road.

The meeting with the brass in the Stohess District had worn them both out but they still had so much to think, so much to work out. Well, Hange did at least. As a matter of fact, sitting on the bench opposite his, they were already writing down the final changes to the project suggested by the higher-ups.

The Squad Leader barely had had time to mourn Sawney and Bean. As soon as the Military Police investigation was completed, they had been discussing new action plans to flush out the culprits in Erwin's office until the dead of night. Every fucking night. For two fucking weeks.

The rest of their day was even more busy, Hange rummaging the library shelves or leaning over their desk engrossed in a big-ass book, locked in their lab drawing sketches for a new technical device. Every fucking day. For two fucking weeks.

The development of their research as well as the strategic aspects of Erwin's long-distance scouting formation plan for the expedition to come were frequently talked through in private meetings only a few Squad Leaders and the Captain himself attended. The scheme required secrecy for not only Eren's but also Humanity's fate were at stake.

Both the jolting of the coach moving on the cobblestones and the relentless beating of the rain against the vehicle had failed to bore him to sleep and he had a hard time trying to distract himself. No matter how much effort he put into concentrating on the scenery outside, his thoughts still pulled him back to that night he had tried to soothe their grief the only way he knew, bringing them a cup of tea and, later on, showing them how much he cared.

Too damn long! It had been too damn long since the last time he had touched Hange. Those past few days, they had just been able to steal a couple of hasty kisses, hiding in the shadows like some shameful teenagers. These brief encounters had left him in the grip of a burning frustration that his yearning heart could barely endure and that no stroke of his own hand could fully sweep out.

Levi startled as Hange let out a weary sigh and turned to look at them with a worried frown. The design they were correcting earlier lay abandoned on the bench beside them. They rubbed their eyes and pinched the bridge of their nose.

"Shit!" they muttered, "it has to work or else we're screwed!"

They adjusted their glasses and, trying to shake off their exhaustion, stretched their arms above their head as much as the cramped space allowed them to, their knee slightly brushing against his in the process.

Levi gulped as he took their slender shape in, eyes lingering on their arched figure then up on their small breasts. His cheeks flushed as he noticed their nipples showing through the fabric of their shirt, his thoughts instantly dragged back to that night again.

All of a sudden a bump in the road shook the carriage. The papers slipped off the bench and Levi promptly bent down to pick them up on the floor, a hand on Hange's leg to keep his balance as the coach still bounced.

His palm was already burning when he lifted his gaze towards Hange. Eyes locked with theirs, he put the sheets back on the seat absentmindedly and let himself dive in the amber shades of their irises.

He tried to ignore the irresistible urge drawing him to them every time they were together. He tried to ignore the unsteady rhythm of his heart pounding in his ears. He tried to ignore the butterflies fluttering in his chest when he looked at Hange.

But he failed. Terribly. Totally.

Giving in to the longing that had become almost unbearable, he slid his hand along their thigh up to their waist and got closer, his face now mere inches from theirs, his warm breath a feather-like caress over their lips.

In one effortless motion, he cut the distance to kiss Hange, enfolding his arms around their slender waist and, sitting back on his bench, drew them into his lap.

Nothing was more important to him now than their chest pressed against his, their body wrapping him in a tight embrace. He let himself sink into the slow, tender kiss, relishing the taste of their lips, humming in the warmth of their mouth.

Hange let out a delighted sigh at the feel of Levi's hands sliding up under their shirt and caressing their back. His lips had drifted from their mouth to trail kisses along their jawline and reached that sensitive spot under their ear, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

His hands kept wandering, drawing the scars on their skin, tracing the curves of their spine, slithering to their chest. His deft fingers gently grazed one of their nipples, his lips now moving down their neck.

Hange's skin shivered under Levi's soft touch and they moaned his name. They ran their fingers through his silky hair, pulling him close for a long, heated, desperate kiss.

When they finally pulled away, both light-headed and panting, they looked at each other in wonder.

The feeling was overwhelming, breathtaking.

Levi's chest tightened with emotion and he buried his head in Hange's neck, softly whispering their name again and again.

"You got into my head, Four-Eyes!" he blurted out. He kissed the crook of their neck.

"You got under my skin," and he pressed a few feather-light kisses up their neck.

"You got into my heart, Hange," only a faint whisper this time. And he kissed their earlobe.

Hange's eyes widened, then softened and fluttered shut in bliss as he held them impossibly closer against him and whispered something in their ear.

His words a murmured echo of their own breathless words.

This is for @dont-f-with-moogles 💕

This takes place two weeks after Bad Habit. I'm not as talented as you are but I hope you'll like it!

Happy Birthday Terra Darling 🎂

*****

Header: @youre-ackermine

*****

A/N: not beta/proof read - English is not my usual language

#levi ackerman #hange zoe #levi x hange #levihan #levihan drabble #levihan smut #non binary hange #nb!hange #slightly suggestive #canonverse #val writes ✍️

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chaotic-on-main · 1 year

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cw/tw: angst, death

Imagine Levi slowly making his way to your room in the barracks, the sounds of his steps lingering down the hallways as he does. It's been a couple weeks since the last time he has been to visit but he just couldn't get himself to go. Why he decided to go today, he doesn't know.

Your door comes into view at the end of the hallway. He remembers you complaining so many months ago about a supervisor who said that if you did their paperwork for a couple weeks, you'd be able to have that room. You wiggled your eyebrows when Levi asked why, you simply stated back, "It has the best view of the sunset." And it did.

He stops in front of the hard wooden door, noting the piercing silence that comes from behind it. It's foreign to him, as usually he's greeted with your sweet voice singing old lullabies or laughing at something with your friends you had invited over. With a gentle push, it slowly opens inward. Levi half expects you to be at your desk, staring out the window facing the horizon. Then turning to face him with a wide smile and those wide eyes he loved.

"Levi, you're home." You'd say, and you'd mean it every time even though you both knew he couldn't stay here all night.

But you weren't there, not this time. You wouldn't be, ever again. The room once filled with life from your own personal touches, now devoid of any meaning. Any scents that once belonged to you, now gone just like your things.

This expedition took more than he could take. With a sigh, he makes his way over to your old chair and lowers himself into it then stares out the window. The sun is just starting to set.

Taglist: @averysmolbear @humanitys-strongest-bamf @youre-ackermine @notgoodforlife @roseofdarknessblog @missamity @levis-squishy-cheeks @icansmellsouls @dkbktk420 @elnyrae (it won't tag it properly @ god why)

If you'd like to be a part of my taglist, please go here! Your email and choices will never be shared! 💕

#im. so sorry #i dont know where this came from #the idea literally popped in my head after looking at a picture of fish #what is the correlation here #do fish just make me sad #i dont even know #anyways i just typed this up on mobile so if there are any mistakes or if it's just really bad #i am so sorry #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #attack on titan #aot #shingeki no kyojin #snk #angst #canonverse

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leiawritesstories · 7 months

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A Memory of Your Love

Rowaelin Month, Day 19: Telling the kids about their tattoos

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: none, it's sappy melty fluffy goodness (i swear)

Enjoy!

@rowaelinscourt

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Mama.” The small voice was accompanied by a series of rapid knocks on Aelin’s partially-open office door. “Are you very busy, Mama? Da said you’d be busy.”

Aelin set down her quill and turned away from her desk, finding her second child, her son, poking his head through the crack in her door. “No, my boy, I’m not busy.” She stood, digging one hand into the small of her back–gods, sitting down for too long was terrible for her spine–walked over, and opened the door. “Come in, Bran. What do you need?”

Bran–Prince Brannon Whitethorn Galathynius–shuffled into the office, uncharacteristically quiet and shy. Normally, he was the most vivacious of the royal children, always with a laugh on his lips and a prank brewing in his mischievous mind. He got that from his mother. “I want to practice with the knives,” he said slowly, haltingly.

Aelin nodded. “And do you need someone to go with you?”

Sheepishly, he nodded. “Yeah. Da said I can’t be there alone, not yet.”

“Not yet,” she agreed. “When you’re a little more comfortable with the blade work, or maybe when you’re a little older, then you can go alone. Just not yet.”

He frowned. “Why not? All the other boys my age go out into the yard by themselves.”

“Ah, but they’re with each other, no?”

“Uh…yeeeeees?”

“That’s right, my son.” Aelin cracked a grin at her son’s slight flush. “You’re welcome to train with them, you know.”

“Don’t want to,” he mumbled. “I’m not good enough.”

“Now that’s just horseshit,” she scoffed.

In her mind, Rowan flinched. Fireheart!

What? she snarked. You know he’s heard worse from those hulking brutes you call friends. “Bran, you are good enough. They aren’t going to make fun of you.” She ruffled his hair affectionately. “Yes, I’ll go practice with you.” She winked. “Anything to sneak away from the boring paperwork.”

That made him snicker. “Are you going to make Da do the paperwork, then?”

“Maybe.” She led him out of her office and down towards the training yard. “It’s good for him to pretend like he has responsibilities every once in a while.”

I heard that.

I know. She blew her grumpy buzzard an invisible kiss.

Bran was at the door to the training yard. “Come on, Mama!”

“Just a minute,” she laughed. “I can’t train in this dress, it’s too frilly.” She ducked into a side room and changed into a loose, comfortable tunic and pants. “All right, I’m ready.”

“Come on!” Bran pushed open the door and bounded out into the training yard, running for the fenced-off area used for knifeplay. “I beat you, Mama!”

“You did,” she laughed, catching up with him. “I must be getting old.”

For a good hour, she sparred against her son, working with him on his form and his technique, especially taking a chunk of time to show him how to throw a knife. Bran had been wanting to learn that skill for a while, and she decided he was ready, no matter what his overprotective father and uncles thought.

Bran drew a deep breath, locked his turquoise eyes on the target, exhaled, and released the knife. It sliced through the air and embedded itself in the ring just outside the bulls-eye. “I did it!” he screeched, jumping up and down in thrilled excitement. “I did it, Mama!”

“You certainly did,” she praised. “I don’t think I could have done any better.”

He beamed. “Dare you, Mama!”

“Oh do you, now?” Challenge sparked in her bright eyes. “Stand back, B. I don’t want to hurt you.” She took her mark on the chalked line, inhaled, locked her eyes on her target, tipped her arm back, and launched her blade. Her tunic slipped, partially exposing her shoulder–perils of wearing her mate’s clothing rather than her own–but her knife flew straight down its intended path and buried itself right next to Bran’s knife with a thunk. “How’s that, Your Highness?” she teased.

Bran sprinted over to check the target and came back with the biggest, brightest smile plastered all over his face. “Mine was closer!”

“No!” Aelin exclaimed in contrived shock. “I really am losing my touch!” She grinned down at her son. “Congratulations, Bran, you’ve just out-thrown your queen.”

His attention flicked from the target to his mother and back again, a question creasing his forehead.

She knelt and met his eye level. “What is it, my son?”

“Your tattoo,” he said, unexpectedly. “I know you have one, I just…it looks like wings. Why is it wings, Mama? Shouldn’t it be fire?”

Aelin was quiet, thinking through how much to say. I can’t just brush him off.

No. We knew we would have to tell them eventually.

Right. Just…how much?

As much as you want. Rowan sent reassurance pulsing down the bond. We can talk to him and Lana later tonight, both of us.

I’d like that. With Rowan’s strength at her back, she took Bran’s hands. “Da did it for me.”

His childish face lit up with interest and wonder. “When?”

“Before…” She trailed off, her gaze going distant for a moment. “Before we settled. Before you and Lana were even thoughts in our minds.” She noticed his furrowed brow, and she squeezed his hands in comfort. “Da and I are going to tell you and your sister about it later tonight, because you’re old enough and you deserve to know more of our story. I’m not dismissing you, I promise; you just need to wait for a little longer, okay?”

Slowly, he nodded. “Okay,” he replied. “Can I ask you one more thing?”

“Of course.”

“Did it hurt?”

“Some,” she said, honestly. “But your father was with me, and that made it easier.”

Rowan wore a sleeveless shirt to dinner that night, the soft gray linen exposing the defined grooves of his muscles and the full breadth of the script inked down his arm. Aelin chose a dress that dipped low in the back, low enough to display the wings unfurled across her shoulder blades. She frowned as she laced the silken material up the side–it was almost at the point where she couldn’t wear it in public, else it would reveal too much. Just to be sure, she turned to the side and checked her profile, relieved when her reflection showed that the skirt still billowed out high enough to conceal the swelling of her abdomen.

Stunning. Her husband padded up behind her on near-silent feet, slid his powerful arms tenderly around her waist. His tattooed hand splayed over her stomach. “How much longer?”

“Another few weeks before we tell the children.” She laid her hand over his. “At least a month before anyone else even suspects.” Lest we…lose them.

“Of course.” Rowan dipped his head and brushed a whisper of a kiss across her pulse point. I love you, he murmured into her soul.

Aelin melted into him. As I love you.

Lana and Bran were full of anticipation and eager chatter at dinner, both children more than willing to ramble on about their days. Bran seemed to be back to his usual mischievous self, busily flicking tiny crumbs and a pea or two at his sister when he thought nobody was watching. Lana returned the favor by gradually increasing the heat of her brother’s chair, silverware, and even clothes, making him squirm in mild discomfort and drop his fork with a yelp when he picked it up and it nearly burned him.

Unsurprisingly, though, when dinner was over and they moved into the small, cozy, private living room reserved exclusively for the family, both Lana and Bran went quiet, settling down onto the small sofa and watching their parents expectantly.

Aelin settled into her chair and spoke first. “So you want to know about our tattoos.”

“Mhmm.” Lana nodded. “Well, I know about Father’s. Mostly.”

“Do you?” Rowan wore a half-grin.

“Uncle Lorcan told me it’s a record of your life and a memory of your love.”

“Uncle Lorcan talks too damn much.”

Aelin snickered. “Admit it, buzzard, that was a very lovely description.”

Rowan grumbled. “Fine. Lorcan can be civil once in a while.” He nodded. “Yes, that’s the most basic description of my tattoos.”

“You did them yourself, right?” Bran asked.

“Mostly. Gavriel helped, a little.”

Bran tilted his head. “And you did Mama’s?”

“He did,” Aelin confirmed. “Both times.”

“Both times?” Lana and Bran chorused, wearing twin expressions of disbelief.

“Both times.” Aelin shared a long, laden look with Rowan. “This set–” she turned around and let her children see the full expanse of the ink scripted across her back–“was done just before we kicked the shit out of the Valg once and for all.”

“Language,” Rowan sighed, teasingly.

Aelin huffed a laugh. “Says you. Like your father’s, my tattoos are my story. All of it–who I once was, who I became, who I am now.” She whispered under her breath, and two of the symbols glowed blue for a few seconds. “Those are your names, my loves, in the Old Language.”

“That’s us?” Lana breathed, both awe and tears clogging her words.

“That’s you,” Aelin murmured. “Your idiot father also wrote a whole entire spell into my tattoo–didn’t even think to tell me, oh no–in yet another language.”

“It was a protective measure!” Rowan protested. “And it worked, didn’t it?”

“Oh, all right, it did.” She laced her fingers with his. “Your father is boring; all his tattoos are just Old Language.”

“Can you read them?” Bran asked.

“I can.” A yearning smile curved Rowan’s lips. “It’s been a very long time since I spoke the Old Language, but I can read it, yes.”

“What’s this one?” Lana pointed to a sequence of characters on Rowan’s bicep. “It repeats a lot. There, and on your forearm, and on your neck, too.” The firstborn Whitethorn Galathynius always had been perceptive.

“It says Fireheart,” Rowan murmured.

A crooked little smile lit Lana’s face. “That’s…extremely sappy of you, Father. Aren’t you supposed to be the hardened old warrior?”

Aelin burst into laughter. “Oh, my daughter,” she wheezed. “Never change, Lana love.”

“I’m trying very hard to be unimpressed,” Rowan intoned, his lips twitching with the effort of holding back his merriment.

Lana giggled. “We’re all thinking it.”

Rowan laughed. “I suppose we all are.”

Bran’s smaller hands touched the ink spiraling up his father’s arm. “When I grow up, I want tattoos too!” he declared.

Aelin and Rowan shared a very long look.

“Maybe you will have tattoos,” Aelin told her son, running her thumb over his knuckles. “If you do, know that you carry the weight of every name and event written into your skin.”

“Even the ones that hurt?”

“Especially those ones.” Aelin gathered her children close. “It is the weight of the people we have loved and lost that guide us through life. They are always with us, even when they fade.”

#my writing #rowaelin month #rowaelin month 2023 #rowaelinmonth #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #rowaelin and kiddos #rowaelin family fic #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin au #canonverse #surprise surprise it's canonverse lol

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pickalilywrites · 6 months

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I'm happy you take requests :) I really like your stories. ❤❤❤

Can I ask for Rivetra?

Whenever Petra takes care of Levi's wounds she always leaves light kiss on his dressing. But this time he was fighting with someone to protect her and he got injured in the lips so Petra is ashamed to do that.

I wish you the best! 😊

thanks :) hope you enjoy it

a kiss on the lips

rivetra. canonverse. 3812 words. read on ao3.

Petra’s hands tremble imperceptibly as she carefully applies soothing salve to her captain’s wounds. The slight quivering of her hands would go unperceived by anyone else, but her captain’s watchful eyes miss nothing. He says nothing of her anxious hands even as they dress his wounds. He sits relaxed against the wooden chair, his demeanor completely contrasting against Petra’s nervous air. Whenever Petra applies salve to her comrades wounds, they tend to wince in pain at the sting of the cool ointment against their open wounds. Levi, however, doesn’t flinch in the slightest despite his wounds being fresh. The cuts and bruises on his skin are hardly anything compared to the injuries they face on the battlefield, but they look severe against his pale skin. Petra grimaces as she tends to a particularly deep cut against his jaw.

“I’m afraid these will scar,” she murmurs. She finds her eyes constantly flitting between all the different wounds on the Captain’s face, the feeling of guilt in her stomach growing heavier with each one she finds. A particularly nasty cut on his lip attracts her attention the most, but it’s the wound she avoids the most. At the very least she dabs at it occasionally to keep the blood from running down the Captain’s chin.

“I was never particularly handsome to begin with,” the Captain replies.

“That’s not true,” Petra says without thinking, and she can feel his gaze on her even as she averts hers.

The Captain is far from conventionally attractive. He stands at a measly 5’3” — hardly an inch taller than Petra is — and his pale skin accentuates the dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep. His hollow cheeks make his cheekbones even more severe, and his sharp jawline meets with a pointed chin. His perpetually sour expression doesn’t help his appearance, but there’s something becoming of the way all his features come together. The structure of his face is so delicate, almost feminine, and his gray eyes are such a striking shade that it’s difficult not to be drawn to them whenever one gazes falls on him. No, handsome is perhaps not the best word to describe him. Pretty is the word Petra would use, but she would never utter those words out loud.

“Your features suit you,” Petra says, but perhaps it isn’t acceptable to remark on the appearance of one’s superiors whether the words are flattering or not. She bites her lip and wonders if she should say anymore. It feels dangerous to let it alone, but she can’t trust herself to say anything more.

“It doesn’t matter very much anyway,” the Captain says, and it almost disappoints her how unaffected he is by her words. “I have much worse scars. It won’t be that much different having scars on my face.”

“Still, I’d feel responsible every time I saw it,” Petra murmurs.

“I don’t recall you giving me this,” the Captain says, and he lifts his chin slightly. He could be talking about any of his cuts and bruises, but all Petra sees is the cut on his lip. He’s joking in that dry, emotionless tone that makes it difficult to know when he’s speaking in jest, but at least Petra knows him well enough now to know the difference. It doesn’t make her feel any better.

“You know what I mean,” she murmurs.

It’s only now that she begins to attend to the cut on his lips. She’s careful as she dabs the salve against his lip with the pad of her finger. His blood comes away on her skin, painting her finger red.

︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑

Petra left her father’s house much later than she intended. She usually leaves well before sundown. The Captain doesn’t care when they come back from their monthly military leave so long as they’re on time to their drills the following morning. Despite being in the military for years, it was still difficult for Petra’s father to say goodbye every time she began to head back to her station. This time, he had held her back and shoved more and more things into a basket that he insisted she take: fresh fruits from the grocer he had bought this morning, fresh vegetables he had just grown from the garden, and sweet pastries that he had baked before the sun had even begun to rise that day. Whenever she tries to leave anything behind, he would only shake his head and place it back into her basket, telling her that she and the rest of the soldiers needed it more than he did. Petra is a soldier with one of the highest kill counts in the Scouting Legion, but she will always be her father’s precious daughter.

Her father continued to fuss about her even as she was leaving his house. She laughed as he called out to her, reminding her to dress warmly and to eat well. She pretended not to notice the tears that welled up in his eyes as he waved her goodbye, although it always made her heart ache whenever they had to part.

She catches her reflection in the mirror of a nearby tailor. It makes her feel self-conscious seeing herself in normal civilian clothes. She’s so used to her military uniform, a standard white ensemble with a cropped jacket that everyone wears. It’s strange seeing herself in anything else, but she dresses more casually because it seems to make her father happy seeing his daughter dressed like a normal woman. As she passes by the store, she tries to walk as naturally as she can, but she can feel her spine straightening and her walk become stilted the more out of place she feels.

Petra sighs and shifts the basket of fruits and vegetables to her other hand. She wonders if she should walk a little faster, although the Captain and the squad won’t mind waiting for her. She might be late for dinner and it’ll be a shame that they’ll have to wait for tomorrow to cook up the vegetables her father has given them, but she knows Gunther will be delighted to see what she’s brought back regardless.

Behind her, she can hear a group of men singing. Drunk, probably, even though sky is not yet dark. She doesn’t bother to turn her head to look at them even though people on the street are whispering and turning their heads. She’s seen her own fair share of drunkards in her time, and they’ve never been very different. They’ll probably stumble into another bar and wreak havoc there before getting kicked out and finding another establishment to trash.

Petra picks up her pace and the men’s singing have turned into shouts. Their shouting grows louder and louder. Her mouth settles into a frown as she tries to rid herself of the men behind her. It doesn’t even occur to her that their shouts are directed toward her until a hand clutches her shoulder and yanks her backward. Surprised, she yelps as she’s turned around roughly and finds herself surrounded by half a dozen men, most of them much larger than her.

She tries to keep her composure even as her heartbeat spikes. She bites her lip to keep from crying out even as the man who has his hand clutched on her shoulder tightens his grip. Calling for help might only exacerbate the situation, and Petra’s not sure anyone would come to her aid anyway. When her eyes flit about in alarm, all the passersby are keeping their heads down, pretending not to see what is happening right in front of them.

“Hello, pretty,” the man who has her in his clutches drawls. She can smell the alcohol on his breath and it makes her want to gag. His mouth stretches in more of a sneer than a smile, revealing yellowed teeth. “What are you doing all by your lonesome so late at night?”

Petra doesn’t reply, not even to point out that it’s hardly late in the evening. She tries to discreetly break free from the man’s grip, keeping her eyes down so as to not make eye contact, but his hold is far too strong. She wonders if she should fight back regardless of the punishment she’ll face for laying a hand on civilians. Only Military Policemen are allowed to punish civilians, and Petra isn’t sure how lenient the military will be towards her even if her actions are in self-defense. She curses herself for not donning her military uniform today. Even if it has the Scouting Legion emblem emblazoned on the back, at least there was a chance that the men wouldn’t have known the difference between the logos of the different military branches.

“You should join us, miss. You look like you could have some fun,” another man says.

“Let’s have some fun. Do you like dancing?” asks a burly man nearly twice her size. He has to stoop down to speak to her, shoving his face in hers and Petra has no choice but to see his flushed face, eyes red from drinking. When she stumbles back in surprise, the man throws his head back to howl with laughter.

“Give your basket here. We’ll take care of your goods and show you a good time,” another man coaxes. He grabs Petra’s basket from her hand and nearly all the vegetables and fruits come tumbling out of it. He does a few clumsy steps toward Petra, stopping only a few centimeters from her face. “We could show you a few dances, too. Doesn’t this girl look like she’d be a good dancer?”

Petra’s strong, but she’s not strong enough to take down half a dozen men with her bare hands. At the very least, shouldn’t she attempt to run away? She tries to calculate her next move, but her panicked mind can only think about how helpless she feels surrounded by the men that tower above her. Her hands feel clammy and cold and her body trembles, but she can’t stand to be here another minute.

Without thinking, she brings up her knee to knock the wind out of the man in front of her. His eyes nearly pop out of his head in surprise as he keels over in pain, letting out a groan as he sinks to his knees. His other friends are frozen in shock, so Petra takes the opportunity to break through the barrier of men that have entrapped her and run as fast as she can. She stumbles through fallen vegetables and fruits, the basket her father had given her forgotten with the men she is trying to escape. She doesn’t make it very far.

A hand reaches out to grab her by the hair. Petra shrieks in pain as she’s pulled back and thrown to the ground. Her side is numb from her fall, and she stumbles to get upright but the men begin to pile on her. A man pins her down by her wrists while the others begin to clamber onto her, their gazes like wolves about to devour their prey. She opens her mouth to scream but chokes on a hat that a man has jammed down her throat. She can only gag from the pain, wriggling helplessly as she tries to break free. She feels their hands on her, fumbling for the ties and buttons of her clothes, and she wants to vomit. Tears form in her eyes from the searing pain, and she closes her eyes as if somehow that will lesson the pain.

Her wrists hurt from how tightly she’s being held down. She wants to pull them free, and she can feel the bruises form around her wrists even as she tries to break out of her captor’s grip. It surprises her when she finally does break free. When she opens her eyes, she realizes the man is gone and the his comrades are looking up in surprise. Her gaze follows theirs and she sees that the man has been knocked down. Another man is on top of him, relentless as he throws his punches at the man that had just held Petra down.

The other men have stopped, their interest in Petra momentarily interrupted as they turn confusedly to the stranger that had just attacked their friend. Petra, too, turns her head as best as she can, craning her neck to catch a glimpse at the man that had dared to interfere when nobody else had. She recognizes the military uniform at once — stark white trousers and pressed white button-up underneath a cropped jacket with the Wings of Freedom, the symbol for the Scouting Legion, plastered on the back. It’s only when the man turns his head, gray eyes blazing with fury, that Petra realizes that it is Captain Levi.

The men are caught between wanting to flee and saving their friend. They stumble away from Petra, scowling at the Captain as they size him up. The Captain is only a few centimeters taller than Petra, and the men must believe that he can hardly be threat because they charge at him, yelling threateningly as they charge. They are no match for him.

Petra drags herself up to a sitting position, grabbing the hat that had been stuffed into her mouth and tossing it aside. She coughs, her mouth still tasting of wool. She sees that the Captain has been thrown against the pavement, but he gets up much faster than the other men expected. The Captain is more known for his ability to fight Titans, but his hand-to-hand combat skills greatly surpass many of the other soldiers in the military. While he might be outnumbered, the other men are clearly outmatched. Their attacks are clumsy and uncoordinated, made worse by their inebriated state. Even if they do manage to get a few punches in here and there, the Captain is beating them ruthlessly.

“Captain, that’s enough!” Petra says. She doesn’t know when she had gotten up, but she’s now pulling him away from the rest of the men who have been beaten senseless. They have more cuts and bruises than the Captain does, although he hasn’t left the fight unscathed. She winces when she sees the wounds on his face, although the Captain doesn’t seem be in pain at all.

The Captain doesn’t respond to her, only struggles against her to throw in a few more punches with his bloodied knuckles as some of the men attempt to escape. The Captain only stops when the Military Police arrive, rounding up the bloodied men quickly now that the bulk of their work has been done for them.

“Why didn’t you show up earlier?” the Captain snaps at one of the policemen that have approached them for a statement. The Captain has never been fond of the Military Police. This incident has probably soured his opinion of them even more. He hadn’t seemed tired as he was taking on six men at a time, but he’s leaning against Petra now as he curses out the Military Police. “What the fuck are any of you good for if you can’t stop drunkards from assaulting people?”

“Captain, it’s fine,” Petra murmurs as she gives an apologetic nod to the policeman. “Let’s just return to our quarters. The others are waiting for us-”

“It’s not fine!” the Captain says, cutting her off short before returning to his berating of the Military Police. “Are you just sitting on the shitter all day? At least come out once and a while to take care of the civilians you’re meant to protect, you dumb fucks.”

“We had it handled,” the policeman says, but his eyes are cast downward in shame and his cheeks are flushed. He can’t even make eye contact with either of them. “Only the Military Police are allowed to punish civilians. Other military branches aren’t permitted to lay hands on civilians-”

“Then do your fucking jobs so we won’t have to do it for you,” the Captain snarls. He turns on his heel and walks away, leaving Petra behind to apologize profusely for her captain’s behavior.

They ride the ferry across the river that would take them only part of the way home. A horse ride still awaits them after that. As they ride the ferry, the Captain rests beside Petra, arms folded across his chest and head resting on her shoulder. Her father’s basket sits on her lap. The fruits and vegetables that had fallen on the cobblestone streets had been collected and placed back in the basket because the Captain wouldn’t hear of it being left behind even though there are only one or two vegetables that were undamaged.

“Thank you for saving me,” Petra murmurs. Her eyes can’t seem to leave her Captain’s face, the cuts and bruises that wouldn’t be there if it weren’t for her.

The Captain doesn’t reply and Petra thinks he’s fallen asleep. He stirs for just a moment and says quietly, “I should have been there sooner.”

︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑

Petra realizes she’s been staring far too long at the Captain’s face even though the cut on his lip has been attended to. She no longer has an excuse for her gaze to linger on his lips, and she removes her finger quickly from his cut. She turns to return all the things she’s used to the first aid kit, making sure to avoid the Captain’s gaze but she can feel his eyes fixed on her. She does her best to maintain an air of normalcy, but she knows the flush of her cheeks gives her away.

“It will take a while to heal, but the salve should help prevent scarring. Just let me reapply it for you in the evenings until it’s fully healed,” Petra says. She looks down, organizing and reorganizing everything in the kit even though there is hardly anything in there for her to fuss around with. She’s just looking for any excuse not to look at the Captain. She’s about to shut the lid of the kit and scurry off, but the Captain grabs her by the arm before she can make her escape. He’s careful when he grabs her, making sure to wrap his hand just above her wrists which are still tender from being held down earlier that evening.

“I think you’re forgetting something,” he murmurs, his voice so quiet that Petra wouldn’t have heard it if she weren’t holding in her breath.

She could feign innocence, insist that she doesn’t know what he’s talking about, or maybe clasp her hands and tell the Captain he’s exactly right before attending to a make-believe wound she had forgotten to tend to. She knows he’s referring to a habit she and the rest of the squad had started as a joke.

Whenever Petra tended to her comrades’ wounds, she would kiss their wounds. She had gotten into the habit of it when taking care of Gunther’s siblings, nearly half a dozen children that got into more trouble than anyone could imagine. They would go out in the morning to play only to come home in the evening with scrapes and bruises all over their elbows and knees. She had pressed kisses against bandaged knees and elbows one after the other. The habit must have stuck because she had leaned down to kiss a wound she had taken care of on Eld’s hand one day without thinking. The others had burst out laughing and Petra, although embarrassed, held her chin up and asked Eld if he had any other injuries for her to “kiss better” as Gunther’s siblings often say.

It became a running joke among the soldiers, taking care of each other’s injuries and kissing the bandages as soon as they were done being patched up. They would do so mischievously, with roguish grins on their faces if they were kissing a gash on someone’s cheek or a cut on their cheek. They did it with the affection of siblings or very close friends, never with any romantic feeling even if Auruo would joke otherwise as he planted a sloppy kiss against Petra’s temple as she groaned. It was a silly joke, one that Petra didn’t know the Captain even paid attention to. She never thought it was something to be ashamed about, but she’s embarrassed about it now that he brings it up.

Her mind revisits all the cuts on the Captain’s face — his cheekbone, his temple, his jaw, his chin — but she can only think about the gash on his lip. It’s not as if she hasn’t thought about kissing the Captain. She’s probably thought about it more than she should have, but she never thought it would happen like this. Would a kiss like this be deemed improper? But it’s just a kiss, hardly even a kiss. It’s more of a joke than a kiss, Petra reasons, and yet she hesitates.

“Never mind then,” the Captain says, and Petra realizes she’s taken too long to respond. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

Petra grabs him by the shoulder and pushes him back down in his seat before he can rise. Without warning, she leans forward and her lips collide with the bandage on his temple. The Captain tenses in surprise, but she continues to press kisses against his face — his forehead, his cheekbones, down his jawline, down to his chin — and she takes in his beauty as she does. She marvels in the sharpness of his cheekbones, the angle of his jaw, the point of his chin. His eyelashes are longer and thicker than anyone else’s. They would be wasted on anyone else but him, she thinks.

She hesitates when she gets to his lips. He must sense her hesitation because his hand finds its way to the back of her neck and he guides her towards him, inviting but not demanding. In the end, she accepts his invitation. She’s hesitant at first, her lips barely brushing against his like the graze of a butterfly’s wings. His lips are soft and gentle against hers, and she tastes the salt of his wound against her tongue mixed with the sweet honey from the salve. She presses her lips harder against his and he reciprocates, his mouth opening to allow her taste and their tongues mingle.

When they finally part, it is too soon. She’s breathless, her face flushed, but the Captain looks completely unaffected. All he does is touch her lip with the pad of his thumb and it takes everything in her not to hold him there.

“You’re an excellent nurse, Petra,” he tells her.

“Thank you, sir,” Petra murmurs. She remains there even when he gets up to leave, all alone with nothing except the memory of the Captain’s lips on hers.

#rivetra #petra ral #levi ackerman #canonverse #snk #requests #asks #answered #anon #anonymous #ugh i write these years later so i still hope ppl get to see them

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edupunkn00b · 3 months

Text

The Game is Afoot!

Photo by Ashni via Unsplash. Edited by edupunkn00b.

Rated: G - WC: 1036 - CW: None

Three weeks after Christmas and Logan is still working on his puzzle from Virgil. Is it any wonder why?

"The game is afoot!"

“But I thought you said Virgil’s game is a puzzle, Logie!”

“Patton! It’s a—” The Moral Side’s head tilted far to the left, brow knit together in deep confusion. Breathing slowly through his mouth as he pinched the bridge of his nose, he nearly missed the quiver at the corner of Patton's mouth. He groaned. “Okay, okay, you got me.”

“So can I play, too?” Patton bounced on the balls of his feet, Watson scarf already tied in a neat knot around his neck.

Logan groaned again. “No, not this time, Patton.”

“Yeah, Popstar, I get to play Watson and Moriarty for this one.”

“Don’t worry, Daddy,” Remus purred from his spot behind the television. “You can help me air fry fish fingers.”

“Um, do fish have fingers?” Patton asked, his perplexed expression genuine this time.

“Doctor Who reference?” Logan asked, eyes darting up from the frayed newspaper in his hands. Christmas had been over two weeks ago and he was still working through the mystery puzzle Virgil had created for him.

The Anxious Side chuckled. “Focus, L…”

“I dunno!” the Creative Side laughed, either not hearing the other two Sides or simply ignoring them, and grabbed Patton’s hand, his new—well, formerly new air fryer tucked under one arm. The thing reeked of a mixture of pickle brine and peat, and its once pristine white plastic casing was charred and cracked on the sides. A neon green mold had begun to grow around the control panel, nearly obscuring a flashing ERR-80085. “Let’s go find out!”

Before Patton could say another word, the two had sunk out to the Imagination.

“And then there were four—err, well,” Logan cleared his throat and returned his attention to the newspaper.

“Yes,” Janus purred from the corner of the couch. “Don’t mind us, we don’t want to play your silly little scavenger hunt—”

“It’s not just a scavenger hunt, Jay! Ugh, why do you—” Virgil cut himself off and adjusted the ties on his hoodie. “Nope, not gonna engage. Not worth it.”

“That’s right, Tall, Dark, and Stormy,” Roman agreed from the staircase. He leapt over the side of the banister with a flourish, the new gold—was that real gold?—trim clinking gently with the impact. “I shall keep the living room safe from any of Janus’ dastardly plans.”

“Oh, no, you caught me drinking wine,” Janus slurred.

“Off you go,” Roman said to Virgil and Logan, pretending not to hear Janus’ mocking. Virgil and Logan exchanged a look. Selective hearing seemed to be a tool in each of the brother’s kits. “I’ve got everything under control here.”

“If you’re sure, Princey,” Virgil began, gaze trained on Janus’ oh-so-innocent expression.

“Wait, Virgil!” Logan grabbed his arm in a remarkable imitation of Remus dragging Patton to the Imagination. He held the newspaper to Virgil’s face. “Does this symbol represent the meter outside?”

Worry shifted into a wicked grin. “Only one way to find out, Detective Holmes.”

“Ha! I knew it!” Logan grinned and ran toward the door, Virgil at his heels.

They flung open the door together and stood on the sunny first step, just as Thomas’ neighbor walked by, well, more like was led by her noisy dog.

“Oh! Good morning, uh, Thomas?” she called as she jogged past, barely managing to slow the pace of her five pound monster of a chihuahua, Craig the Dragon.

“Good morning, Betty!” Logan called quickly, stepping to obscure her view of Virgil’s face. “You’ve met my brother Jake, have you not?”

“Yes, yes, of course…” she agreed, voice fading. She was already three doors down. “Nice to see you, Jake!” Betty called one more time before Craig spotted a lizard in another yard and dashed after it.

“That was close,” Virgil muttered, peering around Logan’s shoulder to watch Betty stamp her foot and shout, Leave it!

“Indeed,” Logan agreed, scanning the newspaper. “Is this the only outdoor clue?”

Virgil nodded, eyes fixed on the race between the lizard and the chihuaha. “Yeah.” The chihuaha won.

“Well, then…” Logan adjusted his deerstalker. “Shall we?”

Another neighbor ran out to help pry the lizard from Craig’s maw and Logan and Virgil used the distraction to swing around to the other side of Thomas’ house. Logan began counting the meters. The final meter in the row showed was lettered LUC.

“Is that meant to be ‘look?’” Logan asked, eyebrow raised.

“What do you want? I was outside and in a rush,” Virgil shrugged, keeping watch around the corner. “L, hurry up, she’s on her way back and I look nothing like Jake.”

Nodding brusquely, Logan examined every inch of the glass casing. Finally, he found a series of tiny scratches. Running his fingers over the markings, he grinned. “Morse code? T-h-e—space—n-e-x-t—space—g-l—Wait—” He rubbed his fingertip over another section. “Ha! You thought you could catch me with pre-1874 Morse code!”

He fell quiet, studying the scratches. “C’mon, L, we gotta get back inside now.”

“Ha!” Logan crowed, triumphantly. He grabbed Virgil’s hand and dashed around the back of the building. “Let’s go through the patio. ‘The next clue is in the kitchen.’”

Virgil was the first to smell smoke. The pair exchanged one last quick look and raced to the door.

Before either could reach it, the patio door slid open with a crash and Patton stumbled out. “They’re moving! The chicken fingers are moving!” he screeched, smacking at his own shoulders. Embers sparked in his hair and on the sleeves of his catigan. A wall of acrid smoke soon followed and they all stepped back.

“Come back, Daddy!” Remus called, his voice and the tromp of boots growing louder. The Creative Side emerged from he smoke, arms full of wriggling—and burnt—breaded somethings. “I think I got ‘em all this time!”

“Remus!” Roman shouted from inside. “They got in my crown!”

“Oops. Almost all of ‘em,” Remus winked and ran back inside. "Keep your pants on, Ro Bro! Believe me—you don't want those little stinkers getting in there!"

The trio shared a moment of confused silence before Janus sauntered out, an uncorked bottle in one hand and a tray of four glasses in the other. “Wine, anyone?”

#sanders sides #logan sanders #ts logan #virgil sanders #ts virgil #patton sanders #ts patton #roman sanders #ts roman #janus sanders #ts janus #remus sanders #canonverse #after the gift exchange #three weeks after‚ to be precise #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fanfic

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lockwood-fic-recs · 4 months

Text

my heart's on fire & the flame grows higher

by menina123 on ao3

Rating: T | Category: F/M | Relationship: Lockwood/Lucy

“Yes, I suppose it is just the two of us,” Lockwood said. “We can’t reschedule on this late notice. Everyone else will just miss out on the fun then, won’t they, Luce?”

“Yep.” Lucy’s mood instantly brightened at the idea of an adventure with Lockwood, and she smiled at him.

After the rest of Lockwood & Co. backs out at the last minute, Lucy and Lockwood escape to a cottage in the countryside for a celebratory Christmas weekend on their own. Christmas activities ensue (and yes, there's obviously only one bed).

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writingwife-83 · 28 days

Note

“Oh great. Now I’m never going to be happy with anyone else!”

For the writing prompts

The fact that this has been in my ask box for almost a year omg the shame 😆🫣

Ok so it’s Sherlolly Appleciation Week, and my final contribution is for yesterday, Day 6’s theme of Physical Contact! I thought it would be a good opportunity to finally use this lovely prompt. Hope you enjoy what I did with it. 😉

#sherlolly #sherlollyweek2024 #day 6: physical contact #canonverse #I guess #but also it’s #soulmates au #which I NEVER do lol

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chenziee · 2 months

Text

Red

My piece for @lovinglawzine! It's completely free and available to download right now! There's two zines, >SFW< and >NSFW< and both are full of Law love 🤍🐯 (did I mention it's free?)

[ READ ON AO3 | KO-FI | COMM INFO ]

—————

The first time Law noticed the red cord tangled around his little finger, he dismissed it. He was still deathly sick from amber lead, the brutal loss of Cora-san painfully fresh on his mind, and some strange thread couldn’t be anything but a hallucination. After all, he couldn’t even touch it and it didn’t lead anywhere his hazy eyesight could see. What else would it be except something his exhausted mind had made up?

The second time he noticed it, Law accounted it to still not being used to his devil fruit. It was barely the third time he had managed to successfully conjure up a Room—as he had decided to call it—and it was still wonky, still clumsy, still unstable. He couldn’t see any strings on his hand or anywhere else when he wasn’t using his powers so there was no way it was really there.

The third time he noticed it, he inadvertently remembered a story his mom used to tell him and Lammy. A story about a Red String that connected two fated lovers, two people who were of one soul, never to be complete without the other. Soulmates, so to speak. He disregarded the thought immediately for being too unscientific and ridiculous.

The sixth time he noticed it, he decided he had to be losing his mind because now he could see a red string on everyone who entered his Room.

The twentieth time…

The twentieth time he barely even noticed the strings tangling in the snow underneath his feet anymore.

—————

After eleven years with the power of the Op-Op Fruit, Trafalgar Law could confidently say he understood how it worked and what it allowed him to do. He could remove people’s organs without hurting them, he could perform near-impossible surgeries without so much as thinking about it, and he could do whatever he wanted within his Room.

And, despite his best efforts, Law couldn’t ignore that anymore either.

It took a lot of back and forth between Bepo and Penguin’s romantic mindset, and his and Shachi’s more realistic—or jaded, as Ikkaku liked to say—worldview. It took him years but in the end, Law had no choice but begrudgingly admit that his power also allowed him to see the so-called ‘Red String of Fate’, whatever that was.

Strings that weren’t so much red sometimes as they were on a scale between black and gold. Black—dark, charred, and dead—presumably for deceased partners. Red for disconnected strings. Gold for a string that found its other end—the second (or third or last) person sharing this bond. To this day, Law wasn’t sure how much weight he should be giving to it though. He had seen people with strings blood red, yet with wedding rings on their fingers, crying for their beloved wives and husbands while Law cut them in half with morbid fascination, uncaring.

On the other hand, he had encountered people with beautiful gold around their left little fingers… who seemed nothing but happy to meet their demise by Law’s unforgiving hands.

All in all…

Law didn’t care.

Least of all, about the red string that was still securely tied to his own hand.

Honestly, if he could, he would have burned it long ago. And boy, did he try. After all, what use did he have for a ‘fated partner’? What did that even mean? He didn’t know and he didn’t care. The only thing that mattered to him was Cora-san… and Doflamingo.

But, eleven years in, he had long since resigned himself to the thing being there to stay.

Not that it made any difference to him or anyone else.

At least, that was how it was for a long time. How it was supposed to be.

“You guys stay back. I’ll handle this,” Straw Hat Luffy announced as he, Eustass Kid, and Law took their stand in front of the Sabaody human auction house.

“No, you two stay back!” Eustass snapped back—raising to the bait like a child.

Law, on the other hand, stayed perfectly calm. “You tell me what to do one more time and I’m killing you first, Eustass-ya.”

“Just me, Trafalgar?” Eustass asked, shooting Law a look.

Law didn’t bother dignifying that with a response.

Not that there was that much time for chit-chat once the marines surrounding them from all sides broke out of their pathetic stupor and cannons started going off, shooting straight at them.

“Room,” Law said lazily, taking Kikoku out of its long scabbard. Nonchalantly cutting off the head of the nearest marine, Law quickly switched it with the cannonball hurtling at him, then caught the screaming head easily.

As he tossed it in his hand a few times, a smirk playing at his lips, Law wondered… how should he play with these rats? They didn’t have much time before an admiral would be on their asses so he couldn’t get too creative…

“Wow, your power’s weird.”

Law huffed, tilting his head to the side to glance at Straw Hat; there was a look in his eyes that was slightly curious… but mostly completely honest, almost innocent, but with a strange weight behind it that made Law freeze completely just for a second. It was the same weight, same intensity as when he had punched that Celestial Dragon, but at the same time, it felt completely different.

But, before he could decipher it or really think about it, the moment was over.

“Look who’s talking, Straw Hat-ya.” Law huffed in amusement, turning his attention back to the scrambling marines.

He called forth another Room just as Straw Hat dashed past him. Law wanted to roll his eyes at his impatience but then something else caught his eyes—a smudge of red trailing after him, flowing happily in the air as if to mark the path he took.

Inadvertently, Law’s eyes followed the string. He wasn’t sure why; maybe because it basically hit him in the face when he flew past, or maybe because Law hardly ever saw a string that wasn’t dragging on the ground, hardly saw someone with the other end of the sting being close by.

Or maybe, that too was fate.

As he followed the path of the string, Law’s eyes widened once his gaze reached his own hand. His own left little finger, where the other end of the string was tied snuggly… while a gold glitter started to spread around it.

No.

No, that couldn’t be right.

There was no way Law was tied to Straw Hat Luffy.

“You chickening out, Trafalgar?” Eustass called mockingly as he stole the swords out of the hands of the three marines that had attacked Law, the three marines that Law had completely failed to notice in his shock.

At least it’s not this fucking guy, Law thought to himself.

“Shut the fuck up, Eustass-ya,” he snapped back, then sighed deeply.

What was he doing? It didn’t fucking matter if Straw Hat was his ‘soulmate’ or whatever other unscientific, superstitious, childish word he wanted to call this stupid thing.

After all, what did he care? He never cared. Not once.

He had neither the time nor the capacity to waste on pointless ideals like love. He knew what love was. He had received love. And then he lost it, every single time.

His country, his city, his parents, his sister, Cora-san…

He’d lost all of it and now, nothing mattered—nothing but fulfilling Cora-san’s ambition.

Least of all, some reckless idiot in a straw hat with a smile that could blind a person, and passion that could burn down the entire world.

—————

When Law heard about the execution of Portgas D. Ace, he thought nothing of it. He was curious to know how it was going to end: who would win, how the world was going to change, where the delicate balance of power would tilt. He was looking forward to seeing it… but he had no personal interest in it—not in the war, the government, the Whitebeard Pirates, in Fire Fist, or anyone else involved in the fighting.

When Bepo asked him why they were going to Marineford, Law didn’t have an answer for him.

—————

Law was used to operating on people. He was a surgeon, after all. It was what he did.

It was supposed to be routine for him by now.

So why were his hands shaking when he stood above Straw Hat Luffy lying on the operating table, unconscious and bleeding heavily, his life escaping him with every weak breath he took?

Law knew why, but he refused to acknowledge it.

He refused to acknowledge the string hanging between them, the very same string that had changed colour from red to gold just days ago—now slowly turning black. He refused to think about it when he first saw the state Straw Hat was in, he forced himself to ignore it when he first created a Room around them inside the Tang, and he actively turned his eyes away whenever he checked on him while he recovered.

And now, as he sat on the shore of Amazon Lily, clutching the old, tattered straw hat in his hands, he fought with himself trying to not pay attention to the way his left little finger tingled, almost as if the invisible string was strangling its blood flow. Which was ridiculous; the string wasn’t really there, it wasn’t real. Law knew it was only in his head but even so, with every distant scream and every creak and crash of a tree falling, he felt another tug on his hand.

How long had this been going on?

It felt like hours since Straw Hat had woken up—since he started this self-destructive rampage.

At the back of his mind, Law wondered whether this was it. After all the work he had done, after spending two weeks saving his life… Straw Hat was going to kill himself. The thought bothered him more than it should have; his heart was beating at a nervous rhythm, his hands sweating and shaking just the smallest bit, his stomach heavy as if he had swallowed the rocks Straw Hat had shattered with his bare hands earlier.

He hated it. He hated feeling like this just because of a patient.

Clicking his tongue in annoyance, Law forced himself to focus on his surroundings. He let his eyes wander around the bay, taking in Ikkaku and Hakugan checking the outside of the Tang to make sure Straw Hat hadn’t damaged her anywhere, Bepo scribbling out a clumsy map to the side, Jean Bart chatting with Uni and Clione, telling them about his days as a captain of his own crew. They all seemed to be having fun…

It left Law feeling that much more stupid for being so nervous—so scared.

How pathetic.

“Whoa!!”

Law startled at Shachi’s sudden call; inadvertently, he looked his and Penguin’s way—the both of them were looking at the sea just off the shore, pointing and shouting about sea kings fighting. As if that was so strange in the Calm Belt.

Still, Law watched with them as the creature struggled, sending violent waves across the water surface in its pointless fight for dear life. It didn’t stand a chance and for a moment, Law wondered just what kind of monster was out there, and if maybe it was going to turn its eyes on the Heart Pirates next. Not that he was worried—rather, a fight might distract him from his thoughts, and from the pirate who was fighting for his life and sanity behind him; so close, yet so far out of Law’s reach.

It didn’t take long for the fight to end and oppressing silence to settle over them. It was like no one even dared breathe as they waited for something to happen. Something, anything…

Except for what did actually happen.

“What a nuisance…”

Both Law and his crew could only watch in stunned silence as a regular human emerged from the water, climbing up the rocks that made up the Amazon Lily’s shore line as if he had just gone to take a quick dip on a vacation instead of fighting a Neptunian in the middle of the goddamned Calm Belt.

Maybe it wasn’t too much of a stretch to call him a monster anyway.

“D-Dark King Reyleigh?!” Penguin cried, the first one to break out of his stupor.

“Oh, it’s you guys. We met at the Auction House, right?” Dark King noted as he casually wringed water out of his clothes.

“Why—how—?” Clione stuttered.

The Dark King huffed. “My ship sank in a storm so I had to swim the rest of the way. It was more taxing than it should have been, I’m really getting old.”

“Storm?” Penguin repeated. “This is the Calm Belt, just how far did you swim?!”

“Anyway,” Rayleigh said, completely ignoring the question in favour of turning to look directly at Law with an unreadable smile on his face. “I’m assuming Luffy is on this island somewhere, isn’t he?”

The question was so simple… but it was as if lightning ran through Law’s body. His breath hitched in his throat, his heart beating a pace faster, his grip on the straw hat tightening. How did he know? Did the navy know too? Were they safe here? What did he want with Straw Hat?

Law wasn’t stupid. He knew that if the Dark King wanted to kill Luffy—or any of them—there was nothing any one of them could do to stop him. No one on this island was a match for this man.

A beat of silence passed while the two of them eyed each other, before Law took a deep breath and spoke up, voice carefully measured. “And if he is?”

At that, Rayleigh laughed. It wasn’t mocking—a genuine, light laughter, one that finally helped Law relax, knowing that there was no immediate danger from him.

“You’re quite protective of him, I’m glad!” Rayleigh noted after a moment. “I was wondering what the feared Surgeon of Death wanted with Luffy but I see I didn’t have to worry.”

The smile he gave Law this time was so amused, so knowing, that Law suddenly felt incredibly exposed. It was like this man could understand everything about him and Straw Hat, and about Law’s motives; things that even Law himself didn’t know.

He hated the look.

Clicking his tongue in annoyance, Law finally looked away. “He’s here. Unless he manages to reopen his wounds and dies.”

“Wonderful! Thank you for taking care of him. I’ll take over from now on.”

"Why?" Law asked before he could stop himself, or at least try to keep his unfounded hostility out of his voice.

And once again, laughter was his response. "Oh, did you intend to keep Luffy all to yourself?"

Law startled at those words. Suddenly, as if doused in ice-cold water, Law was brought back to reality—the reality where Straw Hat was just some pirate he had barely met once, where Law had his own life, his own mission which allowed for no attachments to anyone or anything.

The reality where he had no reason to stay.

Ignoring the painful pang next to his heart, as well as the sharp tug on his little finger—imaginary, it wasn't real, there was nothing there—, Law gave the hat in his hands one last look before he closed his eyes momentarily and sighed.

“No,” he said simply as he finally stood up to his feet. “Two weeks of absolute rest, minimum.”

The Dark King didn’t say anything for a moment, merely studying Law’s expression as if he was trying to cut into his brain and pick him apart, but before Law could snap at him to stop, the man nodded. “Alright, thank you.”

With no reason to linger anymore, Law tossed the straw hat at Rayleigh, not sparing either him or the hat another glance. “Let’s go.”

“What?!”

“But captain—”

Law cut off his crew’s protests with a single glare, one that made them all deflate and shuffle to the sub without another word of complaint. He could hear Shachi and Penguin whining quietly to each other about having to leave the Maiden Island without even getting to properly talk to a single girl but he ignored them, choosing to focus on their departure.

Briefly, he wondered whether he should have waited to at least say goodbye to Straw Hat… but he knew that if he waited for him, if he had to look into those huge, expressive, beautiful eyes that were so full of energy and passion and life… he wouldn’t be able to say it.

Wouldn’t be able to leave.

And Law knew, he knew he needed to go now.

He had no right to stay by his side, after all—not when Straw Hat was injured, broken, and suffering, not when Law could do nothing about it except stop the physical bleeding. Not when Law himself was already broken, his path set for him since eleven years ago—a path that led to nothing but destruction, and which would have Law leave eventually regardless.

It was better for the both of them like this; to part ways before it was too late.

Before either of them could do something as stupid as falling in love was.

—————

That was two years ago. During that time, Law had managed to forget about Straw Hat Luffy—forced himself to pretend he didn’t see the golden string on his left hand, to act like he didn’t know who it led to. Focusing on his mission, on Joker, Law lived his life without looking back at those eyes and bright smile.

But now, Straw Hat Luffy was standing in front of him in the snow of Punk Hazard, bright and beautiful and oh-so-warm and Law…

Law knew.

He knew he wouldn’t be able to pretend anymore.

#one piece #lawlu #trafalgar law #trafalgar d water law #luffy #monkey d luffy #opfanfic #lawlu fanfic #katie pretends to fic #loving law zine #law ship zine #zine stuff #zines #soulmate au #canonverse #red string of fate #pre slash #idk what to say here i'm so tired #if you enjoyed reading consider checking out my comms 🤍

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bagginshieldlibrary · 2 months

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Canonverse list!

GIF by itscrochetnotknit

We're starting off with Oak and Mistletoe by HildyJ.

Summary: After a life dominated by a strange form of sickness, Thorin is sent to the Shire to seek a cure only Bilbo Baggins can offer.

Rating: Teen and Up

Word count: 55,643

This is not really your traditional Canonverse fic. Erebor never fell but Thorin is "cursed" and Bilbo is their last hope for a cure, due to his skills. Its a really good exploration of emotions and senses and how sometimes all we really ever need is a change of perspective.

There is a second Explicit part that is not linked to the fic so I've put it here.

Our next fic is Roses of Iron by Porphyrios

Summary: Two years after Bilbo returned from his adventures, he's made his peace with being back in the Shire. He still wonders what might have happened if things were different, but figures all that is behind him now. A mysterious visitor turns out to be someone he never thought he'd see again, and he's shocked by the news he hears.

Rating: Mature

Word count: 152,426

This fic is a work of art. The added lore, the explorations of both Bilbo and Thorin's character, the exploration of the dwarrow culture, and how how the story flows. Its a long fic but it's not a slow burn, in my humble opinion.

Here we have The Age of Miscommunication by SilverSkiesAtMidnight

Summary: “It’s got such a presence to it, even from a distance,” Bilbo says softly, and there’s a general murmur of awed agreement from the others. “Why, in all my fifty years, I never thought I’d see such a thing, and we haven’t even arrived yet!”

Thorin’s sword hits the ground with a clatter, and Balin chokes on his pipe.

The hobbit doesn’t look at Thorin, too busy thumping Balin on the back. Once the dwarf seems able to breathe again, he looks up, to find thirteen wide pairs of eyes fixed on him.

“What?” he says defensively, though he’s not sure what he’s defending.

“You’re how old?” Kíli squeaks.

Bilbo frowns at the young dwarf. “I’m fifty years old. Well, fifty-one, come springtime. Though it is not very polite to ask someone their age so bluntly,” he tells him primly.

Fíli makes a choked sound, and Nori lets out a vicious string of swears in Khuzdul."

Rating: Teen and Up

Word Count: 6,683

A comedy and a half. The company reacts drastically to finding out the age difference between hobbits and dwarves. I laughed, giggled and eye rolled at the theatrics.

Our first explicit fic rec is young savage things/ barely worth remembering by pomgore

Summary: For a moment, Thorin looks winded, his eyes wide and his jaw set tightly like Bilbo has wrung him out to dry. He seems out of his depth—it’s written all over his face, really—and Bilbo would be moved to sympathy if he didn’t know that somehow, this warranted Thorin seeking him out in the middle of the night. He remains guarded for both of their sakes.

“I have never courted anyone before, and I was not educated in the art before the dragon came.”

“Alright.”

“If I remember correctly, you have been- involved, with other hobbits before.”

“... I have.”

“Please teach me how to kiss.”

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 8,649

This fic ripped my heart out and then healed me. Its written in away that makes you want more and more, just like Bilbo and Thorin.

And last but certainly not list we have Songs in the Dark by Leoandlancer

Summary: After the resolution of the Battle of Five Armies and the beginning of the restoration of Erebor, Thorin and Bilbo are still carefully, and respectfully, distant to each other. Each certain the other wants nothing to do with them after the betrayals they've committed. However, trapped by a cave-in while exploring the lower halls, Thorin and Bilbo are suddenly, and unavoidably thrown together and slowly they begin to sort things out.

Rating: Teen and up

Word count: 13,400

Close quarters apologies and reconciliation, angst and fluff. Thorin singing. Really this fic hits all the delightfully good spots for one so short.

Also this fic is locked so you need an account to read.

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#the hobbit #bagginshield #thorin oakenshield #bilbo baggins #hobbit #thorin #fanfic #canonverse #Bagginshield library #fic rec list

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loveackermannn · 2 years

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☰ 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬.

.ೃ࿐𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐢 𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

squishing levi's cheeks is a DREAM

you cannot tell me otherwise, that that man has the squishiest cheeks on earth. yeah he'd grumble about it while he plants you on his lap, his face contorting in all sorts of expressions with the way you're molding his soft skin however you pleased.

he has a soft spot for you though, don't worry. hed be a constipated ass about it in the moment, but his eyes tell a completely different story.

very much reminds him of his childhood when his mother used to playfully pinch and stretch the skin of his cheeks, making sure she was "exercising his smile muscles" as she called it.

a fond memory of what he recalls – you quite literally had him wrapped around your finger and if it meant seeing you smile right in front of him, he never minded a single damn thing.

#chaloveslevi #shitrambles #levi ackerman #levi scenarios #levi heichou #captain levi #attack on titan #shingeki no kyoujin levi #levi ackerman x reader #canonverse #levi fluff imagine #currently 1 am again LOL #wish i could shut my mind off rn though #eh it's partially filled with levi ackerman so i think i'm fine

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chaotic-on-main · 1 year

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Dandelions | CanonAU One-Shot

☾ Pairings ➼ Levi Ackerman x gn!Reader

☾ Content/Warnings ➼ friends to lovers, first date, love confessions, just pure unadulterated FLUFF

☾ A/N ➼ I'm gonna have to start a separate thing for my song fics I s2g. The amount of songs I have written down to write fics about is insane. Anyways, this is actually a little fic I wrote for @humanitys-strongest-bamf because she said she really wanted a flower date written for her. I kinda took that idea as well as the inspiration from Ruth B's song Dandelions (attached below) AND I forgot Kat had also sent me a prompt request awhile back so this also fulfills that lmao. I hope y'all enjoy!! I've listened to this song for days on repeat so I hope I have captured it well.

☾ Word Count ➼ ~2k

It had only taken a couple months for the pure titans to be disposed of, thanks to the efforts of the scouts. This eradication is the reason why you find yourself sneaking off for another lone ride before dusk falls. The hard part wasn’t getting your horse or permission to go outside the walls, it was trying to get out without too many questions from your fellow cadets. You didn’t know how to tell them this was your way of escaping from them and everything else that came crashing since the battle of Shiganshina.

“Oi oi oi! Where do you think you’re going?” A deep voice rings out behind you as you’re saddling up. You feel your heart jump with your body. You take a deep breath to steady yourself before turning around to face a stern Captain Levi.

“Just a little ride before dinner tonight, Levi. I already got the okay.” He eyes you wearily.

“By yourself?” He crosses his arms.

“Yes, by myself. It’s not like we have any threats out there anymore.” You roll your eyes, smile now fading, before turning back around to tighten straps.

“People can be just as dangerous.” He gripes back. You feel his eyes burning holes in your head.

“Sounds like someone is worried about me.”

“Of course, I’m worried. Who knows what trouble you’ll get yourself into.”

“You don’t trust me?”

“Tch, I trust you.” His words make you grin, but you quickly wipe it off your face before turning back around once you’re satisfied with your gear. You stare at him for a moment, his eyes meeting yours a second later.

“I’ll be back. I promise.” You say softly as you grip your reins tightly ready to lead your horse out of the stables.

“Just be careful.” He mutters, stepping aside to give you space to leave. His words make your heart jump again. Your eyes linger on each other as you walk past, a quick nod shared between the two of you as a goodbye.

On today's ride, you decide to aim for a bundle of trees sitting at the base of a small mountain to the west of the southern gate that you had noticed a while back. A couple hours pass before your destination comes into view. By your estimate, you had about an hour before being forced to head back lest you be surrounded by darkness.

You stare into the thick trees as you hand feed a treat to your tied off horse, an abrupt nip at your fingers alerting you to your now treat-less palm. A small laugh escapes your lips as you pat her nose reassuringly.

"I'll be back, okay? Don't go anywhere." You whisper up at her wide eyes. She bids you goodbye with another nip.

As you make your way through the overgrown shrubbery and gangly trees, you can't help but feel excitement for what might be on the other side. Looking up, you use a hand to half cover your eyes from the late afternoon sun filtering in between the leafy branches. Bird song weaves through the now thickening trees and into your ears. You softly whistle the song back as your fingers fumble with the latches on your waist. After a moment, the sketchbook you currently use as a guidebook is free from its confines. As always with every expedition you've ever been on, you are ready to document anything you see and hear.

It takes several more minutes before you finally stumble into a clearing. Whatever you had expected to find, it was leagues under from your current display. A meadow, far grander than anything you've ever seen, expands in an oval in front of you. Trees surround the whole area tall and strong, like knights in a line of defense. A small stream cuts through diagonally, telling stories with its gentle babble. You step deeper into it all with your eyes as wide as can be, soaking in this picture-perfect moment.

Looking down as you walk, your eyes become overwhelmed with the multitude of colors peppering your vision. Flowers of various sizes and lengths shift in the breeze as you walk by and something in you warms. Your eyes catch something that makes you stop abruptly.

“Oh wow.” You whisper as you slide down to your hands and knees so that you are eye level with a particular looking plant that didn’t very much look like a flower at all. The stem is brown, an odd color, you think, but it looked like a normal stem at least. The top however, where the petals would be, was soft and… furry? You reach out and lightly touch it. Much to your surprise, some of the fuzzy bits detach and fly off into the wind. A burst of laughter escapes from your chest and a memory stirs within you at the sight.

Armin had talked to you about these plants - dandelions. According to him, if you blow on the white bits to make them scatter and make a wish at the same time, it will come true. It was so silly, you think, but really what could it hurt? People wish on shooting stars all the time - this would be no different.

It takes you a moment, but you find a dandelion perfect for the wish you had in mind. You decide to plop yourself into the plush grass next to the creek, flower in hand. You feel a rush of heat sear your cheeks at not only what you were about to do but also what you were about to wish for. After making sure you were alone with a quick survey around, you sit forward and stare hard at the white fuzz. Close your eyes. Take a deep breath.

“I wish for Levi to be mine.” Then blow.

Levi calls your name from behind, snapping you out of your anxious thoughts for a moment. You pull back on your reins until Levi can fall into step with you. When you glance over, he arches an eyebrow at you with a silent question of, "Where are we going?" He must have noticed your change in course, now heading west instead of straight south. To be honest, you wouldn’t have even noticed that you had shifted directions if Levi hadn’t said anything. This ride has become second nature to you. After your initial discovery, the meadow quickly became your fortress of solitude and you found yourself coming back again and again without thinking about it.

After weeks of patiently waiting, an opportunity to team up with Levi to check out the port construction progression finally came. Whether that came from luck or your constant pestering to Commander Hange, you didn't know. Regardless, you were both nervous and excited to finally share your most prized secret with Levi no less. All you give him in return for his silent question is a simple, "Trust me." before squeezing your thighs together then galloping off, leaving your captain in the dust.

The sun bares straight down by the time you and Levi make it to your makeshift hitching post just outside your favored path. On the ground next to it sits a half bucket of water and you give yourself a mental reminder to fill it the next time you’re here. Levi doesn't say anything as he ties off his horse, mirroring your movements with deft fingers. Nor does he say anything as you pull off the basket you had tied onto your saddle so long ago hidden with goodies you packed the night before. He still doesn't say anything as he follows you on the beaten path you’ve made from your many visits. Levi's silence was normal, and yet…

"Aren't you going to ask where I'm taking you? I could be leading you to your death, you know." You glance back at Levi, eyes locking on each other. His expression might be unreadable to most, but to you there was a subtle bliss written all over his face. You shoot him a smile while you wait for his answer.

"You asked me to trust you. So I'm trusting you. Besides, you can't take me on your own. You got a death wish?" He grumbles back to you.

"Who said I was alone?" You quip as you twist back around to watch where you were going, swinging the basket in your hands as you walk. Levi scoffs behind you. A comfortable silence blankets the both of you yet again.

It takes a bit but finally the clearing comes into view and those anxious thoughts start clouding your mind again. What if he thinks this is a waste of time? What if he thinks you're ridiculous for this? What if he doesn't share the same feelings for you as you do for him? Levi calls your name again to get your attention. God, you loved how he said your name.

Your eyes focus just as you step through with Levi in tandem. There's a gentle wind today; it blows through the multi-colored meadow in a way that makes the flowers look like they're dancing. The breeze is even soft enough that your favored dandelions stay intact, not a single seed threatens to blow away.

"Is this where you’ve been escaping to?"

"You notice?" You glance his way nervously. As usual, he has no significant emotion on his face, but to say he was emotionless would be a lie. His eyes shift from the babbling creek to the colorful field and then onto your face, eyes soft. The way he looks at you, it makes a part of you feel so alive and free.

"Sometimes." His comment makes you look away, a flush of heat already nipping at your cheeks.

"I-uh, I wanna show you something." You set off deeper into the meadow without checking to see if he’s following.

A moment later, you come upon the spot you had surveyed a couple days in advance, perfect for what you had in mind. In a swift motion, you pull out a blanket from the basket hanging from your arm and splay it on the ground. Once settled, you plop yourself down on the cloth to keep it from flying away. When you look up, Levi’s staring at you incredulously.

“Is this a date?” he asks dryly.

“Do you want it to be?” You ask, patting the empty spot next to you as you do. He hesitantly sits down next to you, unsure of what to do with his body but eventually settles on sitting crisscross like you. He stares over at you, a little bit of shock cracking through his still features. “Levi, I’m kidding. It doesn’t have to be. I just wanted to show you my favorite spot.” You mutter over to him, rolling your eyes. You swallow down your nerves. Maybe he isn’t as interested in you as you had hoped. As you start to unpack the basket of the lunch rations you had stowed away, he speaks up softly.

“I wouldn’t mind. It being a date, I mean.” His voice stays monotone, but his words make you double-take at him. Levi is flushed pink, starting from his neck then ending at the tips of his ears. A wide grin breaks out on your face as you finally comprehend what he just said.

“Really? Because this would have been so embarrassing if you didn’t feel the same way. I mean, I would have had to run away and start a new life somewhere else. When I talked to Mikasa about this, she was all ‘love like this only happens once in a lifetime.’ and it made me think that you might actually be the love of mi-“ You’re cut off by Levi’s nimble fingers pulling your chin in his direction, his face a lot closer than you remembered it being. He whispers your name again.

“Shut up.” And then his lips are on yours, soft and tender. You don’t remember much after that, but you do know that whatever they said about wishing on dandelions had to be true. And you couldn’t wait to wish upon many more in the meadow now shared between you and Levi.

taglist: @humanitys-strongest-bamf @averysmolbear @youre-ackermine @notgoodforlife @roseofdarknessblog @missamity @levis-squishy-cheeks @icansmellsouls @Dkbktk420 (idk why it won't let me tag you properly) If you'd like to join my taglist, please go here! Your information will never be shared. <3

#attack on titan #aot #shingeki no kyojin #snk #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #levi x gn!reader #levi ackerman x gn!reader #fluff #canon #canonverse #canon au #levi ackerman fanfiction #attack on titan fanfiction #dandelions #Spotify

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