writing will be postponed for a while. my grandmother was rushed to the hospital yesterday and things are uncertain, so iâd like to focus on being with my family right now. iâll probably be on to just check on notifs and asks, but i wonât be posting any works.
thank you for understanding, and i hope youâre all well. <3
Just searched pieck x reader fics and scrolled for a few minutes I actually didnât see revelations there at all
oh i really appreciate you doing this for me!! it means a lot.
but thatâs so weird that itâs not there? hmm, iâll try and do some research and see how to fix this. if i have to email tumblr, iâm gonna be so annoyed đ
if anyone knows how to fix this or has any ideas, please let me know!
ok Revelations flopped (which iâm not complaining about, it happens) but iâm wondering if my works are showing up in the tags? itâs just really weird for it to get only 1 note over a matter of days...
if itâs not showing up, does anyone know how to fix that?
a/n: sorry that this is a couple days late! midterms wore me out, and i didnât feel like looking at a word document for a day or two. hope you enjoy it nonetheless! let me know what you think :)
request: Hi can I request a pieck x male reader (or gender neutral if your more comfortable with that) maybe the reader is a scout that was captured after the attack and she is in charge of watching them maybe they slowly warm up to each other after reader reveals the horrors theyâve gone through with the Titans during an argument with pieck and eventually they start a relationship? Â
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Yes, you had met some annoying scouts during your training, but you had never met anyone as annoying as the Marleyan soldier that was sent to guard your cells. He spent most of his time either throwing schoolyard insults your way or trying to flirt with every captive. It was ridiculous, and you were getting more than tired of listening to his squeaky, borderline pre-pubescent voice flood the stone-lined hallway. His break times had turned into a safe haven of sorts for you and your comrades, but as the thirty minutes creeped by, you became more and more antsy.Â
Today, however, seemed to be different as a woman walked in a little while after the regular guard left. She had walked by all of the cells, taking subtle glances inside each one, before having a seat near your end of the row. In fact, she was a mere five feet away from the bars of your current habitat, and you took the chance to study her.Â
The first thing you noticed was the red band clasped securely around her left arm, denoting her Warrior status. It shone like a beacon or a warning, you couldnât decide which. Still, why would a Warrior be sent to watch over some captured scouts? And where had the other man gone? Not that you minded his absence. The curiosity started to eat away at you, and you figured there was no harm in asking.Â
âHey,â you started. You were taken aback when you realized that she was already looking at you, like she knew exactly what you were going to say.Â
âHe was moved to another post,â she answered your unspoken question. âIâm here in the interim.âÂ
âAh,â you responded.Â
Her voice was a bit too soft for your liking; it was unbecoming of a killer, you thought with spite. You didnât like her being here. A regular, annoying Marleyan soldier was one thing, but a Warrior? It was like a stab straight to every scoutâs heart. Your chest started to feel a bit hotter as your anger towards her grew. You hadnât been there when she delivered the boulders to the Beast Titan to decimate your comrades, but you had heard the tale, a horror story only told late at night. As if she had the right to exist in the same building, on the same continent even as the predecessors of those she had killed.Â
You scoffed out loud, and the Warrior turned to face you, furrowing her eyebrows as if she were actually concerned. You glared in response. It was stupid, you thought, that she was allowed to have a face like that, the face of an angel, and still act like a devil.Â
The day passed, her sitting idly by while you did your best to play a card game in your head. You tried to picture all of the cards and their suits and numbers, placing them on the imaginary table you had set up on the floor of your cell. It wasnât going well, you kept losing, as you kept getting distracted by the feeling of the Warriorâs gaze burning into the back of your skull. It was almost as annoying as the squeaks of the original guard, and you felt a sense of pure relief as soon as she left for the night and another guard took her place.Â
To your discontent, she returned the next day, too, and the next. By the third day, your blood was boiling. Even though you were always turned away from her, you could feel her eyes on you most of the time. It was pissing you off, and you couldnât hold back anymore.Â
âWhat the hell?!â You questioned as you whipped around, not surprised to find her dark eyes piercing into yours. Hers were wide in confusion, and that made you even more mad. âWhatâs so interesting about the back of my head, huh? You busy picturing what it would look like with a bullet in it or something?â It was a harsh statement, you knew, but you also believed she deserved it.Â
She shook her head quickly and with so much force that her crutch started to slide from where it was balanced against her chair. She swiftly reached out to catch it, holding onto it with both hands instead of propping it back up.Â
âN-no. I justâŠâ She paused, gathering her thoughts. âI just was trying to figure out what you were doing.âÂ
You scowled. âWhat I was doing?â You repeated incredulously. âIâm wasting away in a jail cell, thatâs what Iâm doing!â You stood up in a flash, pressing your body against the bars and grabbing onto them until your knuckles were white. âIâm stuck here because of you, you know!âÂ
She shook her head again, denying your statement. âNo, youâre here because you killed my people.âÂ
âWell, you killed mine!â You shouted back. Your voice lowered as you spoke again, grief flowing through you. âThousands, millions even. You slaughtered them all without a thought for their families, and children, and friends. You destroyed our home without regrets, without us doing a damn thing to you, so stop complaining that we destroyed yours.âÂ
The woman was quiet now, her head bowed and hair covering her face. âIâm sorry,â she whispered, and that pissed you off more. You started to go off again, but she stopped you with her next words. âTell me. Tell me what we did to you. I want to know everything.âÂ
When she looked up, there was an honesty and sadness in her eyes that you never wouldâve expected to see. It shook you, and for a second, you saw a normal human being rather than a Warrior. Somehow that look calmed you, and you became willing to tell the stories of you and so many others, both dead and alive.Â
You learned her name was Pieck, and the two of you talked for hours. You described the horrors of life under the threat of Titans, you told of the atrocities that occurred on the battlefield, you explained to her the loss and grief and overwhelming depression that came with the life every scout and citizen of Paradis was being forced to live.Â
And to your stupefaction, she listened to every word quietly, nodding her head to signal that she was taking in the information. She didnât try to sympathize or compare experiences, she just sat and let you talk, letting herself realize her own sins. Once you were silent, you could tell she understood, at least as much as an outsider could. She didnât need to apologize for you could see in her face that she had plenty of regrets, and Pieck was well aware that an apology would mean practically nothing. It was atonement that she sought now, and Pieck figured a good place to start would be with you.Â
From that day on, you grew closer with the woman. You never shared mindless conversations, but instead always talked of the past and of your experiences. You heard stories of her Warrior training and realized the brainwashing that the Eldians living on Marley had been put under from birth. A part of you was proud to see that Pieck had overcome it in a sense, happy to realize that peace was truly possible if constructive conversations could be had. It was promising, and slowly but surely, talking to Pieck became the highlight of your day, something you looked forward to as she made you forget about your lonely little cell.Â
Weeks had passed, and then one night changed everything.Â
You were struggling to sleep, the thin sheet you were given was not enough to protect you from the cold and the hard bed was giving you a pounding headache. The only comfort you had was the knowledge that you could see Pieck again in a few hours once the sun came up. The hallway was silent other than the occasional moments when the night watchman got up to use the restroom. He sat on the other end of the hall from you, and you were thankful that he couldnât see into your cell from where he was stationed.Â
The next time he got up, he didnât come back for quite a while, and you started to wonder if something had happened to him. Were the scouts finally coming to rescue you? Your heart began to pound harder as you heard the door to the hall creak open and keys jingle. You cracked your eyes open to see who was here only to be met with the sight of Pieck standing outside your enclosure, fiddling with the keys before sliding one into your doorâs lock.Â
You sat up quickly, tossing the sheet off of you and standing to meet her against the bars. Keeping your voice as low as possible, you whispered, âPieck! Whatâre you doing?â
She whispered back, pushing your door open and holding out a pile of clothes to you. âPut these on. I want to take you somewhere.âÂ
You obliged quickly, not questioning the possibility that you could escape somehow. Was she helping you to leave? But how would you get back to Paradis? Options were running through your head at lightspeed as you slipped on the long sleeve shirt and jacket. She guided you down the hallway after you were dressed, careful not to wake anyone or stir suspicion. You barely recognized the building as you walked through it as it had been months since you had last seen anything other than stone walls and metal bars. When Pieck pushed the backdoor open and let you wander back into nature, the breath was stolen from your lungs.Â
It was cold outside, but in a different way than your cell. The air was refreshing rather than stale and the wind was pleasant, not a musty draft. You could smell the light scent of flowers in the air, and you wondered exactly where it was coming from, suddenly craving the feeling of petals on your fingertips. Pieck seemed to understand your thoughts as she led you to a small garden on the other side of the pathway. Upon seeing the dainty plants, you rushed over to them, brushing your fingers over the colors and savoring the different textures.Â
As you straightened back up, Pieck took your hand gently. You felt a bit embarrassed with how dry yours were, hers as silky smooth as the petals you had just caressed, and you apologized quickly and quietly. Laughing softly, Pieck just tightened her grasp, assuring you there was nothing to worry about by how she pulled you closer. Her being this close was intoxicating, and you felt yourself melt into her, peace washing over you in waves. For some reason, all of this felt new to you, like you were starting over in the world with Pieck, and you were perfectly content to stand here beside her.
It wasnât until later, when you were back and locked securely into your cell, that you realized you didnât mind staying a bit longer on Marley as long as Pieck was here, too.
warnings: reader is magathâs daughter, smoking, angst
wc: 1.7k
a/n: kinda want to write a prequel to this? like the start of zeke and the readerâs relationship. any interest in that? also, thanks for reading!
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âWelcome back, monkey man.â
The sound of your voice tumbled into Zekeâs ears, a jumble of longing, elation, and teasing all mixed into your tone. You had been waiting for him, he knew. He knew before he even stepped out onto the balcony that you were standing there, and he knew that he shouldnât have let himself step out in the first place. Choosing the safest option on this dangerous encounter, he ignored you. But when you said his name, his head immediately turned so that his eyes could meet yours.Â
He was met with a cloud of smoke, and when it cleared, your grin stared back at him, cigarette hanging from your fingers. He left his face blank, seemingly unamused by your tricks, and turned back around, taking a few steps forward until he could lean on the railing.Â
You were quick, though, and twisted your body in one fluid motion so that your back was pressing against the metal railing and your feet were crossed as you placed most of your weight on one leg. Zeke was used to this by now, and didnât spare you a glance as he himself hunched over to rest against his forearms.Â
The night sky in front of him was dark, only a few stars untouched by the light pollution of the city. In the distance, he could see the beginning of the sea, a black abyss promising the unknown. He could feel your eyes on him, hear the sounds of you sucking tobacco into your lungs and blowing it back out. The heat that waved off of your body was smothering, and Zeke didnât know if the air was getting caught in his chest because of that or the smoke.Â
âThose things will kill you,â he stated.Â
âSure,â you shrugged. âBut wonât just about everything?â You took another puff, lightly pushing the exhaled smoke towards Zeke. He brought his hand up and swiped it away. Annoyance played on his features, but you knew that you werenât really bothering him. âWhatâs up with you?â
Your gaze was studious, and Zeke knew you were trying to gain any hint of insight from his subtle reactions. He remained stoic, repressing the downturn his lips so desperately wanted to perform. He was well aware that youâd catch him if he even attempted to lie so instead he remained silent, letting you dissect him all you wanted but knowing you would find nothing.Â
âZeke,â you sighed and for some reason it was more exasperated than disappointed. You lifted your free hand up, brushing it side to side. âI get it. Youâve been at war. Youâve seen things. Youâre sad or angry or whatever the hell you are. So what? I donât care. Stop acting like a baby and talk to me.âÂ
Your words, your tone, was harsh, but coming from you, Zeke knew it was gentle. He knew you meant it all in the best way possible, knew you just longed for his attention, knew all you wanted was to be with him, and that killed him. That knowledge killed him in the most delicious way. Your existence was sugar laced with poison, and still, Zeke kept consuming you like it was the last meal heâd ever eat.
Which quite possibly, it was.Â
âDonât you know how to leave a man alone?â He was fighting a smile, you could tell.Â
âAbsolutely not,â you replied, shifting your position so that you leaned on only one arm and your whole body faced him. His mouth had formed a small grin, but he still wasnât looking at you, choosing the darkness rather than the light right beside him. âZeke. Look at me?âÂ
There was an unspoken âpleaseâ on the end of your sentence, a light desperation dancing across your tongue. He was hopeless, absolutely hopeless, Zeke lamented as he turned only his head to finally meet your stare. Your eyes were pools of liquid, a shine on them as if you were fighting off tears. But no, Zeke realized, it was the moonlight dancing off of your irises, creating shadows of your eyelashes that rested along your cheeks.Â
You breathed a sigh of relief and offered the cigarette to the man, dangling it between your dainty fingers so lightly that Zeke was scared it would fall. He closed the distance between the two of you, pulling the drug into his lungs until he could breathe no more before tilting away and blowing the smoke behind him. The wind picked up in that moment, aiding the smokeâs departure but cursing Zeke as your sweet scent wafted into his nose. It filled up his head, dizzying him until he was able to breath fresh air again.Â
He dared to look back down at you, and for the first time in months, truly took you in. You were wearing pajamas, the strap of your camisole loose as it rested on the curve of your shoulder. There was lace on the front, enticing his eyes to glance where they shouldnât. Your shorts were a bit too short, and your legs looked a bit too soft. As his eyes grazed back up your figure, he was met with a soft upturn of your lips, pink and plush and begging for his own.
It was obvious, you made it obvious, that you wanted him in whichever way he would give himself to you. It had always been like this, you opening yourself up fully and gladly taking whatever pieces of himself that Zeke would give you. You had roped him into a game through sweet smiles and subtle glances, and it seemed every time he felt like he understood the rules, you changed them. You were not something to be understood, you were something to be chased, to be longed for, to be loved, and Zeke cursed himself for not being able to do all three.Â
âI know what youâre thinking,â you started, dropping the cigarette and pointing at it with your bare toes. Zeke obliged your silent request, stomping it out with his boot before kicking it in between the wooden slats. âYouâre thinking that you shouldnât, that it isnât right or that it isnât worth it.â You bit your lip, eyebrows furrowing, and Zeke couldnât help but like the way little wrinkles appeared along your forehead. âBut Iâm telling you now that it is, okay? Just⊠just trust me for once.âÂ
That was the problem, Zeke thought, he always trusted you. He put too much faith in your reassurances and let himself fall too deeply into your fantasies. Thinking about it, Zeke realized that you were exactly like the sea: something he would inevitably drown in in search for answers and a warm embrace. You were a known unknown entity, and that scared Zeke more than he could express in words.Â
Remaining silent, Zeke lifted his hand, and you froze in anticipation of what he would do. Gently, he brushed his calloused fingers against your upper arm, lightly pushing your camisole strap back up so that it rested properly against your collarbone. Your body involuntarily shivered, and chillbumps dusted across your skin. You waited with held breath, his fingers resting against the curve of your neck. After a moment of reverie, Zeke brought himself back to reality and pulled away. To your surprise, he shrugged off his jacket, casting it over your shoulders and waiting until you had thread your arms through the much too long sleeves before saying anything.Â
âThe armband doesnât suit you.â His words were firm, almost angry.Â
The weight of the band burned into your being, but you kept your eyes locked with his. âIt doesnât suit you either.â Zeke was well aware that you were dead serious, an anomaly in your family when it came to compassion. âIs thisâŠâ You already knew the answer, you had asked a million times. âIs this about my father?âÂ
Zeke sighed, running a tense hand through his hair and turning away once more, resting back onto the railing. He didnât know why you asked when you already knew the answer, but he supposed that a small part of you kept the hope that someday something would change. It wouldnât.Â
âWhy?â Your volume rose. âWhy? It doesnât have to be! Why do you let it!â It wasnât even a question at that point. It was just a statement, an indisputable fact that Zekeâs future was decided by everyone but himself.Â
âZeke.âÂ
He gave a noncommittal hum in response.Â
âDo you think Iâm an idiot?âÂ
He could hear the anger in your voice, the frustration, but he also heard something else. Sadness? Loneliness?Â
He wasnât given a chance to respond before you were speaking again. âI know youâre leaving. Youâre going to Paradis, and youâre going to fight back against Marley, and then youâre going to die. Maybe not even in that order.â You took a deep breath in and reached out, placing a soft hand on the side of Zekeâs face and turning it until his grey eyes were forced to look into yours. He automatically leaned into your touch. âSo tell me this: With how much youâve given up in your life, why are you still choosing to give up me?âÂ
There was pain dancing across your face, and suddenly Zeke didnât think those forehead wrinkles were as cute. He had underestimated you as he always did, and was once again stuck in your crosshairs, having to make the decision of trying to run or giving himself up completely. His entire being begged him to do the latter.Â
Because for Zeke, you meant more than every war combined. You meant more than most everything. But you didnât mean more than his conviction, and he was a very stubborn man. So when you asked him to stay, even offered to come with him, he had to refuse.Â
That night, Zeke realized something. Until that moment when your heart shattered and your face hardened over, you had always been known. You had never changed the rules, only adapted them so that you could be with him for just a little bit longer. All you had wanted was to love him.Â
And the one time you had asked him to love you back, he had said no.Â
Hiii itâs the person who requested the pieck x scout!reader just wondering how that one is coming along and wanted to say have a great day đđ
hi! itâs next in my request queue, but i wanna post my zeke fic before i get back to requests. zeke fic will most likely be up tomorrow or monday, so expect your request to be posted probably around wed-fri!
the invulnerable toru oikawa first stumbles when he meets you.
he likes to say it was because of his untied tennis shoes, but it might have been your laugh. yeah, it definitely was your laugh. toru never forgets to tie his shoes.
youâre the new kid; youâre someone whoâll only be here for two years, and then youâll be gone. youâre delible, thinks toru. he thinks he wonât remember you years from now, when heâs finally on the court and living out his dream.
the entire time toru sees you, youâre laughing, and youâre laughing because of toruâs best friendâhajime iwaizumi. heâs laughing, too, and heâs looking directly at you. youâre looking at hajime.
warnings: upset reader, yelena is pretty awkward cause she doesnât know what feelings are, pure fluff near the end
wc: 1.1k
a/n: ok, i hope you like this! i didnât want to make the bad day too specific, so i instead tried to focus on the reader and yelenaâs relationship + how they both deal with their feelings. yelena is a pretty complicated character, so i found it super fascinating to write her! thanks for the request!!Â
request: Could you maybe write yelena x reader where yelena is comforting the reader who has a awful day. :)
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It was late. Too late to be out of the Marleyan barracks and crossing onto the section where only Paradis residents were allowed to camp, too late to be sneaking around to meet a girl, and definitely too late for the sound of your sobs to be echoing from behind your wooden door.Â
Yelena was hesitant. Did she knock? Did she leave you be? She had never really had to deal with tears before. Anybody she met who had cried had soon disappeared, and salt had never stained her own cheeks. This was new territory, something she had felt would happen all day but terrified to face it.Â
When she did gain the courage to lightly tap against the wood and you cracked the door open, it wasnât the tears that made Yelena uncomfortable but the expression that marred your features. Your normally bright eyes were agitated and red, surely from rubbing away too many tears. Your soft lips were battered from worrying them between your teeth, a habit that you had had since Yelena met you. Your hair was a mess, your shirt was wrinkled, and for the first time in her life, Yelena looked away from you, wondering why exactly she felt this ache in her chest at the sight of your distress.Â
